Springsteen Proves It All Night in NOLA
I’ve stalked Bruce Springsteen, no lie. I’ve had the man tell me to get out of his face. That was in 1984, and over the years, I’ve tempered my Bruce obsession. I may be a little nutty, but when a man tells me to get out of his face, well, a nutty lady always knows when to leave.
However, I may have to start stalking Bruce again. By all accounts, his performance at the New Orleans Jazz Festival reminded me of why I loved this guy’s music. He is a hit-the-nail-on-the head songwriter, and a musician with his own obsessions: the little guy with the big troubles.
So it is fitting that he dedicated one song, “How Can a Poor Man Stand Such Times and Live,” to “President Bystander.”
President Bystander? Why didn’t I think of that? I don’t know if this is a name Bruce came up with or if people have been calling W that since Katrina, but it is very fitting. I was thinking just this weekend how every single one of my relatives who lived in New Orleans has left. The place I always thought of as my second hometown is now a place where if I visit, it won’t be to see family. I don’t blame Bush for that, but I still get angry when I think of him playing his guitar in San Diego while the people who didn’t or couldn’t get out were stranded and pleading for help. I remember someone I know saying, “Well, I heard They were waiting for their welfare checks and that is why They didn’t leave.” Well, if I had to depend on a freaking welfare check I might wait around, too. After all, as W claims, no one knew the disaster would be this bad – granted, the word disaster implies bad.
By the way, I know I’m supposed to be taking a blog break while I travel for work, but I’m home for a few days, and after reading about Bruce and President Bystander, I just had to check in and sound off.
