Brett Kimberlin. Now there's a name I haven't heard in a long time. Brett Kimberlin claimed to be Dan Quayle's drug dealer. A writer told the story in the New Yorker, and "Doonesbury" picked it up and made him a cause celebre.
Then the same writer took Kimberlin to meet Quayle at a book signing and realized that he'd been had. He wrote up the experience in the New Yorker, apologized to Quayle -- but I don't recall "Doonesbury" ever retracting the charge.
No, birds wouldn't be any good. They go VOOM! when you plug them into the amp.
Constitutional right to express themselves musically?. Looks like the Living Constitution has barfed up another 'Right'...
I hear the train a-comin'; it's rollin' 'round the bend,
And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when,
I'm stuck at Folsom Prison and time keeps draggin' on.
But that train keeps a-rollin'
On down to San Antone.When I was just a baby, my mama told me. "Son,
Always be a good boy; don't ever play with guns."
But I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.
When I hear that whistle blowin'
I hang my head and cry.I bet there's rich folks eatin' in a fancy dining car.
They're prob'ly drinkin' coffee and smokin' big cigars,
But I know I had it comin', I know I can't be free,
But those people keep a-movin',
And that's what tortures me.Well, if they freed me from this prison, if that railroad train was mine,
I bet I'd move on over a little farther down the line,
Far from Folsom Prison, that's where I want to stay,
And I'd let that lonesome whistle
Blow my blues away.