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Song Parodies -> "Lots of Problems"

Original Song Title:

"Not My Problem"

Original Performer:

Celebration (musical)

Parody Song Title:

"Lots of Problems"

Parody Written by:

Barry J. Mitchel

The Lyrics

Rewind 40 years to the Hippie days of the Vietnam and Cold Wars (stanzas 1-3 by Tom Jones and Harvey Schmidt for their Broadway musical Celebration. Then fast-forward to today (stanzas 4-6 by me). The words sound much the same, but mean very different things.
The Earth is being eaten by machines. Not my problem!
Taking Speed can rearrange your genes. Not my problem!
I've become a humble bum, a drop-out from Humanity.
You may think my morals stink, but at least I keep my sanity.
I'd like to see us all become like saints, but since that cannot be,
Then it's simply not my pro-o-o-o-o-o-blem!

The Chinese have a nuclear device. Not my problem!
Ev'ry politician has his price. Not my problem!
God is dead, that's what they said; I read it in an interview.
If it's so, I'd like to know: Just what the hell am I supposed to do?
I know the world will soon be going BOOM, despite what we may do,
But it's simply not my pro-o-o-o-o-o-blem!

Somebody screams in terror on the street. Not my problem!
People die of hunger, I repeat: Not my problem!
God is dead, that's what they said; done in by Darwin, Marx and Freud.
Free are we from Deity; of course, it sort'a leaves a little void.
I used to care about my fellow man; but now, hurrah! I'm free,
And it's simply not my pro-o-o-o-o-o-blem!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The Earth is being heated by machines. Hot dry problem!
Driving speeds Man's climate change, say Greens. Got a problem?
I've become a numb-skull crumb, a cop-out from this planet's grief.
True, I think Al Gore is pink; bet that priest will be my freedoms' thief.
I'd like to see us volunteer restraint, but since that's unlikely,
Then it's simply not my pro-o-o-o-o-o-blem!

The polar cap is sluicing Arctic ice. Water problem!
Levees fall; Katrina took her slice. Flotsam problem!
Cod is dead, the trawler said; I read it on the Internet.
If it's so, try pike, shad-roe; just catch and sell whatever's in the net.
B.B.C. World will croon the growing gloom to frighten me and you,
But it's simply not my pro-o-o-o-o-o-blem!

Somebody dreams up terror plots discreet. Knotty problem!
Leaders spy, spin, plunder, lie and cheat. Rotten problem!
Mod is dead ('twas war they fled); done in by fashion celluloid.
Free to see obscenity, her coarse-knit clothing leaves that little void.
I used to swear and shout at fellow men; but now, that's not P.C.;
So with nimble shots, I lo-o-o-o-o-ob them!
Tennis buffs will know that a lob goes over the head of an aggressive opponent. Mod was the previous rebellious dress style. I'm at for feedback.

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Voting Results

Pacing: 5.0
How Funny: 3.7
Overall Rating: 4.0

Total Votes: 3

Voting Breakdown

The following represent how many people voted for each category.

    Pacing How Funny Overall Rating
 1   0
 2   0
 3   0
 4   0
 5   3

User Comments

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Barry J. Mitchel - December 31, 2008 - Report this comment
I was thinking of bare midriffs when I wrote "clothing leaves that little void." An equally good match to the third stanza is "shorts can leave a guy destroyed."

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