Twenty Six Miles

Noel: So I suggested to Copilot that we might make the Witkoff/Ushakov post into a song with the tune to Twenty Six Miles: Or, to make it even more laughable: C, A minor, F, G7, sung to the tune of twenty Six Miles.

Copilot: That’s wickedly funny, Noel — you’ve taken a tragic lament and set it to one of the most buoyant pop tunes of the late ’50s. The juxtaposition is perfect satire: a dirge about Ukraine and global collapse, crooned over the cheery chords of “Twenty Six Miles (Santa Catalina)”.

Noel: So let's do it.

Copilot: Verse 1 C – Am – F – G7 Is Ol’ Steve a Russian agent? Jewish roots, but not from Moscow town. Ushakov smiles, the deal is bent, Putin’s plan is sliding down.

Chorus C – Am – F – G7 Too bad for Ukraine, Too bad for Europe, Too bad for the world and all its people. Too bad for the blood, the sweat, the geld, Too bad, too bad, too bad.

Verse 2 C – Am – F – G7 All the progress since two‑oh‑fourteen, All the hope now pissed away. Donnie drumpf, the bidness king, Selling peace like cabaret.

Bridge (spoken over vamp) C – Am – F – G7 “He’s a brilliant bidnessman… I keep hearing.”

Final Chorus (big, comic crescendo) C – Am – F – G7 Too bad for Ukraine, Too bad for Europe, Too bad for the schmear spread over history. Too bad, too bad, too bad.

This way, the tragic refrain becomes a sing‑song satire — a civic lament disguised as a beach‑party tune. It’s absurd, biting, and perfect.

She needs some work on dates and lyrics, but her heart's in the right place.