POLITICAL SCIENTIST – RYAN ADAMS
Mutterings And Murmurs . Social StudiesNO GUARANTEES
None of us asked to be born. When we were old or sentient enough to be afraid, good and loving parents said things like:
‘There, there, everything is going to be alright.’
‘See? Nothing under the bed.’
‘See? There’s nobody in the closet.’
‘He’s a friendly dog.’
‘Nice kitty.’
When we were small, the world was a big and scary place full of unfamiliar sights and sounds. There were eye-opening wonders and delightful things that made us grin or giggle. As we got bigger, our brains started to notice things, the subtleties of life that made us ask questions. Sometimes the answers frightened or confused us so we had to ask more questions that hopefully had soothing answers. Some adults gave stupid answers. It was scary to think that adults could be so stupid. We depended on them to make us smarter and to keep us safe. In short order, cynicism, in varying degrees, set in. Life experience brought new views of the world. The teen years could be horrible. We began to realize that no matter how hopeful we were about the future, there was no way in hell that anyone could assure or guarantee a beautiful life for us.
As we got older, we got jobs, earned money and bought things for ourselves. We started to learn that some products were crap, that warranties were not worth the paper they were printed on and even gave up on the painful calls to service centers to complain. We stopped sending in those warranty cards. As we matured we may have moved out of the family home or gone to college or university. We might have fallen in love or lust. We may have fallen out of it. Regardless of any promises made, there were always circumstances or excuses that prevented any promises or guarantees from being kept or honored. It was much like voting in your first election for a politician that pretended to be the hippest millennial with the best hair, only to find out that he was a complete fool and dangerous fraud. In some cases, you may have re-elected the creep that fronted the government that destroyed you, the one that tried to make you feel guilty about the cynicism that he/she/her helped you to acquire.
Eventually and currently, political process and current events have brought you down or made you fearful for your future – for your family’s future. Friends, lovers, and spouses may have abandoned you, emotionally or physically, because or in spite of your fears or your courage against these fears.
‘Political Scientist’ is another great song of thousands from Ryan Adams. Listening to it is like watching clips from a movie of human disappointment and frailty and urban decay. Its a song about failed or failing relationships and the promises held out by social convention or intervention.
A political scientist is a researcher, analyst, and forecaster. They use their expertise to understand how policies affect government, business, public services and citizens of any given society. They are employed to help reshape or, God forbid, ‘re-imagine’ society. ‘Political Scientist’ is a politically correct term for ‘technocrat’. They are paid in Globalist, Marxist currency – a lot of it. They helped bring in the age of horror genocide that frightened people into compliance without any real guarantees of safety. There were false promises and lies of safety and efficacy. No guarantees. No refund. No recourse. No accountability.
Are you a cynic?
Some of the cynics resisted and fought. They were resigned to fighting.
Some, in spite of seemingly insurmountable odds, rebelled and fought bravely.
Some just gave in to it if only to revive a cynical ‘normal’.
No guarantees.
We can beat this.
Whatever.
RYAN ADAMS – POLITICAL SCIENTIST – FROM THE ALBUM ‘LOVE IS HELL’ 2004
He is drinking water from the faucet from the river
From the tributary it comes through rusty pipes
Outside his window sees the water
That’s supposed to be clean by the chemicals
Polluted by the candy factory lines
Someplace on the edge of town
Someplace on the edge of town
Is where they live
Political scientists
So now she is crawling on her hands and her knees
She is dirtying her jeans choking on her own perfume
With a pen she writes below the sink
In someone’s restaurant
This place is inconvenient for my name
She forgets to write it anyway
She forgets to write it anyway
The government supplies the cocaine
Political scientists
There’s no guarantees
There’s no guarantees
There’s no guarantees
Banging hard upon her crooked drum
She feels them tearing down
Salvation Army houses back in Michigan
Her husband’s divorced
But he treats her that way of course
Because he needs her just like he needs medicine
She forgets to write him anyway
She forgets to write him anyway
What’s red and white and nearly over?
Political scientist
Political scientist
Political scientist
There’s no guarantees
There’s no guarantees
There’s no guarantees