Island Life: And some with a fountain pen
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But when he turned around, the fish had gone
Welcome to the Plunderdome
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Yes, as through this world I've wandered
I've seen lots of funny men;
Some will rob you with a six-gun,
And some with a fountain pen.I had to hunt far back into the record pile to unearth ‘Pretty Boy Floyd’ from Guthrie’s Dustbowl Ballads.
I guess one of the challenges for us in Depression 2.0 will be to leave a musical legacy half as good as the one from the Great Depression.Once I built a railroad, I made it run, made it race against time.
Once I built a railroad; now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?Once I built a tower, up to the sun, brick, and rivet, and lime;
Once I built a tower, now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime? -
I got the other McGlashan references above, but am still confused by "crustacean loving". Is that where someone gets the crabs?
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How are you doing, Jolisa? I hadn't seen you for years.
Hamilton.
Poor Don. I imagine he's having a few... emotional problems this week.
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I mean, really. He must have felt like one of these guys.
And while we're on a Front Lawn/Don McG tribute kick, the only thing weirder than watching this treasure from 1989 was realising that I'm in it!
God that was a stellar perm.
(I've still got that cassette, with all three signatures on the insert. It's in the car, next to the Hitchhiker's Guide box set.)
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I'v heard that goats are becoming the new sheep
In the eyes of their owners? Or actual genetic modification?
:)
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How about
'Gucci'
The desire for oneupmanship and obvious signs of prosperity led to this greed for more and more money.
It is as old as history. The only difference now is that women can afford their own Gucci's. They're not just an adorned accessory as a display of the man's wealth.
Better still, how about
'Greed'
It keeps coming back to 'G'.
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I had to hunt far back into the record pile to unearth ‘Pretty Boy Floyd’ from Guthrie’s Dustbowl Ballads.
Also try Sweetheart of the Rodeo by The Byrds, Bob.
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Thanks Paul. Yet another musical road that leads back to Gram Parsons eh? :)
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And if nobody buys our food, we can eat it ourselves
It is true that NZ grows a lot of food, and exports much of it. But we should look back at the 1930s depression to get an idea of what could happen this time. If farms can't sell their produce at a profit, they don't produce. They stop growing crops and potentially go bust.
Many small farmers lost their farms during the 1930s depression and then took to the roads as swaggers, or made new roads under the government work scheme.
It wasn't uncommon for men to go from house to house asking to be given any work in return for food.
Women queued at soup kitchens.
And this was at a time when many homes had gardens and chooks. My grandparents house, built in the 1920s, had a large garden and chook house. Now there is a second house.
I'm looking forward to the time when the local councils stop mowing and spraying parks and let them be used for livestock. Viva la revolucion!
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Late contribution - following cyclone/typhoon/hurricane naming conventions, how about Crisis <<name>> for each new one. The names could be economics noble prize winners, as further proof that it's a dismal science...
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But we should look back at the 1930s depression to get an idea of what could happen this time.
Quardle oodle ardle wardle doodle? That was seven decaded ago, though. There is no reason to believe that we won't be a lot more stupid this time around.
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My grandparents house, built in the 1920s, had a large garden and chook house. Now there is a second house.
Mine too. My granddad fed a family with 6 kids out of that back garden. My dad likewise (we had chooks when I was small).
My dad has a large, unsubdivided section in Hamilton. It's already quite productive but there's a lot of wasted lawn. Come the depths of the slump, we'll hitch north and help him cultivate it.
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It wasn't uncommon for men to go from house to house asking to be given any work in return for food.
My mother grew up on a Central Otago farm, which survived the Depression, but she used to tell of visits by swaggers who in exchange for food and a night or two in the barn would do some work around the place.
Two of the songs on the Dustbowl Ballads by Woody Guthrie mentioned on page 4 are about The Grapes of Wrath.
The movie version came out the same year (1940) Guthrie recorded these songs, so I'm not sure whether the songs about Tom Joad are referencing the movie or the book but in today's New York Times O.A. Scott looks back at the movie and shows the clip of the small farmers being evicted off their land.
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My grandparents house, built in the 1920s, had a large garden and chook house. Now there is a second house.
Mine too.
Just to buck the trend, our house (built 1905) had an extra house on the property until the 1980s (2 storey thing, jockeys used to stay there on racedays - their horses out in the stables). Now we park our car on the spot it sat, they took it away somewhere, which was a pity.
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Oh, and we plan to get chooks. Although I'll struggle with eating animals we've raised, let alone killing them.
That said, we had beef cattle grazing next door recently, the farmer needed a couple of favours from me with regard to fences & water & one afternoon he brought us some big thick chunks of home killed porterhouse steak, and they were fantastic. I suppose I could adapt.
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Although I'll struggle with eating animals we've raised, let alone killing them.
Are you saying you'd find it easier to eat them alive?
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Are you saying you'd find it easier to eat them alive?
Hey, it's the Great Depression Part Deux, times are hard.
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I can just see me, much like John Clarke's father (see latest Listener), lecturing my son in my old age:
"In my day we ate the chickens alive! Times were hard".
Exxcept I don't have a son. I'll have to settle for bothering random strangers on the bus.
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Hey, it's the Great Depression Part Deux, times are hard.
I feel a Stephen Colbert question coming: "The consequences of the current financial crisis: Great Depression or The Greatest Depression?"
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"In my day we ate the chickens alive! Times were hard".
A guy in my grandma's village used to refer to me (a city boy) as "magna gajine morte", literally "eater of dead chickens", which led my young mind to assume he ate them alive.
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which led my young mind to assume he ate them alive.
Was he a freemason do you think?
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Was he a freemason do you think?
There isn't a single person on earth that I would consider less likely to have been a freemason. Therefore he probably was.
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He may have been the Grand Poobah! Or whatever they call them.
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