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Straight to Hell

If you can play on the fiddle
How’s about a British jig and reel?
Speaking King’s English in quotation
As railhead towns feel the steel mills rust water froze
In the generation
Clear as winter ice
This is your paradise

There ain’t no need for ya
There ain’t no need for ya
Go straight to Hell boys
Go straight to Hell boys

Y’wanna join in a chorus
Of the Amerasian blues?
When it’s Christmas out in Ho Chi Minh City
Kiddie say papa papa papa papa papa-san take me home
See me got photo photo
Photograph of you and Mamma Mamma Mamma-san
Of you and Mamma Mamma Mamma-san
Lemme tell ya ’bout your blood bamboo kid.
It ain’t Coca-Cola it’s rice.

Straight to Hell, boys
Go straight to Hell, boys
Go straight to Hell, boys
Go straight to Hell, boys
Oh Papa-san
Please take me home
Oh Papa-san
Everybody they wanna go home
So Mamma-san said

You wanna play mind-crazed banjo
On the druggy-drag ragtime U.S.A.?
In Parkland International
Hey! Junkiedom U.S.A.
Where procaine proves the purest rock man groove
And rat poison
The volatile Molotov says-

Go straight to Hell, boys
Go straight to Hell, boys
Straight to Hell

Oh Papa-San
Please take me home
There ain’t no need for ya,
There ain’t no need for ya

Go straight to Hell, boys
Go straight to Hell, boys

Can you cough it up loud and strong
The immigrants
They wanna sing all night long
It could be anywhere
Most likely could be any frontier
Any hemisphere
No man’s land
Ain’t no asylum here
King Solomon he never lived round here

Straight to Hell, boys
Go straight to Hell, boys
Go straight to Hell, boys
Go straight to Hell, boys

Oh Papa-San
Please take me home
Oh Papa-San
Everybody, they wanna go home now

Straight to Hell by The Clash.  I walked several miles with my dog today around Austin’s Town Lake.  i always take in albums when I do so.  One of today’s albums was The Clash’s Combat Rock.  This song has always been one of my favorites by them or any band.  The music is both beautiful and haunted.  Some lyricists try to get to a point by the straightest possible line.  The Clash were always great with throwing out a bunch of expansive poetic imagery.  You know what they are getting at, but it’s interpretive at the same time.  Let me tell ya ’bout your blood bamboo kid / It ain’t Coca-Cola it’s rice.  

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Oliver Stone on Drones

“Drone attacks are better than boots on the ground,” one Cold War liberal recently told me.

No, they’re not. They’re an intrusive, terrorizing global policeman behavior that will invariably set us up for blowbacks. We will be hated for this naked abuse of our military power.

A terrorist band that is seriously planning an attack on USA can be apprehended in traditional ways that have worked for centuries—it requires solid detective work and good local alliances with foreign countries. There are always screw-ups, but the exception is never the rule. We must respect all international borders, if we expect our own to be respected.

It is the way of the world. Live and let live. Violating that is the law of the jungle, and that’s where we are now. Our America-centric world is a dualistic black-and-white cartoon, violent in its outlook.

No good will come of this. Peace is not a cliché. Peace is a way to live and grow.

Quote by Oliver Stone.  I think Oliver Stone is dead on about our use of drones.  He has always been way more thoughtful than his critics have made him out to be.  I am glad that he is out there as he has a curious mind and never stops asking questions.

I also wanted to add, as someone that is a liberal on most issues, that I think drones have been a shame on the Obama White House.  If we are going to get anywhere in this country we need to call out our own side when we see something that is morally wrong.  

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Maybe it’s This Time

Even though we’ve got too much past
Mangled hearts that beat too fast
Maybe it’s this time that we’ve been praying for
Maybe it’s this time we’ll make somebody smile

Even though we’ve been dipped in shame
Cotton candy people games
Maybe it’s this time that we’ve been praying for
Maybe it’s this time that we’ll blast off forever

Ever since I saw your face
I have been a stone in space
Shining down onto your street
We might have this darkness beat

Even though we’ve been so afraid
Skimming flies off of lemonade
Maybe it’s this time we’ve been counting on
Maybe it’s this time we’ll make somebody smile

One of my favorite songs.  It’s Marah’s hidden track after their Sooner or Later Interlude.  It’s from the last track on the album If You Didn’t Laugh, You’d Cry.  I believe I’ve mentioned it before.  I’ve always seen it as a musicians prayer, hoping to connect after too many starts and stops.  Tomorrow when everyone wakes up our album will be out…maybe it’s this time…

I transcribed the lyrics myself after I had trouble finding them online.  Apologies if I got a word or two wrong.  

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Hang the DJ

Panic on the streets of London
Panic on the streets of Birmingham
I wonder to myself could life ever be sane again?
The Leeds side-streets that you slip down
I wonder to myself

Hopes may rise on the Grasmere
But Honey Pie, you’re not safe here
So you run down to the safety of the town
But there’s Panic on the streets of Carlisle
Dublin, Dundee, Humberside, I wonder to myself

Burn down the disco, hang the blessed DJ
Because the music that they constantly play
It says nothing to me about my life
Hang the blessed DJ
Because the music they constantly play

On the Leeds side-streets that you slip down
Provincial towns you jog ’round

Hang the DJ
Hang the DJ
Hang the DJ

Panic by the Smiths.  “And the music that they constantly play / It says nothing to me about my life”.  I stood out in the front yard last night talking to a neighbor of mine that works in radio.  Half of our discussion was about how awful most radio has become.  He was telling me that most of the people in radio these days are not music lovers.  He said most of the people in radio that he knows are either business people or those that are there just for a paycheck.  I have no way to confirm or deny those views.  I only have the outcome to judge, which is dreadful.  Plastic people, saying disposable things.  Plastic people, saying disposable things.

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God’s Punishment

“They’re filthy lice and we’re here in this stink hole as God’s punishment”

“That’s nonsense, Roper,” Spillbergen said. We’re here becau—”

“It’s God’s punishment! We should have burned all the churches in Santa Magdellana–not just two. We should have. Cesspits of Satan!”

Passage from James Clavell’s Shogun.   Dutch Protestants that are being held prisoners are talking about what they should have done to the Catholic churches that they passed in travel.  Whether Clavell meant for this passage to be funny or not I have no idea.  It found it so with my morning coffee.

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Make Your Own Kind of Music

Nobody can tell ya,
There’s only one song worth singin’,
They may try and sell ya,
As it hangs them up to see
someone like you

But you’ve gotta make your own kind of music
sing your own special song,
make your own kind of music even if nobody
else sing along.

You’re gonna be no where.
the loneliest kind of lonely.
It may be rough goin’,
just to do your thing’s
the hardest thing to do.

But you’ve gotta make your own kind of music
sing your own special song,
make your own kind of music even if nobody
else sings along.

So if you cannot take my hand,
and if you must be goin’,
I will understand.

You gotta make your own kind of music
sing your own special song,
make your own kind of music even if nobody
else sings along.

You gotta make your own kind of music
sing your own special song,
make your own kind of music even if nobody
else sings along.

Make Your Own Kind of Music by The Mamas and the Papas..  I thought given the dire subject of the last post that I would post something fun.  I love Cass Elliot’s greatest hits.  If you ever need your spirits lifted this song is a good place to start.  I love these kind of dramatic girl pop songs from the 60’s.  Downtown by Petula Clark is another.  Longing and reassurance mixed to wonderful effect.  Sing all your cares away…

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The Big Ones Get Away

Hey, Baby I just got back from town
Where the bribes are paid
Honey, they turned my offer down
They say the deal’s already made
So now I gotta stand and watch
While it all comes down
And the buzzards and the hawks
And the judges and the mob
Circle round

Now if I were the queen of all the world
I would go in chains just to see you free
Of the ropes that bind you
And the role you play
And the pride that hooks you
While the big ones get away

Love junkies wanna change the world:
It quickly stays the same
Money junkies hire all the smart ones
Power junkies run the game

One step at a time
Polarity Hill
If the bad guys don’t get you, baby
Then the good guys will
With angels on the take
And the gangsters in the yard
Hey don’t the wars come easy
Hey don’t the peace come hard

Now if I had a way to reach the sky
I’d grab that crescent moon
Weild it like a knife
Save you from the lies
From the ropes that bind you
And the role you play
And the game that hooks you
While the big ones get away

The Big Ones Get Away by Buffy Sainte-Marie.  I know I have been on a Buffy Sainte-Marie kick the last month, but these lyrics simply knock me out.  There is poetic and political truth to them.  The music is slightly dated from a production standpoint.  However, it is one of those times when melody, singer, and lyrics fuse into something transcendent.  I could not help but share them.