Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Joy and Despair

Chaos, hate and xenophobia aren't just acceptable in this day and age. They're fashionable. Honestly, I'm bored wringing my hands between sentences. Yeah, I'll fight for all I'm worth for the ones that need me but I refuse to deal with half empty glasses.

Their gold won't buy joy. How would you like to wake up carrot orange with yellow floss on your head and turn on TV to find that Great Britain is debating the idea of allowing you into their country? If you want to know whether money can buy happiness, take a look at the first lady's face.

Now, if you'll pardon me, I've got coffee to drink and songs to write. I've got love to spend. Enough of that stuff will disrupt the most diabolical plot.

Monday, February 20, 2017

To Whom It May Concern

                                                          1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
                                                            Washington, D.C. 20500

I've seen the things that gold can do to a man's soul. I've seen men laid too low to pray. I've held diamonds in my hand that started off as dirty coal. Flat on your back, the stars in the sky will show you the way.

Men without work and men without hope pass the reverently rich on the sidewalk every day. Their shoulders may touch but you can be sure that their eyes don't meet. Only the saints rely on the stars to show them the way.

If preachers gave away love and hope like they do bread and wine and if the meek inherit their share of the earth today and when hypocrisy fails with all it entails and gives us a sign, we'll look to the saints and rely on the stars to show us the way.

There's gold on the moon and diamonds in the sky. The streets fill with silver when the rainclouds cry. You can walk around heaven with diamond dust on your shoes but for the grace of God-the broke heart blues.

Most sincerely,
Ronny Elliott

Pitter Pat Melodies

Entitlement. How very unattractive. Gurus giggle. Always a dead giveaway, isn't it? The blues have moved in with me on a regular, if unpredictable, schedule since I was a kid. I never figured it out until I was an old man. 

Most of everything I've written is a product of despair. 

The happy ones are the ones I like.

Sunday, February 19, 2017

Bring In The Dog and Put Out the Cat

There are no excuses for "hating back." I have to keep reminding myself when the television is on. Rock'n' roll is my mantra. I have a debt to all of the living things on the planet and the only currency is love. Oh, I know how hokey this sounds. It is. That's alright.

Saturday, February 18, 2017

Dunk Tank Clowns and Evening Gowns

If this is what it takes to make decency and empathy fashionable, bring it on. Lack of education doesn't make a fella deplorable. It doesn't hurt, though. We've crept to the right since I was a kid. Ike was left of Barack. Yeah, he was a Republican. A war hero. He was also a studied, decent man. He ran against a brighter man, off to his left.

Now, I don't want to write about politics. I don't want to think about politics. Until we change this racket that draws the lowest form of psychopaths in search of cash and power, though, it stays on my mind. Who on earth declared these fuckwads world leaders?

Fortunately there are heroes in the streets. We're gonna have a press again. Stock prices for the soaring New York Times are doing fine, thank you.

When my check for this blog clears, I'm having a kir royale and a Cohiba. Thanks, Mr. Soros.

Friday, February 17, 2017

Badly Bent, Barely Broken

Surely the best religions, the finest philosophies, are the ones that explain suffering. If I can convince a wide enough swath of the populace that it's all gonna be alright, I can run my own cult. It's that pesky, so-called, science that ruins it for the less imaginative. 

Well, don't worry about nothing 'cause nothing's gonna be alright. We're all gonna die. After we suffer. Dang.

My dog loves the lightning. She's scared of the thunder.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

Thursday, February 16, 2017

Is That Your Puppy?

Who knew? Turns out that dumb is an admirable trait in our culture. Spend a little time on social media and you'll soon be nodding in agreement. Or you're dumb.

Oh, I'm aware just how condescending, arrogant and cruel that sounds. Worse, coming from a grown man who is captivated by the Three Stooges and thinks that those cartoons with all of the characters some form of Goofy mark the zenith of Disney and, maybe, Western civilization.

Is it because an uneducated populace is easier to manipulate and govern? Maybe.

Lincoln Theodore Monroe Andrew Perry, better known as Stepin Fetchit, made millions in Hollywood playing a shuffling dimwit. By 1947 he was broke. His character was considered a negative stereotype for Black men. His representation had actually been of the trickster who always knew how to outwit the white guy in order to get him to do the work.

We all know that the real shuffling nitwits have always been in Washington. Most of them are white and male. The question is, and always has been, who put them there?