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CAT Tracks for March 29, 2015
SUNDAY MORNIN' COMIN' DOWN |
This week's CAT Tracks featured stories about the less-than-compassionate actions of the new Republican-controlled United States Congress and the Democratic-controlled Illinois General Assembly (at the urging of new Republican Governor Bruce Rauner)...
...the implementation of the proverbial "rich get richer" and "poor get poorer" (putting the latter more politely than in my previous post) agenda.
So, it is with catty pleasure that I share the following image...
CAT Tracks Editor's Note:
In keeping with the laid-back, "arts and entertainment" mood of Sunday Morning (and my own personal penchant for musical interludes), I offer the following:
(Written by Kris Kristofferson and Performed by Johnny Cash)
Well I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head, that didn't hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
I'd smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and the songs I'd been pickin'
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playin' with a can that he was kicking
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone's fryin' chicken
And it took me back to somethin'
That I'd lost somewhere, somehow along the way.
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I'm wishing Lord that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin'
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleepin' city sidewalk
And Sunday mornin' comin' down.
In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughin' little girl who he was swingin'
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singin'
Then I headed down the street
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'
And it echoed thru the canyon
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I'm wishing Lord that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin'
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleepin' city sidewalk
And Sunday mornin' comin' down.
Bears repeating:
A relevant literary note...
...from a poem by John Donne (1572 – 1631), but frequently credited to Ernest Hemingway (1899 – 1961), who quoted the phrase in his similarly titled book:
"We, the People" made our choices in the last federal and state elections...
...sigh.
Be careful what you ask for...