violence, commies, and poetry

Posted by Harcamone

Here’s an extraordinary example of cultural violence committed by people claiming to be dedicated to non-violence. You might not know the original song — Tramp on the Street —  but Candance almost surely does. And if you don’t, google the Blue Sky Boys’ version.

There are so many detestable things about the wackoid left, one hardly knows where to begin. This polemical variation of a great old gospel song (not that old, actually) shows how the wackos hate poetry. They have to fill in all the blanks left open by the metaphor — homeless people, pimps, interest rates, higher prices in ghetto supermarkets, whatever etcetera, etc. It is sooooo boring. I am dumbfounded as to why beautiful artists get seduced by their own preachy egos to commit such acts of poetic absurdity and stupidity.

Warren Zevon never did shit like this Alas, he died. Nor did Townes van Zandt. He died, too.

Warren Zevon describes a terrible situation without blaming anybody. That’s poetry.  Motherfukkin commies can shove their songs. I grew up on that BS. (Exception, Woody Guthrie — e.g., Deportees, and such)

Original Tramp on the Street (Hank), being a Christian song, asks everybody who is listening to reckon with their own response to the tramp, and the meaning of it. But Commie versions assume that the commies are Jesus’s friend. This is why I hate Liberation Theology. It sounds great on the surface, but it is as arrogant as any Jerry Falwell.

Anyway, Warren Zevon:

I hear Mariachi static on my radio
And the tubes they glow in the dark
And I’m there with her in Ensenada
And I’m here in Echo Park

Carmelita hold me tighter
I think I’m sinking down
And I’m all strung out on heroin
On the outskirts of town

Well, I’m sittin’ here playing solitaire
With my pearl-handled deck
The county won’t give me no more methadone
And they cut off your welfare check

Carmelita hold me tighter
I think I’m sinking down
And I’m all strung out on heroin
On the outskirts of town

Well, I pawned my Smith Corona
And I went to meet my man
He hangs out down on Alvarado Street
By the Pioneer chicken stand

Carmelita hold me tighter
I think I’m sinking down
And I’m all strung out on heroin
On the outskirts of town

Carmelita hold me tighter
I think I’m sinking down
And I’m all strung out on heroin
On the outskirts of town

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