Sell Your Soul to the Talk Show Host

Explanation for so-so song lyric at end of blog:

Got up early today to see my wife off to work. She goes into the office one or two days a week, works the remaining 5-6 days from home.

We had a good, close, pleasant, tender morning with her drinking the coffee I made for her while the cat wound round our ankles purring.

Then she left and I started reading the news and began slipping into this dark place wondering why humans in power are so mean, thoughtless, greedy, shallow, racist, and basically excrement encrusted assholes.

So I wrote a song I hope Peter Ball and I can record today. Took 5 minutes to write . . . of course it’s simplistic and shallow so maybe my quality out equals the time I put in.

But before I blog it, I keep thinking how Peter Ball of the band Apartment One keeps talking about he and I forming a band. I always say no, but it could happen in 2012 after March since I have a full plate till then — have to get my memoir published online by my 66th birthday in March, and Lady and I have an important (I hope) two-month two-room art show to prepare for February/March 2012.

I just had a fantasy flash for a group name — Elderwine . . . since we’re all so old (although now I taste it, it sounds too tame a name). It’d be odd to have a band with such a bad singer (me), except bad singer implies singing and even that is beyond me. But I can do the blues growl, and I do write fine lyrics — and as far as the “singing” goes, I can get better, wiser, wilier by listening closely to all the great bad blues singers from the past, so I’d still be just as bad but a lot cooler about it.

Anyway, here’s the unpleasant shallowness I just wrote . . . at least it has a positive turnaround starting with the 3rd chorus.

Sell Your Soul to the Talk Show Host

I tell you now
I tell you true
Most what you know
Just ain’t true

Fair is farce
Justice slim
The man’s an arse
Who likes to skim

  So walk like a capitalist
  Grunt like a pig
  Lie like a factualist
  While rules you rig

They’ll steal your soul
They’ll flux your when
Then skin your now
Rewrite your then

Depenny your pocket
Slip bills from your fold
Tell you to fake it
Abuse you when old

  Yes walk like a capitalist
  Grunt like a pig
  Lie like a factualist
  While rules you rig

So sell your soul
To the talk show host
Crawl belly low
To butter your toast

Slip to slime
Sink to skim
Grovel in grime
Dabble in dim

  Or, talk like an activist
  Walk like you’re big
  Live the immaculate
  Help yourself dig

Stroll on with honor
Look in your eye
Measure your manner
Learn way of why

Give of yourself
Help one another
Empty your shelf
Of your unmatter

  Go court the calculist
  Break down your prig
  Become the ejaculate
  And the joy it brings

— Smith, 9.22.2011