[Buddha-l] Re: Greetings from Oviedo

[curt]

A bullet from the back of a bush took Medgar Evers' blood.
A finger fired the trigger to his name.
A handle hid out in the dark
A hand set the spark
Two eyes took the aim
Behind a man's brain
But he can't be blamed
He's only a pawn in their game.

A South politician preaches to the poor white man,
"You got more than the blacks, don't complain.
You're better than them, you been born with white skin," they explain.
And the Negro's name
Is used it is plain
For the politician's gain
As he rises to fame
And the poor white remains
On the caboose of the train
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game.

from "A pawn in the game" by Bob Dylan

Not only does this completely annihilate Richard
Hayes' contention that Bob Dylan was a whining
inarticulate sham who can't even be called shallow,
it is also an interesting example of looking at
conflict from a viewpoint that is beyond conflict.
And the different ways that Richard and I experienced
watching the exact same thing is an example of ....
well something or other that the Buddha taught,
I'm pretty sure.

Dylan performed the song "A pawn in the game" at
the 1963 "March on Washington". Dylan also wrote
a song about the murder of Emmet Till and many
other songs that contributed to the Civil Rights
movement. Dylan actually participated in and made
a contribution to the movement that ended the most
disgusting and insidious forms of overt racism in
the US. And I think he was completely sincere in that -
so sincere that he never felt any obligation to be
any more "political" than he really was - which wasn't
very. But what he said he meant - and that was one
of the clearest messages that came across in Scorses'
documentary.
- Curt

Richard P. Hayes wrote:

>By sheer coincidence, I happened to watch Martin Scorsese's documentary
>on Bob Dylan just after reading that. The documentary is filled with
>numerous clips of an interview with a painfully inarticulate Bob Dylan,
>along with numerous clips of Dylan whining the unintelligible gibberish
>that he foisted off as lyrics back in the 1960s. The documentary filled
>me with a kind of wonder, as I marvelled at the fact that people
>actually used to enjoy listening to Bob Dylan. Hell, even I used to
>enjoy it. But why? His material was so lacking in substance that it
>can't even be called shallow, let alone profound. So why did so many of
>us like it? Mass delusion? Quién sabe? (Sorry, but my keyboard does not
>make those upside-down question marks that Spanish writers use to warn
>the reader that a question is about to be posed.)
>
>While reflecting on the question of what it was that a generation of
>Americans saw in an incomprehensible poet who started his career by
>telling everyone the lie that he grew up in Gallup, New Mexico, I also
>began to reflect on the equally puzzling question of why I used to enjoy
>writing on buddha-l, even though I really had nothing of consequence to
>say. Things change. 
>  
>