Monday, March 3, 2014

This note's for you.

I have written enthusiastically here about Bob Dylan. Perhaps I have been immoderate in my praise, throwing around gaudy bangles like "Nobel Prize" and "Greatest Artist of the 20th Century." Having looked into the Nobel Prize, its committee structure, and all its choices I'm happy to toss that one away as exceedingly unlikely and sort of pointless, but that "Greatest Artist" one remains fairly irresistible to me and I might, in the right mood, get pretty fierce about it. Who's better or more important? The thing is, I'm not alone on this one. The respect runs profoundly deep on Bob Dylan. It's not just the sharp, smart fans and critics, but probably far more notably, it's the vast swath of other esteemed, lauded, and world famous musicians and songwriters who walk in his footsteps and hold a kind of regard for him that seems similar to what any writer who's paying attention might think of Shakespeare.

All of this is why I was so unprepared for what I saw a short while ago. I don't remember where I was or what I was watching, probably some YouTube video of such luring appeal that I could be forced to sit through a short commercial. I don't remember much specifically what was being sold, but I'm pretty sure it was a car, or maybe just a car company in general. What was utterly unforgettable was that the pitchman was Bob Dylan himself, the greatest artist of the 20th century, and he was apparently reduced to working for car salesmen in order to get by.

I don't know if Bob Dylan had some unscrupulous manager, if he mumbled through one too many concerts, or illegal downloading finally cut his margins down to nothing, but clearly some disaster has struck! There is no way a genius like Bob Dylan would humiliate himself by begging people to buy some fat cat's cars unless he was desperately hungry. To think that we have allowed this magnificent artist to fall so low! I picture him riding the rails, sleeping under bridges, sharing old folk tunes with strangers on his battered harmonica in hopes of getting enough quarters to buy a can of stew, but all through it aware that winter was coming, and that he and his old bones needed real shelter, in a room, with heat, and regular meals. Perhaps he was too proud to call on old friends. Perhaps he felt his only option was to contact some slimy manager from his past.

"No." the guy tells him. "I told you there's no gigs. But I know some guys, as a favor to me, who wouldn't mind if you said some nice things about their car company. Not everyone has forgotten you. It'll get you off the streets for a few months."

Slimy bastard! And what choice did Dylan have? He's a senior citizen, impoverished, alone, and forgotten by all but a few hundred million people who think he's one of the greatest artists who ever lived. And we just sit there and let his personal tragedy unfold, like it's just another media sideshow.

"Oh," we say. "So Dylan's doing car commercials now. How the mighty have fallen (snicker)."

Well not me. The buck stops here! The man is a genius. He does not deserve humiliation. He does not deserve to have penury and poor choices force him into rank huckstering merely so he can stay solvent in his golden years. He shouldn't have to eat cold beans from a can to get by!

That is why I have started the "Send ten dollars to Bob Dylan" website. It's tax deductible and every cent of your donation, after administrative expenses, will go to help out the finest genius of our time. The author of Like a Rolling Stone shouldn't have to sell cars to get three squares! And It doesn't have to be ten dollars. It can be less if you're a bit short this month. Every bit helps. Also, if you're, like, Bruce Springsteen, or Neil Young or something, and saved more prudently for retirement, I'm guessing you've got a spare room somewhere. Maybe you'd consider putting Mr. Dylan up for a couple months, just, you know, until he can get back on his feet again. Maybe you keep him away from these car salesmen and unscrupulous managers while we gather a nest egg for him.

Remember that treasured old saw: There but for the grace of God go I. 

17 comments:

  1. I am moved to tears! I have eight dollars in my wallet. Should I send it over to his mansion on the ocean?

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  2. Bob Dylan is a multi-millionaire ...(http://www.celebritynetworth.com/articles/entertainment-articles/richest-rock-lead-singers-world/) ... his net-worth is $80+ Million.

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    1. Why, that can't be. The mystery deepens. Perhaps unscrupulous agents have hidden his money from him to try and control him? You have made me more worried for him rather than less!

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  3. Hmmm...I think it stems from Bob Dylan's aversion to teachers dating his daughter. That's the only imperfection in an otherwise perfectly moral human who ranges into the depth of the human spirit and confusion and can be the ONLY explanation for the car commercial. It's perfectly logical: teachers drive cars, Dylan doesn't want teachers to date his daughter, Dylan realizes he won't live forever ("Oh mama! Can this really be the end!"), he agrees to make amends for his teachers-don't-date-my-daughter stance, and so, free of charge inserts himself in a car commercial during the Superbowl.

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    1. Your feverish reasoning is hard to follow and makes me wonder if you were perhaps caught up in the notorious 1990s Dylan "I don't want my daughter to date a teacher" scandal. If so, you have my deepest sympathy, and I do not dismiss your interpretation, that through the public humiliation of shilling for car companies he is perhaps attempting to expiate his past sins. It is possible. In this scenario I think it would be especially curative if Neil Young would give Dylan a room in his house and spend some time with him, letting Dylan play with his (Neil's) very nice model train sets, and perhaps introducing him to some of the friendlier teachers from the Bridge School, letting him see that most teachers are ready to accept his apology and don't need him to publicly degrade himself. Can you, as one slighted, forgive him? Would you be willing to go to Neil Young's house and talk with Bob Dylan if we arranged it?

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    2. Yes, I already did all that--Neil, the train sets, everything--and yes,
      forgiveness, but he *still* wanted to do the gosh danged commercial. I thought next of trying Melanie's roller skates on him to undo his overly penitent teacher/car/commercial tendencies. He could skate with her, he could roller skate to your yard by daylight. That would likely do the trick, but who knows. You know BD: when his mind's set on something, it's set.

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  4. Ever wondered if he perhaps is doing it just for the kicks?

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    1. Hmm, the ol' celebrity with perverse tastes angle. I cannot dismiss it outright as talent can sometimes bring the darkness out of people, but I prefer my optimistic view that Bob Dylan has been living under bridges eating from cans. I cannot bear to think it is something worse than that! If he doesn't need our 10 dollars he will no doubt send it back with a sheepish note, but I would rather err here on the side of caution.

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  5. That voice of his still claws my ears. I'll send money if someone else, anyone else, would please sing his brilliant lyrics!

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    1. Cannot relate. But recommend
      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uSdVOEKW5YA
      If that doesn't convince you of his Caruso qualities, nothing ever will.

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  6. Dylan does this for two reasons:

    i) For the money-nothing wrong with that, except when it's Dylan doing it, it seems.

    ii) To confound sanctimonious progressives wherever they might be.

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    1. Yeah, and when he blows his nose, the tissue represents all the people lacking a sense of humor.

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  7. Bob Dylan is a God - he gets to do what he wants. Deal with it.

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    1. Dude, this place is a temple and you're getting your fucking mud all over the floor!

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    2. Oh sure, I for one am fine to grant him Godhood. But I may reconsider at the point where we all have to use porta potties.

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  8. As I do sometimes, scattered to the Internet, I was running through Bob Dylan things. There is always something new to find with this guy, boy! And I found an earnest TV interview from a few years back. Bob Dylan, sort of sad I think, tired, straight up. He said he made a deal with God a long time ago about Destiny. And he said that he could no longer write a song like he once did. Maybe he could barely understand such bolts of lightning. But I know how he feels. I know about destiny and lightning and that his 47 billion accolades and place in history are not so different than my seven accolades. It is a strange lesson.

    I love the fandom comments on Bob Dylan. I guess I was still inviting strangers to my blog. There's that fierce, ticked "Bob Dylan is a God" that I can see here from where I type. The interview I just watched seemed pretty clear that Dylan believes in god and doesn't think he is one, so I think calling Bob Dylan a God is sort of a disavowal of the very statement. I guess it all ends up like that.

    I will tell you this. I try only to believe in god, or gods, or nothing, when it is to my benefit. You may call this mercenary. But if you try it, you will see that it is rather mercy, and wisdom.

    Amen.

    I have spoken.

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