Saturday, February 23, 2008
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The Two Bums
This is a poem from George Milburn's book, The Hobo's Hornbook. You can also find it in a lot of old I. W. W. pamphlets and literature. It sums up a great deal of what I feel. It talks about the bum on the rod and the burn on the plush, which is just a simple way of saying that the kind of system we live in now demands that there be a poor people, demands that there be people out of work so that there will always be people willing to work for any wage.
Sure, a lot of railroad burns are parasites, but, like the poem says, they're just fleas who get an occasional bite, and you look at what those parasites at the top are chewing off. I know that there's a lot of talk these days about the welfare Cadillac; middle class people talking about those welfare gobblers down on the bottom who are afraid to do an honest day's work, and they're all driving big Cadillacs. And you hear over and over again, "Nobody ought to get something for nothing. " I've got to agree. You've got to work to eat.
I look at a factory. I see that everybody associated with that factory puts something in and they take something out. The workers put in their sweat and their skill, and they take out wages. The salesmen put in their skill and ability, and they take out commissions. The managers and foremen and people in the offices put in theirs, and take out salaries. But there's one group of people who take out more than they put in, and that more is called profit. I can't think of any other way to define it. That's a bunch of people who are getting something they didn't work for, and it's a whole lot.
If we're really concerned about people getting just what they earn, if we're really concerned about people not getting something that they didn't put in time and sweat for, let's start with the major offenders, and get rid of them. Then we'll gradually work our way down to the petty chiselers. It just makes sense.
The bum on the rod is hunted down
As the enemy of mankind;
The other is driven around to his club
And feted, wined and dined.
And they who curse the bum on the rods
As the essence of all that is bad
Will greet the other with a winning smile
And extend him the hand so glad.
The bum on the rods is a social flea
Who gets an occasional bite;
The bum on the plush is a social leech,
Blood-sucking day and night.
The bum on the rods is a load so light
That his weight we scarcely feel,
But it takes the labor of dozens of men
To furnish the other a meal.
As long as you sanction the bum on the plush,
The other will always be there,
But rid yourself of the bum on the plush
And the other will disappear.
Then make an intelligent, organized kick,
Get rid of the weights that crush;
Don't worry about the bum on the rods,
Get rid of the bum on the plush!
3 comments:
Oh no! Not the cockroach! :) He MUST be feeling better. YEA!
And yes indeed, there is another Podcast up (and I finally got the cover art working for you iTunes folks.)
This has been quite a hospitalized start to the year, my own wife, Pam, just spent 4 days in the hospital as well for some major surgery.
We got her home Thursday, and Utah and her were chatting while I set up the podcast recording. Pam is doign better now we got her some "good pain meds" and will be fine.
Much love to Joanna, Utah, and you Duncan. Thanks! -Chris
http://www.utahphillips.org
thanks for all the updates....still appreciating every one, and thankful to you for all you are doing....
peace,
lexi
When I see that rapscallion Molly Fisk leaving messages so freely, my guilt builds. This is a woman who refuses to accept Googling as a verb yet she's blogging, which is a verb?
Good gracious.
This is now my 4th attempt at sending you folks a message. As I noted in my 3rd attempt, I am grateful to Homeland Security if they are blocking the messages. I'll sleep better knowing that. Wait, no, that's illogical. But a sign of our times.
I simply wanted to remind Bruce and amuse Joanna and Duncan of our previous activities at their Catheral Hill Hotel diggins.
Bruce and I were there to receive an award from the National Federation of Community Broadcasters, a community radio advocacy organization.
Amy Goodman was receiving an award for investigative reporting she had done on Chevron Oil hiring thugs to attack -- and kill -- activists opposing oil drilling in Nigeria, I believe. It was pure Amy, and there wasn't a dry eye in the audience, and there shouldn't have been. As she finished, the breath had been taken from the audience, as it should have been.
Next award? Utah Phillips and I for our satiric, sometimes goofballish live commentary of Nevada City's 4th of July Parade, with inappropriately appropriate sound effects to boot.
All we could do was stand, wave and sit back down.
It was good, though.
We are ready -- when you are -- for your return to Nevada City. That'll be even better, though.
Love, Steve Baker
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