Silly me.  Why should I write about this song?  Perhaps an ironic silliness is my hold upon sanity?  Never mind.

In our discussion session on Buddhist philosophy, we mused together about the few possessions owned by those most intent upon practicing the prescripts of the Buddha’s message.

A monk owns a saffron robe or two, a few toiletries, and a begging bowl.  Monks travel to the community at a distance from the monastery, and are supplied with food for their daily meals by the households in the neighborhood.  Monks are recognized as dedicated to understand and to uphold the core values underpinning the community, that of compassion.  Perhaps not in our 21st century time, but in Buddhist societies in past times many monks so lived.

Is this possible?  In my imagination what manner of a community would be necessary in order for such a life to be possible?  I can only imagine.  I am certain that a place where relationships are structured according to the ‘greed is good‘* principle would make such a life absurd.  The core issue: within what type of society do I prefer to live?  Do I prefer a place that is hyper competitive, where there is a wide gap between those who enjoy societies benefits, and those who have nothing, and scarce hope for good health, decent shelter, or education?

This ballad is a story about a different time in our country.  A couple of “hippies” (youths desiring to see, hear, and touch as much of life as possible) are met with kindness, and fair response in their day of need.  The song speaks for itself.  The video is a superb complement to the lyrics.

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*lines spoken by Gordon Gekko (played by Michael Douglas) in the 1987 movie, Wall Street.

Greed, for lack of a better word, is good. Greed is right. Greed works. Greed clarifies, cuts through, and captures, the essence of the evolutionary spirit. Greed, in all of its forms; greed for life, for money, for love, knowledge, has marked the upward surge of mankind and greed, you mark my words,…

Me And You And A Dog Named Boo

By Lobo 1971

I remember to this day
The bright red Georgia clay
And how it stuck to the tires
After the summer rain
Will power made that old car go
A woman’s mind told me that so
Oh how I wish
We were back on the road again

Me and you and a dog named boo
Travellin’ and livin’ off the land
Me and you and a dog named boo
How I love being a free man

I can still recall
The wheat fields of St. Paul
And the morning we got caught
Robbing from an old hen
Old McDonald he made us work
But then he paid us for what it was worth
Another tank of gas
And back on the road again

I’ll never forget the day
We motored stately into big L.A.
The lights of the city put settlin’
Down in my brain
Though it’s only been a month or so
That old car’s buggin’ us to go
We’ve gotta get away and get back on
The road again