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Saturday, May 10, 2025

Ole Uncle Sam -(Field Recording for a Nation in Denial)

🎤 [Spoken intro, bluesy guitar picking]
Yeah…
You know who I’m talkin’ ‘bout.
Ole Uncle Sam…
White beard, red stripes, hand in the till,
Smilin’ wide while the coffins fill.


🎶 Verse 1
Ole Uncle Sam, sittin’ on a throne of scams,
Signing papers with invisible ink,
While the babies vanish in a borderland stink.
He say it's freedom, but it’s always a deal,
Sellin’ souls like grain, under corporate seals.


🎶 Chorus
Yeah, Uncle Sam…
You know what I’m sayin’—you don’t give a damn.
Wave that flag, while the children cry,
In markets built under God’s blue sky.
Yeah Uncle Sam…
Tell me where their mamas at, Uncle Sam?


🎶 Verse 2
Down by the docks, in a shadow trade,
No Constitution where the profits get made.
Private jets with no flight logs,
Kids on manifests, lost in the fog.
Ain’t no pledge that can scrub that stain,
Of all the little names lost in the game.


🎶 Chorus
Yeah, Uncle Sam…
Sippin’ lies from a liberty can.
Stars and stripes got a price tag too,
And the buyers dress in red, white, and blue.
Yeah Uncle Sam…
Say, what did you really do in Vietnam?


🎤 [Bridge – slower, minor key]
You ain't no uncle of mine,
You fed the wolves and called it divine.
Now the silence screams, in every school bell chime—
You branded them assets, then sold ‘em by line.


🎶 Final Chorus
Yeah Uncle Sam…
You hid the truth in a shredded program.
Talk about justice? You wrote the ban,
Then lit the match with your own damn hand.
Yeah Uncle Sam…
Ole Uncle Sam…
You know exactly who I am

🎭 “Case of Philosophers (Singing Contempt)”

(A dissonant barroom lament in robes and ruin)


🎤 [Slow piano intro. A chalkboard screeches.]
PLATO (half-drunk):
I saw shadows on the cave wall—
They’re influencers now, with sponsored gall.
Truth’s been auctioned, logos is mute,
And Socrates' hemlock? A TikTok reboot.


🎶 CHORUS (ALL PHILOSOPHERS, in slurred harmony):
Here’s to the truth—they sold it cheap!
In plastic cups too shallow, too deep.
Reason died, and nobody wept—
We philosophize, but mostly we swept.

(Contempt, dear gods, is all we keep.)


🎤 [NIETZSCHE with a broken violin]
God’s still dead, but now he’s branded.
Existence streamed and reprimanded.
Abyss? It tweets. And it stares back—
Wearing Gucci, on a sponsored track.


🎤 [KANT, miserably precise]
I tried to build a moral law,
But TikTok filters show no flaw.
My Critique was pure, my Reason bound—
Now ethics hide where memes are found.


🎶 CHORUS (waltzing off-key):
We drafted tomes, they drafted trends,
We searched for means—they scrolled for ends.
Now virtue swipes and irony’s crept—
We taught the world… and no one slept.
(Contempt, dear gods, is all we kept.)


🎤 [SARTRE lights a cigarette with a tear]
Existence? Freedom? Meaning’s void—
But have you tried the dopamine toy?
Hell is others? Hell is now—
It’s comment sections and AI chow.


🎤 [CONFUCIUS, sipping something strong]
I gave them wisdom, lines to live—
They gave back slogans, no will to give.
Harmony’s tune now lost in greed—
They want Wi-Fi, not moral creed.


🎶 FINAL CHORUS (drunken choir at last call):
Raise your glass to forgotten sense,
To Thought in exile, behind the fence.
Philosophy’s corpse is finely prepped—
In hashtags, filters, and secrets kept.
(Contempt, dear gods, is all we’ve left.)


🎤 [ARISTOTLE, whispering as the lights dim]
Give me one mind not bought or bent…
…or just the bill—we’re overdue on rent.


[Curtain parts. Smoke machine hisses. Stage goes fluorescent.]

💥 ENTER: MEH.

Meh bounces in on a rusty pogo stick—every spring-loaded jump echoes with an apathetic, thunderous:

"Meh!"
"Meh!"
"Meh!"

He’s wearing a blinding hot pink shirt with glittery letters:

“Public Apathy”

Every time he lands, the philosophers wince. The chalkboard cracks. The lights flicker in existential shame.


PLATO (covering ears):
“Dear gods, it’s the Form of Indifference incarnate!”


NIETZSCHE (lighting five cigarettes at once):
“The last man rides a pogo stick. I warned you!”


SARTRE (melting slightly):
*“He’s not bored—he is boredom…”


MEH (mid-bounce, chewing gum with cosmic nihilism):

“Thought’s too long.
Feeling’s gross.
Morality’s a loading screen.
TikTok knows.”
"Meh!" (lands on Descartes’ toes)
I bounce, therefore... who cares?


🎶 [Background music swells—a nihilistic synthwave beat begins pulsing]
“Public Apathy” becomes a full-blown anthem.

CHORUS (auto-tuned):
🎵

Meh to your wisdom, Meh to your soul,
We scroll through life in a Wi-Fi hole.
Truth’s too slow, and care’s extinct—
Just gimme vibes and a branded drink.
MEH!


CONFUCIUS (as lights strobe wildly):
“I… I must go. I left the stove of civilization on.”

KANT (panicking):
“There is no categorical imperative for THIS!”


🔥 And as Meh bounces offstage into a smoke machine that smells faintly of fries and fluoride, a final neon sign drops from the rafters:

“WELCOME TO THE APOCALYPTIC TALENT SHOW: BROUGHT TO YOU BY APATHY™”

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