But It Ain't Him to Blame...
He was no student of history. Nor politics. He liked music. He knew music. He enjoyed music. And why be an expert in something you didn’t enjoy? However, to say that life is defined by the things in which one finds enjoyment is to reach for an impossible reality.
So he learned a basic truth that most in America had overlooked. That there’s a point; a very specific point wherein ignoring the outer workings of life becomes a luxury that is no longer affordable. And that point was the excessive gerrymandering of districts. It became a science, figuring out who would hold office before elections were ever held. And they got so good at it that in the end the elections of every swing vote in congress as well as the election of the president would come down to once obscure counties in Ohio, Florida and Virginia.
A vicious cycle quickly followed. Everyone wanted HIS OWN laws, HIS OWN ideas passed before their representative’s time was up. Every law passed with a basic majority, regardless of whether it was enforced or not.
The first law passed, or repealed depending on the state, was that guaranteeing the right for recreational drug use. It’s up to individual discretion, so they said. If alcohol is legal and a mind altering substance, why shouldn’t marijuana or cocaine be a legal source of entertainment? What right did the government have to make decisions about what any citizen could or could not do with his own body?
Predictably there were consequences to this, health insurance companies rallied against their increased liability for car accidents, murders, and the occasional mass suicide. After the following election a law was passed that made drug testing mandatory for all those who wished to have life insurance.
And so followed the next election which saw the passing of “You Work, No Worries” Act under which any illegal alien could gain his citizenship so long as there was a current citizen unemployed. Congress took a page from a book of professional sports and would “trade” any undesirable citizens for the more productive illegal ones that already resided within its borders. Out of work cashiers were exchanged for employed construction workers, who were taxed twice as much as native born residents, of course. Mexico suddenly became....lighter in skin tone.
During the next election came yet another law which outlawed, of all things, multi-tasking. With the sudden exportation of unemployed parents, children and neighbors demanded that something had to be done! It was decided that the American worker was becoming far too efficient and that certain jobs must be split to ensure there was enough opportunity for employment to go around.
It was then the politicians decided to smarten up. Such a law would require a hearing. Bunches of hearings. Countless hearings. Could a barber cut hair as well as shave a paying customer? Could a janitor both sweep as well as wax a floor? Could an accountant keep sales records as well as file taxes? So it was decided that they would go after the abstract. The hard to argue cases. They decided to go after...the artists.
If you walked through the New Gallery for Modern Cooperative Art the impact was immediately obvious. Pursuant to the new laws, gallery owners could only legally purchase governmentally sanctioned work which could, again by law, consist only of a single color of paint applied only at a consistent and measurable thickness. Combining colors to produce some sort of recognizable object excluded other workers who may not be able to demonstrate such competence and was, consequently, disallowed.
Actors could no longer write, and writers could no longer act (not as if they could have previously). The budgets for TV shows and movies grew and grew as roles filled by “the gopher” were suddenly split into eight separate positions. Photographers were required to have “lighters” with them at all time, regardless if their photos were taken in natural sunlight or not.
Now Slate was told there was a simpler time. When someone could pick up a guitar, practice the guitar, practice singing, try out for a spot in a local bar and play for money. Of course that was before. The music industry was hit particularly hard by the new laws. Sing *and* play guitar? Out of the question. Play lead guitar *and* rhythm? Not allowed. And let’s not even speak of the harmonica union.
He had never wanted much out of life. Less so before he had heard the music of Bob Dylan. But it had hit him so solidly, so soulfully, that the world wanted, nay NEEDED to be re-introduced the live works of one Robert Zimmerman. Of course cover bands were a concept that had nearly gone extinct due to the new laws. However could one recreate the music of previous bands or people that were never handcuffed by the current laws? Think on it for a moment; the Beatles would suddenly become an eight person band at the very least (so long as you kept it on the down low from the harmonica union). Covering the most basic Jim Croce song live would require at least four players (lead guitar, rhythm guitar, lead singer, harmony). And Dylan? Well...
The problem wasn’t in finding ten people that could perform. Okay, admittedly that was a problem, too, but there were ways to hide such things. The problem was what to do with these performers when their services were no longer required during the set. Sure one could send them off stage and have them magically reappear when required by law. But such a philosophy bred bitterness in groups as those that carried the “musical load” were paid the same as those who took half the night off.
Yet Slate had a plan.