This narcissistic, inflated-sense-of-self-importance thread (IOW, a typical Pitt thread) brings to mind Pitt's Last-Ditch Stand, when the Midnight Cowboy joined Mother Sheehan in the ditch in Texas:
MAKE ME KNOWN, COUNTRY ROAD
Tune: "Take Me Home, Country Roads"
Almost hades, Crawford Texas
Bush Ranch protest, Sheehan doin' talk shows
Press is out there, underneath the tree
Lookin' for some talkers, might as well be me
Country road, make me known
To the place I belong
Guest opinion, TV pundit
Make me known, country road
All my DUmmies rally round me
Mindless, lazy, looking for a leader
Read my bloggings, written on the fly
Boring waste of bandwidth, glazing of the eye
Country road, make me known
To the place I belong
Guest opinion, TV pundit
Make me known, country road
I wear a hat, in the mirror I see Eastwood
The ladies on DU think I'm hot when I pose
But sweatin' in the sun I get the feelin'
That I should have worn some lighter clothes, lighter clothes
Country road, make me known
To the place I belong
Guest opinion, TV pundit
Make me known, country road
Make me known, country road
Make me known, country road . . .
John Denver never sounded so good.
Come to think of it John Denver never did sound good, but in this instance, I'll gladly embrace your sarcasm to offset that old hippies patchouli stink.
If nothing else, old Pitt has served a small service to mankind by giving you an ongoing opportunity to showcase your talent.
This was one of your all-time greats.
A few years ago I was on a train from Paris to Cologne. Someone in the next compartment was singing "Country Roads" quite loudly. It sounded harsh and as if the singer had memorized the words without understanding them. When he finished it he would start over without a pause.
The train approached Aachen and stopped. I looked out the window and saw boxcars, hundreds of boxcars, some very old, on shuttle lines all over the rail-yard. I had not noticed them before. The train started again and moved slowly through the yard as if the box-cars were special objects of interest to the passengers. And I could still hear the singing.
I couldn't stand to hear "Country Roads" after that trip, or even think about the words, which previously I had thought quite moving, distinctively American, specifically to the displacement and nostalgia of Southerners away from home.
When I read your parody of the song I laughed out loud. It was not just a tour de force, it was like having something of value that I had lost returned to me. So, merci bien.