After reading this comment left on the Chicago Blaze blog: (9/11/2008: The Chicago Blaze are excited about their first USCL victory, a 4-0 sweep over Tennessee. )
The backwoods Tennessee team must have been out late the night before 2 stepping and shooting squirels. YEEEEEHAW! CHICAGO IS MY KIND OF TOWN.
September 11, 2008 2:15 PM
I felt compelled to respond with:
Michael Bacon said...
The person who left the derogatory comment concerning "The backwoods Tennessee team..." would have left his name if he was any kind of man at all. Since he did not, I can only surmise that he is NOT MUCH OF A MAN!I can understand your elation at the shutout, but cannot fathom the need to write such offensive remarks. The fact that you people from the so-called "windy city" would leave them on your blog says more about what kind of team you have than the 4-0 win.These people on the team from the great neighboring state of Tennessee are my friends. They may have lost the match, but they have something you will never have. It's called "CLASS."
September 11, 2008 10:54 PM
Idiot Wind by Bob Dylan
Someone's got it in for me, they're planting stories in the press/Whoever it is I wish they'd cut it out but when they will I can only guess./They say I shot a man named Gray and took his wife to Italy,/She inherited a million bucks and when she died it came to me./I can't help it if I'm lucky./
People see me all the time and they just can't remember how to act/Their minds are filled with big ideas, images and distorted facts./Even you, yesterday you had to ask me where it was at,/I couldn't believe after all these years, you didn't know me better than that/Sweet lady./
Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your mouth,/Blowing down the backroads headin' south./Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth,/You're an idiot, babe./It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe./
I ran into the fortune-teller, who said beware of lightning that might strike/I haven't known peace and quiet for so long I can't remember what it's like./There's a lone soldier on the cross, smoke pourin' out of a boxcar door,/You didn't know it, you didn't think it could be done, in the final end he won the wars/After losin' every battle./
I woke up on the roadside, daydreamin' 'bout the way things sometimes are/Visions of your chestnut mare shoot through my head and are makin' me see stars./You hurt the ones that I love best and cover up the truth with lies./One day you'll be in the ditch, flies buzzin' around your eyes,/Blood on your saddle./
Idiot wind, blowing through the flowers on your tomb,/Blowing through the curtains in your room./Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth,/You're an idiot, babe.It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe./
It was gravity which pulled us down and destiny which broke us apart/You tamed the lion in my cage but it just wasn't enough to change my heart./Now everything's a little upside down, as a matter of fact the wheels have stopped,/What's good is bad, what's bad is good, you'll find out when you reach the top/You're on the bottom./
I noticed at the ceremony, your corrupt ways had finally made you blind/I can't remember your face anymore, your mouth has changed, your eyes/don't look into mine./The priest wore black on the seventh day and sat stone-faced while the buildingburned./I waited for you on the running boards, near the cypress trees, while the springtimeturned/ Slowly into autumn./
Idiot wind, blowing like a circle around my skull,/From the Grand Coulee Dam to the Capitol./Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth,/You're an idiot, babe./It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe./
I can't feel you anymore, I can't even touch the books you've read/Every time I crawl past your door, I been wishin' I was somebody else instead./Down the highway, down the tracks, down the road to ecstasy,/I followed you beneath the stars, hounded by your memory/And all your ragin' glory./
I been double-crossed now for the very last time and now I'm finally free,/I kissed goodbye the howling beast on the borderline which separated you from me./You'll never know the hurt I suffered nor the pain I rise above,/And I'll never know the same about you, your holiness or your kind of love,/And it makes me feel so sorry./
Idiot wind, blowing through the buttons of our coats,/Blowing through the letters that we wrote./Idiot wind, blowing through the dust upon our shelves,/We're idiots, babe./It's a wonder we can even feed ourselves.
Copyright ©1974 Ram's Horn Music