Featured Song

Maybe I'm just jealous of these guys, but I'm taking a swipe here at some unnamed uberwealthy Robber Barons who have found a new and unique way to utilize their millions-upon-millions.  This is just a quickly assembled demo version, so expect no special effects, but this song may have a relatively short shelf life before the story fades from our memories. 

(My reflection on 9/11 "A Perfect Mid-September Day", which had been posted here for a week or so in conjunction with the twentieth anniversary, has moved back to its usual location in the HISTORICAL section.)


© 2021 Steven E. Cutts  
a Studio C recording 


I’m sure that you know my name; you may not recognize my face, 

But I just anteed up a boodle of money to take a little ride in space. 

No, I’m not a scientist; can’t teach you a thing about the stars; 

Can’t rattle off the digits of the speed of light, 

            but I’m dreamin’ ‘bout a trip to Mars. 


This was just the sort of thing that rich boys do. 

I want to seize the moment, want to set my sights on something new. 

I lose track of all my money in the bank, 

            but sitting on the rocket put a tiger in my tank. 

It was just the sort of thing that rich boys do. 


I made myself a pin with wings and call myself an astronaut; 

Floating up there above the atmosphere beat spending money on some yacht. 

A mansion’s so terrestrial, paying taxes is overblown; 

I figure these were dollars that were very well spent; 

            I’m not the man they think I am at home. 


This was just the sort of thing . . .              


They used to call us Captains of Industry, 

But that title never really did it for me. 

OK, my ride lasted for barely ten minutes, 

But there went a spaceship, and Dude, I was in it! 

This was just the sort of thing that rich, rich, rich, rich, rich boys do!