This Ban(d) is Yr Land
Helloooo! I’m on the road! I’m in the skies! I’m in sweet home Chicago! You know, the purest most all-American city of all G_d’s creation. Its somewhere… oh here:
You know, somewhere barely Northwest of Miami, and south of Winnebago near Kaskaskia-ish. Sweet home Chicagoland!
Really though. Everyone has a boner for Bruce Springsteen all of a sudden, as if he’s been under
Iraq a rock since the Born in the USA tour (psst- most americans have never paid any attention to the lyrics of that song and still don’t get it. It can be our secret. I suppose St.Peter told Ronald Regan all about it when he made his way to the pearly pearly. “oops” says Ronnie.) Its a tad irritating for myself and the other Boss-obsessed fanatics out there, especially those of us who didn’t quite catch the SuperBowl (I still don’t know who won, and I’ve got a standing bet going with some friends to see who can go the longest without finding out! Don’t frakking spoil it, guys!). Basically everyone is obsessed with Springsteen’s crotch all of a sudden (hello? there’s been a line with a 30-some-odd year wait over here), just cuz he, as always, revealed to the world what an amazing rocking out badass he is, and millions of people were actually paying attention this time.
Welcome to the glorious land of appreciating musical talent. Yay America! PS, this is the same guy who’s been plugging away (along with others) at resurrecting the political potency of Woody Guthrie and who thinks yr a bunch of imperialist, genocidal jerks. Three cheers for the Boss. Four cheers for his crotch!! And the rest of futbol-lovin’ america? I leave you with this blast from the past, I mean the present, I mean the ever-present legacy of what you think you’re entitled to (see above map) and the horse on which it rode in.
(Srsly though, I actually do love Chicago)
The world is yrs,