Here at Dances with Bass Industries, we live in an alternate universe that is a world of never-ending happiness. You can always see the sun—day or night. We also take painkillers and don’t sleep very well.
These realities sometimes lead us to wonder what would happen if the world’s most inane politician were to rewrite one of the world’s greatest rock songs. So, without further ado—and with our deepest apologies to the rock gods—we offer Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, as sung by the Cheeto in Chief. **
Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Won in a landslide (sic)
No contact with reality
Open your eyes
Look past my lies and see
I’m just a rich boy, I have no sympathy
Because I’m easy grab, sleazy show
Little hands, big ego
CNN really, really blows; it’s all fake news to me, to me
Ivanka, I just fired a man
Put my phone up by my head
Post on Twitter, now he’s dead
Ivanka, my reign had just begun
But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away
Ivanka, ooh (CNN really blows)
Didn’t mean to make you cry
If I’m not back again this time tomorrow
Carry on, carry on as if you don’t really matter
Too late, my time has come
I’ll have shivs in my spine
From doing the hard time
You’re fired, everybody, I’ve got to go
Gotta grope your behind and be uncouth
Ivanka, ooh (CNN really, really blows)
I can’t help but lie,
I sometimes wish I’d never run at all
I am but a freakshow of a man
Scare a Mooch, Scare a Mooch, will you add to this fiasco?
Spicey’s gone, I’m tweeting
Always, always tweeting, see?
(Hillary) Hillary
(Hillary) Hillary
To skid row, she must go
Moscow-oh-oh-oh-oh
I’m just a rich boy, nobody loves me
He’s just a rich boy from a rich family
Spare us now from this monstrosity
Pussy grab, don’t tell me no, will you let me go?
Covfefe! No, we will not let you go (Burn him slow!)
Covfefe? We will not let you go (Burn him slow!)
Covfefe?! We will not let you go (Burn him slow!)
Will not let you go (Burn him slow!)
Never, never let you go
Never let me go, oh
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
Oh, Melania, Melania (Melania, let me go)
The warden has a cell put aside for me, for me, for me
So you think you can de-throne me and call me on my lie? (Yeah!)
So you think you can impeach me and leave me to die?
Oh, baby, can’t do this to me, baby
Just gotta get out, gotta get Mueller outta here!
You don’t really matter
Anyone can see
You don’t really matter
No one really matters to me
(CNN really, really blows…)
* My sincerest apologies to Freddie Mercury’s ghost, Brian May, Roger Taylor, and John Deacon.
** Upon reading this rethinking of Bohemian Rhapsody by his boss, our closet-queen vice president flagellated himself Scarlet Letter–style with a scourge while sitting alone in the dark.***
*** We here at Dances with Bass Industries just wanted to point out that we worked Freddie Mercury, Anthony Scaramucci, and Nathaniel Hawthorne into a single post. Don’t try this at home, dear readers. We’re professionals, and we nearly pulled a hammie.
Now, as a palette-cleanser, here is the original:
