Jules: Are you going to Asheville this weekend?
Me: Yes. I feel the need to cleanse myself of Republican rhetoric.
Jules: So you are seeking higher ground.
Me: Less Art Pope pollen up in them thar hills.
Jules: I wonder if anyone has ever tried to legislate insect and plant sexuality.
Me: I mean there are carpenter bees — surely there is a cop bee, a cowboy bee, a biker bee and an indian bee out there.
Jules: That’s why it’s fun to stay at the YMCA.
Me: Sadly North Carolina is looking a lot more hillbilly than Village People-y to the world right now. Hey — there’s gotta be a song there.
The Ballad of Pat McCrory
Come listen to my story about a man named Pat
A stooge of Art Pope, who keeps his coffers fat
And then one day he opened the door to the loo
By signing legislation called HB2.
And up through the ground came an angry brood —
Of Civil Rights defenders — not just LGBTQ.
(It was the icing on the cake after years of foolish moves.
Education has suffered, the film industry has tanked and we’ve lost teachers throughout his rule.)
Well the first thing you know, ol’ Pat looks like a square.
The people of the state said, “Pat move away from there!”
Lucrative industries and artists have boycotted us and thoroughly agree
Said the antebellum South is the place you ought to be.
So he loaded up his time machine and went to 1860.
Plantations! Slave labor! White males rule!
Well now it’s time to say goodbye to Pat and all his kin.
We wish we could say thank you for kindly dropping in
But you’ve done too much damage to our state and you can’t win.
You’re all invited in November to your voting locality
to serve a heaping helpin’ of reality.
Y’all take the state back now, ya heah?