Bob Dylan

  • Bob Dylan is in Pepinoville tonight. He’s in concert at the Pepinoville ballpark. We can hear his garbled voice as it drifts over town. Distorted by distance, rolling terrain, trees, and traffic, his lyrics are just as incomprehensible as when heard live. I remember seeing him close up and personal at Hill Auditorium in Ann Snob-bore some years back. My friend, Dead Head, got me a job as an usher for a few concerts that summer. Dylan played a few long sets, more music than most of the artists that summer. As close as I was to the stage and speakers, he could have been singing in Latin. Made no sense to me. Talk about a cult of personality. I get much more from reading his lyrics. His “Boots of Spanish Leather” is pure poetry. You can find it in literature textbooks.
  • My idea is to get Bob Dylan to write songs for Pepina, our household songstress. She is relatively articulate. Together, they could sell some serious plastic. I’m going to have her audition “Watch Tower” for me tomorrow. Stay tuned.
  • Li’l Pepinita has had a week o’ cousins. Two Motown cousins are staying over at Bompa and Grandma’s this week. Two days ago, the whole gang went to the beach and were joined by five more cousins from the other side of the family. Li’l Pepina esta bien contenta. She loves her kin.

Atentamente,

Pepino Perdido

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