Everything is Broken

Bob Dylan
Oh Mercy
Sony/Columbia, 1989

Broken lines, broken strings,
Broken threads, broken springs,
Broken idols, broken heads,
People sleeping in broken beds.
Ain’t no use jiving
Ain’t no use joking
Everything is broken.

Broken bottles, broken plates,
Broken switches, broken gates,
Broken dishes, broken parts,
Streets are filled with broken hearts.
Broken words never meant to be spoken,
Everything is broken.

Seem like every time you stop and turn around
Something else just hit the ground

Broken cutters, broken saws,
Broken buckles, broken laws,
Broken bodies, broken bones,
Broken voices on broken phones.
Take a deep breath, feel like you’re chokin’,
Everything is broken.

Every time you leave and go off someplace
Things fall to pieces in my face

Broken hands on broken ploughs,
Broken treaties, broken vows,
Broken pipes, broken tools,
People bending broken rules.
Hound dog howling, bull frog croaking,
Everything is broken.

Lincoln returns to Richmond

New York Times: In Richmond, Lincoln Statue is Greeted by Protests. I love and hate this about Virginia, my home state: the places where history happened have a tendency to become trapped in pivotal moments and hold onto them for identity long after all the original participants have crumbled to dust. A prime example: Bragdon Bowling, Virginia “division commander” of the Sons of the Confederate Veterans:

“They have no concept of history and how it might be the wrong place to put the statue,” said Mr. Bowling, whose great-grandfather John Stephen Cannon fought for the Confederacy. “As a Southerner, I’m offended. You wouldn’t put a statue of Winston Churchill in downtown Berlin, would you? What’s next, a statue of Sherman in Atlanta?”

I think Mr. Bowling is perhaps not the right person to criticize someone else’s grasp of history.