Tag Archives: The Grateful Dead

Redneck Mother Fucker

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The Thinker
Brownshirt, Blackshirt, Blimp-neck, Dittohead, Wingnut, Cracker –the term you’re looking for is REDNECK. Musically, Randy Newman gave it humanity, and Jerry Jeff Walker gave it love, and the Grateful Dead tweaked his lyric to capture what I think is the essence of the good ol’ boy: his thinking man self image.

M     is for the mud flaps you got me for my pickup truck
O     is for the oil I put on my hair
T     is for T-bird
H     is for hen
E     is for Einstein’s theory of relativity, and
R     is for YOU REDNECK MOTHER!

And for good measure, Newman’s Rednecks:

Last night I saw Lester Maddox on a TV show
With some smart ass New York Jew
And the Jew laughed at Lester Maddox
And the audience laughed at Lester Maddox too.
Well he may be a fool but he’s our fool.
If they think they’re better than him they’re wrong.
So I went to the park and I took some paper along
And that’s where I made this song.

We talk real funny down here.
We drink too much and we laugh too loud.
We’re too dumb to make it in no Northern town
And we’re keepin’ the niggers down.

We got no-necked oilmen from Texas
And good ol’ boys from Tennessee
And colleges men from LSU.
Went in dumb. Come out dumb too.
Hustlin’ ’round Atlanta in their alligator shoes
Gettin’ drunk every weekend at the barbecues
And they’re keepin’ the niggers down.

We’re rednecks, rednecks
And we don’t know our ass from a hole in the ground.
We’re rednecks, we’re rednecks
And we’re keeping the niggers down.

Now your northern nigger’s a Negro.
You see he’s got his dignity.
Down here we’re too ignorant to realize
That the North has set the nigger free.

Yes he’s free to be put in a cage
In Harlem in New York City.
And he’s free to be put in a cage on the South-Side of Chicago
And the West-Side.
And he’s free to be put in a cage in Hough in Cleveland.
And he’s free to be put in a cage in East St. Louis.
And he’s free to be put in a cage in Fillmore in San Francisco.
And he’s free to be put in a cage in Roxbury in Boston.
They’re gatherin’ ’em up from miles around,
Keepin’ the niggers down.

iN line for the iPhone

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As one who doesn’t like to leave the house, I am a big fan of the internet. In truth, I can hardly speak a negative word about it. The web has given us unfettered access to news and information, consumer goods, visions pleasing to the eye, sounds pleasing to the ear, easy communication one step removed. I can’t say I miss a single thing about the “good ol’ days.” Except waiting in line for concert tickets.

I love live music. I’ve been to zillions of concerts. In fact, I am going to a 2-day concert event in Denver this weekend. The headliners are Tom Petty and the Dave Matthews Band (woot! woot!). Over the years I’ve seen the Stones, the Who, the Grateful Dead, Elton John, Bob Dylan, Pink Floyd, Bruce Springsteen, James Taylor, Michael Jackson — the list goes on and on. And, so I don’t date myself too closely, I’ve even seen ‘N Sync and James Blunt.

Raised in an environment of easy internet access, my poor darling children have never had to stand in line for anything. Until last week when the new iPhone was to be released. After I made the big mistake of describing the many reasons I was considering an iPhone purchase, they decided that their future health and happiness was predicated on having 16GB iPhones. With no advice from me, they decided that they had to get to the store very early or risk failure.

They got to the AT&T store at 1 a.m. They were 22nd and 23rd in line. By the time Eric and I arrived shortly before 8, there were 100 people in line. There were camping chairs and coolers, even a gas grill. Decks of cards, pop cans and water bottles, fast food litter. I imagine there were a few dead soldiers (uh, empty beer containers) although I didn’t see any. The atmosphere was convivial. The camaraderie palpable.

They allowed people into the store 6 at a time. As each lucky buyer emerged, a bright orange AT&T bag signaling victory, their fellow consumers clapped and yelled in celebration.

We (read: they) left with our iPhones at 8:30. I later read that they’d sold out in 40 minutes — many campers went home empty-handed. But my two lucky ducks were thrilled with their phones, made all the more precious by the procurement experience.