Fixating on other people’s problems doesn’t foster learning and growth, but it’s a lot more fun than thinking about my own.
That’s the simple observation behind my song Other People’s Problems. I’m not sure if I should refer to it as a song, exactly. At this point, it’s simply some tuneless lyrics, like the other fifty-six entrants in my If it Sounds Country category. And by the way, all my songs ain’t necessarily betrothed to that particular category. The heading is actually a tip of the hat to one of my favorite songwriters. But many of my lyrics do have a certain twang. (And for some reason, the subject of alcoholism seems to come up quite a bit.)
But the main reason I’m posting something tonight is that I use my blogroll as a portal to my Essential Daily Blogs, and I just can’t stand to keep looking at the dismal picture which accompanies the dreary sestina I wrote to commemorate the tenth anniversary of the Iraq War.
Other People’s Problems
Sarah is a diva,
Lester is a drunk
Harold is a pervert,
And a weasel and a punk
They tell me “mind your business”
But I know it’s bunk
They pretend that they’re all rosy
When they really smell like skunk
Ever’body got a gift
And I was born to see
Other people’s problems
It’s my spesh-ee-al-i-tee
I’m just here to help them
Be the best they’ll ever be
Got so much time to do it
Cuz there’s nothing wrong with me
My daddy is a sweetheart
But he likes to take a swig
He lives to serve his country
When he ain’t in the brig
And you know I love my mama
Despite everywhere she been
And all my friends and neighbors
Are such paragons of sin
Ever’body got a gift
And I was born to see
Other people’s problems
It’s my spesh-ee-al-i-tee
An Egyptian river is
Where I ought to be
Thinking about you
Replaces thinking about me
Richard W. Bray
Laughter hope sock in the eye's Blog 