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.
Live, 1986. An energetic performance (thanks, Gerard). I think that's Tom Petty on guitar.
Play list (In The Garden is a Christian song. I'll Remember You is a magnificent song. That Lennie Bruce song is stupid):
1.In The Garden 2.Just, Like A Woman 3.Like A Rolling Stone 4.It 's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding) 5.Girl From The North Country 6.Lenny Bruce 7.When The Night Comes Falling 8.Ballad Of A Thin Man 9.I"ll Remember You 10.Knockin 'On Heaven's Door
That could keep you entertained for a while. (Some just audio - it starts with Delia. Second in the line-up is Blind Willy McTell. Good, solid stuff. A treat. The pieces run in series)
My Heart's In the Highlands (Live, 2000) Bob's lyrics here. (And here is Robert Burns' song of the same name.)
I see people in the park forgettin' their troubles and woes They're drinkin' and dancin', wearin' bright colored clothes All the young men, with the young women lookin' so good Well, I'd trade places with any of 'em in a minute, if I could.
The Band with Dylan's hymn (live, 1970). So many of these good guys are dead now. Danko, Manuel, Levon. God knows where the incredibly talented Garth is today with his Lowrey organ and his sax.
Re-posted because it's so good, because it's been in my brain all week, and because it's stormy here today:
Gonna make a lot of money, gonna go up north I'll plant and I'll harvest what the earth brings forth The hammer's on the table, the pitchfork's on the shelf For the love of God, you ought to take pity on yourself
...yes, Wall Street may have a significant percentage of self-serving, ruthless, and manipulative psychopaths and almost psychopaths. And, yes, this fact might be of considerable importance in assessing the "moral fiber" of an investment bank. Whether this is a new phenomenon, though, is a separate question. And, in the current zeal to castigate Wall Street, let us not lose sight of the fact that about one out of every 100 people is a psychopath and 15 out of every 100 people are almost psychopaths. They are husbands, wives, doctors, lawyers, teachers, and store clerks.
And they are a lot closer to you than Wall Street.
Silver views psychopathy (aka Antisocial personality) as a spectrum, from little to lots. That fits my life experience and my professional experience. When I encounter "almost sociopathy", I term it "antisocial traits." The world of finance, indeed, has no monopoly on sociopathic traits. I suspect the world of politics has far more, proportionately.
An interesting feature of antisocial traits, like narcissistic traits, is that their owners tend not to know they have them. People who worry about having them probably don't have much of it.
A wonderful tune about disrespecting the power of the State, a traditional Irish tune, here as sung by Bob on Good As I Been To You(1992). Various lyrics here. I love this old song. Pleasant, folky, simple guitar by Bob, too.
Dylan has been partial to the old Irish and Scottish tunes since the beginning.
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'm missing her so much, but she's drifting like a satellite. There's a neon light ablaze in a green smoky haze, and 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 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 As she winds back the clock and she turns back the page Of a book that nobody can write. Oh, where are you tonight?
The rest of the astonishing lyrics are below the fold -
Buddy is right: it took balls for a young kid - a boy, really, a recklessly-ambitious first-year college dropout - to do this old song on TV in 1963 (Bob's first TV performance). He used Woody as his adult accessory ego. Artists always do things like that, borrowing and stealing ego-ideals to help fill out their ever-growing selves.
Hermit Crabs, as I have often seen on Cape Cod, sometimes will take on a moon shell far too large for them to fill. They can hardly drag it across the mud. Eventually, if lucky, they grow into it. And, if luckier still, someday have to find a new larger shell to inhabit.
Bob will be forever an old soul, and forever young. Restless, wonderfully lost, and doing much of the seeking and searching for us drones.
It's estimated that Bob Dylan has given more than 
808 Cities, 2,503 Shows, and 1,007,416 Miles
Live, 1986. An energetic performance (thanks, Gerard). I think that's Tom Petty on guitar.
A Friday free ad for Bob: 