| 18th September 2007 09:35 AM |
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| Ten Thousand Motels |
Issue #19.38 :: 09/18/2007 - 09/24/2007
Dylan and God
Cville.com
It’s been 16 years since his last performance in Charlottesville. Now, Bob Dylan returns with a show at the John Paul Jones Arena, preaching an apocalyptic vision as fierce and fiery as ever.
BY JOHN WHITEHEAD
How Elvis Costello learned to rock. In style. Forever.
Like a voice crying in the wilderness, Bob Dylan emerged in the early ’60s to become the conscience of a generation. After an initial self-titled album that failed to make a dent, he released 1963’s The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, which contained some of his most enduring work. “Blowin’ in the Wind,” “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” and “Masters of War” gave the nascent protest movement some of its greatest anthems.
Only in his early 20s, Dylan was remarkably able to express ideas and stories of the moment with exceptional strength and brilliance. From the beginning, his songs taught that there is an incestuous relationship between authoritarianism, social evils, militarism and materialism and that the solutions to corruption are spiritual. In song after song, Dylan proclaimed the existence of a God who brings judgment, a “hard rain” as one of his greatest songs put it, on people who perpetrate evil. His topical songs mixed elements of poetry with the folk style of Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger. Although his songs often incorporated real events, they went beyond mere journalism.
As one of the few pop singers of any real influence to clearly articulate political ideas in his music, his unusual prescience captivated his early audiences. And in the eyes and ears of some, Dylan’s early songs solidified his role as a prophet of sorts, which was not ironic considering his Jewish heritage. Born Robert Allen Zimmerman in 1941, he grew up in Hibbing, Minnesota, which was the site of a devout Jewish community. At his bar mitzvah in 1954, he read from the haforah (a selection of readings from the Jewish prophets) in Hebrew and talked on the moral duty of the Jew.
As his appeal grew, however, the “establishment” was slow to understand Dylan’s attraction. In May 1963, Time magazine described him as “fairly ridiculous” because of his idiosyncrasies and a voice that sounded “as if it were drifting over the walls of a tuberculosis sanitarium.” The magazine ridiculed Dylan’s fans, saying they had “an unhappy tendency to drop their g’s when praisin’ him—but only because they cannot resist imitatin’ him.” Dylan responded with the song “The Times They Are A-Changin’,” which not only addressed the magazine’s mockery but outlined the growing rift between Dylan’s audience and the cultural elite. The battle lines of the ’60s had been drawn.
It was during this time that Dylan began a lifelong friendship with Beat poet Allen Ginsberg. Two years after Freewheelin’, the first song on Dylan’s 1965 album Bringing It All Back Home, “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” contained the unmistakable rhythmic cadence of Beat poetry put to music. An accompanying video (which begins the film Don’t Look Back) featured the beat father himself, lurking in a doorway as Dylan flipped poster board placards inscribed with Ginsberg-like lyrics.
Dylan also admired the work of Jack Kerouac. One of the most poignant scenes in Renaldo and Clara, Dylan’s documentary film of his Rolling Thunder Revue tour (1975-76), was his visit to Kerouac’s grave in Lowell, Massachusetts. Ginsberg and Dylan approached the grave to read the inscription on a small marble plaque set in the earth. Ginsberg then quoted one of Kerouac’s favorite lines from Shakespeare. They sat cross-legged on the grass before the plaque, as Dylan tuned his guitar and Ginsberg quoted a few lines from Kerouac’s book Mexico City Blues (1959). Then, trading verses back and forth, they improvised a slow blues song for Kerouac.
Another strong influence on Dylan was the 19th century French symbolist poet Arthur Rimbaud. The similarity between the two artists, though a century apart, was first suggested by Ginsberg. Dylan was no doubt flattered by the comparison, for he compares himself to the French poet in his song “You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go” (1974).
Like many of his generation, Dylan was also influenced by popular culture, in particular by a group of musicians from Liverpool. Years later, Dylan remembered driving across the country in 1964, listening to The Beatles. “Their chords were outrageous, just outrageous, and their harmonies made it all valid. You could only do that with other musicians. ...I knew they were pointing the direction where music had to go.”
Thus Dylan, like some embryonic sponge, soaked up cultural influences, only to reconfigure them as he saw fit. This meant continual change. Indeed, Dylan looked to the future and decisively broke with the past. Revealing what would become a penchant for lifelong radical change, Dylan abandoned political songwriting as if in midstream. “I don’t want to write for people anymore. You know—be a spokesman,” Dylan told Nat Hentoff in 1964. “From now on, I want to write from inside me.”
Many of Dylan’s friends from the radical days of the early ‘60s were baffled by the motivation of the man who wrote such classics as “Blowin’ in the Wind.” As one of his critics wrote: “You seem to be in a different kind of bag now, Bob—and I’m worried about it.” Dylan, however, was perceptive enough to realize that politics is never a real answer.
The initial sign that Dylan was becoming disillusioned with the left and the political movements of the ‘60s came late in 1963. Only days after the country had been traumatized by the assassination of John F. Kennedy, Dylan was invited to the grand ballroom of the Hotel Americana in New York to accept an award for his work in the Civil Rights Movement. The result was a disaster.
As he stood behind the podium, an obviously intoxicated Dylan felt alienated from his adoring audience, which included many aging activists from the ‘30s left-wing movement. He first appeared to insult them, saying, “It’s not an old people’s world.” He then simply baffled them with his speech, in which he spoke about race, class and the establishment.
“I look down to see the people that are governing me and making my rules—and they haven’t got any hair on their head—I get very uptight about it….And they talk about Negroes, and they talk about black and white. ...There’s no black and white, left and right to me anymore; there’s only up and down and down is very close to the ground. And I’m trying to go up without thinking of anything trivial such as politics...I got to admit that the man who shot President Kennedy, Lee Oswald, I don’t know exactly where—what he thought he was doing, but I got to admit honestly that I, too—I saw some of myself in him...I saw things that he felt in me—not to go that far and shoot. [boos and hisses] You can boo, but booing’s got nothing to do with it. It’s a—I just, ah—I’ve got to tell you, man, it’s Bill of Rights is free speech...”
Dylan’s drunken rant reflected his growing view that all people are victims of those who control the system and that even the black hierarchy had compromised to gain power. They had, as Dylan proclaimed in one of his classic songs, become “a pawn in their game.” The speech caused an uproar, and Dylan left the hall amid a mixture of denunciation and scattered applause. He was now distanced from political songwriting more than ever—only to visit the political arena occasionally, such as his now infamous 1964 concert on Halloween night in New York City. There Dylan returned to form, belting out some of his more political classics. Indeed, that night he punctured the polluted sky over Gotham with these lyrics from “With God on Our Side”:
So now I’m leavin’
I’m weary as hell
The confusion I’m feelin’
Ain’t no tongue can tell
The words fill my head
And they fall to the floor
If God’s on our side
He’ll stop the next war.
As 1965 dawned, Dylan had clearly moved beyond political activism. And although he had participated in key civil rights events, Dylan was not present for the final and most grand civil rights event where black and white protesters and musicians came together—the march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, in March 1965—where over 5,000 people sang Dylan’s “The Times They Are A-Changin’.”
Remembrances of Bob Dylan-the last time he was here-range from the worshipful to the turned-off.
Instead, Columbia Records was releasing his first partially “electrified” album, Bringing It All Back Home, which revealed his bitterness that the times were not changing as he had expected them to. One song from that album, “It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding),” revealed a deep cynicism, lambasting modern materialism’s denigration of what was once venerated. Mentioning “flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark,” Dylan concluded that very little is held sacred anymore. His work from this point on began to concentrate on the message that dehumanizing forces treat human beings as mere business investments.
There were some, however, who were not happy with Dylan’s move away from the folk scene into rock. All the while, he had been preparing to showcase his new electric, nonfolksy, nonprotest style at the Newport Folk Festival, which would cause a scene and reduce Pete Seeger to tears. And Dylan’s commercial breakthrough, Highway 61 Revisited (1965), and his next, Blonde on Blonde (1966), revealed the many different influences on his life and crystallized his new plugged-in sound.
Dylan released the single “Like a Rolling Stone” in the summer of 1965 (off the Highway 61 Revisited album). Riding the organ of Al Kooper and a throbbing bass guitar, Dylan spits out a cryptic diatribe saturated with vengefulness toward some unnamed person or entity who once believed him or herself safe from life’s existential horrors. The six-minute song (cut into two parts to fit the three-minute format allowed by Top 40 radio stations at the time) defined a new kind of music known as “folk rock.” With this, Dylan abandoned traditional folk singing and created a new idiom—and a new pop culture. “Like a Rolling Stone” and subsequent songs introduced lyrics with substance to pop music. Previously, most serious-minded people considered pop songs meaningless and moronic. As Bruce Springsteen has said, “Dylan was a revolutionary. The way that Elvis freed your body, Bob freed your mind.”
The Highway 61 Revisited album introduced numerous biblical overtones as well. Thus, it was now clear that Dylan had assumed a new role. He had abandoned the shabby rambling-man look of Woody Guthrie and assumed the countenance of a pained and scrawny ascetic. While most of the ’60s generation would soon choose flower power, love and the fallacy that drugs were going to create a new society, Dylan saw the apocalypse approaching. A pivotal song is his 1965 masterpiece “Desolation Row,” which cries for humanity to renounce materialism or face destruction and alienation. He sings:
Now at midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders
And then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles
By insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping
To Desolation Row.
Dylan biographer Robert Shelton writes that “Desolation Row” brought Dylan to the level of the great apocalyptic poets such as T. S. Eliot. Moreover, Dylan became a prophet whose main concerns are moral, not political. And Dylan condemns virtually all he sees. “All along the way, we encounter Dylan’s condemnation of the modern assembly line: mad human robots out of Chaplin’s Modern Times,” writes Shelton. “Then, almost as an aside, Dylan makes a shambles of simpleminded political commitment. What difference which side you’re on if you’re sailing on the Titanic? Irony and sarcasm are streetlamps along ‘Desolation Row,’ keeping away total, despairing darkness, gallows humor for a mass hanging.”
After what was reported as a motorcycle accident in 1966, Dylan withdrew. He did not tour again for eight years, although he continued to write and record. By 1967, Dylan had produced what some called the first “biblical rock album,” John Wesley Harding. This album—which had its roots in folk music—also stood in stark contrast to the electronic and “psychedelic” sounds of the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band that had recently preceded it. Dylan’s well-known song (thanks to Jimi Hendrix) from Harding, “All Along the Watchtower,” begins with a conversation between two men within a walled city: the “joker” and the “thief.” The joker warns the thief that the world is coming to an end, as “the hour is getting late.” Their exchange resembles the conversation recorded in the Bible between the two men crucified with Christ.
In five years, Dylan had undergone a remarkable transformation, from humble folksinger to topical songwriter to one of rock’s first shaman figures, only to culminate in a mysterious writer of biblical-inspired parables. If his next five years, then, seemed low key and even uninspired, no one could blame him for taking it easy. Despite some lackluster albums (amidst finer ones), when it was announced that he and the band would do a concert tour in the U.S. in early 1974, it was clear that his appeal remained, as reportedly 12 million fans turned in ticket applications for a mere 500,000 seats. For the first time in years, Dylan sang his old songs but with new, often startling arrangements. The tour’s album was released in 1974, with the apocalyptic title Before the Flood.
As he vaulted back into the spotlight, Dylan gave indications of his coming Christian conversion on his next album, Blood on the Tracks (1975), one of his most popular albums among fans. In “Idiot Wind,” he sings of a “lone soldier on the cross” who finally wins out in the end. And in “Shelter from the Storm,” God is arguably referred to in the feminine gender. She takes Dylan’s “crown of thorns” while promising to give him shelter from an impending tumult.
However, by mid-November of 1978, Dylan was in a poor state of mind and at a low point in his career. Although Blood on the Tracks had been critically acclaimed, the songs and albums that followed did not match it. His film Renaldo and Clara had been highly criticized, and Dylan was facing personal and marital problems—his wife was finally divorcing him.
As the story goes, at a concert in San Diego on November 17, someone threw a silver cross on the stage. Dylan picked the cross up and put it in his pocket. He took it to the next stop in Arizona and, in a Tucson motel room, had an intense religious experience. As Dylan said in 1980:
“There was a presence in the room that couldn’t have been anybody but Jesus...I truly had a born-again experience, if you want to call it that...Jesus put his hand on me. It was a physical thing. I felt it. I felt it all over me. I felt my whole body tremble. The glory of the Lord knocked me down and picked me up.”
Dylan’s conversion dominated his next album, Slow Train Coming (1979). On the first track, he maintains that whether it’s “the devil” or “the Lord,” everyone must serve a spiritual entity. And on the reverent and worshipful “When He Returns,” Dylan portrays an omnipotent God who knows and sees all. But the apocalyptic tone remained, as in the album’s title track “Slow Train,” which seems to represent the cumulative judgment of God.
In 1981’s Shot of Love, Dylan continued his warning in “Trouble,” where he sings of persecution and “governments out of control” as some portent of calamitous times to come. He wove a similar tone into a number of albums that followed, including Infidels (1983), on which biblical references are present in “Man of Peace” where Satan comes as a deceiver of humankind. And on Down in the Groove (1988), the lyrics to “Death is Not the End” tell us:
Oh, the tree of life is growing
Where the spirit never dies
And the bright light of salvation shines
In dark and empty skies.
Since his 1978 conversion, Dylan has returned to his Jewish roots but, apparently, with a mixture of Christianity. Whatever his beliefs, his prophetic calling and spiritual development seem to have continued. In a 1991 interview in Budapest, Dylan said he regularly reads the Bible: “I believe everything the Bible says.” When asked about the Apocalypse, Dylan replied: “It will not be by water, but by fire the next time. It’s what is written.”
This spiritual roller coaster ride coincided with an equally volatile recording output, as the 1980s witnessed the career lows of albums like 1986’s Knocked Up Loaded and 1990’s Under the Red Sky, yet also saw the triumph of 1989’s Oh Mercy and his subdued “Unplugged” sessions for MTV in 1995.
Despite his unpredictability, Dylan’s staying power has been remarkable. He was included in Life magazine’s 1990 list of the 20th century’s 100 most influential Americans. And in 1998, he made Time magazine’s list of the 100 most influential entertainers of the century.
A year earlier, he released Time Out of Mind, which won three Grammy Awards, including album of the year, and re-established Dylan as a leading cultural voice. “The notion that a generation could express its rage, its opinion, its own distinct sensibility in its popular music started with him,” said TV actor Kelsey Grammer at that year’s Grammy’s, as Dylan stood with his band waiting to perform. “The day he went from acoustic to electric guitar the face of pop music changed forever. Of course that was decades ago and the amazing part is he’s still making history.”
As the world celebrated a return to form, Dylan continued to express an ever-increasing notion that the end was drawing near. “Well my sense of humanity has gone down the drain,” he sang in “Not Dark Yet,” one of the album’s tracks. “Behind every beautiful thing there’s been some kind of pain.” Dylan continued: “I’ve been down on the bottom of a world full of lies. I ain’t looking for nothing in anyone’s eyes. Sometimes my burden seems more than I can bear. It’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there.”
If this sounded more like a personal denouement than societal, another song, “Tryin’ to Get to Heaven,” captured Dylan’s ever present sense that time was short. “I’ve been walking through the middle of nowhere,” he sang in front of a lugubrious backing, “trying to get to heaven before they close the door.”
These lyrics, dark as they were, only hinted at what Dylan was willing to more directly express in a 1995 interview. When asked if he still thought a slow train was coming, he replied: “When I look ahead now, it’s picked up quite a bit of speed. In fact, it’s going like a freight train now.”
On September 11, 2001, Dylan’s album Love and Theft hit the shelves. As tragedy unfolded in New York and D.C., the singer captured the day’s mood with incredible accuracy. “Well, today has been a sad ol’ lonesome day,” he began in “Lonesome Day Blues,” guitars and drums crashing around him. “Yeah, today has been a sad ol’ lonesome day.”
Another of the album’s songs, “High Water Everywhere,” displayed an eerie prescience. “High water risin’, six inches ’bove my head,” Dylan warbled in a grisly voice. “Coffins droppin’ in the street like balloons made out of lead.” You could all but picture the singer in sackcloth and ashes, surrounded by rubble and smoke, as he concluded. “It’s rough out there, high water everywhere.” And if any doubt remained as to his purpose, “I’m preachin’ the Word of God,” Dylan sang, drawing on imagery from the Old Testament. “I’m puttin’ out your eyes.”
Only months earlier, Dylan had received an Academy Award for his song “Things Have Changed” (from the film Wonder Boys), which included the lyrics “People are crazy and times are strange...I used to care, but things have changed,” and, rather ominously, “If the Bible is right then the world will explode.”
For his acceptance speech (delivered remote from Australia), Dylan gave even more insight into his belief system. “I want to thank the members of the Academy who were bold enough to give me this award for this song which, obviously, is a song that doesn’t pussyfoot around or turn a blind eye to human nature. God bless you all with peace, tranquility and good will. Thanks.”
The Oscar, combined with the emphatic reception to Love and Theft, returned Dylan to a celebrated status he had not enjoyed since the mid-’70s. True to form, he defied all expectations by appearing in a Victoria’s Secret commercial in 2004, where he leered at a supermodel while his song “Lovesick” played. He redeemed himself that same year by publishing a “memoir” called Chronicles, which embraced the notion that his talent was consigned from elsewhere (the heavens?). “I’d come from a long ways off and had started a long ways down,” he wrote. “But now destiny was about to manifest itself. I felt like it was looking right at me and nobody else.” Despite its overwhelmingly positive critical reception, the book was rambling and gave some twists on old stories and relationships. In the end, however, it offered no earthshaking facts about the reclusive icon.
In 2006, Dylan threw his fans another loop when he debuted as the host of his own satellite radio show. Called the “Theme Time Radio Hour,” the weekly hour-long special featured Dylan playing many of his favorite songs (often from the ’20s, ’30s or ’40s), delivering the corniest of jokes and even offering recipes, like this one for a Mint Julep: “First up, you take four mint sprigs, two and a half ounces of bourbon. I’d put three. A tablespoon of powdered sugar, and a tablespoon of water. You put the mint leaves, powdered sugar, and water in a Collins glass. You fill the glass with shaved, or crushed ice, and then add bourbon. Top that off with more ice. And...I’d like to garnish that with a mint sprig. Serve it with a straw. Two or three of those, and anything sounds good.”
If Dylan seemed to have flipped his wig, his next and most recent album, Modern Times (released last year), returned his songwriting to the spotlight and brought Dylan back to commercial success, giving him his first No. 1 album since Blood on the Tracks. While not as powerful as that album or even 2001’s Love And Theft, it further established Dylan as the consummate rock poet and once again found the world’s foremost biblical songwriter waxing, of course, on the fate of man in “When the Deal Goes Down”:
In the still of the night, in the world’s
ancient light
Where wisdom grows up in strife
My bewildering brain, toils in vain
Through the darkness on the pathways of life
Each invisible prayer is like a cloud in the air
Tomorrow keeps turning around
We live and we die, we know not why
But I’ll be with you when the deal goes down.
Dylan rarely does interviews. But when he does, they’re usually a send-up tinged with insight, as was his May 2007 interview with Jann Wenner for Rolling Stone. For instance, when asked what his faith was “these days,” the old poet gave a typically Dylanesque answer: “Faith doesn’t have a category. It’s oblique. So it’s unspeakable. We degrade faith by talking about religion.”
Simply put, Dylan is a creative genius. “Dylan has always had a way with words,” writes professor Christopher Hicks in Dylan’s Vision of Sin (2003). “He does not simply have his way with them, since a true comprehender of words is no more their master than he or she is their servant. The triangle of Dylan—his music, his voices and his unpropitiatory words—is still his equilateral thinking.
Dylan—through his live performances, music and poetry—remains as relevant and profound as anyone alive today. Indeed, nearly a half century after their composition, such Dylan classics as “Masters of War” retain their sharp sting. The fact that this song is still an integral part of his live performances may give a hint of what his “equilateral thinking” is concerning the events going on in the world. To the targets of “Masters of War,” Dylan sings:
And I hope that you die
And your death’ll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I’ll watch while you’re lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I’ll stand o’er your grave
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| 18th September 2007 09:44 AM |
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| Mel Belli |
Couldn't get past the combination-punch of cliches in the first paragraph. Ouch. |
| 18th September 2007 09:53 AM |
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| Ade |
"We degrade faith by talking about religion"
i love that quote |
| 18th September 2007 10:00 AM |
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| Mel Belli |
quote:
Ade wrote:
"We degrade faith by talking about religion"
i love that quote
That's a cliche, too -- of the "not relgious, just spiritual" sort. |
| 18th September 2007 10:09 AM |
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| Ade |
maybe- but i like it  |
| 18th September 2007 10:15 AM |
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| gimmekeef |
I know there is Dylan...God?....Pipedream for those that need excuses in their lives....Sorry if I offended anyone...but its how I feel... |
| 18th September 2007 12:16 PM |
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| WinslowStud |
 |
| 18th September 2007 12:18 PM |
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| pdog |
quote:
WinslowStud wrote:
Good morning starbuck.... |
| 18th September 2007 12:29 PM |
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| WinslowStud |
 |
| 18th September 2007 12:42 PM |
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| pdog |
All I need is my chair...
 |
| 18th September 2007 01:49 PM |
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| lotsajizz |
quote:
gimmekeef wrote:
I know there is Dylan...God?....Pipedream for those that need excuses in their lives....Sorry if I offended anyone...but its how I feel...
me too...well put |
| 18th September 2007 02:02 PM |
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| Starbuck |
sean....if the sox blow this.....so help me....we're talking historic here.... |
| 18th September 2007 02:12 PM |
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| lotsajizz |
well, your Twins could do THEIR part and start a AA squad next week....
[Edited by lotsajizz] |
| 18th September 2007 02:15 PM |
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| Starbuck |
that hurts.
we'll be back next year...starting rotation of santana, liriano, baker, garza and radke coming out of retirement...mauer and morneau pick up where they left off last year...torii signed to a multi year deal and locked up through the opening of the new stadium...
i can feel it. when does spring training start? |
| 18th September 2007 02:37 PM |
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| WinslowStud |
it's reasons like this that the yankees will prevail.
http://www.newsvine.com/_news/2007/09/18/968958-dice-k-dressed-as-teletubby |
| 18th September 2007 02:44 PM |
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| lotsajizz |
At least the Sox are loose--the Spankees rookie hazing resembles that of 'thank you sir, may I have another' from "Animal House"....complete with candles, hoods, and gothic dirges.... |
| 18th September 2007 02:51 PM |
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| yinzer chick |
quote:
WinslowStud wrote:
it's reasons like this that the yankees will prevail.
http://www.newsvine.com/_news/2007/09/18/968958-dice-k-dressed-as-teletubby
Please change your avatar. |
| 18th September 2007 02:54 PM |
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| BONOISLOVE |
quote:
yinzer chick wrote:
Please change your avatar.
Please change yours, thanks. Women are fat. |
| 18th September 2007 03:03 PM |
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| Martha |
“If the Bible is right then the world will explode.”
Bob has sung these additional lyrics "If the Bible is right, you know what?, the WORLD will explode." on one of the boot's I have. (Thank you MRD8--I am working on a pckg. for you!)
I burst out laughin' when I heard him deliver that line. He always cracks me up.
Bob is God spelled sideways. ;-)
This thread has not stayed on topic.
xxoo,
Martha
Joey....puuuuuuhleeeeeeeeze meet me on 10/26 at YOUR Qwest Center! I just booked a room at YOUR Courtyard Marriot! |
| 18th September 2007 03:10 PM |
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| yinzer chick |
quote:
BONOISLOVE wrote:
Please change yours, thanks. Women are fat.
Screw you Boner. I'm no fat chick. I'm a lean, mean, keilbasa fed Burgh lady. I demand respect, or I'll get Alan Faneca to feed you some keibassa. |
| 18th September 2007 03:15 PM |
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| BONOISLOVE |
quote:
yinzer chick wrote:
Screw you Boner.
You make Bono weep! |
| 18th September 2007 03:30 PM |
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| gimmekeef |
[quote]Martha wrote:
This thread has not stayed on topic.
xxoo,
Martha
Now Martha...LMAO....Can you show me one thread here that ever has stayed on topic?! EVER...lol |
| 19th September 2007 12:10 PM |
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| Martha |
quote:
gimmekeef wrote:
[quote]Martha wrote:
This thread has not stayed on topic.
xxoo,
Martha
Now Martha...LMAO....Can you show me one thread here that ever has stayed on topic?! EVER...lol
No, sadly I cannot.
ROTFLOL! |
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