A Pulitzer for Bob

If you’re a Bob Dylan fan, you may as well start typing your incredulous, flaming comments now. I’m afraid that I’m not one of the believers. So, imagine my reaction when I see that Bob Fucking Dylan has won a PULITZER. It was an honorary one, to be sure, but still. A Pulitzer?

The committee cited his "profound impact on popular music and American culture, marked by lyrical compositions of extraordinary poetic power." Poetic power? But you can’t understand a fucking word he says.

In fact, I’m pretty sure Johnny Depp’s “MUMBLER!” shtick as Willie Wonka came from hours of frustration at trying to decipher Bob Dylan’s singing.

But, to be fair, I went to a Dylan lyric site to give him the benefit of the doubt. Not really knowing Dylan’s canon, I randomly picked a song that sounded like it had great lyric potential. Here’s what I found:

“Well, I ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
Ain't a-gonna grieve no more, no more
And ain't a-gonna grieve no more.

Come on brother, join the band,
Come on sisters, clap your hands,
Tell everybody that's in the land,
You ain't a-gonna grieve no more.”

Not sure the name of that one, but I’m guessing it’s “Horton Hears a HUNH?!?!”

Then there’s this little gem:

“Frog went a-courtin' and he did ride, Uh-huh,
Frog went a-courtin' and he did ride, Uh-huh,
Frog went a-courtin' and he did ride,
With a sword and a pistol by his side, Uh-huh.

Well he rode up to Miss Mousey's door, Uh-huh,
Well he rode up to Miss Mousey's door, Uh-huh,
Well he rode up to Miss Mousey's door.
Gave three loud raps and a very big roar, Uh-huh.

Said, "Miss Mouse, are you within?" Uh-huh,
Said he, "Miss Mouse, are you within?" Uh-huh,
Said, "Miss Mouse, are you within?"
"Yes, kind sir, I sit and spin," Uh-huh.”


“Are you WITHIN? Ummm. O-kay? What is this, the Renaissance Faire? Maybe I misread the press release. Maybe he actually won a Caldecott or Newberry.

I’ve long had a theory that Dylan only became famous because everyone he played to in the early years was trippin’ their titties off. He could have been playing a harp and, in their drug-induced stupors (and believe me, I have NOTHING against drug-induced stupors, per se—they’ve sold a lot of music over the years) people believed he was the second coming. Now, all of that mumbling is ingrained in their heads and they think he “changed their lives” and that he’s a “genius.” Well, that was the acid, people.

So I decided to give it one more try. And on my third trip to the lyric well, I actually hooked something.

“When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
When you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's busy race
No matter what yer doing if you start givin' up
If the wine don't come to the top of yer cup”

But I still bet no one could understand his acceptance speech.