Maggie's Farm

Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet?
We sit here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it
And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin' you to defy it
Lights flicker from the opposite loft
In this room the heat pipes just cough
The country music station plays soft
But there's nothing, really nothing to turn off
Just Louise and her lover so entwined
And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind

"Visions of Johanna," from 1966's Blonde on Blonde.  Download an intimate sounding live version from 1995 at the link here.

And it is possibly the best-assimilated illegal alien in the entire country, a white, Anglophile American expatriate speaking perfect British English and living as a faux-English Lord, and who was guilty only of possessing a false passport.  Meanwhile, immigrant rapists, terrorists, thieves, murderers and violent offenders of all stripes walk out of British jails and back onto the streets of London, secure from the threat of deportation and free to repeat offend (or just live off public benefits if they prefer).

Such is the sad state of affairs in 21st century Britain, where the government hastens to limit personal freedoms while failing to uphold its basic duty to protect the lives of its law-abiding citizens.

"They ask me how I feel
And if my love is real
And how I know I'll make it through.
And they, they look at me and frown,
They'd like to drive me from this town,
They don't want me around
'Cause I believe in you.

They show me to the door,
They say don't come back no more
'Cause I don't be like they'd like me to,
And I walk out on my own
A thousand miles from home
But I don't feel alone
'Cause I believe in you.

I believe in you even through the tears and the laughter,
I believe in you even though we be apart.
I believe in you even on the morning after.
Oh, when the dawn is nearing
Oh, when the night is disappearing
Oh, this feeling is still here in my heart."

"I Believe In You," from 1979's Slow Train Coming.  Download a live version from the 1979 Gospel Tour (where Dylan played only his new Christian songs and often preached to the audience between numbers) here.

Above picture from 1980.

"I was riding on the Mayflower
When I thought I spied some land
I yelled for Captain Arab
I have ya understand
Who came running to the deck
Said, "Boys, forget the whale
Look on over yonder
Cut the engines
Change the sail
Haul on the bowline"
We sang that melody
Like all tough sailors do
When they are far away at sea

"I think I'll call it America"
I said as we hit land
I took a deep breath
I fell down, I could not stand
Captain Arab he started
Writing up some deeds
He said, "Let's set up a fort
And start buying the place with beads"
Just then this cop comes down the street
Crazy as a loon
He throw us all in jail
For carryin' harpoons

"Bob Dylan's 115th Dream," from Bringing It All Back Home.  A song rarely played live, but here is one from the earliest days of the Neverending Tour in 1988.  The studio version, with it's false start and witty phrasing, has never been seriously challenged by any of the concert performances, which tend to call attention to the near-absence of any melody in the song. 

Picture above is from the 1988 Summer tour, from one of the very first shows of the now 18-year Neverending Tour.

The remainder of the charmin' and clever lyrics on continuation page.

Unwilling to give his pet issue a rest of more than a couple weeks, President Bush has made his way out to the west coast to spew the same old establishment talking points on immigration (see our helpful glossary here) in what seems to be a determined bid to rip apart the Republican party.  In this particular speech Bush criticized those who advocate deporting all of the 10-20 million (no one knows how many, exactly) illegal aliens in the country with the convincing argument that "[massive deportation] is not going to work."  In case that did not win over detractors, Bush added, "it's just not going to work." 

What remains unsaid in the article, however, is that no one in either in the House or the Senate has ever pushed for the immediate deportation of millions of people, so Bush has merely set up a straw man in place of the reasonable arguments of those in his own party, thereby relieving himself of having to actually engage in serious debate.  The sad fact that he is unable even to knock down the straw man is testament to the intellectual bankruptcy of the illegal alien lobby, which rarely if ever deigns to venture beyond clichéd soundbites and accusations of racism and nativism.

Meanwhile, back on Sunday's Meet the Press, Teddy Kennedy was only too eager to urge the President on in his self-destructive quest, telling Bush to "take on the right wing" of his party, otherwise known as the approximately 90 percent of Republicans who are opposed to the President's stance on illegal immigration.  Kennedy, who elsewhere in the interview sizes up the Democrats' prospects for regaining control of congress in the midterm elections, is no doubt well aware that any debate which pits House Republicans against Senate Republicans, and the President against his base, is an ideal debate to be holding in the run-up to November. 

My solution to the problem?  Have Teddy personally drive the illegals back over the Rio Grande - that experience ought to discourage them from any further incursions.

More: Linknzona has more on the "establishment" conspiracy to win votes and fool the public.

"I'm beginning to hear voices and there's no one around
Well, I'm all used up and the fields have turned brown
I went to church on Sunday and she passed by
My love for her is taking such a long time to die

I'm waist deep, waist deep in the mist
It's almost like, almost like I don't exist
I'm twenty miles out of town, in cold irons bound

The walls of pride are high and wide
Can't see over to the other side
It's such a sad thing to see beauty decay
It's sadder still, to feel your heart torn away

One look at you and I'm out of control
Like the universe has swallowed me whole
I'm twenty miles out of town in Cold irons bound"

"Cold Irons Bound," from 1997's Grammy-winning Time Out Of Mind.  While many of Dylan's earlier lyrics could stand on their own as poetry, those on Time Out Of Mind cannot - to me anyways - be separated from the music without having their impact significantly diminished.  In this sense, though, they may work better as complete songs than some earlier masterpieces.  In live performances Dylan uses the music to heighten the emotional impact of the songs to an even greater degree than on the albums: try, for instance, a fiery version from 1998 here, or a subdued new arrangement performed just a few days ago in Grand Prairie, Texas, here.

The inimitable Thomas Sowell has weighed in on the big-picture implications of mass immigration over at RealClearPolitics.  While he does an excellent job skewering pro-illegal immigration cliches with his usual clear-headed rationality, the following excerpt represents a far greater and more important realization about the effects of millions of foreigners on American culture and society: 

Why is this a far more prosperous country than the countries from which most of our immigrants come? Many of those countries are well endowed with natural resources but are lacking an economic and political culture that would allow those resources to be used to produce better results than the poverty which drives their people to other countries.

When you import people, you import cultures. Those cultures no longer give way to the American culture when "multiculturalism" is a dogma and its apostles and activists make it necessary for American laws, language, and culture to give way, or at least accommodate growing alien enclaves in our midst.

A nation is more than a collection of whatever population happens to reside within its borders. Something has to unite those people if the country is not to degenerate into the kind of unending internal strife brought on by Balkanization in many countries around the world, not just in the Balkans.

The final paragraph above is not only anathema to liberals, but to modern liberalism itself (embraced by Democrats and Republicans alike), which likes to hold that as all men are created equal, any cultural/racial/religious differences are mere details and relatively unimportant when it comes to deciding who we should choose to grant the gift and privilege of American citizenship.  Read the full article here.

Image: The Central Balkans

"You got a lotta nerve
To say you are my friend
When I was down
You just stood there grinning

You got a lotta nerve
To say you got a helping hand to lend
You just want to be on
The side that's winning

You say I let you down
You know it's not like that
If you're so hurt
Why then don't you show it

You say you lost your faith
But that's not where it's at
You had no faith to lose
And you know it"

"Positively 4th Street," released as a single in 1965 and later on the misleadingly-named Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits (while "Like A Rolling Stone" reached the top ten, many of the other songs on the record only topped the charts when recorded by other groups).  Download a live version from 1996 here.

"If not for you,
Babe, I couldn't find the door,
Couldn't even see the floor,
I'd be sad and blue,
If not for you.

If not for you,
Babe, I'd lay awake all night,
Wait for the mornin' light
To shine in through,
But it would not be new,
If not for you.

If not for you
My sky would fall,
Rain would gather too.
Without your love I'd be nowhere at all,
I'd be lost if not for you,
And you know it's true.

If not for you
My sky would fall,
Rain would gather too.
Without your love I'd be nowhere at all,
Oh! What would I do
If not for you.

If not for you,
Winter would have no spring,
Couldn't hear the robin sing,
I just wouldn't have a clue,
Anyway it wouldn't ring true,
If not for you."

"If Not For You," from 1970s pleasant-sounding, light-on-substance New Morning.  You owe it to yourself to listen to a live version from September, 2000 here.

"They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row

Cinderella, she seems so easy
"It takes one to know one," she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he's moaning
"You Belong to Me I Believe"
And someone says," You're in the wrong place, my friend
You better leave"
And the only sound that's left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row"

From the beginning of "Desolation Row," the closing track on 1965's Highway 61 Revisited.  Now that Bob has finally allowed himself a lyric cheat-sheet at concerts, fans are finally getting to hear all the verses to this long, bizarre and incredible song, one that really has no counterpart or equal anywhere else in popular music.  Try a live version from 2003 here. 

Welcome to visitors from other sites. While you're here, take a look around the Farm - click "Maggie's Farm" on top.

The Barrister has already made a very thoughtful post on the topic of illegal immigration, but I'd like to add a little follow up to show another side to this whole debate that is frequently overlooked: the role of language itself in framing the issue.  Perhaps the most commonly heard euphemism these days is "undocumented worker," an old standby of the illegal immigration lobby, but in truth it is only one term amidst an entire vocabulary of lies and distortion peddled by illegal immigrant advocates from Ted Kennedy to George W. Bush and used to dictate the terms of the broader discussion.  With that in mind, I've prepared a little glossary of phrases to help the discerning reader wade through the abysmal media coverage of this issue as well as the half-truths, logical fallacies and outright falsehoods uttered by the political leadership of both parties.

"Hard-working people" A favorite of President Bush, most often used to describe illegal aliens and thereby to excuse their illegality.  An irrelevant point, since merely working hard at one's job (if we accept this premise) is obviously not a legitimate excuse for violating the law of the land.  See also "good-hearted people."

"Jobs Americans Won't Do:" Another Bush favorite, this phrase is used so casually by the President that hardly anyone has taken the time to study the implications of such a statement.  In fact, this glib phrase is a true monstrosity, as it implies that there are entire types of jobs which not a single American is willing to do - and what's more, the President apparently is approving, or at least accepting, of this unwillingness of millions of his own citizens to perform such work.  A tacit endorsement of the creation of a foreign-labor underclass to perform menial labor.

"We Are A Nation of Immigrants:"  A particularly vile half-truth.  While a majority of Americans are descended from immigrant ancestors (that is, foreigners who entered this country after its independence), only about 15 percent of Americans today are foreign-born.  And how does the fact that large numbers of legal immigrants have come to this country at certain times in American history serve as a good argument (or any argument at all, actually) for granting amnesty to illegal aliens in 2006? 

"Comprehensive Approach/Reform:"  A phrase often on the lips of Bush and co., this is the current "hip" way to refer to a mass amnesty of illegals, without actually saying so.

"Unwelcoming/Un-American:" Adjectives used more often by the left, but increasingly by the right as well, to delegitimitize any attempt at controlling our borders or enforcing immigration law.  Hillary Clinton recently put a new spin on this old standard by calling a Republican immigration bill un-Christian as well.

"Migrants/migration:" While civilized, lawful countries maintain immigration policies, the use of the word migration conjures up visions of flocks of birds headed northwards unimpeded, or perhaps of the great migrations of antiquity: nobody describes the Goths or the Huns "immigrating" across the steppes and into the Roman Empire.  By using the word, the user hopes to create a psychological sense of a vast and imminent force beyond the control of law-abiding societies.

"Welcoming society v. lawful society:" A relative newcomer, most recently found in Bush's weekly radio address (itself a masterpiece of immigration Newspeak), which draws a false parallel between enforcing the laws of the nation (a clear, concrete concept) and a vague notion of being "welcoming," which as defined earlier is simply an emotional appeal for non-enforcement of the same laws.  Bush claims that we can be both at the same time, when the two concepts are clearly diametrically opposed.

"This bill is not an amnesty/I am firmly opposed to amnesty but...:" Usually (but not always) an excellent indication that the bill in question is an amnesty. 

"Tightening/strengthening the borders:" Usually used in connection with initiatives to hire a couple dozen new border patrol agents, or to spend millions on surveillance equipment that doesn't either impede or capture anyone wishing to illegally enter the country.

At right: Hard-working Mongol immigrants facilitate a cross-cultural dialogue with Polish knights at Liegnitz, 1241 A.D.

"God knows you ain't pretty,
God knows it's true.
God knows there ain't anybody
Ever gonna take the place of you.

God knows it's a struggle,
God knows it's a crime,
God knows there's gonna be no more water
But fire next time.

God didn't call it treason,
God didn't call it wrong,
It was supposed to last a season
But it's been so strong for so long.

God knows there's a river,
God knows how to make it flow,
God knows you ain't gonna be taking
Nothing with you when you go."

"God Knows," from the 1990 album Under The Red Sky (though originally written and recorded for Oh Mercy).  Download a live version from 1995 here, or one from last summer's tour here.

"Early one mornin' the sun was shinin',
I was layin' in bed
Wond'rin' if she'd changed at all
If her hair was still red.
Her folks they said our lives together
Sure was gonna be rough
They never did like Mama's homemade dress
Papa's bankbook wasn't big enough.
And I was standin' on the side of the road
Rain fallin' on my shoes
Heading out for the East Coast
Lord knows I've paid some dues gettin' through,
Tangled up in blue.

She was married when we first met
Soon to be divorced
I helped her out of a jam, I guess,
But I used a little too much force.
We drove that car as far as we could
Abandoned it out West
Split up on a dark sad night
Both agreeing it was best.
She turned around to look at me
As I was walkin' away
I heard her say over my shoulder,
"We'll meet again someday on the avenue,"
Tangled up in blue."

"Tangled Up In Blue," off 1975's Blood On The Tracks.  Download a live version from 2000 here.

"As we rode out to Fennario, as we rode out to Fennario
Our captain fell in love with a lady like a dove
And called her by a name, pretty Peggy-O.

Will you marry me pretty Peggy-O, will you marry me pretty Peggy-O
If you will marry me, I'll set your cities free
And free all the ladies in the are-O.

I would marry you sweet William-O, I would marry you sweet William-O
I would marry you but your guineas are too few
And I fear my mama would be angry-O.

What would your mama think pretty Peggy-O,
What would your mama think pretty Peggy-O,
What would your mama think if she heard my guineas clink
Saw me marching at the head of my soldiers-o."

"Pretty Peggy-O," traditional tune covered by Dylan on his very first album, 1962's Bob Dylan, and later played frequently on the Neverending Tour from 1992 until its last known appearance in 1998.  Download a live version from September 1992 here, or a Grateful Dead cover of the same song from 1982 here.  This website has additional information on the history and derivation of the song.

We are a couple weeks late on the news, but Overlawyered reports that the tremendously successful website craigslist.org, which hosts individual ads for anything from housing to sports equipment and personals, is being sued by a group of Chicago-based lawyers for violating the federal Fair Housing Act.  The site currently advises any would-be posters to avoid "discrimination" in their ads, and removes any postings which have been the subject of complaints, but the lawsuit (see the filed complaint here) would compel craigslist to pre-censor all posts. 

The Fair Housing Act is already enough of a blow to the right to freely associate, but this lawsuit would prevent individual tenants from so much as describing what qualities they desire in a roommate.  Are you a woman who would prefer to live with another female?  A guy looking for someone close to his own age?  Or even someone mentioning that their apartment is "across from the Catholic church"?  Tough luck - mentioning any of these things in an ad would be considered "housing discrimination" and your carefully crafted ad would be screened out.  Fortunately, it seems that the weight of precedent is against the "plaintiffs" - themselves just a group of lawyers, rather than any aggrieved party.  Even if successful, such a law would only serve to waste the time of all people involved, as the tenant would be forced to deal with each applicant individually to get the same simple information that an ad would have screened for.

(The psychology of discrimination comes into play here also: if I read an ad that states a preference for blacks as roommates, I am unlikely to be offended since there was no harm done to me, and in fact harm potentially averted since I was saved the emotional distress of having had my request rejected.  If the ad instead said "no whites, asians or hispanics or indians, please," there might be more room for offense even though the meaning is more or less identical.  Banning preferences in ads altogether will not make them go away, however, and only makes it much more likely that someone will experience individual rejection on sex/racial/religious grounds.)

(Can you identify that unfair house in photo? And who paid the rent?)

"John Wesley Harding
Was a friend to the poor,
He trav'led with a gun in ev'ry hand.
All along this countryside,
He opened a many a door,
But he was never known
To hurt an honest man.

'Twas down in Chaynee County,
A time they talk about,
With his lady by his side
He took a stand.
And soon the situation there
Was all but straightened out,
For he was always known
To lend a helping hand.

All across the telegraph
His name it did resound,
But no charge held against him
Could they prove.
And there was no man around
Who could track or chain him down,
He was never known
To make a foolish move."

-"John Wesley Harding," off the album of the same name from 1967.  Coincidentally, the property on which Dick Cheney's hunting accident occurred was originally purchased by John Armstrong, the ranger who captured the real-life outlaw John Wesley Hardin after a shootout in 1877.  "Chaynee County" indeed!

(Photo, Dylan, 1968, from Landy)

Initial dates announced, in the Southwest. BobDylan.com

T'was in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved.
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

"Shelter From The Storm," from 1975's Blood On The Tracks.

"Tweedle-dee Dum and Tweedle-dee Dee
They're throwing knives into the tree
Two big bags of dead man's bones
Got their noses to the grindstones

Living in the Land of Nod
Trustin' their fate to the Hands of God
They pass by so silently
Tweedle-dee Dum and Tweedle-dee Dee

Well, they're going to the country, they're gonna retire
They're taking a streetcar named Desire
Looking in the window at the pecan pie
Lot of things they'd like they would never buy

Neither one gonna turn and run
They're making a voyage to the sun
"His Master's voice is calling me,"
Says Tweedle-dee Dum to Tweedle-dee Dee

Tweedle-dee Dee and Tweedle-dee Dum
All that and more and then some
They walk among the stately trees
They know the secrets of the breeze..."

From "Tweedle-Dee & Tweedle-Dum," from 2001's astonishing Love and Theft.  Download a live version here.

"Oh, I'm sailin' away my own true love,
I'm sailin' away in the morning.
Is there something I can send you from across the sea,
From the place that I'll be landing?

No, there's nothin' you can send me, my own true love,
There's nothin' I wish to be ownin'.
Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled,
From across that lonesome ocean.

Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine
Made of silver or of golden,
Either from the mountains of Madrid
Or from the coast of Barcelona.

Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night
And the diamonds from the deepest ocean,
I'd forsake them all for your sweet kiss,
For that's all I'm wishin' to be ownin'.

"Boots of Spanish Leather," from 1964's The Times They Are A-Changin'

"Been so long since a strange woman has slept in my bed.
Look how sweet she sleeps, how free must be her dreams.
In another lifetime she must have owned the world, or been faithfully wed
To some righteous king who wrote psalms beside moonlit streams.

I and I
In creation where one's nature neither honors nor forgives.
I and I
One says to the other, no man sees my face and lives."

"I and I," off 1983's Infidels.  Download a live version here.

"There's a long-distance train rolling through the rain, tears on the letter  I write.
There's a woman I long to touch and I miss her so much but she's drifting like a satellite.
There's a neon light ablaze in this green smoky haze, laughter down on
Elizabeth Street
And a lonesome bell tone in that valley of stone where she bathed in a stream of pure heat.
Her father would emphasize you got to be more than street-wise but he practiced what he preached from the heart.
A full-blooded Cherokee, he predicted it to me, the time and the place that we'd part.

There's a babe in the arms of a woman in a rage
And a longtime golden-haired stripper onstage
And she winds back the clock and she turns back the page
Of a book that no one can write.
Oh, where are you tonight?"

"Where Are You Tonight? (Journey Through Dark Heat)," from 1978's Street Legal. 

"I'll remember you
When I've forgotten all the rest,
You to me were true,
You to me were the best.
When there is no more,
You cut to the core
Quicker than anyone I knew.
When I'm all alone
In the great unknown,
I'll remember you.

I'll remember you
At the end of the trail,
I had so much left to do,
I had so little time to fail.
There's some people that
You don't forget,
Even though you've only seen 'em
One time or two.
When the roses fade
And I'm in the shade,
I'll remember you."

"I'll Remember You," from Empire Burlesque.  Download a live version of this song here.

Harvested from here:

Joan Baez:
"I heard about Bob Dylan before I heard him. Somebody invited me to Gerde's Folk City in 1961, and that was the first I heard him sing. He knocked me flat. Everything everyone said [about him] was right. I thought he was brilliant, amazing, a scuff ball."

Donovan:[After mentioning the accusations of "ripping off" Dylan and being irritated with Dylan comparisons in general, Donovan tells this anecdote:] "I remember arriving, and Bobby Neuwirth, Dylan's roadie at the time, quietly bringing me into Dylan's suite... I went into a little television room, creeped in and shut the door. It was dark in there. Dylan was just a shadow. He was looking at the ice skating championships from Austria on television in a darkened room. He didn't say anything. We just sat down. Neither asked the other a question. There was nothing to say, nothing to ask. Slowly my eyes got accustomed to the dark, and I realized there were other figures in the room sitting on the couch. Slowly the figures became more real. It was John, Paul, George, and Ringo. I must say I felt a little out of my depth."

Bono of U2:
"I think he is a very tenacious character. I think underneath all the so-called eccentricity, which I think is just a mask, there's a very true person. He's a good father --- I've seen him with his children --- with a moral compass, and who can get lost at sea like everybody. But I think he's very strong."

George Harrison:
"Dylan is so brilliant. To me, he makes William Shakespeare look like Billy Joel."

Levon Helm of The Band:
"He's turned himself into a decent bandleader. He don't strum no more. Bobby plays an electric guitar. He plays like [Steve] Cropper plays. He's really part of the rhythm section. Oh man, I love the way Bob has led his band... I like to go like that, just no plan, and play it all by ear. He's as good at it as anybody I know."

Dave Matthews:
[Asked to name his favorites.] "It wouldn't be fair if I didn't name every Dylan record. It almost makes me furious sometimes, how good his lyrics are. You know, you aspire to things. I'm trying and trying [to write a song], and I'll get something and I'll say, 'That's pretty good,' and then I'll listen to Blood On the Tracks and think 'Who the hell am I kidding? What the hell am I talking about?' 'Come in, she said / I'll give you / shelter from the storm.' Asshole!"

Paul Simon:
"I don't think [Dylan and the Beatles] influenced me a lot. I think it was inevitable; they were so powerful that you couldn't really escape the influence... As for Bob, I don't know. He's like the most mysterious of all the people of our generation. He's sort of impenetrable, really."

"Senor, senor, do you know where we're headin'?
Lincoln County Road or Armageddon?
Seems like I been down this way before.
Is there any truth in that, senor?

Senor, senor, do you know where she is hidin'?
How long are we gonna be ridin'?
How long must I keep my eyes glued to the door?
Will there be any comfort there, senor?

There's a wicked wind still blowin' on that upper deck,
There's an iron cross still hanging down from around her neck.
There's a marchin' band still playin' in that vacant lot
Where she held me in her arms one time and said, "Forget me not."

Senor, senor, I can see that painted wagon,
I can smell the tail of the dragon.
Can't stand the suspense anymore.
Can you tell me who to contact here, senor?"

From "Senor (Tales Of Yankee Power)," off Street Legal.  Download a live version of this song from 1994 at the link here.