It was gettin' late. Now.. when I spewed "(historian gateway of a bygone fourth estate by way of music, & literary form, & go on name a worthwhile media oh my)" I meant it in a freakishly lighthearted way.

So often art imitates life; so often there's truth in fiction. An honest (literary) storyteller by way of any given medium peels the (journalistic) onion of history and expresses it far more creatively than your average joe. It's dearly appreciated. If I recall correctly, I remember in one o the key album interviews DB mentioned living like a journalist in the trenches of one embedded human condition or another. I'm not certain though. Certainly paraphrasing! It's possible I may have imagined the whole thing. Or maybe one o Mick's dakinis transmigrated into my ear canal ('cos they know Mick 'll get a kick outta any blunder or confusion) and whispered it into my eardrum when I was most susceptible.

(Naw I don't feel like getting deported as a dissenter when whatever totalitarianism takes the reigns damnit! We really ARe better than this. I've seen it. Felt it. Smellt it. Even dealt it lovingly. Charmingly on occasion. I think we really ARe capable of not goin' to Helena Handbasket. But damn if it ain't scratching at the surface tho with some spark n smoke. At what stage of demoralization are we? One generation? Two? I feel like Jayne in Serenity when he exclaims, "--- We're gonna explode? I don't wanna explode!" When I'd rather be like Wash and steer clear o the crash with skills & a jovial good sense o humor. Doggonnit it seemed possible 20 yrs ago. Don't blink!)