Davison's Doodle

Some Reading and Lyrics

When everything matters. Nothing matters most.

Rather than send words into cyberspace everyday or even weekly for that matter, I’ve waited. The amount of opinion, news, entertainment, shouting, conspiracy theory, resources, video, music, good causes, hype, drivel, virtual community, politics and religion, it seems like every minute of every day has become the holiday family meal where one must be cautious about anything but the weather. Oh, wait. Climate change. My apologies.

I don’t know what you are reading. Here are a few things I’ve found interesting.

Journalists Aren’t the Enemy of the People. But We’re Not Your Friends.
Ben Smith, The New York Times. Sept 6, 2020.

The Last Time a Contested Presidential Election Nearly Tore the Country Apart
Ed Kilgore, New York Magazine. Sept 7, 2020

Help still needed to fill gap while Our Daily Bread is closed
James Neal, Enid Eagle. Sept 13, 2020

With Some Schools Moving Outdoors, Retailers Follow
Business, The New York Times

Hate Social Media? You’ll Love This Documentary
Arielle Pardes, Wired. Sept 9, 2020.

The Best Reason to Go to College
Pico Iyer, The New York Times. Sept 6, 2020

Updates and Guidelines for Including Music in Video
Facebook.com. Sept 11, 2020

I Take Back Everything I Said About Southwest Louisiana
Stephanie Soileau, The New York Times, Sept 11, 2020

Social media disinformation on US west coast blazes ‘spreading faster than fire’
Jason Wilson, The Guardian. Sept 14, 2020

And now, to demonstrate the theatre of the macabre of President Trump’s Presidency, rallies, and governing alongside the GOP, here are the lyrics of John Fogerty’s “Fortunate Son” which is being played at the President’s campaign events. Click here to hear John Fogerty’s thoughts.

Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Ooh, they’re red, white and blue
And when the band plays “Hail To The Chief”
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord

It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no senator’s son, son
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, no

Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord, don’t they help themselves, oh
But when the taxman comes to the door
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes

It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no senator’s son, son
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, no

Yeah!
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes
Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord
And when you ask them, “How much should we give?”
Ooh, they only answer, “More! More! More!” Yo

It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no military son, son
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, one

It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no fortunate one, no no no
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no fortunate son, no no no

John Fogerty, “Fortunate Son.” Fantasy Records. November 2, 1969