Saturday, August 13, 2005

FREE Rubin!*

Dudes, Bob Dylan has wrote a song about me.

This is my favourite bit:

"Rubin could take a man out with just one punch
But he never did like to talk about it all that much.
It’s my work, he’d say, and I do it for pay
And when it’s over I’d just as soon go on my way"

Yeah. He totally GETS me, you know? Me n' Bob, we're like THAT. No one has ever understood me like Bob does. I mean, it's like, I'll do a crap in the kitchen, you know? But will I boast about it? Nosir**. It's my work, I say, and I do it for pay. And when it's over I'd just as soon be on my way.

I'm, like totally overwhelmed. I mean, obviously it was just a matter of time before someone wrote a song about the Rubinman, but I had no idea that Dylan was a fan. I'm thinkin of sending him the Purple Puppet as a token of my appreciation, but I'm worried that then he might write a song about the PP and take some of the spotlight away from yours truly. Whaddya think?

Anyway, I'm very much heartened by this development. With people like Dylan carrying the flame for me, I can't help but feel that soon I will be totally busted out of AZKABAN and this journal will be used as proof of my suffering. I'll be a LEGEND man. Me n' Bob. I'm just wondering who else will join the fight to clear my name? I'm thinkin probably Sting. I'm thinkin Sting will write a song, and let me tell you, if Sting does that it's totally NOT MY FAULT. So don't even say anything.

Actually, now I come to think of it, it's strange that Sting and Bob Geldof haven't been around by now, wanting to hold a benefit concert or somethin' for me. I mean, they did it for Nelson Mandela, and me n' him are in, like, EXACTLY the same situation: both of us wrongly imprisoned for peeing on the kitchen floor, both persecuted for our beliefs (my beliefs: dogs should be able to pee on kitchen floors; Mandela's beliefs: um, dunno, but probably the same), both black***…

Sing it with me, people:

"Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties
Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise
While Rubin sits like buddha in a ten-foot cell
An innocent man in a living hell.
That’s the story of the hurricane,
But it won’t be over till they clear his name
And give him back the time he’s done.
Put in a prison cell, but one time he coulda been
The champion of the world. "

* With every purchase. Conditions apply.
* *Sometimes I totally WILL boast about it, though.
** Except me, obviously. I'm white, but it's, like, the same thing.

Sleeping dog, lying
"An innocent man, in a living hell…"


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