Friday, October 23, 2009

The Chairman

By The Record's Alfred Doblin with apologies to Frank Sinatra.

And now, the end is near;

And so I face my final sentence.

My foes, no doubt will cheer,

But I will sneer without repentance.

I’ve played a game that’s mean.

I was a force, no one could stop me.

But now, it all is gone,

Chris Christie got me.

Regrets, they’re just for fools,

The little tools I used for glory,

Who knew I would be screwed,

By my legal bud named Denis Oury.

I schmoozed, cajoled and charmed,

Each man and gal who would allow me,

But more, I wanted more,

But Chris Christie got me.

Yes, there were days when all was good

When I did things I never should.

And then at night, I’d have my fill,

Drinking with kings at the Stony Hill.

I was sublime, now I’ll do time;

’Cause Chris Christie got me.

I’ve pushed, I’ve shoved, I’ve steered.

I was a threat in every suburb.

And now, when all is done,

The “pol” who won’s Loretta Weinberg.

A Republican with eyes,

On the big prize made me a trophy.

And so to jail I may go.

Chris Christie got me.

So what if he wins, I’ll feel no guilt.

I will not cry for milk that’s split.

To say I should have been more smart;

It’s too late now to fall apart.

I’m just a man from Old Tappan.

Chris Christie’s got me.

Alfred P. Doblin is the editorial page editor of The Record. Contact him at

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