After I took the Hammer for her gobby stroll beneath a sky full of seagulls, winter sun and clouds heavy as fresh sawn timbers I guzzled a few Cougar City brew as I prepared some pasta e fagioli for Sonja and I to lean into under the Hammer's hungry gaze.
As I boiled and chopped and guzzled and burped I listened to Bob Dylan's "Modern Times" record for the first time. For an old record buyer like me ripping off the cellophane from a double lp is a rare treat. People laugh at me and my archaic love of records but pretty soon all you motherfuckers who laugh at my record collecting ways will have nothing to use your cds for but reusable ass wipe.
The vinyl is thick and black and heavy. Right away a hair of the Hammer's was attracted to its virgin surface. I brushed it away with my record cloth. Columbia is still Bob's label; the imprint black and red. I set the needle down and turned the stereo up louder than a Canuck's fan losing a bar fight.
Records usually sound a lot of the time and geography they were produced in. Not this one. Just like Bob's last several, Modern Times sounds like it was recorded on a day that did not exist in a country without a flag, an anthem or an army.
Bob Dylan should have a tv show like Johnny Cash and Glen Campbell used to have. Better yet, Bob Dylan should star in a remake of "All in the Family" where he gets to be America's new Archie Bunker.
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