On the Eve of Election Day
Posted: Mon Nov 06, 2006 10:45 pm
So anyway, I don't know about you folks but I've got the Primaries on my mind this evening, the eve of Election Day. I've been reading and listening to things and people all day long today who are true patriotic American heros, getting fired up for tomorrow and generally trying my hardest to realize why I love the United States.
Now when I say "heros" and "patriots," keep in mind that I'm not talking about any close-minded, bigoted, short-sighted, itchy trigger finger, money hungry ADD attention span, ladder-climbing a**hole like George Bush or the rest of the Bush Cartel. I'm not talking about the chest-beating types whose idea of being a "patriot" is to let your fear turn you into an insensitive, ignorant bunghole with a 4' long American flag glued to the back of your big ugly truck.
I'm talking about heros. True patriots. The Good Guys. The kinda people you want your 5 yr old son or daughter to grow up to be like.
People who understand the true value of the Constitution because they've lived on the shit end of the stick that is society, where our constitutional rights are sometimes the only thing that stands between your family and death, or between you and your freedom.
See, I'm talking about Steve Earle, Willie Nelson, Bob Dylan, Tim O'Brien, Abby Hoffman, Leonard Bernstein, John Stewart, Bill Hicks... and yes, Woody Guthrie. Folks who so often have had their words and actions twisted to make it seem that they are the enemies when the truth is that they are prophets - true patriots- people who risk it all to speak out and stand up for their country, for the Average Joes, Mother Nature, Love and Kindness. People whose resolve is even harder than their fists and whose hearts are bigger than their rifles.
It's so f'in easy to stand up for what you believe in when what you believe in is the Almighty Dollar and your bank account is stuffed full of 'em... when you're sitting behind a desk in Washington or on your electric toilet seat onboard Air Force One playing like you're the Wizard of Oz.
But it ain't so easy when you're 22 years old, newlywed and have your first-born back at home in the States still suckling its mother and you're up Shit Creek in the middle of the f'in desert 8,000 miles from home with a bunch of other sweaty, confused, scared kids staring down the barrel of a machine gun every day for no good reason.
For no damn good reason. And you know it. And the other soldiers know it. And the officers all know it. And you all know damn well that the President knows it. And you're sitting over there, cut off from the real news wondering what the hell's going on.
And most of all, you wonder why isn't anybody back home doing anything about it? They too busy with making dinner or raking leaves or seeing the latest Borat movie? Why aren't they raising hell each night instead of raising their feet, turning on the TV and pretending to care?
So anyway, you get the point. Tomorrow is one of the very best times for all of us to prove to the world, to each other, to the troops, to the suffering Iraqi citizens and the hundreds of thousands of children over there who have watched their parents get blown to bits for driving past a checkpoint, that we give a shit.
I don't know about you all but I'm looking forward to standing in line tomorrow.
Come back Woody Guthrie, indeed.
Here's something I was listening to earlier tonight. A tune Steve Earle wrote the night after the 2000 elections, as we all stood staring at the TV with our jaws on the floor, wondering. And worrying.
They took it from us. Let's take it back. And show them how it's supposed to be done. I have a feeling that come Wednesday morning the conservative cartel that's overrun our country is gonna be phonin' each other saying, "Folks, I think we have a problem." :wicked::t-up:
And if that doesn't happen, well folks, we have a bigger problem than any of us can even begin to comprehend.
Christmas in Washington
Steve Earle
It's Christmastime in Washington.
The Democrats rehearsed
Gettin' into gear for four more years
Of things not gettin' worse.
The Republicans drank whiskey neat
And thanked their lucky stars.
They said, 'He cannot seek another term
There'll be no more FDRs'
I sat home in Tennessee
Staring at the screen
With an uneasy feeling in my chest
And I'm wonderin' what it means
So come back Woody Guthrie
Come back to us now
Tear your eyes from paradise
And rise again somehow
If you run into Jesus
Maybe he can help you out
Come back Woody Guthrie to us now
I followed in your footsteps once
Back in my travelin' days
Somewhere I failed to find your trail
Now I'm stumblin' through the haze
But there's killers on the highway now
And a man can't get around
So I sold my soul for wheels that roll
Now I'm stuck here in this town
There's foxes in the hen house
Cows out in the corn
The unions have been busted
Their proud red banners torn
To listen to the radio
You'd think that all was well
But you and me and Cisco know
It's going straight to hell
So come back, Emma Goldman
Rise up, old Joe Hill
The barracades are goin' up
They cannot break our will
Come back to us, Malcolm X
And Martin Luther King
We're marching into Selma
As the bells of freedom ring
Now when I say "heros" and "patriots," keep in mind that I'm not talking about any close-minded, bigoted, short-sighted, itchy trigger finger, money hungry ADD attention span, ladder-climbing a**hole like George Bush or the rest of the Bush Cartel. I'm not talking about the chest-beating types whose idea of being a "patriot" is to let your fear turn you into an insensitive, ignorant bunghole with a 4' long American flag glued to the back of your big ugly truck.
I'm talking about heros. True patriots. The Good Guys. The kinda people you want your 5 yr old son or daughter to grow up to be like.
People who understand the true value of the Constitution because they've lived on the shit end of the stick that is society, where our constitutional rights are sometimes the only thing that stands between your family and death, or between you and your freedom.
See, I'm talking about Steve Earle, Willie Nelson, Bob Dylan, Tim O'Brien, Abby Hoffman, Leonard Bernstein, John Stewart, Bill Hicks... and yes, Woody Guthrie. Folks who so often have had their words and actions twisted to make it seem that they are the enemies when the truth is that they are prophets - true patriots- people who risk it all to speak out and stand up for their country, for the Average Joes, Mother Nature, Love and Kindness. People whose resolve is even harder than their fists and whose hearts are bigger than their rifles.
It's so f'in easy to stand up for what you believe in when what you believe in is the Almighty Dollar and your bank account is stuffed full of 'em... when you're sitting behind a desk in Washington or on your electric toilet seat onboard Air Force One playing like you're the Wizard of Oz.
But it ain't so easy when you're 22 years old, newlywed and have your first-born back at home in the States still suckling its mother and you're up Shit Creek in the middle of the f'in desert 8,000 miles from home with a bunch of other sweaty, confused, scared kids staring down the barrel of a machine gun every day for no good reason.
For no damn good reason. And you know it. And the other soldiers know it. And the officers all know it. And you all know damn well that the President knows it. And you're sitting over there, cut off from the real news wondering what the hell's going on.
And most of all, you wonder why isn't anybody back home doing anything about it? They too busy with making dinner or raking leaves or seeing the latest Borat movie? Why aren't they raising hell each night instead of raising their feet, turning on the TV and pretending to care?
So anyway, you get the point. Tomorrow is one of the very best times for all of us to prove to the world, to each other, to the troops, to the suffering Iraqi citizens and the hundreds of thousands of children over there who have watched their parents get blown to bits for driving past a checkpoint, that we give a shit.
I don't know about you all but I'm looking forward to standing in line tomorrow.
Come back Woody Guthrie, indeed.
Here's something I was listening to earlier tonight. A tune Steve Earle wrote the night after the 2000 elections, as we all stood staring at the TV with our jaws on the floor, wondering. And worrying.
They took it from us. Let's take it back. And show them how it's supposed to be done. I have a feeling that come Wednesday morning the conservative cartel that's overrun our country is gonna be phonin' each other saying, "Folks, I think we have a problem." :wicked::t-up:
And if that doesn't happen, well folks, we have a bigger problem than any of us can even begin to comprehend.
Christmas in Washington
Steve Earle
It's Christmastime in Washington.
The Democrats rehearsed
Gettin' into gear for four more years
Of things not gettin' worse.
The Republicans drank whiskey neat
And thanked their lucky stars.
They said, 'He cannot seek another term
There'll be no more FDRs'
I sat home in Tennessee
Staring at the screen
With an uneasy feeling in my chest
And I'm wonderin' what it means
So come back Woody Guthrie
Come back to us now
Tear your eyes from paradise
And rise again somehow
If you run into Jesus
Maybe he can help you out
Come back Woody Guthrie to us now
I followed in your footsteps once
Back in my travelin' days
Somewhere I failed to find your trail
Now I'm stumblin' through the haze
But there's killers on the highway now
And a man can't get around
So I sold my soul for wheels that roll
Now I'm stuck here in this town
There's foxes in the hen house
Cows out in the corn
The unions have been busted
Their proud red banners torn
To listen to the radio
You'd think that all was well
But you and me and Cisco know
It's going straight to hell
So come back, Emma Goldman
Rise up, old Joe Hill
The barracades are goin' up
They cannot break our will
Come back to us, Malcolm X
And Martin Luther King
We're marching into Selma
As the bells of freedom ring