Parody As a Weapon Part CV

Parody As a Weapon Part CV, where Albert Constantine Jr skewers the Democrats, their hypocrisy and Democrat Senator Bob Menendez.

Last week, in Part CIV, we showed how the Biden administration believes in things that they don’t understand, so we suffer. This week, we will once again go into the fray to bayonet the wounded, as the target of this week’s song parody is New Jersey’s senior US Senator, Robert Menendez.

The United States Department of Justice continued to interfere in the 2024 election by indicting Menendez and his wife received cash, gold bars and luxury cars from three other alleged co-conspirators in exchange for favors to benefit them as well as the government of Egypt stemming from Menendez’s position as a senator on the Foreign Relations Committee.

That the case was charged out of the Southern District of New York instead of New Jersey suggests Attorney General Merrick Garland might have differing guidelines on which US Attorney’s can charge out of their districts when their target’s last name is not Biden. Jonathan Turley also noticed the significant amount of similarities that there were between the charges for which Menendez and his wife were indicted for and those involving Hunter Biden’s peddling of Joe Biden’s brand and influence.

The announcement of the indictment included photographs and descriptions of wads of cash totalling almost half a million dollars from his home stuffed into jackets in the closet as well as $70,000 in his wife’s safe deposit box. Bars of gold bullion found stored in the home were also seized when FBI agents raided it last year. The narrative reports that some of the cash was in envelopes which contained his co-conspirators’ fingerprints and DNA. Menendez has claimed the cash was from numerous bank withdrawals he made to help keep liquid assets around his house, which he said was a characteristic of his Cuban heritage and the nature of how his family was forced to flee from the island following its communist takeover.

While this wife is not Cuban and is a new wife for Menendez (they married in 2020), this is not a new experience, in that Menendez was charged with similar offenses during the Obama administration, and his 2017 trial resulted in a hung jury, followed by his reelection as senator in 2018 . As such, he could hardly be considered a virgin as far as federal corruption trials are concerned.

A little more than a half century ago, a woman named Freda Payne had a pop music hit singing about gold and the hazards of virginity and inexperience, at least as far as consummating her marriage were concerned. That particular hit was entitled “Band of Gold”, and in light of this latest example of a pair of Menendezes on trial for the entertainment of the public, we will endeavor to add to that entertainment factor with an update to the lyrics from the tune to reflect the current senatorial predicament.

Since the big raid
The feds took every last bar of gold
And wads of cash suit pockets would hold
But the bars of gold
Are the memories from his Cuban genes
If you flee do it with means

They took cash and traded away favors so the feds accuse
A bribery scandal
Egypt was a customer
But there should be no legal strife
‘Cause they just paid his wife

They wait by their underwear drawer in their raided home
A trial to come just like an epic poem
Thunderdome
As they wait there in their cashless hole
For the callback from Abbe Lowell

Since the big raid
The feds took every last bar of gold
And wads of cash suit pockets would hold
But the bars of gold
Are what’s precious in a world of hope
Not the tools of those dealing dope

Oh, don’t you know that they wait
for a jury of peers in a court room
Emptied of cash, filled with gloom
Hoping soon
The jury comes back through that door
And hangs just like it did before

Since the big raid
The feds took every last bar of gold
And envelopes that once cash did hold
But the bars of gold
And the cash drawn for the bills they pay
Until the feds check for D N A

Since the big raid
The feds took every last bar of gold
And no dry cleaner would ever their suits behold
They’re like safes that fold

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