I'm not usually one to be on the cutting edge of breaking news. So my natural inclination is to nurse my secret information, maybe sell it to a tabloid.
Are there still any tabloids?
Who buys meaningless but revealing information these days?
It doesn't matter anyway. It all goes against my ethos. I believe in the free exchange of information. When it comes to the Internet I'm not just old school, I don't even believe in school.
Burn down the school!
We don't need no education!
TEACHER, LEAVE THOSE KIDS ALONE.
No, I don't know what any of that means here either. I'm just excited.
What happened is that I woke up to the bombshell news that Bob Dylan sold his entire catalog of music for like, 300 million dollars. It was big news. All the major news media were reporting it and speculating on it. Even that 300 million dollar amount was just a guess. And just as I was reading and wondering about it I got an email from Bob: "Zoom amaro, 3:00?"
As you know Bob Dylan and I get together for drinks, usually on Thursday afternoons, at boutique cocktail bars, divey pubs, or, if we can find one, inspired microbreweries. But with the pandemic we, like many besides us, have had to resort to awkward zoom meetings that only become unawkward on our second drink. Lately we've been tasting amari together. It takes a fair bit of amaro for us to loosen up with each other, but once done we really get along together.
Or at least that's my interpretation.
As to Bob, Bob tends towards the inscrutable.
So the big news broke, Bob emailed me, and we got together for amaro. And I found out the answer that Rolling Stone Magazine would have killed for.
Well, maybe they wouldn't kill for it, but I bet they're mildly interested. I mean, it's not 1966 any more.
Why did Bob Dylan sell his entire catalog of songs to some bloated mega publishing and own everything company?
After four amaros, of which we both liked the Montenegro the best, I impudently asked.
"Why did you sell all your songs for 300 million dollars?" Just like that.
"297." Bob said, looking down into his brown liquid.
Bob suddenly seemed super shy.
"What's 297?" I asked.
"Million dollars." He mumbled.
He's not usually shy. I don't know if I've ever seen him shy, and it gave me an idea.
So I guessed.
"You're trying to raise money to buy another Caravaggio, aren't you?"
"Mmph." He mumbled.
"That's nothing to be ashamed of." I said softly.
He smiled a little and looked relieved.
He's not so tough.