Soros Jamming

I wrote my first song about George Soros during COVID because I felt we’d become so Balkanized as a country that there was little that opposing factions could say to one another. The binary polarization had made dialogue nearly impossible to have.

I also recognized that this division and strife was being funded on the left with money from George Soros.

Liberal Democrats had become so enraged about anything connected to Donald J. Trump.  A term called “Trump Derangement Syndrome” was coined on the right to describe and explain it. Stephen King definitely suffers from it. Probably Rosie O’Donnell, also. This seemed odd because there was a time when Trump was a beloved cultural icon, offered referred to as a “tycoon.” But not any longer. Most on the left have imbibed the narrative that Trump is anathema to our democracy.

Additonally, the left conveniently began turning a blind eye to the rioting and mayhem fueled by Antifa and BLM groups. You may as well lump in the litany of vaccine and mask mandates for businesses and schools and it began to feel like chaos was a strategy that Soros was funding, with the playbook being written by Saul Alinsky. This is an overly “glowing” account of Alinsy’s how to get whatever you want.

I have a beautiful chartreuse cat named Lucy. Lucy tends to pester me when I get up before my wife and she will not relent until I feed her. I began capturing snippets of Lucy each morning and I thought I’d do just Lucy, some drums and some heavy guitar and see how it sounded. I was also recording tracks for a full-lengh release that would become Living In Some Strange Days.  What eventuallyl became “Soros Jam (Biden Mix)” ended up on that disc.

[Lucy resents being compared to Kamala Harris]

Now, we’re watching the Democrats, the “party of democracy” once again reveal that they hate the other half of America and could care less about democracy of any kind. They’ve kicked Joe Biden to the curb and installed Cackling Kamala Harris (who sounds like my cat, Lucy) as their choice to unseat The Orange Cheeto. How will it all shake out? No one knows.

And of course, America’s legacy media organizations feign objectivity, yet peddle a set narrative favorable to Democrat’s political success. To say our media industrial complex ‘lies through their teeth” would be a gross understatement.

All this to say, I thought it was time to dust-off my jam, remix it and add a new snippet at the beginning, while tweaking the knobs a bit on EQ and other things.

Let Them Eat Ice Cream

During the run-up to the 2016 presidential election that would deliver Donald Trump as our 45th president, I wrote several posts about the neoliberal Democrat Hillary Clinton, like this one. That followed Bernie Sanders’ first bait-and-switch, where Bernie “I’m going to deliver a revolution” Socialist Sanders turtled, dropped-out, and endorsed a corporatist in Clinton.

We all know the end-game, don’t we? And yet, duped progressives again threw significant support behind Bernie’s faux revolutionary rhetoric and Democratic Socialism once more. Is it any surprise that the result was basically the same yet again?

Blame it on the Orange Man.

Because most Americans are binary to a fault, they can’t get their brains around the idea that Sanders was a Socialist sham. I mean here was a 78-year-old white guy who hadn’t held a job outside politics since 1980, when he was elected for the first time as mayor of Burlington, Vermont.

Democrats have one narrative trope and one only: blame it all on the Orange Man. Actually that’s become a Democratic cliché.

Question: Who caused the coronavirus pandemic?
Democrat: The Orange Man.

Continue reading

Democrats Plus One

Yesterday, the crowded field of Democrats grew by one. This morning, the pundits had more energy than I’ve seen in months. Amazingly, they were talking about someone other than Mayor Pete (still having trouble with “Boot-edge-edge”).

American culture is strewn with the iconic. In terms of popular culture—especially music and rock and roll—there are few icons bigger than Bruce Springsteen. Everyone knows what you’re talking about when you say, “The Boss.”

On our Easter Sunday drive into Maine’s western mountains, I had Springsteen on Spotify shuffle. I was holding court with Mary about why his music mattered and how we need to make a point of seeing him before he hangs up his Telecaster.

Yesterday, I had some late afternoon time to fill. Like I’ve done countless times before in my life with unstructured time, I ended up at a library looking for books.

Sitting on the shelf, calling my name was Peter Ames Carlin’s, Bruce. Not the only bio of The Boss, but one of the better ones, I’ve already read nearly 200 pages in less than 24 hours. Students at tutoring wanted to know what book I was toting around with me last night and I got to give them my own Springsteen story, of “Glory Days,” and what that song means in terms of my own smoldering baseball embers.

Bruce bio by Peter Ames Carlin (2012)

Continue reading