Papa's Got a Brand New Baghdad

Exposure therapy has to cut both ways, right? Like if you’re anxious about driving on highways, a potential avenue towards alleviating that stress is to force yourself onto the interstate a few times until you realize how mundane this activity you’ve been afraid actually is at the end of the day. However, what if the effects can be negative? What if, say, you make so many jokes about figuring out elaborate ways to kill yourself that the thought without the presence of humor becomes increasingly less scary?

I ask because I haven’t written a proper post for this blog in what feels like eons, and as punishment, I am forcing myself to listen to the 2004 album Papa’s Got a Brand New Baghdad by the Capitol Steps. 

If you were lucky enough to not have heard of the Capitol Steps, they are a thankfully defunct theater troupe who performed satirical comedy about contemporary politics and political scandals. Though the company began as a group of congressional staffers putting on an occasional live show, it would evolve into a touring company consisting of professional actors and writers who performed sketches, song parodies, and impressions around the country. Somehow, they lasted almost forty years, and they put out forty-two albums.

The comedy itself is painfully unfunny baby boomer humor you can take your midwestern aunt and uncle to if they happen to be in town. The kind of humor you may enjoy if you find album names such as 1998’s Unzippin’ My Doo-Dah or 2017’s Orange is the New Barack or 1989’s Stand By Your Dan unironically funny. If I found any of those titles unironically funny, I’d drive down to the shooting range, pay a little extra for something big and powerful, and blow my brains out while hoping that none of my blood gets on the note that I left for the staff apologizing for the mess I made. (See, we’re already starting.)

So why this album, Papa’s Got a Brand New Baghdad? Because I wanted to be able to remember all the references. Also, though I have little desire to hear the Capitol Steps take on the Trump administration, I think I have it in me to stomach a George W. Bush impression.

Why do this at all? Because who deserves to be happy anyway? You? Fuck you. I’m going to listen to the album and write some shit about like 5 or 6 of the songs and hopefully there’ll be youtube links to embed. I doubt it. Maybe I’ll have to upload them myself. Maybe I’ll just put in random good songs if I don’t feel like doing that or the songs that get parodied. Maybe both. You’ll know if and when you read this. Whatever. Also, I’m probably not going to proofread it. I’m going to put as much effort into this article as I believe Capitol Steps puts into their writing.

Fun note: The copy of this album that I pirated has a fun upload issue where a lot of the songs repeat their last minute and change. References to song lengths may be inaccurate. It should also be noted that this album is made up of live recordings from what I’m guessing are various shows recorded in 2003 and early 2004. I hope you guys like Dennis Kucinich jokes.

Track 04 - “Democratic Hit Parade” 

For this first song, I’m not going to give you all any specific reasons why I hate it, and I’m going to try to keep my commentary to a minimum. (I’ll probably fail on the latter part.) I realize this may be a bit of a dereliction of duty on my part. However, most of my reasons will be exhaustingly obvious, and instead of pointing out what you’ll already know, I want you to keep a mental checklist of every red flag and unfunny bit I describe. This is going somewhere, I promise.

Leading up this song, we’ve already been subjected to “Green Green Grass At Home,” a song about how it’s more acceptable “these days” for candidates to admit that they smoked weed in their youth, “Help Rwanda,” a song in which George W. Bush and Donald Rumsfeld talk about which countries they want to bomb next (including blue states), and “Ain’t No Surplus, Now It’s Gone,” a song about the rising national debt and Bush’s overall incompetency with economic matters.

Then we get to “Democratic Hit Parade,” a medley in which some of the 2004 Democratic presidential nominees get to sing a song parody.

It begins with two presenters coming out, welcoming the audience and the listeners C-SPAN Total Request Live. For the record, the old version of TRL wasn’t canceled until 2008. But to most people who watched TRL at its prime, that year probably feels late. (The point is that you can’t really expect a bunch of Capitol Steps writers to appreciate that nuance.) They also seem to think that TRL put out CDs, as they tell the audience that they can hear all the songs they’re about to listen to on one album. To be fair, there is an album called MTV: TRL Christmas, and if I ever force myself to listen to any more punishment albums, that’s a strong contender. But I doubt they knew that, and none of this matters. It’s a medley of song parodies from the Democratic presidential candidates. That’s it.

The first song in the medley is “Joe Town.” Though presented as a pun on Motown, it’s actually a parody of “The Candy Man Can” sung by Joe Lieberman, instead of the more thematically consistent “The Lieber-Man Can.” It includes such lyrics as “Who won’t work past sundown or at all on Saturday?/The Lieber-Man” and “The Lieber-man can ‘cause he mixes it with chutzpah and the goyim obey.” The joke being that he is Jewish. Also, Joe Lieberman is trash.

The second song in the medley is a parody of “I’m So Pretty” from West Side Story sung by John Edwards. He and the back-up singers are singing about how pretty he is relative to the other candidates, even though they acknowledge that he’s really just kind of normal. (And maybe just a tad arrogant.) It makes a joke about how he’d be good for Vice President, then it ends. For those of you who don’t have your timelines straight, Edwards wouldn’t be indicted for violating federal campaign finance law to cover-up his affair with a staffer until 2011.

The third song is sung by then front-runner John Kerry. It starts as a parody of “Sherry” by The Four Seasons (“Kerry Baby”), which features a joke about the size of his head and how he looks like a mortician. Then it transitions into a parody of “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole (“So Electable/Unelectable”), which features jokes about how he’s electable because he’s not Bush. (Sidenote: I can’t stand the fucking Four Seasons, so this one was extra painful for me.)

The fourth song is a parody of the fast part of “I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General” from The Pirates of Penzance sung by Wesley Clark called “I Am the Very Model of a Former NATO General.” (Remember Wesley Clark?) The joke is that unlike Bush, he’s smart, capable, and has a more impressive military record, even though he hasn’t said word one about his thoughts on actual policy. (I know I said I’d keep commentary to a minimum, but this is one of the few times on this album that the Capitol Steps semi-flirt with actual substantive political critique. Emphasis on “semi.”)

Next, two presumably straight actors putting on lisps playing Kyan Douglas and Carson Kressley of the original cast of Queer Eye perform a parody of “Daydream Believer” by The Monkees about then dropped out candidate/former governor of Vermont Howard Dean. (Instead of “Cheer up, sleepy Jean” it’s “Cheer up, Howard Dean.”) They sing about how Howard Dean should cheer up because gay men can get civil unions in Vermont and they love him for that. This section includes the lyrics, “We’ll be right behind you if you know what we mean.”

Finally, we end with Howard Dean singing a parody of “Shout” by Otis Day & The Knights. Because he shouted that one time. Also, Animal House sucks shit.

Everything you need to know about why the Capitol Steps were a blight can be found on this track.

Well, technically speaking, everything you need to know about why the Capitol Steps were a blight can be found in any of their songs on any of their albums. But this is really your Rosetta Stone here because it’s the longest song on the album, clocking in at almost ten minutes, and everything I will say about any other song will also be present in this one.

Remember all those red flags I asked you to keep track of? Good news. They’re on every song on this album, and most likely every song and every one of their albums. Good luck sleeping tonight.

Track 05 - “I Wish I Was On Oxycontin”/Track 08 - “Papa’s Got a Brand New Baghdad”

What is the actual worst crime of the Capitol Steps? Or really, what is the actual worst crime of bad political comedy in general? 

Given the ever shifting goalposts of what we collectively seem to find funny at any given moment combined with the increasing severity of American politics, I don’t think there will ever be one answer to that question, and no one answer can possibly be simple. However, I do think there are some throughlines. A commonality between JibJab flash videos and the political cartoons in your local newspaper. (Or national one, for that matter.) That trait is a kind of toothlessness. An impulse to treat despicable people with kid gloves.

There’s a couple of obvious points to be made here. Sure, it may be unreasonable to expect hard-hitting critique from what is supposed to be a mostly kid-friendly political stage show. And even if you accept that part, what about similar comedy that’s existed for centuries? What about all of Mel Brooks’s Hitler jokes, for example?

The difference is that Mel Brooks is a Jewish man born in 1926 who served in WWII, and his comedy was meant to turn one of the worst human beings to have ever lived into a punchline and rob him of the kind of power and fame he so desperately craved. Mel Brooks was alive during the holocaust, and he was, in essence, weaponizing the trauma inflicted on his people against the man responsible and the ideology that gave birth to his rise. Some of the jokes land and some don’t. But the intent always had substance.

“I Wish I Was On Oxycontin” is a parody of de facto Confederacy national anthem “Dixie,” sung by Rush Limbaugh. 

Even though most of the more infamous Limbaugh incidents would happen in the years after 2003 or 2004 when this album was recorded, Rush Limbaugh was, publicly, a racist, sexist, homophobic piece of shit. (I’d list specific incidents, but you can go down that rabbit hole yourself. I value my happiness.) Frankly, I’m glad he’s dead. 

So what do the Capitol Steps have for Rush Limbaugh? A quick joke about how he was recently fired from ESPN for making a racist comment about then Eagles quarterback Donovan McNabb, and his then recent admission of being addicted to painkillers.

A quick pun and a song about a recent headline. No further intent or greater point. That’s it. There’s also a bit where he keeps flipping the pages of his prepared statement during inopportune times, and as a result, they make a mild insinuation that he’s committed statutory rape. (“The days ahead will be difficult, but I refuse to wallow in self-pity or crawl into bed with a fourteen-year-old…” *page flip* “…bottle of scotch.” It should be noted that the viagra incident in the Dominican Republic wouldn’t happen until 2006.) Using the same formula, they call him a “dick.” But that’s about as hard as it goes.

Again, it may be unreasonable to expect teeth from a show like Capitol Steps. But then the question becomes why make mild jokes about Rush Limbaugh at all? If you don’t have the stomach or the audience for a topic that needs more than a surface level comedic glance anyway, why bother?

Similarly, what’s the difference between making a quick joke to a friend and doing one in the context of an art piece, be it a live sketch comedy show or a movie or whatever? I think there’s a few different options we can go with here, but in the end, I think it comes down to purpose.

If I’m with a friend, I feel comfortable making a joke just for the sake of making a joke. I may seek to express something, or maybe I just felt an impulse to be funny. But I’m not trying to make you laugh as an artistic expression. I’m doing it because the rules of conversation operate with a different intent and context than you experiencing a moment I’ve set up for a performative or artistic purpose. Some may quarrel with that distinction, but however you choose to define your terms, there’s a difference between cracking a joke at the dinner table and doing so for an audience who’s there to see you be funny.  

So why does the titular, “Papa’s Got a Brand New Baghdad” exist?

“Papa’s Got a Brand New Baghdad” is exactly what it sounds like. George W., George Sr., Laura, and Barbara are on stage. George W. talks about the war and taking Baghdad and then the family breaks into a parody of James Brown’s “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag.” (Or “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag (Part 1)” if you want to be a snob.) But instead of “bag” it’s “Baghdad.” Also, there’s a bunch of jokes at the expense of Middle Eastern and Muslim cultures and some of the new dances include George “dancing ‘round the fez,” “doing the camel,” and “the Basra nova.”

Why does this exist? My best guess is that somebody put the “bag” and “Baghdad” That’s it. Somebody had the thought, it made at least one other person laugh, and that’s it.

The joke doesn’t have a purpose, grand or otherwise. The joke exists so it can prove that somebody made it.

Track 09 - “Spider Hole”

“Spider Hole” starts with George W. Bush calling up Saddam Hussein in prison, Saddam presumably being played by a white guy wearing a turban or something like that on stage. They talk on the phone and exchange horrible jokes. (“I’m on a cellphone. I’m in a cell, I’m on a phone.” “I’ve got you on call Kuwaiting.” More stuff like that.) Then Saddam breaks out into a parody of the Spider-Man theme song, but it’s about the spider hole he was living in before his capture. (“US troops at last had uncovered my trench/I surrendered fast so they’d think I was French.”)

Go fuck yourself.

Actually, one more thing: Capitol Steps is a product of DC culture. Though one could argue that Capitol Steps could’ve easily been founded in NY, its unique DC origin story permeates throughout their work, even when professional actors took over the troupe. Also, this may be a difficult trait to describe, but there’s a unique miasma baby boomers who’ve been in or around DC most of their lives and work in or around politics or the government bring to the table that you can practically taste on every song on this album. (For further reference, see Burn After Reading. I’m basically talking about John Malkovich’s character. He’s a hauntingly real character.)

As someone who grew up in the DC suburbs in VA, and as someone who’s life has been constantly inconvenienced by having to travel into the city, it’s nice to know that you can cut through the thick veneer of DC smugness with the knowledge that every time they try inflict upon you their collective trauma of living in a pre-car non-grid hellscape, you know that they also invented the Capitol Steps.

Track 16 - “The Fondler”

At some point, I needed to write about the moment in this album where it crosses over from being regularly not funny to actively ugly.

Arguably, that moment came several times over earlier in this album. We could’ve argued that it came during the Rush Limbaugh song. Or the Queer Eye part in “Democratic Hit Parade.” Or perhaps “I Want a Guy Just Like the Guy Who Married Dear Old Dad,” a song that’s just an extended gay joke. Or “Kobe Bryant Jewelers,” a quick skit that’s an ad for a jewelry store you visit when you want to get back into your wife’s good graces. (Get it? Because Kobe’s sexual assault case?)

A part of me wanted to pick “Goodbye, Uday, Qusay,” a parody of “Goodbye Ruby Tuesday” by The Rolling Stones that was about the recent killing of Saddam’s sons. Then I remembered that Uday and Qusay were monsters and I don’t really feel bad about this one. (Though it’s still I-want-to-drink-anti-freeze levels of not funny. I mainly wanted to write this paragraph so you know that this song exists.)

But I think I’m going to go with “The Fondler,” a parody of Dion’s “The Wanderer,” about how the newly elected governor of California Arnold Schwarzenegger was famous for groping women on his film sets. 

Earlier, I argued that one of the biggest crimes of the Capitol Steps is failing to meet horrible people with the contempt that they deserve. But maybe that point was a bit too specific. Too gentle on my own part. 

The real problem is the values that are on display in these songs. You make a decision to go easy on Limbaugh, like it or not, you’re making that decision because you value putting on a nice “aw shucks” show than meeting racism and sexism with the response that it deserves.

Similarly, in “The Fondler,” the value is put on making a parody of “The Wanderer” rather than making a point about how someone who aggressively fondled women shouldn’t hold office. Thus, regardless of intent, the joke is effectively, “Haha, it’s funny that Arnold groped women.” Not, “Arnold groped women, what an asshole.”

In the end, one of the major issues with Capitol Steps, if not the major issue, is that it values its own existence over what it’s trying to say and who’s going to hear them say it. Come to think of it, it’s the same exact same point every hack comedian who’s ever railed against cancel culture fails to understand.

The rule is “don’t punch down,” and Capitol Steps try their darnedest to follow that rule. But failing to punch at all, particularly when it comes to making jokes that bolster up people who’ve done terrible things to a largely oppressed group, is an inadvertent punch down in and of itself.

When people say they find something mildly offensive, most of the time they’re exaggerating. Now, thanks to Capitol Steps, I can’t take that for granted anymore.