Eartha Kitt died today, on
Chhristmas Day. So beautiful, so quintesenntily American, so much exemplifies those of use who free are different, who don’t belong. I listened to your guest on morning radio some time ago who gave a painfully detailed story of “Brother can you spare a dime”. While painfully meticulllous, he failed to understand truly what this song means – and Ms. Kitt gave it to us completely. He failed to understand, as he was lost in his interpretation, which no doubt was passionate, to the point of, how shall I way, boardon, (I’m being too kind, mind you), that the title sreams, yells, begs, BROTHER CAN YOU a dIME). Brother can you spare a dime.
The heart of the song is: help me. I know I am owed the money; I know the owner will never give it to me and I acknowedlge that I’ve been paid for my labor – and I’ll never get the pay I’m due, because I’ve not been acknowledged as the worker I am, for the true labor I’ve given, the pain Ive given to the master what he’s due, and what Im due, I live on. The worker should be an equal partner, he builds the product, he works hard. Without the worker there is n capitalism. Yet, the worker suffers most when, during this time of recession, the capitalists pull in their money, let THE PEOPLE go. They must protect their wealth, must keep the pool, must keep the cars. At what cost?!!! Sometimes labor shouts, sometimes it whispers. We built this country. We want only our due.
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