Shuck and Jive

Sunday, February 03, 2008

Super Tuesday in Elizabethton

Cast your ballot on Tuesday if you are in Tennessee (or one of the other Super Tuesday states). As my favorites one by one hit the showers (Kucinich, Gravel, Edwards),

my next favorite is Obama.

Some have suggested a good VP for either Clinton or Obama would be Kansas Governor, Kathleen Sebelius. I tend to agree.

They would make a good looking team.

Near my mountain, Republicans outnumber Democrats by a factor of Avogadro's number to one. So here is my wisdom for Shuck and Jive's GOP fans.

The most handsome candidate would be Ron Paul, I reckon. A bit of a maverick, but why not? What more damage could be done?

He would fit in with the East Tennessee libertarian ethos. He is against the war and he is for justice for the Palestinians.

After you vote early and often, you will want to come to the Mardi Gras at First Presbyterian. Check out pics from 2006. It is a party so big we can only handle it once every two years.

It'll be a hoot. Dress wildly. Enjoy Cajun food. Dancing, music, and frivolity. Bring Grandma and all the kids. Nursery will even be provided. We plan on breaking a whole bunch of sins forbidden in the Westminster Catechism. No problem. We will repent that very same night.

We always close our Mardi Gras festivities with David Allan Coe's Perfect Country and Western Song. It is the way to embrace your inner redneck. You might want to brush up on the lyrics so's you don't feel out of place.

The song goes like this here.

It was all that I could do to keep from cryin'
Sometimes it seems so useless to remain
You don't have to call me darlin', darlin'
You never even call me by my name.

You don't have to call me Waylon Jennings
And you don't have to call me Charlie Pride.
You don't have to call me Merle Haggard, anymore.
Even though your on my fightin' side.

And I'll hang around as long as you will let me
And I never minded standin' in the rain.
You don't have to call me darlin', darlin'
You never even call me by my name.

I've heard my name a few times in your phone book
I've seen it on signs where I've laid
But the only time I know, I'll hear David Allan Coe
Is when Jesus has his final judgment day.


Well, a friend of mine named Steve Goodman wrote that song and he told me it was the perfect country and western song. I wrote him back a letter and told him it was NOT the perfect country and western song because he hadn't said anything at all about Momma, or trains, or trucks, or prison, or gettin' drunk.

Well, he sat down and wrote another verse to the song and he sent it to me and after reading it, I realized that my friend had written the perfect country and western song. And I felt obliged to include it on this album.

The last verse goes like this here:

Well, I was drunk the day my Mom got outta prison.
And I went to pick her up in the rain.
But, before I could get to the station
in my pickup truck

She got runned over by a damned old train.

And I'll hang around as long as you will let me
And I never minded standin' in the rain. No,
You don't have to call me darlin', darlin'
You never even call me,
I wonder why you don't call me

Why don't you ever call me by my name.


  1. Mardi Gras in church?

    My Grandfathers wold roll over in their graves if they heard that.

    You do know the origins of Mardi Grass, right?

  2. 1st pres., 225 years of ancestors rolling over in their graves.

    Do know, that just because you are critical of our Mardi Gras, I won't expel you like the Tobyites did. : )

    Is this site complete?

  3. Oh John, how I wish you could join you all for Mardi Gras! As one of those neo-pagan idol worshipping Catholics the whole day just appeals to me in many ways. Simul iustus et peccator... (oh that Fran!)

    Gravel? I never got that one, too bad I can't have you explain it to me, not that it matters.

    Paul... good on war and oh don't even get me started on the Palestinian situation. So agreed on that, but he still scares me.

    I wish I had more enthusiasm about the whole thing, but I do not.

    Deep sigh.

    Let the good times roll, Lent is before us.

  4. John -
    I'll help get the graves a-rollin' by wearing my purple feather boa tomorrow night.

    By the way, DAC may have recorded the Perfect Country and Western Song, but John Goodman wrote it. Credit where credit is due, my friend!

  5. No, no! You got the timing wrong, John. The idea is to go nuts on Tuesday, spend Wednesday morning and afternoon feeling all guilty (and praying that you only got those beads because you waved at the float), then go to church and get smudged.

    We're finally doing something at my church, but there are enough Calvinists that we have to call it Shrove Tuesday and have a pancake dinner. I decided against a King Cake (which I love--my elementary school principal was from New Orleans and always had us make King Cakes for Mardi Gras) but instead in the interest of ecumenicism brought a couple jars of lingonberries (a nod to both my Lutheran forebears and the fact I don't like blackcurrants).

    I am still torn on the Dem Primary in Georgia. I've left my Edwards 08 sticker on my car, hoping that Clinton or Obama supporters will take the hint and try to wow me with their candidate. No success so far, and Super Duper Tuesday (or as Drinking Liberally calls it, Super Fat Tuesday) is tomorrow.

    I initially liked Gravel until he started playing the "Get Off My Lawn" old coot in the debates (contrast to Kucinich's classier attitude), then completely lost interest after he came out with a ludicrous flat tax plan and told Rachel Maddow that his solution for the civil rights issue of our time was to call for "gay people, just come out of the closet!"

    I won't rehash my concerns about Ron Paul. He's right about the war and FISA; he's wrong about privatization, social issues, taxes, fiscal policy, and international relations.

    At this point, I still firmly believe that any of the Democrats still in the race would make a damn sight better President than any of the Republicans.

  6. Good to see your post about "You Never Even Call Me by My Name" by Steve Goodman. He often doesn't get his due. You might be interested in my new 800-page biography, "Steve Goodman: Facing the Music." The book delves deeply into the genesis of "You Never Even Call Me by My Name," co-written by John Prine, and it debunks the notion that David Allan Coe had anything to do with instigating the classic final verse. (Coe did make the rewritten song a hit in 1975, and Coe and Prine are among my 1,000-plus interviewees.)

    Please know that the book's first printing just sold out, all 5,000 copies, and the publisher has authorized a second printing that will be out in late February. To sign up to be notified about the availability of the second printing, visit my Internet site (below) and click on the "mailing list" page. Or you can pre-order a second-printing copy at the "online store" page. Just trying to spread word about the book. Feel free to do the same!

    Clay Eals
    1728 California Ave. S.W. #301
    Seattle, WA 98116-1958

    (206) 935-7515
    (206) 484-8008

  7. Hi John,

    What's missing? I grew up in Brazil where Mardi Gras is known as Carnival - feast of the flesh - The theory is that for three days you can commit any sin you like because the devil is in charge and God cannot see what you do.

    It's a free-for-all. Still is.

    For us Presbyterians it was wrong two ways. First, it was sanctioned by those Godless Roman Catholics, and second, well, the theology and the sexual activity were worse than heretical.

    (Before the pill there were lots of babies born nine months after Mardi Gras - but not Presbyterian babies)

    So during Carnival the Presbyterian youth was always sequestered to youth retreats where our actions could be carefully monitored, and spiritual experiences could be had instead of carnal ones.

    Samba music is the sound of Carnival. Consequently it was anathema in church. If anybody dared play Samba music in church it would be enough to be brought up on charges before Session and having your right to take communion suspended.

    Some years ago some musicians I grew up wrote praise music that put the story of Acts to song. One of the songs is about Peter's vision of the table cloth from heaven. The song tells how under Christ all former conventions are broken by divine decree, and that God has reconciled to himself the un-reconcilable. To himself and to each other. You can hear it at the address below.

    To my delight, the song was set to Samba music.

  8. Well, that was an interesting Mardi Gras. Thanks to the bizarre math involved, we may not have a real delegate count for days. With this proportional-by-congressional-district system, even though Obama did very well in Georgia, Clinton does get some delegates here. Same in Tennessee: Hillary "won the state", but Barack got delegates. I love how the media is screwing this up. It makes the stupid Electoral College look simple.

    According to the Washington Post, which is using the AP delegate counting standard, the totals yesterday nationwide were:

    Clinton: 737
    Obama: 699

    MacBain: 601
    Mittens: 176
    Huckleberry: 147

    So far overall:

    Clinton: 1000
    Obama: 902
    Edwards: 61

    MacBain: 703
    Mittens: 287
    Huckleberry: 190
    Paw-paw: 16

    CNN's website does a slightly better job, but I'm unsure how or why the reporters are assigning superdelegates to Clinton and Obama.

  9. Had a great party. Lots of kids. Lots of fun.

    Elections: It looks like Obama and Clinton will battle it out for some time yet. I voted. Did my duty. I am at peace with whichever one gets the nod.