The Chattanooga Choo-Choo

Do you remember the old song about the Chattanooga Choo-Choo?  It’s a song—words by Mack Gordon, music by Harry Warren—from the musical “Sun Valley Serenade,” and then  made famous by Glenn Miller and his orchestra during World War II.

                                Pardon me, boy

                                Is that the Chattanooga Choo Choo

                                On track 49?

                             Boy, you can give me a shine.

                                I can’t afford

                                To pay to hear your pitter-patter.

                                I got my fare,

                                And not a penny to spare.

                                You leave the Pennsylvania Station at a quarter to four,

                                You read a magazine and then you’re in Baltimore.

                                Dinner on the diner, nothing could be finer

                                Than to have your ham and eggs in Carolina!

                                You hear the engineer a-whistlin’ eight to the bar

                                And then you know that Tennessee is not very far!

                                Shovel all the coal in, gotta keep her rollin’—

                                Chattanooga Choo Choo, won’t you choo-choo me home!

A fun song, a catchy tune—and very much a feel-good song in the 1940s—forwhite

listeners.

But if you are black, you’ll realise right from the start what the situation is, and where you are. 

“Pardon me, boy . . . Boy, you can give me a shine.”  It doesn’t matter how old you are, you are still called boy if you’re black.

And the singer—the white guy isn’t going to pay you, either for the shoeshine or the singing:

I can’t afford

To pay to hear your pitter-patter.

I got my fare,

And not a penny to spare.

 That’s a lie, of course:  first he gets a magazine, and then his “dinner on the diner”—which wouldn’t be cheap.   And the waiter will be a black man.  And that black man will serve you your “ham and eggs” the next morning at breakfast.    But he won’t pay that black man—that “boy”—to serve him and sing for him.

                                Chattanooga Choo Choo, won’t you choo-choo me home!

                I learned that song as a child, and grew up singing it.  I never thought of it as a white song—simply because I was white, and ignorant of how wrong my world was, and of how insensitive I was in that wrong world. 

                I used to say “yes, sir” and “yes ma’am” to adults—and didn’t know that I shouldn’t, until one Sunday night at dinner I answered Hattie May Collier, the black maid “Yes, ma’am” when she asked me if I wanted more milk.  My dear, sweet, pious Irish-American grandmother reached across and slapped me.   “Don’t you call a nigger ‘ma’am’ in my house!” she said.

                Chattanooga Choo Choo, won’t you choo-choo me home.

                                                                                                                Bert Hornback

                                                                                                               13 April 2016Do you remember the old song about the Chattanooga Choo-Choo?  It’s a song—words by Mack Gordon, music by Harry Warren—from the musical “Sun Valley Serenade,” and then  made famous by Glenn Miller and his orchestra during World War II.

                                Pardon me, boy

                                Is that the Chattanooga Choo Choo

                                On track 49?

                             Boy, you can give me a shine.

                                I can’t afford

                                To pay to hear your pitter-patter.

                                I got my fare,

                                And not a penny to spare.

                                You leave the Pennsylvania Station at a quarter to four,

                                You read a magazine and then you’re in Baltimore.

                                Dinner on the diner, nothing could be finer

                                Than to have your ham and eggs in Carolina!

                                You hear the engineer a-whistlin’ eight to the bar

                                And then you know that Tennessee is not very far!

                                Shovel all the coal in, gotta keep her rollin’—

                                Chattanooga Choo Choo, won’t you choo-choo me home!

A fun song, a catchy tune—and very much a feel-good song in the 1940s—forwhite

listeners.

But if you are black, you’ll realise right from the start what the situation is, and where you are. 

“Pardon me, boy . . . Boy, you can give me a shine.”  It doesn’t matter how old you are, you are still called boy if you’re black.

And the singer—the white guy isn’t going to pay you, either for the shoeshine or the singing:

I can’t afford

To pay to hear your pitter-patter.

I got my fare,

And not a penny to spare.

 That’s a lie, of course:  first he gets a magazine, and then his “dinner on the diner”—which wouldn’t be cheap.   And the waiter will be a black man.  And that black man will serve you your “ham and eggs” the next morning at breakfast.    But he won’t pay that black man—that “boy”—to serve him and sing for him.

                                Chattanooga Choo Choo, won’t you choo-choo me home!

                I learned that song as a child, and grew up singing it.  I never thought of it as a white song—simply because I was white, and ignorant of how wrong my world was, and of how insensitive I was in that wrong world. 

                I used to say “yes, sir” and “yes ma’am” to adults—and didn’t know that I shouldn’t, until one Sunday night at dinner I answered Hattie May Collier, the black maid “Yes, ma’am” when she asked me if I wanted more milk.  My dear, sweet, pious Irish-American grandmother reached across and slapped me.   “Don’t you call a nigger ‘ma’am’ in my house!” she said.

                Chattanooga Choo Choo, won’t you choo-choo me home.

                                                                                                                Bert Hornback

                                                                                                               13 April 2016

WHAT GOD HATH WROUGHT

"What God hath wrought."   It's a verse from the Book of Numbers (23:23) in that strange and foreign and surely un-American book which Jews and Christians supposedly live by. 

                                        

                                  WHAT GOD HATH WROUGHT

"Come see what God hath wrought."  

But this?  Don't blaspheme--or God will send you someplace to burn forever.  God didn't create these United States:  united in greed and hatred of the poor and xenophobic arrogance.   Not these United States, violent and murderous, where everybody has a gun and the nation itself owns more weapons of destruction than all the rest of the world in all of human history.  

God isn't responsible for these United States.  And you can't blame his son--the un-American known as Jesus--for what we have wrought.   Jesus told us--told even the Americans--to love one another:  to take care of the poor, not to steal, not to kill.  

"What God hath wrought."   God didn't  make this.  What we have wrought is not God's work:  not what any god made or created or designed.  We have wrought iron--and destruction, and war.  God wrought love--and life, and peace.

And while I'm at it:  God didn't make the North America than Americans inhabit today.  God didn't make those refuse-concealing mountains in New Jersey--or the Love Canal in New York.  God didn't make those topless mountains in eastern Kentucky, either, or the valleys full of poisoned landfill between them.  God didn't make America's polluted and poisonous rivers  or the air we can't safely breathe.  God didn't make the poisonous pesticides we use to put on the food we eat, or the poor deformed beasts that we eat pretending it is the meat of cattle and chickens.

"What God hath wrought."  False accusation is the sin called calumny, or slander.  We

are the guilty ones.  This world is our doing:  what we have wrought.  And yes, it includes our perverse and unpolitic politicians and their supporters.

                                                                       Bert Hornback

   THE NEW YORK TIMES IS GUN-CRAZY--JUST LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE IN THE USA


Here's today's  prize New York Times  headline:  "SPAIN'S SOCIALIST LEADER TAKES HIS SHOT AT FORMING GOVERNMENT."

     The headline writers at the New York Times are gun nuts .  Every day somebody "takes a shot at" something in the great American newspaper.  I guess that with gun-shots everywhere and all the time in the United States, living there you automatically think and speak in terms of violence.  And as the leader of sophisticated intelligence in America, the New York Times  has to lead in violent language as well as everything else.

     If you live in the United States, shooting becomes part of your everyday speech.  (And if you live there long enough, you may well get shot.  Lots and lots of people do, every day. ) Everybody in American "takes a shot" at everything--and everybody.  Does Bernie Sanders have a shot at the presidency?  Did Donald Trump shoot himself in the foot with the KKK?  Does John Kasich have a shot at the Republican nomination?  Has poor Ted Cruz shot his wad already?  This is Hilary Clinton's second shot at the Democratic nomination.  If Sanders gets too close to Clinton, they will have a real shoot-out.

     Real shoot-outs happen every day in the United States.  Everywhere.  And most everybody has--and carries--a gun.  Several years ago a  "Christian" minister in Kentucky asked all his parishoners to bring their guns to church the next Sunday--and promised he would be wearing two of his guns.  People drove a hundred miles and more to attend.  The little church was packed with gun-toting Christians, praising Jesus.

     (I remember the World War II song, "Praise the Lord, and pass the ammunition."  It was even better than "Onward Christian soldiers, marching as to war."  I remember, too,  many years later, clearing out my aunt's and uncle's apartment after their death.  My sister and I found four pistols and a huge rifle--and a big box of dangerously decomposed black-powder shells.  The aunt and uncle lived in a second-floor apartment in a nice, safe part of a town of 50,000 people.)

     Twenty years ago I was in England with my usual group of thirteen University of Michigan literature students.  One was a very good, bright, pleasant young man who always responded to things he didn't like--a bad joke, somebody passing our big van on a curve, noisy drunks in a bar--by pointing his right index finger, raising his thumb, and making a sort of "pow" sound.  One night in Dorchester some of my students were playing darts at the Sun Inn, where we stayed every year for a week.  We weren't very good at darts, but we always played.  Actually, we were so bad we were the entertainment.  That night Jesse aimed his dart, threw, and it stuck in the wall of the bar, about a foot from the target.

     One of the locals guffawed rather loudly.  Jesse looked at him, pointed his right index finger, raised his thumb, and went "pow!"  There was silence in the bar.  And then the man who had laughed said, "Oh.  I forgot.  You're an American."

     The man didn't need to say anything more.  Jesse caught on immediately.  He turned red, ducked his head, and left the room.  I never saw him do his little mime again.

     Maybe the one good thing about selfie-sticks is that their users--mostly Americans--can take "shots" of (or at) themselves.

     I wish the New York Times could quit "shooting" things--or people--every day.

SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT ELECTING A PRESIDENT

WHAT DO DECENT FOLKS DO?

American politics is almost always bad news. If not before the election, most certainly afterwards. One way or another, we make it happen that way. Now, with an election coming, it seems that we are to be offered two candidates, neither of whom should be president. No, that's not right: we are choosing two candidates, neither of whom should be president.

We do elections like football games. Exactly the same way. Players get bought, almost everybody cheats, “winning” is everything. Cheerleaders, lies, screaming fans, lots of news analysts and pundits and slogan-slingers, pompoms and bands, and dirty tricky. And us fans cheer and boo and cry things like “Kill, Bubba, Kill!” Bread and circuses have been replaced by poisonous hotdogs and violent football games.

Now, with another “big game” coming up, the American system--such as it is--is going through an utterly crazy “nominating” process. There will be “party” candidates. But Donald Trump isn't in the same “party” that the others are in. Or maybe he is in the same party Hilary Clinton is in. He is in the ruthless, cocksure, ignorance-first, self-propelling wing, she in the ruthless, smart, buy-me wing. Bernie Sanders is a thoughtful, honest socialist--which means that, in America, he has three strikes against him. Ted Cruz is a mean, nasty, and seemingly stupid oaf. Marco Rubio is as innocent as a Republican can be: a know-nothing with smiles. Ben Carson must be a rich idiot, retired from “practicing” medicine and now running for president without knowing anything about anything. And Chris Christie: an embarrassing opportunist with the tiny mind of an oversized bedbug. Which leaves John Kasich, who seems a decent man, and a thoughtful man.

Maybe Bernie Sanders and John Kasich should run as a ticket. They could do so, by putting thoughtfulness and wisdom ahead of party and political labels. Their values seem much the same. They both seem decent people--maybe the only two decent people in the whole bunch of presidential candidates. And they are both intelligent. Clinton is intelligent, too--but her intelligence is simply smart, not wise, and she focuses her energy on power, money, and triumph.

On the Republican side, if you don't count Kasich there's not enough intelligence or understanding or compassion or decent political trhoughtfulness to fill a filibuster.

Political candidates always run for office promising to “bring us together.” Nonsense. This is football: and when players come together they push each other down in the mud, and step on each other. That's what football is all about. (In New Orleans, two years ago,) professionals got extra pay for hurting each other: but they weren't charged with assault: assault with intent to do bodily harm. Nor were criminal charges filed against the coach who

though up this scheme and ran it.

Let's have a revolution, and put a third pair of candidates on the ballot. Not Michael Bloomberg--but maybe Michael Bloomberg will support their candidacy financially. He is seemingly a good man, even if he is immorally rich.

Let's find a way out of this mess, and vote for Bernie Sanders and John Kasich. And to hell with “Democrats” and “Republicans.” Let's elect Bernie Sanders and John Kasich to bring us together.

Bert Hornback

WHAT DO DECENT FOLKS DO?

WHAT DO DECENT FOLKS DO?

American politics is almost always bad news. If not before the election, most certainly afterwards. One way or another, we make it happen that way. Now, with an election coming, it seems that we are to be offered two candidates, neither of whom should be president. No, that's not right: we are choosing two candidates, neither of whom should be president.

We do elections like football games. Exactly the same way. Players get bought, almost everybody cheats, “winning” is everything. Cheerleaders, lies, screaming fans, lots of news analysts and pundits and slogan-slingers, pompoms and bands, and dirty tricky. And us fans cheer and boo and cry things like “Kill, Bubba, Kill!” Bread and circuses have been replaced by poisonous hotdogs and violent football games.

Now, with another “big game” coming up, the American system--such as it is--is going through an utterly crazy “nominating” process. There will be “party” candidates. But Donald Trump isn't in the same “party” that the others are in. Or maybe he is in the same party Hilary Clinton is in. He is in the ruthless, cocksure, ignorance-first, self-propelling wing, she in the ruthless, smart, buy-me wing. Bernie Sanders is a thoughtful, honest socialist--which means that, in America, he has three strikes against him. Ted Cruz is a mean, nasty, and seemingly stupid oaf. Marco Rubio is as innocent as a Republican can be: a know-nothing with smiles. Ben Carson must be a rich idiot, retired from “practicing” medicine and now running for president without knowing anything about anything. And Chris Christie: an embarrassing opportunist with the tiny mind of an oversized bedbug. Which leaves John Kasich, who seems a decent man, and a thoughtful man.

Maybe Bernie Sanders and John Kasich should run as a ticket. They could do so, by putting thoughtfulness and wisdom ahead of party and political labels. Their values seem much the same. They both seem decent people--maybe the only two decent people in the whole bunch of presidential candidates. And they are both intelligent. Clinton is intelligent, too--but her intelligence is simply smart, not wise, and she focuses her energy on power, money, and triumph.

On the Republican side, if you don't count Kasich there's not enough intelligence or understanding or compassion or decent political trhoughtfulness to fill a filibuster.

Political candidates always run for office promising to “bring us together.” Nonsense. This is football: and when players come together they push each other down in the mud, and step on each other. That's what football is all about. (In New Orleans, two years ago,) professionals got extra pay for hurting each other: but they weren't charged with assault: assault with intent to do bodily harm. Nor were criminal charges filed against the coach who

though up this scheme and ran it.

Let's have a revolution, and put a third pair of candidates on the ballot. Not Michael Bloomberg--but maybe Michael Bloomberg will support their candidacy financially. He is seemingly a good man, even if he is immorally rich.

Let's find a way out of this mess, and vote for Bernie Sanders and John Kasich. And to hell with “Democrats” and “Republicans.” Let's elect Bernie Sanders and John Kasich to bring us together.

Bert Hornback

                             A PROBLEM?

     "How do you solve a problem like Assange?"

     Only an American news agency could write that headline.  Julian Assange isn't  a "problem." 

He is an honorable human being, whom the United States government wants to torture and imprison for being honorable.

     The Swedish government wants to "question" Assange about a sex crime.  They want him extradited to Sweden.  But if he agrees to go to Sweden, he will be kidnapped and transferred to America where he will be imprisoned, tortured, and eventually tried and convicted of telling the 

truth about American crimes against humanity.

     The United States has already sent Bradley Manning to prison for thirty years for releasing evidence of American war crimes--including films of the mass murder of civilians by U. S. troops.  

     Had Manning NOT released the evidence he had, his failure to do so would have been a serious crime.  In U. S. civil law the crime is called being an "accessory after the fact."  Under the U. S. Uniform Code of Military Justice the crime is called "misprision of a felony."  In both jurisdictions, the failure to report a felony crime is of equal gravity with the felony itself, and has the same maximum punishment.

      Nobody, of course, would expect the U. S. government to enforce its own law.  The U. S. government is the responsible felon.  If Julian Assange leaves the Ecuadoran Embassy he will go either to Sweden and then to the United States, or simply straight from London to the United States.  And he will be tortured in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave, and then locked away in prison for the rest of his life.

      Why?  Because he will have revealed the evidence about U. S. war crimes.    

     Only from an American perspective is Julian Assange "a problem."  He is an honorable man (questions about "sex crimes" are only questions) whom the United States government wants to silence

because he has evidence of U. S. war crimes.

     Julian Assange ISN'T "a problem."  But the United States is such.

                     

  

JULIAN ASSANGE, BRADLEY MANNING, MURDER BY DRONE.


President Obama presents himself as an honorable man.

But he commits murder by drone.  Justice?  Trial?  Or just the assassinations carried out by a rogue state?

And Bradley Manning.  Without his being brought to trial, President Obama said, publicly, "He broke the law."  Justice??

Had Bradley Manning NOT "broken the law," he would have committed a felony offense--under both US Civil Law  and the Uniform Code of Military Justice--by failing to disclose his knowledge of presumed felony offenses.

Of course, NOBODY in the United States cares.  It is a ROGUE STATE, a nation without laws.  

And Americans don't care.

Every silent American is guilty of imprisoning Bradley Manning, a brave American hero.

Every silent American is guilty of keeping Julian Assange locked up safely in the Ecuadorian Embassy in London.  If he goes out, he be captured by British toads, turned over to Swedish toads, and sent off to the USA to be illegally prosecuted for revealing criminal activities by the Obama  administration.

Does  anybody in the United States care?  Of course not.  

God bless America--north and south of the US border!

Never could I have imagined this as a child, as  a young man.  Not even in the  Johnson years, or the Nixon years.  Sure, Johnson and Bush I went to war based on lies, and Bush II simply because he wanted to go to war.  But since then?