But back those many years ago when I first became a Ry Cooder fan, I’d be a farmer myself. I is the wrong word, of course, because I’m no bachelor farmer. I’m half of this operation, at best. Our relationship on the farm is a microcosm of the larger world. A system. There is no force involved here. We work together. We fill the gaps. Our love is the center of my universe. All I do is for her.
When I think of that, I long for the day that that larger world may operate the same way. That the legislatures all die off and leave us to our love. They mean well, but their intentions are destroyed by their childlike desires to make everything right at the stroke of a pen or sword. Like stepping on a bug.
Damn their shortsightedness and all the destruction it causes.
I have no idea how the taxes on the farmer feed us all but this song has roots back to 1923:
Ry Cooder’s playing on slide guitar matches his dedication to the roots of American music.