February 12, 2007

Thanks Steppenwolf.

You know I've smoked a lot of grass
O' Lord, I've popped a lot of pills
But I never touched nothin'
That my spirit could kill
You know, I've seen a lot of people walkin' 'round
With tombstones in their eyes
But the pusher don't care
Ah, if you live or if you die

God damn, The Pusher
God damn, I say The Pusher
I said God damn, God damn The Pusher man

It was probably about 1973 and I was sitting in my bedroom, the headsets plugged into my brand new, turntable, eight track, FM radio, stereo system, blasting Steppenwolf in to my mushy young brain. The air giutar was yet to be invented but I was singing along, apparently at the top of my lungs because it eventually drew the attention of Dad. Now I have to say that most of the things I learned from my father must have happened through DNA transfer because besides this incident that I am about to relate we didn’t spend a lot of time together hashing out life’s mysteries. He was always working two jobs so that us kids could have stuff like a stereo in our bedrooms whether we deserved one or not, or I was out running rampant though the countryside. On this night however a point was about to be made that I have carried to this day.
When he entered the room and I removed the headset, the only thing he said was "Give me those and get out of here". Several minutes later he came down the hallway. “If a person can’t make their point without cussing they don’t have much of a point to make.” I of course had to make the argument that they were cussing about drug dealers, but he was not swayed. “If you can’t do it without cussing you shouldn't do it at all." He didn’t make me get rid of the album, (he did know how to pick his battles) but the point was made.
Now don’t get me wrong, I am by no means an angel. I have been know to throw back a few beers, cuss like a sailor, and to throw the F-bomb in the heat of the moment. But to this day the thought of sitting down at the keyboard to fire off a foul-mouthed diatribe to make a point makes me cringe. I also cringe when I run across it in the blog“o”sphere. It really adds nothing to the writing, in fact if anything it reveals a persona lacking in depth, maturity, or gravitas. State your argument, support it with a fact or two if you can and if you find that it can't stand without the support of the third leg of the vile invective perhaps you shouldn't say it at all.
Thanks Dad... And Steppenwolf

You know the dealer, the dealer is a man
With the love grass in his hand
Oh but the pusher is a monster
Good God, he's not a natural man
The dealer for a nickel
Lord, will sell you lots of sweet dreams
Ah, but the pusher ruin your body
Lord, he'll leave your, he'll leave your mind to scream

God damn, The Pusher
God damn, God damn the Pusher
I said God damn, God, God damn The Pusher man

Well, now if I were the president of this land
You know, I'd declare total war on The Pusher man
I'd cut him if he stands, and I'd shoot him if he'd run
Yes I'd kill him with my Bible and my razor and my gun

God damn The Pusher
Gad damn The Pusher
I said God damn, God damn The Pusher man

"Steppenwolf" (1968) “The Pusher”

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