Oh Bob, what have you done? What have you done, my blue-eyed son? Gone and sold us all to Wall Street Boys in Suits. The anti-establishment guru has gone to sleep and awoke with the Pod People.
Have you seen the recent Victoria's Secret ad with Bob Dylan's distinctive profile ( looking oddly evil) in the background? Worse yet, this anorexic nearly-nude model is cavorting with huge fake wings to a Dylan tune, Love Sick. I guess Bob is feeling that old pinch of Father Time, and wants to be sure he is still on the edge. Edge of stupidity, if you ask me. All my heroes are sellin' time on the boob tube, and now Bob joins James Taylor in the tawdiness of commercialism. Even the Who can be heard as weekly show tunesters for CSI. Why would they doubt themselves? Are they that hard up for bread? Why put such a tremendous talent, reputation and legendary name on trivial things such as women's underwear or long distance service? The answer my friend, my truly be blowin' in the wind - and an ill wind it is.
Seems like all it takes is a few greenback dollars to buy yourself any aging baby-booming icon you desire and to hell with artistic integrity.
Tonight, I shall light a candle on the patio table, and spin me some real Bob Dylan - the Dylan I knew so well. Maybe Bob, we'll meet again someday on the avenue, tangled up in blue.
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