Nine days from now, on the 2015 Autumnal Equinox, Wednesday, September 23, A Year of Songs will be 10 years old.
After over 400 posts that included 300 songs — that were downloaded over a half million times from Archive.org — I admit, I had let the pace slack. OK, I put a landing page randomizer on it so people would see something different every time they visited and pretended that was close enough for blogland.
But, of course… the caged bird must sing. If you can call it singing…
If you imagined that there was a self-interest organ (and I think they have found a brain chemical that correlates to aquisitiveness) then greed would be like a viral infection of that organ, pumping out more toxins that further inflame the organ, weakening it, and allowing the viral infection to proceed.
Anyhow… I think the metaphor/simile section of my brain is inflamed.
As I explained when I posted the previous version of this song, it was smack dab in the middle of the Greed Is Good Era that this song was written. It should be noted that I’m a businessman, myself, and don’t think there’s anything wrong with making money in fair transactions. I think sensible self-interest is good. It’s what separates the ants from the grasshoppers, I guess.
That said, there’s nothing I like better than doin’ a little fiddlin’ on a late autumn afternoon.
Not the good kind of preacher, who is always there to help or talk his parishioners through life’s troubles. Who gives and gives and never thinks of himself.
No. Of course, I mean the bad kind of preacher.
Not necessarily Robert Mitchum in Night of the Hunter… but something on that continuum. The sinner-preacher. Seducing the spinsters and lonely housewives and cheating the men in land deals. Maybe run for office, too… makes a certain kind of sense.
And that brings us smack face to face with this song…