Cut Off Your Own Ear, Dang it
There are some folks who have said my kinda art is not serious enough for individuals of their social standing. They believe a true artist must be dark and troubled, and a moody countenance would be more suggestive of intellectual superiority. If light-hearted offends you I am sorry, but I see enough tragedy in the doc gig that I ain’t gonna take myself too serious as either a writer or a mandolinist. I’m serious about Eternity, my family and friends, heart attacks, and cancer. Go much further down the list and I’m gonna try to play to forget my troubles, and I don’t apologize for it.
If you tell me you can’t take my work for what it is ’cause I won’t cut off my ear to prove I’ve suffered, I’m gonna break into doctor mode and tell you the micro-circulation to the cartilaginous aspect of the pinna can be somewhat compromised in the elderly, and no thank you them rascals can be dang hard to sew back on and get ’em to take.
So, have nice day, and you can go cut off your own dang ear if you just have to prove something, but I sure don’t recommend it. I know a bluegrass doctor man named Junior who might be able to put it back together if you go and do something like that. As for me, I like both of my ears, and I think I’ll hold onto ’em.
I’m gonna go read about existentialism. I’m a serious man, and it beats lopping off an ear to prove it to anyone.
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