” The Eve of Destruction”


Barry telling it like it is!

Europe again hears the drums of war. ” Bet they didn’t see this one coming?” Putin is now the anointed Baby Joseph Stalin, and Biden behaves much like Franklin Roosevelt.

“The Eastern world, it is explodin’.
Violence flarin’, bullets loadin’
You’re old enough to kill but not for votin’.
You don’t believe in war, but what’s that gun you’re totin’?
And even the Jordan River has bodies floatin’.”

“But you tell me over and over and over again, my friend
Ah, you don’t believe we’re on the eve of destruction.”

In his hit song back in the sixties, Barry McGuire warns, “we’re on the eve of destruction.” We can imagine he was referring to Vietnam or perhaps the Arab-Israeli conflict in 1968.

Either one, those lyrics are more relevant today than they were 50 years ago. Our American news media, Old Lester Holt, and the other two networks, the young pansexual dude and the snarky woman, are getting a lot of mileage out of the Ukraine war. Wars and conflicts are lotteries for ratings.

Imagine the biggest news story since Watergate, the Clinton organization and her cronies spying on a president, breaks, which the media completely ignores, and then Russia invades Ukraine. What a blessing from below (Hell) for our media and folks in Washington. Again, Biden and the Clinton gang are off the hook, most likely for eternity.

Our young people can be comforted to know that the Kardashians are still in the news throughout this apocalypse.

“Spotify Don’t Need Him Around Anyhow”


“Hope Neil Young will remember, a southern man don’t need him around anyhow.” Lynard Skinnard had it right, and neither does the eastern or the western man. Sliding into rock and roll obscurity is a pitiful state. Joni Mitchell, one of my favorite singers from ” back in the day,” has joined the “has-been” wagon supporting old Neil. She’s been on that trip for a while now. Together, she and Neil can enjoy swooshing downward until they hit the pile of crap at the bottom of the celebrity slide. Eventually, everyone in rock music gets to ride it.

Old Neil was never one of my favorites. He can’t sing for squat and possesses a thirteen-year-old valley girl’s whiney, tinny voice. So, it’s puzzling why Crosby, Stills, and Nash asked him to be in their supergroup. Those three guys could sing like hashed out angels, so Young must have been there for his guitar chops and fancy fringed leather jackets.

Joe Rogan is the new big deal in town. A new age sheriff with lots of tats and a six-gun on each hip. He’s as cool as Clint Eastwood and has the literacy jive of Jack Kerouac. He calls it as it is and doesn’t coat anything with honey.

So, Joe Rogan is the guy that Neil Young and Joni Mitchell always protested against way back in their hippie-dippy days, and Biden, who is the personification of “the man holding them down,” with his kings’ scroll of mandates, is their new golden calf. Go figure that crazy town crap out. They canceled themselves.

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