Country Protest Songs

Nowadays my ears are constantly attuned to finding new protest songs. If ever there was a time for such songs, it’s right now, and I’ve been hard pressed to find ones that make me think, “hell, yeah!”

Surprisingly, several of the ones I have found have come from the country genre—typically the bastion of conservative thinking.

There’s The Chicks’ “March March” which pulls no punches when addressing racial inequality. Of course, The Chicks have never shied away from addressing injustice. Their outspokenness cost them millions of dollars during the younger Bush’s time in office, but they never backed down. That’s righteous.

https://youtu.be/xwBjF_VVFvE

Then Eric Church has a song out that challenges the status quo. The first time I heard it I did a double take. Was he saying what I thought he was saying when he recorded, “Stick That in Your Country Song”? Yes, yes he was.

https://youtu.be/wAX5XvdKRFk

Yesterday, I heard a song by Brent Cobb called “Shut Up and Sing.” It’s undeniably a protest song, and worth a listen.

https://youtu.be/z6oDXGy7vgM

It gives me great hope to hear these country voices speaking out on social issues. Here’s hoping their fans are listening.

Your Friendly Neighborhood Serial Killer

Studly Doright and I have been watching “Dexter” on Netflix. We’re just finishing season 2. The show is gory and sexy and yes, darkly amusing. Dexter is a serial killer, but he only kills serial killers. And he’s killed a bunch of them.

Michael C. Hall plays Dexter. He’s also a forensics specialist for the Miami police department. That makes his “hobby” as a serial killer both easier and more difficult. He has access to the inner workings of the police department, but he also has to watch every move he makes lest his off duty habits raise suspicion amongst his highly observant peers.

The supporting cast is great: Jennifer Carpenter as Debra Morgan, Dexter’s sister, Luna Lauren Vélez, as Maria LaGuerta, a tough and loyal department captain, the gorgeous, yet troubled Erik King, as Sgt. Doakes. The lovable David Zayas, as Angel Batista, and sweet Julie Benz, as Rita Bennett, Dexter’s girlfriend.

One would think that a serial killer wouldn’t engender feelings of sympathy. Honestly, we should be hoping that Dexter gets caught, but episode after episode we root for him, hoping he’ll evade the authorities and live to kill another day.

Maybe we don’t want him to continue killing, but we don’t want him to be discovered either. If Dexter dies, there’s no more series, and the series is so blooming good.

I don’t recommend “Dexter” unless you have a strong stomach, and a perverse sense of humor. Apparently, I have both.

Peace, people.

December-December Romance

I was telling Studly Doright about my recent blog posts dealing with songs featuring younger men in relationships with older women. He’d never heard the term May-December romance.

“That’s us,” he said, when I finished my explanation.

“That’s not at all us,” I countered.

“Sure it is. You’re way older than I am.”

To be fair, I’m a year and almost two months older than my husband. Certainly not enough to make our 44 year relationship earn the May-December designation, but try telling that to Studly.

At any rate, my blogging friend, author, Shehanne Moore, shehannemoore.wordpress.com, turned me on to another song written about a younger man involved with an older woman. “Desiree” by Neil Diamond fits the bill even if the lyrics were somewhat censored.

https://youtu.be/JHmPRISYB6k

According to Shehanne, “…the words, ‘Became a man at the hands of a woman who was twice my age,’ were changed to ‘Became a man at the hands of a woman who was wise and sage….’ Which does not have quite the same raunch and ring.”

I agree! Why’d they feel the need to change perfectly awesome lyrics? Confession: I’m not a huge Neil Diamond fan, but I listened to “Desiree” for research purposes this morning, and it does meet the May-December theme even in its sanitized version.

Okay, now I’m sure there are more similarly themed songs out there. It’s not like I know everything after all, even though I pretend to on occasion. I’ll just have to keep looking.

Peace, people!

Maggie May-December Romance

A couple of days ago I wrote a post about the Rod Stewart song, “Maggie May,” and how I thought it should be made into a movie.

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2020/08/29/maggie-may-the-movie/

The song is about a May-December romance in which the male is May and the female, December. That’s not exactly the norm in American society, but it certainly makes for a good story.

I wondered if there were any other songs that spun the tale of a younger man in a romance with an older woman. For a whole day I pondered the question, but couldn’t think of a single one. And then, while listening to the Garth Brooks channel on Sirius XM satellite radio, I remembered “That Summer.”

Garth’s song, “That Summer” tells of a teenaged boy working on a ranch one summer for a “lonely widow woman” who one night brings the boy a cup of coffee and a smile. We all know what the combination of coffee and a smile does to a man’s libido, right? Oh, okay, as far as I know there’s no connection there, but what if there were?

https://youtu.be/qQpFhfHY9y0

So surely that’s the sum total of songs featuring a younger man being romanced by an older woman. We can’t count “Mrs. Robinson,” I don’t think, because the song itself doesn’t tell the story of the seduction and/or romance. Am I wrong or have I missed any?

Peace, people!

It’s Complicated

My cat Scout loves me so much that she spends some part of every night head butting me, and often sleeping so close to me that I can’t move, or laying so heavily on my abdomen that I must use the facilities every couple of hours or so.

I complain that she won’t let me sleep.

Then last night, none of the above occurred. Not a single head butt (aka kitty kiss). She never demanded I sleep on my back so she could walk circles on my stomach before making herself a cozy spot atop my bladder. When I turned over to find a different sleeping position I did so without encountering her presence by my side.

It frightened me, this lack of kitty contact.

My first thought this morning was that my almost 17-year-old cat might’ve died. At 5:30 I went in search of this sweet girl, dreading what I might find. But my worries were groundless. As soon as I left the bedroom I discovered her padding along behind me to the kitchen for her breakfast as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

I was reassured, but my feelings were hurt. Had she forgotten about our non-sleeping arrangement?

Deciding to give her a chance to redeem herself, I crawled back into bed and called her name. She’s making amends even as I type this.

Maybe she just needed her space. Relationships are like that sometimes.

Peace, people.

Would You Rather

Would you rather have a wooden nickel or a Yankee dime? For some reason I always thought both terms meant roughly the same thing—fake money. Surprise, surprise! They don’t.

In the United States, a wooden nickel is a wooden token coin, usually issued by a merchant or bank as a promotion, sometimes redeemable for a specific item such as a drink.

A Yankee dime is a quick, innocent kiss. A peck. A child-like term used by/for children in the Southern United States. (More common in countryside-raised, ‘older’ southern families). Often it’s used as payment for a service: “I’ll give you a Yankee dime if you’ll bring me a glass of lemonade.”

Now that I know the difference, I think I’d prefer a Yankee dime to a wooden nickel, but I guess it depends on who’s offering.

My cousin, Effron White wrote a song about a Yankee Dime. I vaguely remember having a conversation with him about the meaning of the phrase back when we were kids. But we never discussed wooden nickels. I’m blaming him for my lack of understanding.

Here’s his song. Enjoy!

https://youtu.be/i01XuwYXpW0

Peace, people!

Maggie May, the Movie

Today as I was out running errands, the Rod Stewart song, “Maggie May” began playing on the radio. Of course, I know every word and sang right along with him.

During the third verse, it occurred to me that I’d like to know the rest of the story. How’d Maggie lure him away from school? Did his father really make a living out of playing pool? Just how old is Maggie anyway?

I propose that the song be made into a film. Give us the whole saga, backstory and epilogue included. I’d pay money to see that. How about you? Is there a song you’d like to see made into a movie?

https://youtu.be/fD_6KqP7K0g

Over Exposed

Thursday evening Studly Doright and I rode to dinner on our respective motorcycles. We’d bought mine secondhand from a man in Panama City and spent Wednesday cleaning it up, checking it over, and airing up the tires. The bike isn’t pristine, but it’ll do nicely.

So, tonight was my maiden voyage on my 400 Yamaha Majesty. I got all ready to ride: helmet, gloves, long pants, and boots. It was so hot outside Studly said we could dispense with our riding jackets since we weren’t riding very far.

Off we went, Studly in the lead and me following at the prescribed distance. The first few miles of riding was on a gentle, two-lane backroad where I got to know the bike, noting where the mirrors needed to be adjusted, and the handlebars raised, and just generally remembering how to ride. All was good.

Until, that is, we merged onto a four-lane road where the speeds were considerably faster and my shirt, which I’d forgotten to tuck in began rising to expose my 63.75-year-old, lily white belly. At one point my bra, in all its grandmotherly glory, was in danger of being exposed.

I held my arms as close to my sides as possible, but not so much as to impede my ability to ride safely. People were passing us in cars, slowing down, it seemed to see how much higher my shirt might climb. I could almost sense their phones being set to camera mode so that my less than flat stomach could be captured for posterity.

So, in the next couple of days if you see a photo on the internet of an almost elderly woman riding on a white mega scooter with her even whiter belly reflecting the sun in all its glory, it might be me. I’m hoping it isn’t, but it just might be.

Definitely Not Me

Peace, people!

Journey into Trumpland

Studly Doright and I drove southwest to Panama City yesterday afternoon to pick up my new-to-me Yamaha Majesty. The nearer we came to our destination, the more prevalent were the signs supporting the re-election of Donald Trump.

Neither of us was surprised. This part of Florida is notoriously ultra conservative, and any Liberal voters are reluctant to advertise their support for a Democrat lest there be nasty consequences.

As Studly and the seller loaded the bike onto the trailer I visited with an older couple out walking their dogs. The woman was a talker.

“We moved here from Asheville, North Carolina,” she told me at one point.

“Oh, I love Asheville!” I said.

“Oh, you wouldn’t now!” She replied. “It’s all hippies and liberals.”

I smiled and winked. “I adore hippies and liberals. In fact, I’m a liberal myself.”

Now, this little woman who’d been amazed that her yappy little dog had taken a liking to me suddenly closed up like a clam. One would have thought I’d grown horns and a tail.

Fortunately Studly had the bike loaded by then and we made our escape. I had images of villagers chasing me with pitchforks and torches. Fun times.

I can’t imagine how wild it’s going to get between now and November. Those pitchforks I worried about might become reality.

I’m not sure why Biden scares anyone! Crazy people.

Peace, people!

A New Bike

Studly found a 400 Yamaha Majesty on Craigslist today, and I think we are going to buy it for me. We’ll look at it on Wednesday (today) afternoon, I’m excited. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a bike.

The Majesty is a mega scooter, and so much fun to ride. I had one several years ago, but we sold it, and I’ve missed it so much.

I haven’t seen a picture of it yet, but I know it’s white. Here’s hoping it meets all of my expectations!

Eeeeee!

Peace, people!