With the sad news of the passing of Eagles co-founder Glenn Frey, my husband has been walking around the house singing bits and pieces of their Greatest Hits (Volumes 1 and 2), while telling stories of how said tunes were blaring in the car of the first older, cool girl deemed trustworthy enough by his parents for him to cruise around town with.

Funny how our lives really do have a soundtrack.

I remember having one of the Eagles’ Greatest Hits albums too. I think it may have been one of my “12-for-the-price-of-1” Columbia House selections, mixed in with all my early ‘90s alternative girl selections, like The Cure’s “Disintegration,” Tom Petty’s “Full Moon Fever” and The Sundays’ “Reading, Writing and Arithmetic.” I am not sure if I ever even took the cellophane off of the last selection. I probably just thought it sounded like a cool thing to order. “Hey guys, have y’all heard the new Sundays album? It’s (probably) so good.” (You were such a poser, young teen Ashley!)

But the first two certainly got a lot of spins in my boom box, as did my Eagles CD.

With tributes to Frey filling up the morning TV news shows, Frank started singing a few of those hits softly as he was ironing his clothes, but the one that wormed its way from his mouth into my ear, was “Lyin’ Eyes.”

“You can’t hide your lyin’ eyes, and your smile is a thin disguise …”

As the tributes to Frey on the tube turned back to presidential politics and clips from Sunday’s Democratic debate played on the screen, my husband’s pants-pressing song kept playing through my head.

Damn you, Frank, but how apropos to go along with my morning news program.

Hillary Clinton was railing on Bernie Sanders for changing his position on holding gun manufacturers liable for crimes committed with their products.

I wanted to throw my remote at the TV. I really am so sick of all of them, Democrat and Republican. I guess I could have just turned it off but I didn’t. I guess we really are “all just prisoners here, of our own device.”

Specific policy aside, ALL of the candidates have changed their positions on something. I mean, Hill, how long ago was it you were against gay marriage?

We know how this goes.

When someone is attacking them for a change of heart, they say they have “evolved.” If they are attacking someone, the person is a flip-flopper you can’t trust.

Same song, different verse. It’s just making me feel worse and worse.

Look, I think Donald Trump is a crazy person.

“He had a nasty reputation as a cruel dude, they said he was ruthless said he was crude.”

And talk about “Takin’ It to the Limit” and then about five thousand more times beyond. I certainly don’t want his finger on the red button (I wonder if that button is really red? And does something really happen when you push it or is it more ceremonial?), but you would think these professional political types would at least learn something from him.

We are all so, so, so, so sick of the same ol’ playbook and many of you candidates absolutely refuse to stop using it.

Let me let you in on a little secret, guys. It’s not like the ‘70s, ‘80s or even ‘90s anymore. Every thought you have, every speech you give, whether it’s in a church with five people, a convention center with 5,000 or a supposedly private phone call you are having with donors, it’s going to end up on the Interwebs and then on social media and then replayed and dissected ad nauseam on all the cable news and talk radio shows, all while they talk about the latest poll numbers (there must be new ones out every single day). We can see you changing your positions or editing your message in response to said poll numbers and/or different constituencies in real time.  

In the olden days, you could go behind an imaginary curtain between rallies and primary states and reshape your message and it probably didn’t get much attention. But now, we see how you talk to the evangelicals in a conservative state one day and then to the independents of a more moderate state the next. And we all know you will say just about anything to get elected, even if it goes against your core beliefs.

Some of Marco Rubio’s ads, much like those of our own esteemed, fossilized, pork-loving Senator Richard Shelby, simultaneously make me laugh and my blood pressure go up at the same time. Good lord. I have never seen so much pandering in my life. See, I even know how to put a “g” on the end of a word, Dick!!

FYI: We see right through all of this crap, guys. It’s insulting!

I thought by now you guys would realize, there ain’t no way to hide your lyin’ eyes.

But I guess not, because they keep on.

Again, Trump’s appeal — no matter how scary that is — is all about his perceived authenticity. So yes, right now the choice seems to be between the authentic views of a braggadocious, terrifying maniac or the carefully crafted, ever-shifting, poll-and-focus-group-tested bullshit from the rest of the field.

Both choices are about as equally appealing.

Like Trump, the socialist-leaning Bernie Sanders comes off as more authentic, and the Bern wasn’t going to get burned by this “Witchy Woman” and the spells she was trying to cast the other night.

“Let me tell your brother, she’s been sleeping in the Devil’s bed,” he essentially said as he reminded folks of her own hypocrisy as she promised to be tough on Wall Street, while taking more than $600,000 in speaking fees in one year from Goldman Sachs, a fact backed up by a report her own campaign released. “Woo hoo witchy woman (you may have the moon in your eye but that just ain’t right!)”

Again, I’m sick of all of them, And I just happen to be picking on Mrs. Clinton because she was the latest phony to grace my flat screen, but all of the candidates — except the insane billionaire — have taken millions and millions of dollars from one health care, technology, oil and/or financial executive or another. I’m sure they just made those donations out of the goodness of their precious little hearts (and to make sure they can screw us all over in some way eventually). I’m sure even The Donald has some allegiances with that coterie as well.

It’s so depressing. I give up.

Will some of these candidates finally get it “one of these nights?” and start speaking from the heart instead of the script? Or will some “Desperado” jump in at the last minute to let somebody love him (or her), before it’s, tooooooooo late?

I doubt it.

And I still really have no idea which one of these clowns “is gonna make it. But (one thing is for sure) we’ll find out in the long run.”

I just wish I could get a “peaceful, easy feeling” about it.

But my hope for that is “already gone.” Long gone, I’m afraid.

R.I.P. Glenn Frey.