Fantasy

Hippie Gathering of Un-Stoners & the Sleep-Walking Butler

Nobody can tell yaThere’s only one song worth singingThey may try and sell ya‘Cause it hangs them upTo see someone like you — ‘Make Your Own Kind of Music,’  Cass Elliot

Lady Gwenllian follows her sleep-walking Butler man-machine — the one that has everyone steamed because he’s lackadaisical about far-reaching matters of consequence such as properly darning the socks.

Perhaps he secretly cleans at night. But then, wouldn’t the castle be clean in the morning?

Not wanting her Butler to notice her, the lady pulls a druidess cloak over her head as he walks into the ballroom for an apparent gathering of hippies.

Each of the un-stoners grab a tambourine. They aren’t former burnouts. Rather, they are the ones who used to cast stones and now just pass stones because that’s nature’s grotesque sense of humor.

Maybe some of them died and saw the other side. After the doctors resuscitated them, they realized life was about helping others and not being mean, selfish and competitive.

OMG. OMG. OMG. I love this song, the lady thinks.

You’re gonna be nowhereThe loneliest kind of lonelyIt may be rough goingJust to do your thing’s the hardest thing to do…

After dancing on the rainbow rug, the lady watches as the altruistic Butler and the un-stoners go out onto the island to greet strangers in need. They invite them into the castle’s dining room set up in all its finery.

Most of them can’t stay on the island because they have destinations and obligations in mind.

So if you cannot take my handAnd if you must be going, I will understand

She doesn’t hear anyone talk about politics or religion. No one has ever heard of war. But there is a lot of talk about astrology. And whether or not “Moonlight Feels Right,” by Starbuck is the most nauseating song ever written.

What is that tricky French connection that he finally made? When has a woman ever winked to give anyone her OK? And what top are we dropping at the Chesapeake Bay? I don’t need the tide to rise. It’s making me seasick. Maybe it puts a Maryland girl in hot water, but I never even liked Maryland crabs.

You gotta make your own kind of musicSing your own special songMake your own kind of musicEven if nobody else sings along.

 

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