Listen Deeply; Be Amazed; Tell the Story / A Curmudgeon Rants

Audio Book: Summary

Five years ago I produced an audio book called, Sharing Our Stories. Here is the final chapter, full of reflection on the gifts of personal story telling. 

Random Rants and Language

No Kings

Feels good to be in the streets with our like-minded friends. But contrary to my progressive, liberal friends, I think the No Kings rallies are of little value regardless of how many examples of large protests in red states we see on Rachel Maddow. The Trump anti-American, democracy-killing machine marches on.

What people say: “Just wait until the midterms. It’ll be a blue wave.” Ha, ha, ha. Trump will find a way to cancel the election or make sure his political enemies are not allowed to vote. Just today, the Supreme Court put a knife in the heart of the Voting Rights Act.

People also say, “Isn’t it great No Kings has been so nonviolent. Yep. Keep it up. Just what Trump wants. Old college-educated ladies with their cleverly worded signs expressing their First Amendment rights in the streets.

Meanwhile Trump keeps taking whatever the hell he wants. The Supreme Court says: “Go for it Orangeman. Take it all. Maybe you’ll throw us a few crumbs.” Gut social programs and give the savings to your billionaire friends as tax cuts. Build the military.” As County Joe said: “Whoopie, we’re all gonna die.”

What I Say, The only thing that will bring Trump down (besides Big Macs) is violence. Lots of it. Not us against them, but them against us. When Trump’s goons start mowing down the old ladies with their placards, it will be the end of Trump. Think how the shit hit the fan when they killed just two people in Minneapolis. Think Kent State X a hundred.  All over the country. Then maybe even his jack-booted Nazis will say, “OK, this is enough.” When he losses the military it’s all over.

Language

Please stop with all this abbreviation. Refrigerator now becomes “fridge.” Fraternity now becomes “frat.” Please say “I graduated ‘from’ college,” not “I graduated college.” Worst abbreviations, as I’ve complained about before, is print writers’  chicken shit habit of saying, for example, “F*ck” instead of Fuck, or “Bullsh*t” instead of Bullshit. On TV I get so tired of the bleeping out of these words. Though I am noticing MSNow and CNN starting to allow real language on weekend shows. Even heard wonderful Nicole Wallace say “motherfucker” recently. You go girl.

 “Gone missing,” how does a thing or a person “go missing?” Why do I never get consulted when these language changes happen? Do we vote on it?

Advice to TV commentators: Stop saying “right?” after every assertion you make. Stop starting every answer with “Well…” Stop using giant mics half the size of your face. Clip-on lavs work just fine.

The list goes on and on. I’m just an eighty-seven-year-old man sitting in my room tilting at windmills and being pissed off with my righteous anger about large and small indignities. Then there’s politics. Invite me over for dinner. We’ll have a great conversation.

The Poetry of Pop Music

Poetry reaches from the dark, deep unknown unconscious of the writer into the same space in the listener’s mind and heart. Examples are endless.

Some of my favorites – songs of loss, love, and fear. God, hell and the devil. Empty materialism. Vengeance and sin. Retribution. Loneliness.

American Pie

So bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinking whiskey ‘n rye
Singing, “This’ll be the day that I die
“This’ll be the day that I die.”
Oh, and there we were all in one place
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again
So come on: Jack be nimble, Jack be quick!
Jack Flash sat on a candlestick
Cause fire is the devil’s only friend
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage
No angel born in hell
Could break that Satan’s spell
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the music died
And in the streets: the children screamed
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken.
The church bells all were broken
And the three men I admire most:
The father, son, and the holy ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died

 – Don McLean

I’m so  Lonesome I Could Cry

The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I’m so lonesome, I could cry

– Hank Williams

Ghost Riders in the Sky

An old cowpoke went riding out
One dark and windy day
Upon a ridge he rested
As he went along his way

When all at once a mighty herd
Of red eyed cows he saw
Plowin’ through the ragged skies
And up the cloudy draw

Their brands were still on fire
And their hooves were made of steel
Their horns were black and shiny
And their hot breath he could feel

A bolt of fear went through him
As they thundered through the sky
For he saw the riders coming hard
And he heard their mournful cry

Ghost riders in the sky

Their faces gaunt
Their eyes were blurred
Their shirts all soaked with sweat
He’s riding hard to catch that herd
But he ain’t caught ’em yet

‘Cause they’ve got to ride forever
On that range up in the sky
On horses snorting fire
As they ride on, hear their cry

As the riders loped on by him
He heard one call his name
‘If you wanna save your soul
From hell a-riding on our range

Then, cowboy, change your ways today
Or with us you will ride
Trying to catch the devil’s herd
Across these endless skies

Keep in mind, this was a #1 song…for weeks. WTF?

What it means (according to Google).,

Ghost Riders are the result of a human becoming the chosen vessel of a dark angel or a spirit of vengeance, who uses them as their divine tools to exact their vengeance against the sinful and malignant on Earth.

This is what people want in pop music? Saving their souls?

What happened to the “moon, June, and spoon” of Tin Pan Alley?

The Gates of Eden

With a time-rusted compass blade, Aladdin and his lamp
Sits with Utopian hermit monks sidesaddle on the Golden Calf
And on their promises of paradise, you will not hear a laugh

All except inside the gates of Eden.

 – Bob Dylan

Compared to What

I love the lie and lie the love
Hangin’ on, we push and shove
Possession is the motivation
Hangin’ up the  godamn nation
Looks like we always end up in a rut
Tryin’ to make it real, compared to what?

The President, he’s got his war
Folks don’t know just what it’s for
Nobody gives us rhyme or reason
Have one doubt and they call it treason
We’re chicken-feathers, all without one nut
Tryin’ to make it real, compared to what?

Where’s that bee and where’s that honey?
Where’s my God and where’s my money?
Unreal values, a crass distortion
Unwed mothers need abortion
Kind of brings to mind ol’ young King Tut
Tryin’ to make it real, compared to what?

 – Les McCann

Google says,

The song is a poignant protest against materialism and hypocrisy, with the specific line highlighting how the desire for ownership (“possession”) causes national stagnation. 

Favorite Quotes 

“My mission wasn’t to be a mom and a wife; my mission was to write songs to make moms and wives feel better”.  
 – Stevie Nicks

“Be curious, not judgmental.”
– Walt Whitman (?)

“a-wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-lop-bam-boom”
– Little Richard

Lose your mind and come to your senses.
 – Fritz Perls

“The comfort of the rich depends on an abundant supply of the poor.”
 – Voltaire 

“We can have vast wealth in the hands of a few, or we can have a democracy but we cannot have both.”
– Louis Brandies