corrente

Long Ike and Sweet Betsy attended a dance; Ike wore a pair of his Pike County pants; Sweet Betsy was dressed up in ribbons and rings; Says Ike, "You're an angel, but where are your wings?"


Lyrics above from: "Sweet Betsy From Pike" circa 1870.

Over yonder at the Liberal Coalition website Alex of Sooner Thought has posted an excerpt and link to a recent Greg Palast column. A column i'd read myself previously and had considered commenting on but didn't because I was distracted by CNN's sexy new titilating twenty four hour non-stop road to the Republican National Convention - slash - TERROR ALERT! - slash - ELECT BUSH! - slash - campaign news-o-terror-mercial. You've probably already heard of it. So lets move along.

Alex writes:

Greg Palast asks some tough questions about John Kerry. I may not agree with all of what he says, but I respect his right (and courage) to say it. Just a reminder that even our best candidates have (and probably will) let us down. It is our job to hold President Kerry's feet to the fire if he forgets what he promised.

You can also read Palast's entire column over at the Common Dreams dot org if you'd like. You've probably actually read this column before. In one manifestation or another. More than once actually. More like a 1000 times from a thousand different progressive voices. You read it during the 2000 Gore vs. Bush campaign. You read it during the Clinton vs. Dole campaign. And on and on. And I suspect you'll read it a thousand times from here to November. And to be honest, like Alex, I can't really disagree with what Palast has to say on most points. The only problem I have right now is that I'm fucking sick and tired of hearing Greg Palast and his troupe of wandering minstrels singing the same goddamned song over and fucking over again. Clue to Greg - dood - we fucking GET IT! Okie-dokie! Like ya know we can groove on the tunes you're diggin' man. But we're kind of sick and tired of listening to ya play the same fuckin' chords over and over again. Especially since we ain't exactly booked into the Unitarian coffee house tour from now till November 2004.

So anyway, Steve Bates of Yellow Doggerel Democrat enters the LibCoalition/Palast post comment thread with the following insight:

Alex, are you saying you found it difficult to applaud that speech? Put aside the saber-rattling and military posturing; any electable candidate would do the same this year. Are you saying there were no progressive elements of that speech that made your heart glad?

If Kerry is the "slap in the face," then by all means, give me the slap in the face. The "brick to the skull" has already been flung at us; the only question now is whether we duck or take the hit. I am a fan of Greg Palast. He doesn't mince words. Like me, he is a lot more liberal than Sen. Kerry. But it is easy to be snarky from the sidelines. And I believe the "Kerry supports the war" meme is a bad rap: Bush's mess will take more than a month to clean up, as Kerry acknowledges. Kerry promised more than he can accomplish in a term following Bush's. So what else is new? Politicians promise what they want, not what they can do. But do you think we will see more war with Kerry in office than with Bush?

Alex in turn responds:

I am presenting a point of view--that's all. I just don't want President Kerry to forget the reasons we elected him. Don't misunderstand: I am 100% Kerry--but I still think our system is in trouble. Too much money in campaigns, a Democratic Party in Congress that wimped out to the Repubs until Dean set our rhetoric free and made it okay to be Democrats again. Kerry voted for this war. He voted for the Patriot Act. We must make sure his actions as president match his promises as candidate. That said--Vote Kerry!

Obviously neither Steve or Alex are stupid carzy idiots. It's a nuance thing. Which apparently Right wingees can't figger or don't take a hankerin' to or something. But - anyway - this is what bothers me. As a matter of fact it's been driving me especially nuts lately. More so in this year 2004. Because, and mainly because, guys like Palast never give it up even for the benefit of a charity gig. And apparently not even long enough to do themselves any good. Tweedledum and Tweedledee, all Greg Palast's columns are the same - ya see.

Come gather 'round people - Wherever you roam - And admit that the waters - Around you have grown - And accept it that soon - You'll be drenched to the bone. - If your time to you - Is worth savin' - Then you better start swimmin' - Or you'll sink like a stone - For the times they are a-changin'.

Palast will be filing the same exact copy from the wilderness of the second W. Bush term that hes filing now from the last days of the first. The same copy he's been filing for years. What does he care? He'll just move to London when the undertow becomes too ugly?

Furthermore. I'm sick and tired of wandering around in the misty woods in the middle of night dressed like an indian making hooty-owl sounds and giving secret handshakes to fellow progressives like Palast while Chief Nader and his merry band of like minded teepee shaman smoke peace pipe with buffalo runners and caravans of loopy pilgrims on their way to the holyland. WELL FUCK THAT STONEY BALONEY PONY SHIT! I'm sick of sleeping on my horse, eating dead dogs, and camping out in the rain.

I'm sick of it. I want to attack the fort. I want to take Fort W and scatter to the four winds the vile Tory bastards within. If that means riding through those gates in war paint behind John Kerry and John Edwards I'm ready to go. I don't care if John Kerry happens to be a snooty New England scrimshaw dealer and I don't give a flyin' leaping screw if John Edwards continues to flail around thumbs up while grinning like some corn-ball loon who's been gobbling handfulls of psilocybin. Fuck it. Who cares. Kick out the jams motherfuckers! Lets rock and roll. I'll deal with the particulars of the hangover once I've settled me down in a nice bunk with clean sheets and found me a pretty girl to walk me to the grand opening of the progressive dancin' saloon.

I want a place in the fort. Greg. Once inside I'll set me up a desk built of sticks and stones and political party bones and do my trade as I see fit. If Greg Palast wants to sew little bells to his coat and hop up and down like a wood elf while strumming his old banjo inside and/or outside of that fort that will be just fine with me. I think that would be a nice time. I'm all for it. But if Greg Palast and his medicine man jug band don't wish to join those of us willing to sacrifice something of ourselves to storm the ramparts, at this desolate crossroads, for tangible strategic purposes, and would prefer to remain in the forest conjuring mystical cures and dancing naked about the spirit fires, well, so be it as well. But remember, in these times especially, if you chose to remain chanting in the wilderness, and your songs are not heard in the hall of dances for generations to come, you may find you have no one to blame but yourself. Old songs are nice. I love old songs. I remember old songs. But if they are never heard they die a slow agonizing death. And if you are not willing to change your tune long enough to do what it takes to build a new stage from which those songs can be played and sung and listened to, well, you need to listen to more of this old song:

Your old road is Rapidly agin'. Please get out of the new one if you can't lend your hand. For the times they are a-changin'.

Which, speaking of old songs, brings me back round to Sweet Betsy from Pike and her partner Ike. Long Ike and Betsy set off on a complicated journey. They didn't always see eye to eye for much of the going and they sure had their ups and downs - god knows - but, nevertheless, they stuck it out together. And they made it. They even managed to dis old Brigham Young and leave the old pervert standing in his own dust fondling his own horny nuts. Betsy and Ike may have ultimately parted ways but they got where they set out to git and they attended many dances in many forts and married each other and had quite at time of it. And it was quite an adventure to tell.

It would be a real shame if that old song were forgotten.

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