It's Time to Put Up or Shut Up

Tomorrow marks Election Day in the United States, and I fully intend to be part of the wave that will sweep Republicans back into a position of significant power at the federal and state levels.  The sharp divide that will mark our government once its all said and done is perhaps the only way to ensure no further damage in the form of "historic" legislation, bailouts, or stimulus packages will wind up on the books.

My predictions? GOP takes the house easily, but falls a little short in the Senate. The "wish" races (Bielat, O'Donnell, Fiorina, Angle, Whitman) fail to pain out, but nearly every other race goes red. Statewide, Andrew Cuomo earns the NY Governor's mansion, but at least one major office (either Attorney General or Comptroller) winds up in Republican hands. Locally, Vince Tabone wins my previously Democratic Assembly seat in an open race, and all other incumbents retain.

Anyway, to mark the occasion, let's dig deep down into the most anarchic of the Pink Floyd catalogue and enjoy the tale of comeuppance that is Dogs.  Checking in at nearly 20 minutes in length, it's perhaps my favorite of the Floyd "long" songs and, 30 years later, even this solo remake by Roger Waters hits the mark perfectly.



In case you don't want to sit through the whole thing, at least browse the lyrics:

You got to be crazy, you gotta have a real need
You gotta sleep on your toes and when you're on the street
You got to be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed
And then moving in silently, down wind and out of sight
You gotta strike when the moment is right without thinking

And after a while, you can work on points for style
Like the club tie, and the firm handshake
A certain look in the eye and an easy smile
You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to
So that when they turn their backs on you
You'll get the chance to put the knife in

You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder
You know, it's going to get harder, and harder, and harder
As you get older
Yeah, and in the end you'll pack up and fly down south
Hide your head in the sand
Just another sad old man
All alone and dying of cancer

And when you lose control, you'll reap the harvest you have sown
And as the fear grows, the bad blood slows and turns to stone
And it's too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw around
So have a good drown, as you go down all alone
Dragged down by the stone

Gotta admit that I'm a little bit confused
Sometimes it seems to me as if I'm just being used
Gotta stay awake, gotta try and shake off this creeping malaise
If I don't stand my own ground, how can I find my way out of this maze

Deaf, dumb and blind, you just keep on pretending
That everyone's expendable, and no one has a real friend
And it seems to you the thing to do would be to isolate the winner
Everything's done under the sun
But you believe at heart everyone's a killer

Who was born in a house full of pain
Who was trained not to spit in the fan
Who was told what to do by the man
Who was broken by trained personnel
Who was fitted with collar and chain
Who was given a pat on the back
Who was breaking away from the pack
Who was only a stranger at home
Who was ground down in the end
Who was found dead on the phone
Who was dragged down by the stone
Who was dragged down by the stone