Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Damn Americans

The first installment...

I am a gentle, quiet, hard-to-rile kind of guy. I do however have some pet peeves; some things irk and irritate me; I often get agitated and passionate when discussing some dear-to-my-heart subjects.

I therefore am setting about to write some of them down; in the hope that my passion will inspire my writing, inspire my desire to write, and just maybe change the world enough that eventually more people will come to see the world my way; and I can let go, knowing the direction has shifted forward along a more positive path.

I am Canadian. Some of my most irksome thoughts are when I contemplate America, a.k.a. the United States of America.

I'm beginning to think that America has two choices: "Wake up" or "Be slapped down."

It is entirely conceivable to me that before the end of this century, we will be faced with a Third World War.

This one will be America against everyone else. Or more correctly, everyone not American will gang up against America. Canada, Russia, China, Australia, Europe, Africa, South & Central America.

There will be no choice...


(But just to show I'm not completely naive, here are the lyrics to the last half of the song)

"To Beat the Devil," by Kris Kristofferson:

He just smiled and said: "Let me see that guitar.
"I've got something you oughta hear."
Then he laid it on me:

"If you waste your time a-talkin' to the people who don't listen,
"To the things that you are sayin', who do you think's gonna hear.
"And if you should die explainin' how the things that they complain about,
"Are things they could be changin', who do you think's gonna care?"

There were other lonely singers in a world turned deaf and blind,
Who were crucified for what they tried to show.
And their voices have been scattered by the swirling winds of time.
'Cos the truth remains that no-one wants to know.

Well, the old man was a stranger, but I'd heard his song before,
Back when failure had me locked out on the wrong side of the door.
When no-one stood behind me but my shadow on the floor,
And lonesome was more than a state of mind.

You see, the devil haunts a hungry man,
If you don't wanna join him, you got to beat him.
I ain't sayin' I beat the devil, but I drank his beer for nothing.
Then I stole his song.

And you still can hear me singin' to the people who don't listen,
To the things that I am sayin', prayin' someone's gonna hear.
And I guess I'll die explaining how the things that they complain about,
Are things they could be changin', hopin' someone's gonna care.

I was born a lonely singer, and I'm bound to die the same,
But I've got to feed the hunger in my soul.
And if I never have a nickle, I won't ever die ashamed.
'Cos I don't believe that no-one wants to know.


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