Posts Tagged ‘John Prine’

The (non-) shit monsoon

August 18, 2018

There’s some water up there this morning, and by this afternoon it may be down here.

Following the news lately reminds me of John Prine’s intro to “Dear Abby,” from his “Sweet Revenge” album.

Talking about reading a small English-language newspaper in Italy, he observed: “Every time you turned a page something just jumped right out at you.”

The deer didn’t get this one.

The old fight-or-flight reflex can only handle so much of that. Sometimes you have to take a deep breath, close the laptop, and walk away.

Lace up the shoes and go for a trail run. Log some Miles. Enjoy a frosty beverage. Watch the hummingbirds battle.

Stop and smell the roses.

Read something that doesn’t make you insane.

Listen to something that makes you want to dance. Then play a little something yourself.

Go for a nice long bike ride. Make sure it has fenders. Like the fella says, it never rains, but sometimes it pours.

 

One less cracker in the barrel

July 5, 2018

Scott Pruitt is going back to lifting twenties out of the collection plate at First Baptist in Broken Arrow, sneaking tips off nearby tables at Cracker Barrel, and surreptitiously peeing in Tulsa’s municipal pools.

As Hunter S. Thompson once said, “Well shucks. It makes a man’s eyes damp, for sure.”

The Good Doktor was speaking of Nixon fluffer Pat Buchanan, who was whimpering publicly about the harsh treatment afforded The Boss as the hyenas of Watergate gnawed on his political carcass, and what Thompson had to say about that administration 44 years ago goes double for this one:

“By bringing in hundreds of thugs, fixers and fascists to run the Government, [Nixon] was able to crank almost every problem he touched into a mindbending crisis. About the only disaster he hasn’t brought down on us yet is a nuclear war with either Russia or China or both but he still has time, and the odds on his actually doing it are not all that long.

“This is the horror of American politics today — not that Richard Nixon and his fixers have been crippled, convicted, indicted, disgraced and even jailed — but that the only available alternatives are not much better; the same dim collection of burned‐out hacks who have been fouling our air with their gibberish for the last twenty years.

“How long, oh Lord, how long? And how much longer will we have to wait before some high‐powered shark with a fistful of answers will finally bring us face‐to‐face with the ugly question that is already so close to the surface in this country, that sooner or later even politicians will have to cope with it?

“Is the democracy worth all the risks and problems that necessarily go with it? Or, would we all be happier by admitting that the whole thing was a lark from the start and now that it hasn’t worked out, to hell with it.”

I’d let Pruitt run the siren all the way back to Oklahoma, if he didn’t mind that his personal vehicle was a splintery rail. Meanwhile, his replacement as EPA chief is a former coal lobbyist, because of course he is. Right again, Doc.

• Bonus Extra Credit Venom: Read HST’s obituary of Richard M. Nixon, who many of us thought — wrongly, as it turned out — was as bad as a president could get. 

 

Souvenir

March 12, 2018

John Prine backed by Jason Wilber, David Jacques and Kenneth Blevins.

Thanks to Pat for passing this along: John Prine performing an NPR Tiny Desk concert for us.

The 15-minute set includes a couple new tunes from “The Tree of Forgiveness,” which is due out next month, and a couple oldies, one of them from those long-gone days when I still had hair on my head and not much on my mind.

The news just repeats itself

August 19, 2016

Now and then I miss working in a newsroom. This is not one of those times.

Most days, daily journalism is like any other gig, only more so. Hours of tedium interrupted by moments of pandemonium.

But news in the era of what Charlie Pierce calls He, Trump, is a whole other ballgame. It’s like trying to sip delicately from a fire hose hooked to a septic tank. It can’t be done, and nobody should have to try, not even for money.

And certainly not for free.

Instead I’ve been trying — and mostly succeeding — in paying attention to the bicycle, may God save her and all who sail in her.

There’s Bicycle Retailer‘s big 25th-anniversary celebration, for example. I need to dash off a column and cartoon on that topic, which shouldn’t be too much of a stretch, seeing as I’ve had 25 years of practice.

And I’ve ridden four different bikes in four days — Sam Hillborne, Steelman Eurocross, Soma Saga, Jones Steel Diamond — and loved every minute of it. Well, not every minute — the Steelman’s low end of 36×26 is a tad tall on steep, sandy single-track for an auld fella — but still, it beats perching in front of the Mac, letting the shit monsoon wash over me.

This morning I got up, grabbed some coffee, and when Herself went out to walk The Boo, I shut off NPR’s “Morning Edition” and started playing some John Prine instead. Sometimes a fella needs a little country to restore his faith in a bigger one.

Roll another one

July 23, 2013

Tattoo shops? Sure. Massage parlors? No prob’. Adult bookstores? You betcha. Predatory lenders, pawn shops and payday-loan outfits? Why not? Grog shops, alehouses and “smoker friendly” death merchants? Damn’ straight.

But retail marijuana sales? Hell, no. Are you nuts? That’s a jobs-killer, man!

No, sir. What we need here is a downtown baseball stadium, an Olympic museum, a new Air Force Academy visitors center, a shitload more Kum & Gos and. …

Uh, Mr. Mayor? Can we have a hit off whatever it is that you’re smoking? We’re gonna need an appetite to choke down all this pie in the sky you and your developer pals are pushing on us.

Christmas music that doesn’t suck (6)

December 25, 2012

I must have discovered John Prine sometime around 1974, and actually got to meet him some years later, at a Nitty Gritty Dirt Band anniversary concert. I’m sure he found me obnoxious, because I was, but I’ve always considered him one of our great American artists, and this song is one reason why.

Veterans Day

November 11, 2011

A little something for the guys who only made it halfway home.