GSH Endorses Obama (+ Comedy Gold)

... not!

I'm just taking the piss out of Sunny on PP, seeing as how he keeps telling us that progressively more and more of the Western world is supporting Barack Obama in the US elections. Well, so they should, especially when his opponent has not much more to his name, than similarities to a certain frozen-food-product-brand and a head like a potato that's been under the peeler too long.

It's my Reading Week, and I'm back home. I have to write an essay on Du côté de chez Swann (Swann's Way) by Marcel Proust. I have read about 76 pages of 420. I'll have to go for broke this weekend, won't I? I'm pretty scared and stressed, but I'm resolutely avoiding thinking about it too much, reasoning to myself that I'm allowed my Friday and Saturday before I go hard on the work.

So yeah... in the hopes of a resounding Obama victory, I'm going to post this up, with lyrics. For those of you wondering who the heck GSH was, I mean Gil Scott-Heron, a man whose velvet voice I always fall in love with, and who has apparently been described as the 'Godfather of rap'. Wait... come back! It's not how it looks! His is an angry eloquence that transcends the change of time. He takes no shit, and I'm delighted to see that despite being a 51-year-old HIV-positive former-heroin-addict, he's still alive. I haven't heard anything about what he makes of Obama, but I think he would say 'ye' to a first black President...

Listen and read for a fully interactive experience! OBAMAMESSIAH, SIR, THIS IS FOR YOU! BEST OF LUCK IN 3 DAYS' TIME!

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised
You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and
skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, because the revolution will not be televised, Brother.

There will be no pictures of you and Willie May
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
or report from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the proper occasion.

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare Earth.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be right back
after a message about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver's seat.

The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
The revolution will be live.


For anyone who doesn't know all the people in the song (I don't), here's a helpful guide. And for anyone else feeling even slightly melancholy, I'm going to post the lyrics to this song, which I love so much it hurts.

Lady Day and John Coltrane
Ever feel kinda down and out, you don’t know just what to do
Livin’ all of your days in darkness let the sun shine through
Ever feel that somehow, somewhere you've lost your way
And if you don’t get help quick you won’t make it through the day
Could you call on Lady Day, could you call on John Coltrane?
Now ‘cause they'll, they’ll wash your troubles, your troubles, your troubles away

Plastic people with plastic minds are on their way to plastic homes
No beginning there ain’t no ending just on and on and on and on and on, it’s
All because they’re so afraid to say that they’re alone
Until our hero rides in, rides in on his saxophone
Could you call on Lady Day, could you call on John Coltrane?
Now ‘cause they'll, they’ll wash your troubles, your troubles,
your troubles away


POETRY 4-EVARRR...


And here is the comedy gold as promised... a sex survey on 'What lefties do in bed'.

I found this through A Very Public Sociologist... yay! Hilarious.