What I want to hear now is Toby Keith. Loud and clear. One way or the other.
Also it would be good to hear something from Carlos Santana, last I heard from him he was all about being so grateful to the USA.
The trouble is these guys can't make the distinctions. It's all three-color or black-and-white.
It's as though the scum that bought the paperwork really does own the whole damn country.
As though if you stick a big old cross on the hill, the town belongs to Jesus.
And since Jesus isn't here, it belongs to the guys who can kick everybody's ass when it's time to figure out who's gonna talk for Jesus in his place.
So they have nothing to say, Toby Keith and Carlos Santana, nothing real. Platitudes, no anger.
A tuxedo that can stand up all by itself. A prosthetic tuxedo.
Not that they don't have hearts I don't mean that. Just that they sold out. So then it's all about the support staff. Back and fill, cover your ass. Some of us took some pretty serious hits not selling out.
So that's forgivable. I mean seing that possibility, that's gotta work on a guy.
You don't want to say, live out in the woods, on a Social Security check that barely makes your bread and water. Having to hitch-hike around. Getting rides from the creepiest dudes in the land. Better to make a deal.
Confusion, and reliance on well-connected advice. It's like maybe knowing someone in Mossad. All that chrome dulled down to a matte-black finish. They're like tuna those guys, the way their fins fold down into the streamline. Mossad I mean. Keith and Santana are like harbor seals.

put here 9:16 PM

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