Machine Gun
Jimi Hendrix died fifty years ago today. There are so many great songs by him that it would usually be difficult to select one to use to head an essay. But after watching both Barr and Trump's public utterances this week, Hendrix's New Year's Eve "Machine Gun" strikes me as the best bet, for we have a president, assisted by the attorney general, actually expanding their war on the United States. "Great googlamoogla," as Rubin Carter used to say when we discussed very strange things.
I've found Trump's attempts to wrap himself in the flag mildly annoying. Republican shitheads have been doing that since the days when Jimi Hendrix amazed crowds during concerts in the 1960s. I agreed with the hippies and YIPPIES! that recognized that the American flag really belonged to us, not the creeps on the right-wing. Jimi recognized this concept, most famously with his powerful version of the Star-Spangled Banner at Woodstock.
But this week, both Barr and Trump went way too far in their attempts to ignite violence in the streets of the United States, by -- among a dirty laundry list of nastiness -- laying claim to the U.S. Constitution. I say, "Fuck that" -- instead, I propose wrapping them in the confederate flag until they are firmly encased in our nation's septic system of shame.
I had a curious thought this morning, as I listened to a Hendrix CD. What does Donald Trump dream about? For I have never read any study of the dreams of sociopaths. Does his utter lack of conscience prevent his subconscious from relaying meaningful messages to him? Is there any connection between his dreams and his noted tendency to avoid sleep? Or does he simply have wet dreams of McDonalds products? Wet dreams of raping and ravaging America?
We know that Donald is paranoid, certainly to a degree that is at least equal to the two most paranoid presidents of the modern era. Both Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon were paranoid, even in their most relaxed times as president. And both had an anti-social flavor to their thoughts and actions in the White House. We know little if anything about Nixon's dreams -- possibly this is related to his late-night alcohol consumption -- though we do know that on at least one night, he prayed that he would die in his sleep. Most historians and social scientists would agree with me that this is not only pathetic bt definition, but that it is not the night-time prayer that we would want any president before Trump to engage in.
LBJ, on the other hand, would tell some of the people that he kind of trusted about his haunting dreams. They fell into two distinct types, neither of which require Freud's 1899 book, "The Interpretation of Dreams," to understand. Let's take a look at these two types, shall we?
The first were dreams of paralysis. These had actually started in 1955, after his heart attack. He was 46 at the time, and had just been selected to serve as the Majority Leader in the Senate. But towards the end of his first term as president, they increased in frequency. And they became a nightly event in his 1964-68 term, playing a significant role in his decision not to seek re-election.
The "paralysus" dreams took various forms. They included being chained to his desk in the Oval Office, being caught in a river where he could only swim in circles and never reach the shore, and variations of his head being attached to Woodrow Wilson's body. I would suggest that these indicate he felt a bit trapped as president.
The second type can be classified as LBJ's "stampede" nightmares. The first example was his dreaming that he was in a pasture on his ranch, when suddenly he became aware that a large herd of cattle were coming in his direction, about to run him over. The second was a variation on this theme, that began shortly after the 1968 New Hampshire primary. His aides had informed him that he was going to lose the upcoming April 2 Wisconsin primary. The following morning, he told Doris Kearns Goodwin that:
"I felt like I was being chased on all sides by a giant stampede. I was being forced over the edge by rioting blacks, demonstrating students,marching welfare mothers, squawking professors, and hysterical reporters. And then the final straw. The thing I feared from the first day of my presidency was coming true. Robert Kennedy had openly announced his intention to reclaim the throne in memory of his brother. And the American people, swayed by the magic of the name, were dancing in the streets."
Again, I have no idea of what -- if anything -- Trump dreams about. But I think that it is our patriotic duty to serve as his worst fucking nightmare. Thus, the combined forces of Black Lives Matter, college students, poor people, school teachers and college professors, journalists, average American citizens, and others should begin dancing in the streets (with face masks and practicing social distancing) in preparation for the November election.
Peace,
H2O Man
= new reply since forum marked as read
I was watching some old Stephen Colbert clips last night. My cousin doesn't get "The Late Show" (now "A Late Show"
, so i link the best ones on his FB page. And one in particular showed how -- even when there is film of Trump saying something -- his cult members are able to block it out, and deny he ever said it. With a straight face, no less. That is the very definition of the walking unconscious.
I love Jimi's music, and have collected every recording I've come across for ....well, over fifty years now. The Motown music from a German five LP set, to the issued recordings (old and "new" releases), to various bootleg albums. One of the issues he was confronted with was signing with a variety of "managers," which violated previous contracts, no matter how promising it sounded at the time. What he really needed was someone to look out for his interests, and that never truly happened.
The Electric Ladyland studio had great promise. And some of his best music came after the Experience stopped defining him. However, much like with Morrison, a lot of audience members came for the freak show.
One of my sister-in-law's first husband's groups used to open for the Jimi Hendrix Experience. She told me about the first time she saw him enter the dressing room -- she was intimidated, and backed up, knocking his guitar over. That wasn't a good introduction!
I would have been intimidated meeting Hendrix, too. He was a giant. Still, after all these years he is still seen as one of the best who ever was. He still inspires. 
As for Trumpers--denying reality is part and parcel. Sad.