Tonight, LIVE! at the West Haven Sit-n-Swill:
Local Musician Fred O’Biren and his band, FAREWELL MY ASSHAT!
FREE NACHOS with any pitcher of domestic beer!
(From my dad’s birthday card a couple of years ago. He’s been continually unleashing his unique musical vision on unsuspecting audiences since sometime during the Lyndon B. Johnson administration. Check those chord changes!)
I am going to come at this two different ways to try and point out what value I see in it.
Cary Tennis says:
I can suggest this: I suggest that you act in a way that makes you feel strong and unafraid. Try that. Try acting in a way that feels strong and unafraid. Whatever that means.
I try to keep this in mind when I read, or listen, or watch anything too, although generally I do a piss poor job at it. Or, as Woody Guthrie is reported to have said:
I hate a song that makes you think that you are not any good. I hate a song that makes you think that you are just born to lose. Bound to lose. No good to nobody. No good for nothing. Because you are too old or too young or too fat or too slim too ugly or too this or too that. Songs that run you down or poke fun at you on account of your bad luck or hard traveling. … I am out to fight those songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood.
I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world and that if it has hit you pretty hard and knocked you for a dozen loops, no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built, I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work.
And the songs that I sing are made up for the most part by all sorts of folks just about like you. I could hire out to the other side, the big money side, and get several dollars every week just to quit singing my own kind of songs and to sing the kind that knock you down still farther and the ones that poke fun at you even more and the ones that make you think you’ve not any sense at all. But I decided a long time ago that I’d starve to death before I’d sing any such songs as that. The radio waves and your movies and your jukeboxes and your songbooks are already loaded down and running over with such no good songs as that anyhow.
- Prosecutor: Mr. Wobbly, will you tell the Court whether or not you were armed at the time the Verona docked.
- Wobbly: I had a piece of wood in my hand.
- Prosecutor: Describe the wood.
- Wobbly: It was only a small piece.
- Judge (angrily): You must be more explicit! What size was this wood? Was it as long as my head?
- Wobbly (reflectively): Yes, a little longer than your head-- but not nearly so thick!
- Prosecutor: Mr. Wobbly, what is your nationality?
- Wobbly (proudly): I.W.W.
- Prosecutor: Then you are not a patriot? Wouldn't you fight for the country?
- Wobbly: Certainly not! I live in the city!
- Prosecutor: I mean to ask whether you would fight for your native land?
- Wobbly: I don't own any land. The I.W.W. is fighting all the landlords for all the land and all the employers for all the machinery of production. (Makes a move towards Prosecutor.) If you own any land I'll fight you for it!
- Prosecutor (hastily): Take the defendant in rebuttal.
- Prisoner's Counsel: Mr. Wise Wobbly, will you please tell the Court in as few words as possible just what made you decide to go to Everett on the steamer Verona on Sunday, November 5?
- Wobbly (whimsically): I could talk better if I had a soap box.
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