Author: papabluesscrapbook

A lifelong resident of the Pacific Northwest, Michael Robbins has been the author and a contributor to six books. BUTTERFLY & SERPENT, the first book in a series, was published in 2012. Mike takes pride in being part of the American labor force for over 40 years. In his prose he strives for unity, not division; humor over prejudice; and heart over heartlessness. His art page can be found at Deviantart.com

Baby Killers

I leave this for your descendants

For your ears are deaf and your eyes blind

Your children will carry your names with bowed heads

This generation of vipers will pass

You will carry this legacy as a badge of calumny

It will be a testimony to your perfidy

No name calling is required

Every child who survives will remember

I want to go Apollo Creed on you all

I want to seize your false piety and warped dreams of Armageddon

And scream, WHAT’S THE MATTER WTH YOU?

I was raised on these stories

Munich, Hitler, poor Anne Frank

who should be a happy Jewish grandmother

Interspersed with moments of glory—ahh, Entebbe!

Reality would intrude little by little, exploding in Lebanon

Yet no one asks why

Why do they hate each other?

Animosity does not arise from nothing

We’re never taught to ask why

Only to choose sides, and it’d better be OUR SIDE or else

How many times have we seen these images

Emaciated shells that should be full and round

Flesh stretched tight over bones that should never be so pronounced

This is not God’s handiwork, this is no freak of nature

It is always deliberate

The speeches so full of platitudes

Oh, they were so convincing

But now I don’t know who you people are

Or what sick place you’re coming from

Our eyes are open, the masks have fallen

You people have debased our proud nation

Marco, Donnie you have shamed us

Joe, worst of all you taught me shame

Three years into your term and we’d have followed you, gladly

Thanks to you, old man, I’ve begun to shed my islamophobia

Would that you had ever done the same

Is it just children in general

Or do you despise babies who don’t quite look like you?

Is their complexion not quite right

Or is it just you?

Were your mothers this disdainful of life?

I would not waste retribution on your souls

I offer you something worse

I hope and pray that you will be forgotten

In days to come I wish it that your names,

Netanyahu, Trump, Biden

When they are spoken

Our descendants will rise from the ashes of civilization

And ask, Who? Sorry, those names don’t mean anything to me

You have created nothing

You have saved nothing

You have made NOTHING great again

May you be footnotes, barely registering

On the ledger of man’s inhumanity

https://www.erininthemorning.com/p/two-republican-congresspeople-call?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=Being_Liberal&utm_campaign=pub&utm_term=beingliberal.substack.com&fbclid=IwdGRjcAM61xJjbGNrAzrWKGV4dG4DYWVtAjExAAEeoKgPOFedySGeQv9H4v–EH0CesyMS0oxN1tzhAW4gAFqV-kYerbVLMLaLZY_aem_utuDs2DaVIhAT4ApQBr-0g

https://www.erininthemorning.com/p/two-republican-congresspeople-call?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=Being_Liberal&utm_campaign=pub&utm_term=beingliberal.substack.com&fbclid=IwdGRjcAM61xJjbGNrAzrWKGV4dG4DYWVtAjExAAEeoKgPOFedySGeQv9H4v–EH0CesyMS0oxN1tzhAW4gAFqV-kYerbVLMLaLZY_aem_utuDs2DaVIhAT4ApQBr-0g

Remembering Jackson Browne’s Running on Empty (1978)

This album was sitting prominently on a bookshelf at our county library when were living in University Place, Washington in 1979. The cover grabbed me; art is more impactful when its spread over a 12-inch surface and not squashed onto a five inch CD case. I took it home in a paper bag. Back then I walked everywhere, even to school.  

My memory is that I loved that album; maybe I loved some tracks more than others. I wasn’t too familiar with Jackson Browne. I blame FM radio. The only song I’d ever heard from him was back in our house in Fircrest, “Doctor My Eyes”, back in 1972—six years before! I hear “The Pretender” on my store’s radio network NOWADAYS, but most AM-FM stations only played the hits. Critics may have loved him, but most of us (myself at least) were oblivious. After 1979 and checking out that LP, I was more aware of Browne and paying attention more when his songs hit the airwaves.     

This LP was recorded on the road, either in concert or into hotel rooms, backstage in at least one case (“Nothing but Time”) on a bus in New Jersey on the way to another gig. Basically it was a travelogue of musicians, by musicians, about life on the road. “Running on Empty”, “The Load-Out” & “Stay” were recorded live at Meriweather Post Pavillion in Columbia, Maryland. “You Love the Thunder” was performed at Garden State Arts Center in Holmdel, New Jersey, while “Love Needs a Heart” was taped in Universal City, California.

Some songs were meant to stick out. The big hit getting airplay in the summer of ’78, along with the music from Grease, was “The Load-Out”, which segued into a cover of Maurice Williams & the Zodiac’s “Stay”. “Stay” was the A-side of a double sided single, backed on vocals by Rosemary Butler and David Lindley on falsetto in the second verse. (To be fair, the Zodiac’s version was short at 1 minute, 36 seconds long).     

Other tunes I no longer appreciate on principle, such as “Cocaine”, recorded in a hotel room at a Holiday Inn in Illinois. Having seen the damage drugs had done to my family in the ‘70’s, I’m finding myself of the permissiveness, and also sad for all the artists buried by their addictions.        

Some songs I understand better, now that I’m older, especially the title song. No that I’m a musician, but I can relate. The verses make sense in a general way, like this one:

I look around for the friends that I sued to turn to to pull me through/     

Lookin’ into their eyes, I see them runnin’ too

Blue Oyster Cult: Some Enchanted Evening (1978)

I found this in one of those cut-out bins at a local drug store in 1979; that must have been 45 plus years ago. I don’t know why it was in a cut-out bin, it was an extraordinary album. It was my first experience with Blue Oyster Cult. Apparently, the best way to listen to this band is in a live setting. It’s actually their second live LP, after 1975’s On Your Feet or On Your Knees. This record’s only sin is that at 38 minutes, it’s too damn short.     

The classic line-up is here—Buck Dharma on guitars, Eric Bloom on vocals & stun guitar (whatever the hell that is), Allen Lanier on keyboards, Joe Bouchard on bass, and his older brother Albert Bouchard on drums. Four of the numbers are from their most recent albums (‘R.U. Ready to Rock’ and ‘Godzilla’ from Spectres (1977), and ‘E.T.I. (Extra Terrestrial Intelligence’ and ‘(Don’t Fear) the Reaper’ from Agents of Fortune (1976)). Only one song originates from their early albums (‘Astronomy’, from Secret Treaties (1974), but then they’d only released five albums at this point. The last two numbers are cover tunes.

The cover reaches out and grabs you. The Grim Reaper rides a black horse over a desert landscape. T.R. Shorr (ie, Todd Shorr) painted it based on a concept by Hillary Vermont and Marty Pekar, with Andrea Klein for the sleeve design. This album recalls the times in the 1970’s when Metal gave the impression of obscure meanings in mystic lyrics.   

This was recorded at different venues, for instance at the Fox Theatre, Atlanta, Georgia (‘R.U. Ready to Rock’ & ‘Kick Out the Jams’); the Columbus Municipal Auditorium in Columbus, Georgia (‘E.T.I.’ & ‘Astronomy’), both in April, 1978; New Castle City Hall in the UK, June 1, 1978 (‘Godzilla’ & ‘We Gotta Get Out of This Place’). ‘(Don’t Fear) the Reaper’ was recorded live at Barton Coliseum, Little Rock, Arkansas on April 9, 1978.

The show launches off with a kick-ass rendition of ‘R.U. Ready to Rock’ and never lets up on the momentum. Donald “Buck Dharma” Roesner cranks out some masterful solos without a trace of the self-indulgence Led Zeppelin was known for. Not one song overstays its welcome. I didn’t know MC5 growing up, but I think BOC took their version of ‘Kick Out the Jams’ and made it their own.      

I first heard ‘Godzilla’ on one of those late-night rock concert shows they had in the 70s, Night Flight maybe, with a Godzilla head bobbing in the background. I couldn’t believe somebody had actually done a song about him. I’ve always been a Godzilla fan, having watched a lot of admittedly dubbed movies on Saturday afternoon reruns. That song captures the grandeur and sheer terror, the force of nature that is Godzilla.     

Everybody knows (Don’t Fear) the Reaper’; it’s the only BOC song they’ll play on the radio these days. This performance from Arkansas is more energetic than what we heard on vinyl. Eric Bloom channels Eric Burdon’s vocals on the closer, “We Gotta Get Out of This Place”, and it’s just possible BOC exceeds the Animals on this tune. I know there’s an expanded version on CD somewhere out there, but this LP remains a treasured favorite. You need to try it sometime.