Here Thar Be Monsters!
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Once upon a time, you dressed so fine, you threw the bums a dime in your prime. Didn't you?
OK, sorry for that, but I was sitting here thinking (again) and one of your classics popped into my head. With very little massage, it seemed to fit so well with the world today. Hope you don't mind if I borrow some words from you and send it to a new generation.
We sure could use a voice like yours today. Well, maybe not the voice voice, but the literary voice. A little joke. Don't take it personally. You see, there just doesn't seem to be folks like you around right now. Rage Against the Machine is retired, or mostly so, and any other radical outlets seem to be very muted at the moment.
No one is sparking the fire of resistance. Everyone seems so engrossed with social media and gee-gaws that they've forgotten to look up once in a while and see which way the wind blows. Of course, an apprentice of the Weathermen is in the Oval Office, but he sure seems like he's gone off in the completely wrong direction.
But don't think twice, it's alright. Somehow we'll get out of this mess. I have faith that at some point, folks will wake up and bring it all back home. With any luck, we can do it without any blood on the tracks. Something is happening here, but you don't know what it is. Do you, Mr. Jones?
Thanks for listening, Bob. Hope you're doing alright. The idiot winds are blowing, but the answers are few and far between. The Masters of War appear to be winning for now. Sometimes it seems that one hand is tied to the tight-rope walker and the other is in our pants.
All I need is just one more cup of coffee before I go to the valley below. It ain't me, Bob.
The times they are a changin',