We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Our friend Gerard Van der Leun tried his hand at a little musical comedy today: Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind?, by the Lovin' Superdelegates. A fine effort of course, as are all things American Digest. But of course, we can't help thinking he's mining a shaft with precious little ore in it. Dick Van Dyke and Julie Andrews is the mother lode, my brother!
SuperClintObamaDelegateFightIsAtrocious! Howard Dean is whining: Hey! infighting's gonna croak us If he says AARGH! loud enough He hopes the flock will focus SuperClintObamaDelegateFightIsAtrocious!
When Obama starts to speak Assembled throngs go mad Rodham gives his nose a tweak Points out his pastor's rad Then old Barry learned a word That saved his aching nose SuperClintObamaDelegateFightIsAtrocious!
Conversely under sniper fire There's no need for dismay For losing votes in Florida for caucusing last May Just claim those superdelegates If they can make parole SuperClintObamaDelegateFightIsAtrocious!
"Tweeter and the monkey man were hard up for cash They stayed up all night selling cocaine and hash To an undercover cop who had a sister named Jan For reasons unexplained she loved the monkey man
Tweeter was a boy scout before she went to Vietnam And found out the hard way nobody gives a damn They knew that they found freedom just across the Jersey line So they hopped into a stolen car took Highway 99
(chorus) And the walls came down all the way to hell Never saw them when they're standing Never saw them when they fell
The undercover cop never liked the monkey man Even back in childhood he wanted to see him in the can Jan got married at fourteen to a racketeer named bill She made secret calls to the monkey man from a mansion on the hill
It was out on thunder road, tweeter at the wheel They crashed into paradise, they could hear them tires squeal The undercover cop pulled up and said everyone of you's a liar If you dont surrender now its gonna go down to the wire
(chorus)
An ambulance rolled up, a state trooper close behind Tweeter took his gun away and messed up his mind The undercover cop was left tied up to a tree Near the souvenir stand by the old abandoned factory
Next day the undercover cop was hot in pursuit He was taking the whole thing personal He didnt care about the loot Jan had told him many times it was you to me who taught In Jersey anything's legal as long as you dont get caught."
(chorus) ... Lyrics continued below.
"Tweeter and the Monkey Man," off the Traveling Wilburys, Vol. I, from 1988. The chorus is sung by the rest of the group: Roy Orbison, Tom Petty, Jeff Lynne and George Harrison, but the lead vocals and all the words are Dylan's (with a little assistance from Petty). A close read of the lyrics reveals a lot of imagery lifted/borrowed from Bruce Springsteen. Don't worry too much about them though - just enjoy the original recording below.
"High water risin' - risin' night and day All the gold and silver are being stolen away Big Joe Turner lookin' East and West From the dark room of his mind He made it to Kansas City Twelfth Street and Vine Nothing standing there High water everywhere
High water risin', the shacks are slidin' down Folks lose their possessions - folks are leaving town Bertha Mason shook it - broke it Then she hung it on a wall Says, "You're dancin' with whom they tell you to Or you don't dance at all." It's tough out there High water everywhere
I got a cravin' love for blazing speed Got a hopped up Mustang Ford Jump into the wagon, love, throw your panties overboard I can write you poems, make a strong man lose his mind I'm no pig without a wig I hope you treat me kind Things are breakin' up out there High water everywhere
High water risin', six inches 'bove my head Coffins droppin' in the street Like balloons made out of lead Water pourin' into Vicksburg, don't know what I'm going to do "Don't reach out for me," she said "Can't you see I'm drownin' too?" It's rough out there High water everywhere
Well, George Lewis told the Englishman, the Italian and the Jew "You can't open your mind, boys To every conceivable point of view." They got Charles Darwin trapped out there on Highway Five Judge says to the High Sheriff, "I want him dead or alive Either one, I don't care." High Water everywhere
The Cuckoo is a pretty bird, she warbles as she flies I'm preachin' the Word of God I'm puttin' out your eyes I asked Fat Nancy for something to eat, she said, "Take it off the shelf - As great as you are a man, You'll never be greater than yourself." I told her I didn't really care High water everywhere
I'm getting' up in the morning - I believe I'll dust my broom Keeping away from the women I'm givin' 'em lots of room Thunder rolling over Clarksdale, everything is looking blue I just can't be happy, love Unless you're happy too It's bad out there High water everywhere."
"High Water (For Charley Patton)," from 2001's Love and Theft. Here is a decent performance from the spring 2007 tour (the album version, BD will agree, remains the best, never really topped in live performances).
"It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)," from Bringing it All Back Home ...more of the lyrics of the abridged version on continuation page. A 2007 performance below.
"Darkness at the break of noon Shadows even the silver spoon The handmade blade, the child's balloon Eclipses both the sun and moon To understand you know too soon There is no sense in trying.
Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn Suicide remarks are torn From the fool's gold mouthpiece The hollow horn plays wasted words Proves to warn That he not busy being born Is busy dying.
Temptation's page flies out the door You follow, find yourself at war Watch waterfalls of pity roar You feel to moan but unlike before You discover That you'd just be One more person crying.
So don't fear if you hear A foreign sound to your ear It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.
"Well, there was this movie I seen one time, About a man riding 'cross the desert and it starred Gregory Peck. He was shot down by a hungry kid trying to make a name for himself. The townspeople wanted to crush that kid down and string him up by the neck.
Well, the marshal, now he beat that kid to a bloody pulp as the dying gunfighter lay in the sun and gasped for his last breath. Turn him loose, let him go, let him say he outdrew me fair and square, I want him to feel what it's like to every moment face his death.
Well, I keep seeing this stuff and it just comes a-rolling in And you know it blows right through me like a ball and chain. You know I can't believe we've lived so long and are still so far apart. The memory of you keeps callin' after me like a rollin' train.
I can still see the day that you came to me on the painted desert In your busted down Ford and your platform heels I could never figure out why you chose that particular place to meet Ah, but you were right. It was perfect as I got in behind the wheel.
Well, we drove that car all night into San Anton' And we slept near the Alamo, your skin was so tender and soft. Way down in Mexico you went out to find a doctor and you never came back. I would have gone on after you but I didn't feel like letting my head get blown off.
Well, we're drivin' this car and the sun is comin' up over the Rockies, Now I know she ain't you but she's here and she's got that dark rhythm in her soul. But I'm too over the edge and I ain't in the mood anymore to remember the times when I was your only man And she don't want to remind me. She knows this car would go out of control..."
Lyrics to the 11-minute song continued on the following page. A youtube below has the entire audio of the song, oddly accompanied by a Tina Turner video. But ... that doesn't matter, since the audio is all that you need for this one. It's from "Knocked Out Loaded," the first and likely last song will will feature from that particular album (at least for a while).
"Hot chili peppers in the blistering sun Dust on my face and my cape, Me and Magdalena on the run I think this time we shall escape.
Sold my guitar to the baker's son For a few crumbs and a place to hide, But I can get another one And I'll play for Magdalena as we ride.
No llores, mi querida Dios nos vigila Soon the horse will take us to Durango. Agarrame, mi vida Soon the desert will be gone Soon you will be dancing the fandango.
Past the Aztec ruins and the ghosts of our people Hoofbeats like castanets on stone. At night I dream of bells in the village steeple Then I see the bloody face of Ramon.
Was it me that shot him down in the cantina Was it my hand that held the gun? Come, let us fly, my Magdalena The dogs are barking and what's done is done.
No llores, mi querida etc.
At the corrida we'll sit in the shade And watch the young torero stand alone. We'll drink tequila where our grandfathers stayed When they rode with Villa into Torreon.
Then the padre will recite the prayers of old In the little church this side of town. I will wear new boots and an earring of gold You'll shine with diamonds in your wedding gown.
The way is long but the end is near Already the fiesta has begun. The face of God will appear With His serpent eyes of obsidian.
No llores, mi querida etc.
Was that the thunder that I heard? My head is vibrating, I feel a sharp pain Come sit by me, don't say a word Oh, can it be that I am slain?
Quick, Magdalena, take my gun Look up in the hills, that flash of light. Aim well my little one We may not make it through the night.
No llores, mi querida etc.
"Romance in Durango," from 1975's Desire. The performance is from the Rolling Thunder Revue from Fall, 1975.
"Well, I see you got your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat Yes, I see you got your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat Well, you must tell me, baby How your head feels under somethin' like that Under your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat
Well, you look so pretty in it Honey, can I jump on it sometime? Yes, I just wanna see If it's really that expensive kind You know it balances on your head Just like a mattress balances On a bottle of wine Your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat
Well, if you wanna see the sun rise Honey, I know where We'll go out and see it sometime We'll both just sit there and stare Me with my belt Wrapped around my head And you just sittin' there In your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat
Well, I asked the doctor if I could see you It's bad for your health, he said Yes, I disobeyed his orders I came to see you But I found him there instead You know, I don't mind him cheatin' on me But I sure wish he'd take that off his head Your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat
Well, I see you got a new boyfriend You know, I never seen him before Well, I saw him Makin' love to you You forgot to close the garage door You might think he loves you for your money But I know what he really loves you for It's your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat..."
"Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat," from Blonde on Blonde. Versions from 1966 and 1996 are below.
"Can't you hear that rooster crowin'? Rabbit runnin' down across the road Underneath the bridge where the water flowed through So happy just to see you smile Underneath the sky of blue On this new morning, new morning On this new morning with you.
Can't you hear that motor turnin'? Automobile comin' into style Comin' down the road for a country mile or two So happy just to see you smile Underneath the sky of blue On this new morning, new morning On this new morning with you.
The night passed away so quickly It always does when you're with me.
Can't you feel that sun a-shinin'? Groundhog runnin' by the country stream This must be the day that all of my dreams come true So happy just to be alive Underneath the sky of blue On this new morning, new morning On this new morning with you.
So happy just to be alive Underneath the sky of blue On this new morning, new morning On this new morning with you. New morning . . ."
This Valentine's Day marks the third anniversary of our weekly Dylan lyrics, which began in earnest with "Forever Young" back on February 14, 2005. How time has flown. Today we offer "New Morning," off Bob's comeback album of the same name from 1970.
"I'm walking through streets that are dead Walking, walking with you in my head My feet are so tired, my brain is so wired And the clouds are weeping
Did I hear someone tell a lie? Did I hear someone's distant cry? I spoke like a child; you destroyed me with a smile While I was sleeping
I'm sick of love but I'm in the thick of it This kind of love, I'm so sick of it
I see, I see lovers in the meadow I see, I see silhouettes in the window I watch them 'til they're gone and they leave me hanging on To a shadow
I'm sick of love; I hear the clock tick This kind of love; I'm love sick
Sometimes the silence can be like the thunder Sometimes I wanna take to the road and plunder Could you ever be true? I think of you And I wonder
I'm sick of love; I wish I'd never met you I'm sick of love; I'm trying to forget you
Just don't know what to do I'd give anything to Be with you."
Love Sick, from 1997's "Time Out of Mind." The album cuts are very listenable and have held up well, but as usual Bob improved on them in his live performances, such as the one below, from the 1998 Grammy Awards (this is the famous "Soy Bomb" appearance, but the high sound quality edit released by Columbia Records cuts him out. I have included the second video so viewers can see what the audience actually saw during the middle portion of the performance).
"I don't care what you do, I don't care what you say I don't care where you go or how long you stay Someday baby, you ain't gonna worry po' me any more
Well you take my money and you turn me out You fill me up with nothin' but self doubt Someday baby, you ain't gonna worry po' me anymore
When I was young, driving was my crave You drive me so hard, almost to the grave Someday baby, you ain't gonna worry po' me anymore
I'm so hard pressed, my mind tied up in knots I keep recycling the same old thoughts Someday baby you ain't gonna worry po' me anymore
So many good things in life that I overlooked I don't know what to do now, you got me so hooked Someday baby you ain't gonna worry po' me any more
Well, I don't want to brag, but I'm gonna ring your neck When all else fails I'll make it a matter of self respect Someday baby, you ain't gonna worry po' me any more
You can take your clothes put 'm in a sack You goin' down the road, baby and you can't come back Someday baby you ain't gonna worry po' me any more
I try to be friendly, I try to be kind Now I'm gonna drive you from your home, just like I was driven from mine Someday baby you ain't gonna worry po' me any more
Living this way ain't a natural thing to do Why was I born to love you? Someday baby, you ain't gonna worry po' me any more."
"Hallelujah (I'm ready) I'm ready (Hallelujah) I can hear the voices singing soft and low Hallelujah (I'm ready) I'm ready (Hallelujah) Hallelujah I'm ready to go
Dark was the night not a star was in sight On a highway that leads down below But I let my Savior in and he saved this soul from sin Hallelujah I'm ready to go
Sinners don't wait before it's too late He's a wonderful Savior you know Well I fell on my knees and he answered my pleas Hallelujah I'm ready to go."
"Hallelujah, I'm Ready To Go," a old bluegrass traditional sung by the likes of Bill Monroe and Ricky Skaggs. Dylan opened his concerts with this tune often in 1999, as below.
"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief, "There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief. Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth, None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."
"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke, "There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke. But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate, So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."
All along the watchtower, princes kept the view While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too. Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl, Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.
"All Along the Watchtower," off 1967's John Wesley Harding, and performed by Bob over 1,400 times since then, making it his most-played song. Jimi Hendrix's cover is the best-known, eclipsing the original, but the song has been covered by dozens upon dozens of acts, including U2 and the Dave Matthews Band. Below: the original, a mid-90s rock reinterpretation ala Hendrix, and one of Jimi's own performances.
"He was just a blue-eyed Boston boy, His voice was low with pain. 'I'll do your bidding, comrade mine, If I ride back again. But if you ride back and I am left, You'll do as much for me, Mother, you know, must hear the news, So write to her tenderly.
"She's waiting at home like a patient saint, Her fond face pale with woe. Her heart will be broken when I am gone, I'll see her soon, I know.' Just then the order came to charge, For an instant hand touched hand. They said, "Aye," and away they rode, That brave and devoted band.
Straight was the track to the top of the hill, The rebels they shot and shelled, Plowed furrows of death through the toiling ranks, And guarded them as they fell. There soon came a horrible dying yell From heights that they could not gain, And those whom doom and death had spared Rode slowly back again.
But among the dead that were left on the hill Was the boy with the curly hair. The tall dark man who rode by his side Lay dead beside him there. There's no one to write to the blue-eyed girl The words that her lover had said. Momma, you know, awaits the news, And she'll only know he's dead."
"Two Soldiers," a Civil War-era song - author unknown - covered by Dylan on World Gone Wrong in 1993. Somone has kindly posted the album version on Youtube, see below.
"Uttering idle words from a reprobate mind, Clinging to strange promises, dying on the vine, Never bein' able to separate the good from the bad, Ooh, I can't stand it, I can't stand it, It's makin' me feel so sad.
Dead man, dead man, When will you arise? Cobwebs in your mind, Dust upon your eyes.
Satan got you by the heel, there's a bird's nest in your hair. Do you have any faith at all? Do you have any love to share? The way that you hold your head, cursin' God with every move, Ooh, I can't stand it, I can't stand it, What are you tryin' to prove?
Dead man, dead man, When will you arise? Cobwebs in your mind, Dust upon your eyes.
The glamour and the bright lights and the politics of sin, The ghetto that you build for me is the one you end up in, The race of the engine that overrules your heart, Ooh, I can't stand it, I can't stand it, Pretending that you're so smart.
Dead man, dead man, When will you arise? Cobwebs in your mind, Dust upon your eyes.
What are you tryin' to overpower me with, the doctrine or the gun? My back is already to the wall, where can I run? The tuxedo that you're wearin', the flower in your lapel, Ooh, I can't stand it, I can't stand it, You wanna take me down to hell.
Dead man, dead man, When will you arise? Cobwebs in your mind, Dust upon your eyes."
"Ramona, come closer, Shut softly your watery eyes. The pangs of your sadness Shall pass as your senses will rise. The flowers of the city Though breathlike, get deathlike at times. And there's no use in tryin' T' deal with the dyin', Though I cannot explain that in lines.
Your cracked country lips, I still wish to kiss, As to be under the strength of your skin. Your magnetic movements Still capture the minutes I'm in. But it grieves my heart, love, To see you tryin' to be a part of A world that just don't exist. It's all just a dream, babe, A vacuum, a scheme, babe, That sucks you into feelin' like this.
I can see that your head Has been twisted and fed By worthless foam from the mouth. I can tell you are torn Between stayin' and returnin' On back to the South. You've been fooled into thinking That the finishin' end is at hand. Yet there's no one to beat you, No one t' defeat you, 'Cept the thoughts of yourself feeling bad.
I've heard you say many times That you're better 'n no one And no one is better 'n you. If you really believe that, You know you got Nothing to win and nothing to lose. From fixtures and forces and friends, Your sorrow does stem, That hype you and type you, Making you feel That you must be exactly like them.
I'd forever talk to you, But soon my words, They would turn into a meaningless ring. For deep in my heart I know there is no help I can bring. Everything passes, Everything changes, Just do what you think you should do. And someday maybe, Who knows, baby, I'll come and be cryin' to you."
"Well, Frankie Lee and Judas Priest, They were the best of friends. So when Frankie Lee needed money one day, Judas quickly pulled out a roll of tens And placed them on a footstool Just above the plotted plain, Sayin', "Take your pick, Frankie Boy, My loss will be your gain."
Well, Frankie Lee, he sat right down And put his fingers to his chin, But with the cold eyes of Judas on him, His head began to spin. "Would ya please not stare at me like that," he said, "It's just my foolish pride, But sometimes a man must be alone And this is no place to hide."
Well, Judas, he just winked and said, "All right, I'll leave you here, But you'd better hurry up and choose Which of those bills you want, Before they all disappear." "I'm gonna start my pickin' right now, Just tell me where you'll be."
Judas pointed down the road And said, "Eternity!" "Eternity?" said Frankie Lee, With a voice as cold as ice. "That's right," said Judas Priest, "Eternity, Though you might call it 'Paradise.'"
"I don't call it anything," Said Frankie Lee with a smile. "All right," said Judas Priest, "I'll see you after a while."
Continue reading lyrics at link below...
"The Ballad Of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest," from John Wesley Harding. A rare performance from 2000, below, or, if you prefer, the original album version.
Ike Turner died last week, as you all know. This 1951 version of Rocket 88, sung by Jackie Brenston with Ike Turner on guitar, is widely considered to have been the first Rock and Roll song (h/t, Grow a Brain):
"I didn't mean to treat you so bad You shouldn't take it so personal I didn't mean to make you so sad You just happened to be there, that's all When I saw you say "goodbye" to your friends and smile I thought that it was well understood That you'd be comin' back in a little while I didn't know that you were sayin' "goodbye" for good
But, sooner or later, one of us must know You just did what you're supposed to do Sooner or later, one of us must know That I really did try to get close to you
I couldn't see what you could show me Your scarf had kept your mouth well hid I couldn't see how you could know me But you said you knew me and I believed you did When you whispered in my ear And asked me if I was leavin' with you or her I didn't realize just what I did hear I didn't realize how young you were
But, sooner or later, one of us must know You just did what you're supposed to do Sooner or later, one of us must know That I really did try to get close to you
I couldn't see when it started snowin' Your voice was all that I heard I couldn't see where we were goin' But you said you knew an' I took your word And then you told me later, as I apologized That you were just kiddin' me, you weren't really from the farm An' I told you, as you clawed out my eyes That I never really meant to do you any harm
But, sooner or later, one of us must know You just did what you're supposed to do Sooner or later, one of us must know That I really did try to get close to you."
"One of Us Must Know (Sooner or Later)," from 1966's Blonde on Blonde. The song was played frequently on the 1978 tour, has been performed only twice since that year (thanks for catching my mistake, Clubbeaux). No live versions are available on Youtube, but someone has kindly uploaded the original album version.
"To be alone with you Just you and me Now won't you tell me true Ain't that the way it oughta be? To hold each other tight The whole night through Everything is always right When I'm alone with you.
To be alone with you At the close of the day With only you in view While evening slips away It only goes to show That while life's pleasures be few The only one I know Is when I'm alone with you.
They say that nighttime is the right time To be with the one you love Too many thoughts get in the way in the day But you're always what I'm thinkin' of I wish the night were here Bringin' me all of your charms When only you are near To hold me in your arms.
I'll always thank the Lord When my working day's through I get my sweet reward To be alone with you."
"To Be Alone With You," from Nashville Skyline. Bob growls out a version from a 2002 show - the second to last before he started playing the keyboards - in the Youtube below.
Bring your guitar or banjo and sing Michael Row the Boat Ashore along with all your Commie friends! By 1963 there was a Hootenanny TV show. I think the 1962 flyer below, borrowed from this interesting blog, is genuine. It's printed (probably as an in-kind donation to The Folklore Center) on the old Merrill Lynch paper - Merrill Lynch, Pierce, Fenner & Beane. h/t, Sippican
"Stake my future on a hell of a past Looks like tomorrow is coming on fast Ain't complaining 'bout what I got Seen better times, but who has not?
Silvio, silver and gold Won't buy back the beat of a heart grown cold Silvio, I gotta go Find out something only dead men know
Honest as the next jade rolling that stone When I come knocking don't throw me no bone I'm an old boll weevil looking for a home If you don't like it you can leave me alone
I can snap my fingers and require the rain From a clear blue sky and turn it off again I can stroke your body and relieve your pain And charm the whistle off an evening train
I give what I got until I got no more I take what I get until I even the score You know I love you and furthermore When it's time to go you got an open door
I can tell you fancy, I can tell you plain You give something up for everything you gain Since every pleasure's got an edge of pain Pay for your ticket and don't complain
One of these days and it won't be long Going down in the valley and sing my song I will sing it loud and sing it strong Let the echo decide if I was right or wrong
Silvio, silver and gold Won't buy back the beat of a heart grown cold Silvio, I gotta go Find out something only dead men know."
"Silvio," from 1988's reviled "Down In The Groove." The album contained only a handful of original Dylan compositions, with this particular song credited as a co-writing effort between Dylan and Grateful Dead lyricist Robert Hunter (though Hunter was responsible for virtually all the lyrics). Dylan must have liked it, though, since it became a staple of the Neverending tour, appearing in almost every show in the mid-90s. Performances diminished in frequency by 1998, and the song has only been played on rare occasion since. The youtube below is from the song's heyday: a summer 1996 performance at the Prince's Trust benefit concert in London.
From What Bob Dylan Is Not, by Sean Curnyn in the Weekly Standard, 2006, a quote:
He really should have known better. In an interview several months later with Edna Gundersen in USA Today, Dylan was asked about the absence of any song about the current war on his own latest album, Modern Times.
"Didn't Neil Young do that?" he jokes . . . "What's funny about the Neil record, when I heard 'Let's Impeach the President,' I thought it was something old that had been lying around. I said, 'That's crazy, he's doing a song about Clinton?'"
With his sly and somewhat wicked response, Dylan had (1) desperately frustrated the considerable number of more obvious Dylan fans who have been waiting on the edge of a cliff for him to say or sing something--anything!--against President Bush and the Iraq war and (2) told Neil Young none-too-subtly that he found his recent ultrapolitical songwriting essentially pointless.
Somehow, after over 40 years of evidence to the contrary, much of the world seems to continue to expect the man who is arguably America's greatest songwriter to sign on to left/liberal causes at the first opportunity. If nothing else, it is proof that in attempting to kidnap Dylan's songs (in Dylan's own words, his songs were "subverted into polemics" in the 1960s), the left succeeded in convincing the average person that both the work and the man did, indeed, belong to them.
Nobody owns Bob. Read the whole thing. (h/t, reader)
Suze Rotolo is writing 
From What Bob Dylan Is Not, by Sean Curnyn in the Weekly Standard, 2006, a quote: