I know a place where me and you can go
Can't go too fast but we really shouldn't go too slow
It's just around the corner, all the gang'll be there
Don't have to dress too fancy cause nobody cares
Check your progressive chords at the door
'cause it's time to hit the floor.
Going to Three Chord City
I really want to take you there.-- Three Chord City,
If you want to know, I'm sick of 2010.
I think it's a crock of something. Rhymes with "fit."
I'm sick of the tea party. I'm sick of the Republicans. I'm sick of the Democrats.
I'm sick of the Great Recession, which they say is over . . . all except for everybody being out of work and all.
I'm sick of President Obama, and I'm even more sick of the people who hate him because he's supposedly a Nazi/socialist/Kenyan-not-American/godless/Muslim. Or "Muslin," according to one illiterate soul who must have been thinking of his wardrobe for the "political meeting."
I'M SICK of Fox. I'm sick of Drudge, sick of Rush, sick of Beck (Glenn, not the musician), and sick of the Internet, which is to paranoia what Miracle-Gro is to your tomato plants.
I'm sick of the fear, sick of the hate, sick of the posturing and sick of being sick. And I'm sick of feeling the need to tweet about how sick I am of it all.
In the immortal words of former LSU football coach Nick Saban during an unfortunate game at Virginia Tech some years back . . . well, I can't exactly repeat those words here.
So, if you don't see me around, I'm here.
IT'S 1981, and I'll be in Three Chord City with The Cold, the New Orleans new-wave band that shoulda hit it big but . . . didn't exactly.
"Going to Three Chord City; I really want to take you there."