Since I committed to writing and posting a song at the beginning of every week about current events, it’s been an interesting experiment in creativity and inspiration.   There are hundreds of books, courses, websites and experts who purport to know the secret to writing, but it seems like the advice usually boils down to two things: Write about what you care about, and write regularly whether or not you feel inspired.  Which all sounds great, until you’re staring at a blank screen (or blank piece of paper, in the pre-computer days) and thinking, “What now?”

By Friday or Saturday, I’m usually poking around various political websites (particularly this one!) and watching Daily Show monologues to see what topic has caught people’s attention.  This was really easy during the election, with a surfeit of fabulous memes like killing Big Bird, ‘Binders of Women,’ or ’47 Percent.’  But current events don’t always skew so colorfully, and frequently I feel like I’m scrambling to find anything to write – anyone who’s ever coped with a deadline knows that feeling of, Oh well, even Dorothy Parker wasn’t brilliant every time.  (Or Ellen DeGeneres, or Weird Al Yankovic, or Michele Bachmann, or whoever your favorite humorist is . . . )

However, this past week was chock full of big news stories, so much so that I had a hard time deciding.  Scalia’s dissent in the DOMA case was tempting – his rant about the rationale being “legalistic argle-bargle” sounded like a temper tantrum in a Dr. Seuss book.  And living in the San Francisco area, I loved the fun, colorful way the city celebrated – literally so, with City Hall bathed in rainbow lighting.  (My suburban girlfriend met her GBF – gay best friend, just in case – in the Castro the night after the decision.  She couldn’t figure out why there were so many Ikea signs and flags around, til someone pointed out that the blue & yellow signs were actually Equal Rights emblems, not Ikea logos.)

But there was something so irresistable about the news from the Texas Legislature last week, which had all the elements of a great story: Noisy crowds, valiant efforts by an outnumbered heroine, iconic pink sneakers, and even a few idiotic rape comments thrown in for good measure.  (See Texas Rep. Jodie Laubenberg’s curious explanation that a rape exception to her abortion ban wasn’t necessary because rape kits ‘clean everything out.)  Plus I love Wendy Davis’ backstory, a teenage single mom from a trailer park, working her way up to Harvard Law School and a state Senate seat, while still maintaining the proud Texas tradition of big hair.

Since Rick Perry immediately convened another emergency session, the ultimate outcome is up in the air, but last week’s filibuster is one moment in Texas politics the whole country won’t forget very soon – so to commemorate it, here’s The Ballad Of Wendy (‘She Shut That Whole Thing Down’)

As any parent has reassured her kids time and time again, none of us are perfect, we all make mistakes, and a simple apology can work wonders.  But apparently most public figures with misdeeds for which they want to be forgiven have gotten a bit side-tracked, issuing “I’m sorry if anyone took offense” non-apologies that make the initial mistake even worse.  Sometimes it works – Mark Sanford never really apologized for his “hiking the Appalachian Trail” nonsense, other than explaining that his mistress was his soulmate, and South Carolina voters forgave him enough to elect him to Congress in a recent special election.  Sometimes it’s just entertaining, like waiting to see what will happen with Anthony Weiner’s mayoral ambitions (as well as with the unfortunate juxtaposition between his last name and his texting).

But sometimes the non-apology just makes matters worse, as in the case of Abercrombie & Fitch’s CEO.  A several-years-old interview resurfaced recently, in which Jeffries explained the store didn’t sell large sizes because they only wanted ‘cool, popular, thin kids’ wearing their clothes (the store had already generated some controversy because of their policy to burn irregular clothes, rather than run the risk of them being worn by unacceptable ‘poor people’).  Unfortunately, Jeffries’ response was to apologize ‘if anyone took offense,’ which just fanned the fires, on top of opening himself up to critiques of his own fairly odd appearance.  (And while I do agree with those who say that it’s hypocritical to criticize Jeffries’ looks while we complain about his looks-ism, I understand why people couldn’t help noticing Jeffries’ amazing resemblence to Biff from Back To The Future as well as to Jocelyn Wildenstein, the wealthy socialite who has spent over $4 million on plastic surgery to make her face look more like a cat.   (Who needs to write fiction when reality is this weird?)

Several journalists and celebrities weighed in (pun intended) in fairly creative ways, like a journalist who bought up thrift shop A&F clothes and donated them to homeless people, a plus-sized model who created her own spoof ‘Attractive & Fat’ ad campaign, and comic Ellen Degeneres, who explained that ‘coolness isn’t a size’ while holding up an ‘extra small’ A&F logo shirt that would have been small on Barbie.  (I also loved her take on ‘size double zero,’ wondering if people who wore that size would ask, “Do these jeans make my butt look invisible?”)  And hundreds of teens have responded to Jeffries’ Facebook non-apology, writing in that they are thin enough to wear A&F clothes, but not that shallow or snobby.

Karma seems to be doing a fairly good job in this case, as A&F’s sales have plummeted (although it was great fun to watch Jeffries attribute the slump to an ‘inventory problem,’ which is probably a shortage of superficial trend-obsessed teens who are stupid enough to pay for the privilege of doing A&F’s advertising for them, wearing logo-encrusted poorly made shirts).  But I still couldn’t resist weighing in musically, with an actual apology to Sir Elton John . . . .