Deconstructing Murder Most Foul…an in-depth look at Bob Dylan and the assassination of President Kennedy…

I have been asked to present at the virtual JFKLancer Conference this year. Rather than presenting on my area of expertise– the limousine SS100X that JFK was riding in when he was killed — it will be on Bob Dylan’s new saga about the assassination and our country…

I can’t tell you what an unusual experience this has been…you’d never believe me. I will tell you about the latest odd coincidence, though, and maybe you’ll get the idea.

I don’t buy Bob Dylan cds outright. I borrow them from the library first, and then, if I really like them, I buy them. So I have been on the waiting list for Rough and Rowdy Ways since the announcement dropped with the scary–cover and song, False Prophet, on my birthday. That’s another story.

But last week-end, as I was wrapping up editing of this presentation, I felt uncomfortable, because I had focused almost exclusively on the lyrics. In fact, other than listening to bits and pieces on Youtube, I really hadn’t had the full experience of listening to any of the songs on that album — most particularly, the one I was writing about.

So I checked my account at the library and found that I was 48th on the list. Things are taking forever, as they gradually get back to the new normal, so I was not surprised. But I had a rueful feeling, guilt I think, or something akin to it. What was I going to do?

On the way to the barn I stopped at the Bethesda Thrift Store, which is a lovely place to go back in time and reminisce about my childhood. I felt that I should go there. I just wandered around looking at the flowered stuffed furniture and tiny mountains of hats, slabs of paintings and forgotten dolls. Before leaving I headed into the cd aisle. Sitting face up was a copy of Murder Most Foul. Yikes, I thought. And at Bethesda — the place in DC where JFK’s autopsy had been performed. Just perfect. And so I bought it and listened to this fascinating endless dirge.

Then tonight, days later, as I was leaving the barn (where my black horse is stabled) I thought I would listen to it again. It was dark, so I just pulled out a cd and slipped it into my car player. It was the other disk. I had been given the entire R+RW album by an unknown hand…

And I listened to that. And I like it, gravely voice and all. But this slightly goulish experience managed to confirm my basic concern, once again, that I am somehow trapped in a universe of Dylan from which I am unable to escape. This is not a happy place to be. When I first heard Like A Rolling Stone long ago I tuned Dylan out. I couldn’t tolerate the sarcastic, screeching voice, or what felt like the insulting nature of that song. It seemed as though he had somehow gotten inside my head and written the song to me. I guess a lot of people feel that way.

So, until a year ago, when circumstances beyond my control (see “A Connection?”) catapulted me into Dylan’s world, I had nothing to do with him. I could even say my attitude was ‘anybody but Dylan’. So when these weird coincidences keep popping up, I get easily tossed out of my comfort zone. But now, I keep on going. I am more comfortable with whatever it is that is going on.

However, I must admit that today I feel a bit like Loxwana and the Ferengi in the “Manage a Trois” episode of Star Trek Next Generation. What next? I am almost afraid to ask…

But today I finished the powerpoint presentation. Tomorrow I film the video. Somehow it all fits in. (Heaving great sigh…)

The ebook is now available on Amazon Kindle…


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