Herman E. Calloway and the Dusky Devastators of the Depression!!!!!!

Hey y'all -

Back for a brief bit. Wanted to share this hot piece of jazz from Herman E. Calloway and the Dusky Devastators of the Depression!!!!!! called "Everyone 'Round Here."

Here are the lyrics:


Some folks ride the rails out to Hooverville,
Some take 66 out to Bakersfield,
Some kids lookin' for their mom and pop,
Others just lookin' for a lemon drop.


Everyone 'round here is on some kind of journey.
Who'd have thought we'd sink so low in the 1930s?
We've got radios, and fast machines,
beggars on the corner, broken dreams.

Everyone 'round here is on some kind of journey.


Think about the workers out in Cal-i-for-ni-a.
Can't feed a family on just a dollar a day.
Hard-luck riveters in Michigan
try to get together, and they tell 'em they can't.

Everyone 'round here is on some kind of journey.
Who'd have thought we'd sink so low in the 1930s?
To rich folks and screwed up policies,
we're just rats in a maze tryin' to find the cheese.


Everyone 'round here is on some kind of journey.


Everyone 'round here is on some kind of journey.

Hope you enjoy the song!!!!!!

Peace out,

Jodacious

See y'all on the other side...

Hey y’all -

Kind of in a rush. This is gonna be my last post for a while, since I’m joinin’ my main man Bud Not Buddy on the lam. My little sister Ruthie blabbed about me killin’ a cop and I can’t bring that kind of heat on my fam, kna’mean? So I’m out for a little bit.

So you know, I don’t feel bad ‘bout the cop I popped. That dude put Jim Casy out, no problem, just for tryin’ to get some men to join together. I’m like, “What, dude?” and I whacked him before he whacked me.

Man, forget Cali and the 5-0. Definitely ain’t no California Love. Sherrif come and burned up the Hooverville we were staying in, just because Knowlesy asked for a contract. Then, we get turned away from a town by a local militia who have it in for Okies.

Finally, we get to Weedpatch - nice name, right? But it was really a pretty sweet place to be. We got a little bit of money from the government and everybody did a real good job workin’ together. But the cops hate us so much that they paid some dudes straight cash to start a riot while we tryin’ to get down and mack on some ladies at the dance. That would’ve given them an excuse to come in and shut us down. Good thing the one nice guy in Cali - Mr. Thomas - let us know to look out for those backstabbers. At least a mob  tells you they ain’t on your side.

It’s been a wicked trip. But I feel like I’ve learned some things from my experience, kna’mean? Especially from Jim Casy, RIP, y’all. LIke, as we journey through the country, I’m also makin’ a journey through my mind. I feel like one of them deep dudes, kna’mean?

When I started this thing, I was livin’ for today and just tryin’ to help my family get by. Now, I’m feelin’ like, we all family out here workin’. It ain’t about lookin’ out for number one, feel me? We all on the same team an’ we gotta come together and fight the man. We gotta make sacrifices today so we can get some power in the future.

Get together, y’all.

Jodacious out.

RIP Gramps & Grams Joad, aka Keep On Truckin'

Dawg, this whole journey to California thing just keeps gettin’ worse. Practically soon’s we start makin’ moves, we come across this old gas-station owner who doesn’t want to sell us gas. He assumed we were ridin’ dirty, ‘bout to stiff him on gas. Man, you know what happens when you assume, right? Anyways, turns out that chump’s almost as broke as we are. We put his head on right, but our dog got hit by a car. Stupid mutt. Least the gas-station owner could do is bury him.

I’m all like, “Whatevs, let’s get this whip out on the road. Cali’s a long way.” We roll through OKC and it was tight. But I don’t see us havin’ that kinda lifestyle no time soon. Can’t get distracted by what might be. Gotta live here an’ now, you know? I think the shock of the big city and all the bling there made Gramps realize that how different some people live than all us farmers scrapin’ by. Or maybe it was the heat. But that night, we ran into some nice folks, the Wilsons, who let him crash in their tent. Then, all of a sudden, it was lights out, Gramps. RIP, old man. This time, we did the buryin’ ourselves. It kills me that he lived his whole life on the farm, and gets buried five hundred miles away.

Anway, with the Wilsons, things felt good, we really got movin’ and shakin’ when we teamed up. We busted straight on through ‘Zona and New Mexico. Started hearin’ some scary news comin’ outta Cali, though. Some guys say the landowners get way more people to come out than they need. Then, everybody’s there and takes less money than they should. Say there ain’t no way to earn a living. Ugh... Pa and Uncle John and me don’t like the sound of the news, but there ain’t no way we turnin’ back now.

Noah decides he’s just gonna drop off and live off fishin’. Good luck with that, bro.

Man, 5-0 be everywhere out here, too. Grams was never right ever since Gramps passed on. She was sick ‘bout to die and some cop comes in the tent and tells us we got to go! Whassup with that! Tellin’ you, that’s what pushed her over the edge.

We got inspected by another cop once we got on the road and Ma tells them we in a rush to get her help, but I think we all knew... she was already gone. RIP Grams. You gone to a better place, I’m sure. Wish we could’ve given you better.

Writin’ this from Hooverville, CA. We made it here, but it ain’t as good as we’d hoped. And now we’re down two old-timers, my big bro, and a dog. I know what you’re sayin’ Bud. It can only get better from here.

Word to your moms, tune in next time.

Joadacious

Talk about a homecoming...

Dang, yo... craziest two days ever. Just got out of prison after doing four years for manslaughter. I was all like, “Whatever, I can’t think about my context beyond these four walls or I’m gonna go crazy. Can’t think past. Can’t think future.” I found my happy place and it’s right here in the present. Hope that attitude I learned in prison can help me through this next stretch...

First off, this awesome trucker gives me a ride (don’t worry, bro, I won’t snitch). I was on my way back to my fam’s old homestead to see my Ma and Pa, when I ran into my homeboys, Preacher Jim Casy and Muley Graves. Turns out Jim’s not preachin’ no more. He’s on this whole hippy-dippy “love-is-everywhere” and “just try to connect with people” kick, but whatever, he my boy an’ I keep him around no matter what. Loyalty’s the definition of family, yo, right?

Anyways, Muley’s all like, “Yo, you fam ain’t there no more. Ain’t nobody there no more. Everybody got tractored by the banks and stuff. Why don’t you check your Uncle John’s place?” It was nighttime though, and some cops came over to the farm. I felt like chicken-crap hidin’ from them on my own place, but I ain’t tryin’ to go back to the pen.

Next day, we get to Uncle John’s, and everybody’s packin’ up. Good dang thing I came home today. Imagine if I was a couple days late?

Everybody sayin’, “California knows how to party.” They sayin’ it’s our only hope. We’re starvin’ here, the banks are takin’ everything and nobody can grow nothin’ with the dust all swirlin’ round everybody’s heads. Go out there to California, pick some fruit.”

Man, you should hear Connie and Rosashar’n, especially. They think we’re gonna be bumpin’ with Dre and Snoop and Tupac, sippin’ juice and whatever out there. I’m like, “Well, maybe in the city of Compton, but where we’re going I’m not so sure we’re gonna find California love, kna’mean?”

Pa went down to sell all our family’s stuff, and only got 18$$ for it. Not exactly bling. I hope Ma’s right about them handbills and all the jobs out there...

Man, one last thing, and this is only half-funny. Gramps was all psyched to eat grapes and whatever in Cali. Then, Muley gets up to go hunting again, and Gramps isn’t trying to leave OK, either. He’s all attached to this place, like he was born here or something. But, check it - we gave him some sizzurp and passed right out! After that, we tossed him up into the car and we were out.

Peace in the Middle East,

Joadacious