Masters of War

Listen while you read:  https://vimeo.com/10724030

Come, you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build all the bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
That I see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the last bullets fly
. . . 

You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud
. . . 

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good?
Will it buy you forgiveness?
Do you think that it could?
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

~  Bob Dylan

It's hard to believe that The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan came out in 1963. "Masters of War," a protest against the building escalation in Vietnam, is still relevant today, five and a half decades later. The reference to the mansion is particularly creepy. The decision to drop 59 Tomahawk missiles on an airbase in Syria was made during dinner in a mansion last week. Waxing poetic over the chocolate cake being served for dessert (which, I know, is an insult to poets), the man in charge of such decision-making told his interviewer how he informed the President of China, Xi Jinping (who was, he pointed out, enjoying the cake), that he just dropped the 59 missiles on . . . IRAQ! The interviewer had to correct him! "Syria?" she questioned. Oh, yeah, Syria. Who knew how complicated keeping track of foreign adversaries is?

I'm sorry, Readers, I'm losing it now. And I'm not alone. We are in deep-shit trouble. This man is a fucking idiot, and I think you all know it. If you voted for him, admit your error and join the resistance! He WILL be taken down sooner or later, and the sooner it happens, the greater our chances of avoiding WWIII.

I know it's the weekend, and I know I said I would lighten up, so I will leave it here. On Easter Eve, let me just add the last verse of Dylan's song:

But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
That even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do