Dylan Follow-up: Searching For The Mansions of Glory?

We post the other day, the brush with the law Bob Dylan had in New Jersey ("Forget The Irony, He's Lucky He Didn't Get Tasered!"), and there seems to be more to the story.



Was Dylan Searching for the Home Where Springsteen Penned 'Born to Run'?

Was Bob Dylan looking for the home where Bruce Springsteen wrote "Born to Run" in 1974 when he was detained by police near the Jersey shore last month?

[snip]

But the area where Dylan was picked up was just a couple blocks from the beachside bungalow where Bruce Springsteen wrote the material for his landmark 1975 album "Born to Run."

In the past nine months, Dylan has visited the childhood homes of Neil Young and John Lennon, in both cases appearing without fanfare and barely identifying himself after he was recognized.

Last November, Winnipeg homeowner John Kiernan told Sun Media's Simon Fuller that Dylan and a friend arrived unannounced in a taxi to his Grosvenor Ave. home, where songwriter Neil Young grew up.

Dylan, Kiernan said, was unshaved and had the brim of his hat pulled down over his head. He asked for a look inside and inquired about Young's bedroom and where he would have played his guitar.

[snip]

In May, Dylan joined a public tour of John Lennon's childhood home, according to the BBC. A spokeswoman for the National Trust, which runs the home as London landmark, said Dylan "took one of our general minibus tours.

"People on the minibus did not recognize him apparently," the spokeswoman told the British news agency. "He could have booked a private tour, but he was happy to go on the bus with everyone else."

Hmmm ...

Wonder if he peeked in the medicine cabinet?

This one's for you, Robert Allen Zimmerman;

Bruce Springsteen - Born to Run

Rummy On The Run? ... Let's Give Him Some Chase Music!

It's unlikely he would have been hunted down, panting, exhausted, with fear-filled eyes, a chalk-marked "M" stamped on his shoulder, like Peter Lorre in the Fritz Lang classic "M" (Sorry, won't daydream again while posting).

More the style of Donald Rumsfeld, former Secretary of Defense, would be to stroll out of the breakfast he was attending in Paris, angrily barking to his aides "Arrest me! ... What planet do they think they are on", or some such Rummyesque verbiage.

Charges were filed in France against Dick Cheney's little weekend-warrior buddy, for torture, by the the International Federation for Human Rights along with the Center for Constitutional Rights, the European Center for Constitutional and Human Rights and the French League for Human Rights, criminal charges for "ordering and authorizing torture."

And since he was in Paris, for some type of meeting with Foreign Policy Magazine, they wanted to catch and arrest the little bugger.

So, as we have done so often for the Bush Grindhouse, we provide a song, some chase music for Rumsfeld to skulk out-of-town with.

Stepping out of our element (Jazz), we turn to a proverbial American Hero, Bruce Springsteen, and his classic anthem, "Born To Run" to provide the right vibe.

Anyone that was a teenager in the 1970's, or older, you sing especially loud.

Born the One's

In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway American government
At night we ride through Middle East with suicide machines
Secure in cages out in Abu Ghraib
Chrome wheeled, fuel injected and steppin' all over the law
Bushie this town rips the bones from their back
Its a death trap, its a stuff happens rap
We gotta torture'em while were young
`cause Neocons like us, Bushie we were born the One's

Bushie let me in I wanna be your friend
I want to guard your dreams and visions
Just wrap your legs round these velvet rims
And strap your hands across my engines
Together we could break this rap
Well torture till we drop, Bushie well never go back
Will you torture with me out on the wire
`cause Bushie I'm just a scared and lonely Rummy
But I gotta find out how it feels
I want to know if torture is wild, Bushie, I want to know if torture is real

Beyond Saddam's palace hemi-powered Humvees scream down the boulevard
The Iraqis comb their hair in rear-view mirrors
And the guards try to beat them so hard
Our amusement park rises bold and stark
Prisoners are huddled on the beach, they're not missed
I wanna die with you Bushie on Baghdad streets tonight
In an everlasting kiss

The highways jammed with broken Neocons on a last chance power drive
All the Neocons out on the run tonight
but theres no place left to hide
Together Bushie we'll live with the sadness
I'll love you with all the madness in my soul
Someday Bushie I don't know when
were gonna get to that place
Where we really want to torture
and we'll walk in the sun
But till then Neocons like us
Bushie, we were born the One's

Bonus Rummy Riffs

Listen To A Clip of "Born To Run"

Top Ten Cloves: What Would Be Different If Rumsfeld Was A Dog, But Still Secretary of Defense

Rumsfeld Declares End to Memo 'Blizzard'

Seymour Hersh - The General’s Report: How Antonio Taguba, who investigated the Abu Ghraib scandal, became one of its casualties.


"Hey, I can daydream, can't I?"