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radical druid Posts

The Doesn’t Matter

It doesn’t matter what you know. Ideas tend to come and go like water, winding to and fro until it’s got no place left to go. Everything dries up and fertilizes something. Or it doesn’t matter much, does it?

And thinking isn’t for the sort who think of it as some great sport where someone’s always coming first or get traded. Yeah, that hurts. It sounds a lot like some old song, but I’ve got my cross-reference wrong. Besides if all we do is feel, that’s going to make it so much more real, isn’t it?

I’m not so sure. There’s so much prohibition tied up with freedom of speech and inhibition in general is sometime left to the less poetic. All I know for sure is the timing may not really matter, but sometimes it’s hard to tell the excrement from the air conditioner. Like the subtle difference between root beer and sarsaparilla. In life so much depends on your palate. If you’re lucky to live that long, your taste buds renew themselves about every ten years. Sounds like that ought to a sentence (or maybe term) limitation. Nobody wants to split hairs, but we’ll split an atom.

So it doesn’t matter what you know. Because that’s less than what you think you know. Which is of course less than what you say you know. Which if you’re prudent enough, is less than what people think they know about you. A drop in the bucket, and the bucket’s got a hole in it, it won’t hold no beer. Some country music used to reference real world economic and logistical concerns.

© 2026, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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The pyramid scam

It’s a pyramid all right. The 1% at the top over the other 99. Might say they’re supporting the peak. Reality is the pyramid is upside down & underground. Most important & most plentiful, the bottom, supported by ever smaller layers of better-offs, til the one top. In death, they honor the mirror top: offering useless one at the top to keep the gods company.

© 2026, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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The White Album

After another careful yet throughly enjoyable listen last night, I must again rank the #WhiteAlbum as the #Beatles crowning glory. Unlike their previous album, the costumes were off. Yes, you can hear the band disintegrating, yet they were never off target. The styles they explored and the way the sound filled the special spectrum with every instrument and sound specifically put where you hear it, the way each of the members created, reinvented, and predicted most of their own, and everybody else’s musical direction for the next 20 years, is mind-boggling. There is not a revelation-free moment. This is the Beatles naked. Exposed. Not a product or gimmick or novel social experiment. A real band. That could groove its ass off and then break your heart, only to then blow your mind. They put the polish back on, later, but this is where you saw them backstage. If you haven’t heard this on headphones or studio monitors, try it again.

© 2026, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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Left of U at Least

More out of left field crazy country lyrics: “It never made a profit so I give it out for free. It doesn’t matter either way that’s how it’s gonna be. In any case the fixing it is not all up to me & I ain’t much use to bring along, but what will be will be. The answer’s never where you’re looking, stop looking @ me. I’ll have 2 charge admission & u can’t afford my fee.” I’ll be here all night. I ain’t wearing the hat because you’re supposed to be throwing money in it, right? Living the dream, right? Well, it’s somebody’s dream. I never wanted a guitar-shaped swimming pool or nothing, but maybe a bit of a concrete pond in the back yard and a fence to keep it private would do. Of course, there’s the money to think about. Gives you pause, don’t it? That’s what the hat’s for, remember? It ain’t a tip. It’s for services rendered. As if that was enough to hold up the rest of your life you carved away just learning how to play that last fifteen or so minutes. Yeah, thats the Art of the Midwest as I learned it. Oh, but that’s so Appalachian, ain’t it? JD Vance might think I made it up. LOL.

© 2026, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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Et Tu, Gen X

Everybody always says this generation is going to the dogs. Religion is dying, morality is dead, we live in a post truth society, our values and valued institutions are crumbling. Life will surely suck harder for those who follow us. Etc. Well, you reap what you sow, Gen X. All that 80s greed-is-good Gordon Gekko worship is biting us in the ass. We chose Veruca Salt instead of Charlie Bucket long ago. And now you’re surprised that your world sucks? Ask your grandparents what they thought of their kids generation. You’ll hear the same story since the beginning of time. Because nobody really wants change, do they? If you stub or stunt or otherwise kill off the symptoms, the underlying cause still remains. That same selfish rotten core that has what it wants, but doesn’t want what it has.

10 JAN 2026

© 2026, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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If N Then X Less Y

If you make sufficient contribution, you can choose your brand of execution. In the long run, it’s not a solution, but right here and now it’s not so bad.

If you choose the preferred plan of action, letting those who wish it, satisfaction, you may be more driven to distraction by what you might get than what you have.

If you spin your wheels in such delusion, that may be your whole life’s contribution. Not that there need be any confusion: it’s your recipe, no substitutions. That’s a handicap sometimes. Too bad.

13 DEC 2026

© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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Make Life Musical

The goal is making life more musical.

Sometimes that requires instruments. Sometimes those cost a whole lot of money. Sometimes not. Sometimes you can get a deal. Sometimes you make a deal. Sometimes you want that deal. Other times, you don’t. Sometimes you get to choose.

You get out of it what you put into it. Sometimes that’s money. Most of the time, it isn’t. Most of the time, if you’re lucky, any money at all changes hands.

Sometimes you have to put in years of practice. Sometimes not so much. If you’re really, really lucky, you’ll seem like you must have done a lot of practicing, even if you never even wanted to do that. That’s just how it goes.

You can spend years “practicing” things and never really get it. If you don’t dig it, a lot of other peoples’ music can hit you that way. But even you still practiced. Some. Others aggravate you with that out of the box intuitive “feel” for the thing. It’s a crap shoot, for sure. But you know where you stand, if you really ever know it at all, while the dice are still cold in your hand.

Sometimes, though, you don’t need to worry over any of that. It ain’t, as they say, Carnegie Hall. Even if it is, you know, a fresh scuff mark on the stage probably won’t be remembered as long as you think anyway.

You just need to open your mouth, clap your hands, move your feet, or even just nod your eyelids. Let the energy of community (and commune with whomever or whatever you like, there’s no reason to limit your inclusiveness without a damned good reason) match with your heartbeat. Once they’re in sync, you can slow both of ’em down (or speed ’em up) to whatever best suits you.

Then sing your ass off – all the time. Don’t ever drop the mic.

Wait. I take that back. If you’ve ever actually PAID for a great microphone, you damned sure know better than to let that thing hit the floor. Get real. And keep it that way. As if you had a choice, anyway. This isn’t pretend.

21 NOV 2025

© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

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