Naughty Thanksgiving Thoughts
About Our Great Turkey
Donald John Trump is a graceless grifter. He also is a corrupt businessman with a lucrative side gig as the 47th president of these barely United States.
On this day of national thanksgiving, it seems appropriate to pause to consider the effect of the first ten months of his purposefully chaotic, blatantly self-serving, and gleefully cruel second term in high office.
In 1971 Don McLean inserted into American consciousness a gentle dirge about the angry harvest of the crop of ‘60s social reforms.
Verse 5 still hits home today for those of us who wore flowers in our hair, peace in our hearts, stars in our eyes, and darn fine songs on our lips:
Oh, and there we were all in one place
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again
So, come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick
Jack Flash sat on a candlestick
‘Cause fire is the Devil’s only friend
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage
No angel born in Hell
Could break that Satan spell
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the music died
[Chorus]
He was singin’ bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry
Them good ol’ boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, “This’ll be the day that I die
This’ll be the day that I die”
The bridge and deleted verse are poignant for those who marched those 60 years now past for human and constitutional rights then gained but now under attack.
I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
I went down to the sacred store
Where I’d heard the music years before
But the man there said the music wouldn’t play
And in the streets, the children screamed
The lovers cried and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The church bells all were broken
And the three men I admire most
The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died
[Deleted Verse]
And there I stood alone and afraid
I dropped to my knees and there I prayed
And I promised Him everything I could give
If only He would make the music live
And He promised it would live once more
But this time one would equal four
And in five years four had come to mourn
And the music was reborn
On 05 Nov 24 some of the music once again died.
On 04 Nov 25, some of the music was reborn.
For that welcome harvest of strategic, sustained, and peaceful grassroots resistance to Trump 2.0, let us give sincere thanks.
And, for the next 12 months, let us covenant to sing our own kind of music—wild and willing, an always abiding and never-ending hymn dedicated to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness by We the People with alienable human and protected constitutional rights.
Let us cause our Great Orange Turkey to feel the block of justice and the ax of exile. Let his loyalists cry in their whiskey and rye.
Go team, go.
Great article, Susan. Thanksgiving classic. Good enough to be in the Macy parade. You nailed the landing with the final sentence. I wonder if everyone born after the 60's will look up whiskey and rye as the cultural standard for getting wasted. I suppose the modern equivalent is tequila shots and White Claw chasers. The words and the melody endure as one of our nation's theme songs.
My first time here at this site — I like the use of this song in relation to our situation today.
— in fact quite often I see the world thro various songs … a friend will make a comment & an ‘appropriate associated song’ will pop into my head.
— I call it an affliction but my close friends roll with it. 🩵
Where are our Bob Dylans & Joan Baez-s today tho?
— Where are the anthem / protest songs today? We’re having to recycle the golden oldies, eh?
🎶 Seems like we actually are musically ‘speechless’ - has the music actually died? 🎶