Vonnegut's Blues for America
by Kurt Vonnegut

No matter how corrupt, greedy, and heartless our government, our
corporations, our media, and our religious and charitable institutions may
become, the music will still be wonderful.

If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph:
THE ONLY PROOF HE NEEDED
FOR THE EXISTENCE OF GOD
WAS MUSIC

Now, during our catastrophically idiotic war in Vietnam, the music kept
getting better and better and better. We lost that war, by the way. Order
couldn't be restored in Indochina until the people kicked us out.

That war only made billionaires out of millionaires. Today's war is making
trillionaires out of billionaires. Now I call that progress.

And how come the people in countries we invade can't fight like ladies and
gentlemen, in uniform and with tanks and helicopter gunships?

Back to music. It makes practically everybody fonder of life than he or
she would be without it. Even military bands, although I am a pacifist,
always cheer me up. And I really like Strauss and Mozart and all that, but
the priceless gift that African Americans gave the whole world when they
were still in slavery was a gift so great that it is now almost the only
reason many foreigners still like us at least a little bit. That specific
remedy for the worldwide epidemic of depression is a gift called the
blues. All pop music today - jazz, swing, be-bop, Elvis Presley, the
Beatles, the Stones, rock-and-roll, hip-hop, and on and on - is derived
from the blues.

A gift to the world? One of the best rhythm-and-blues combos I ever heard
was three guys and a girl from Finland playing in a club in Krakow,
Poland.

The wonderful writer Albert Murray, who is a jazz historian and a friend
of mine among other things, told me that during the era of slavery in this
country - an atrocity from which we can never fully recover - the suicide
rate per capita among slave owners was much higher than the suicide rate
among slaves.

Murray says he thinks this was because slaves had a way of dealing with
depression, which their white owners did not: They could shoo away Old Man
Suicide by playing and singing the Blues. He says something else which
also sounds right to me. He says the blues can't drive depression clear
out of a house, but can drive it into the corners of any room where it's
being played. So please remember that.

Foreigners love us for our jazz. And they don't hate us for our purported
liberty and justice for all. They hate us now for our arrogance.

When I went to grade school in Indian apolis, the James Whitcomb Riley
School #43, we used to draw pictures of houses of tomorrow, boats of
tomorrow, airplanes of tomorrow, and there were all these dreams for the
future. Of course at that time everything had come to a stop. The
factories had stopped, the Great Depression was on, and the magic word was
Prosperity. Sometime Prosperity will come. We were preparing for it. We
were dreaming of the sorts of houses human beings should inhabit - ideal
dwellings, ideal forms of transportation.

What is radically new today is that my daughter, Lily, who has just turned
21, finds herself, as do your children, as does George W Bush, himself a
kid, and Saddam Hussein and on and on, heir to a shockingly recent history
of human slavery, to an Aids epidemic, and to nuclear submarines
slumbering on the floors of fjords in Iceland and elsewhere, crews
prepared at a moment's notice to turn industrial quantities of men, women,
and children into radioactive soot and bone meal by means of rockets and
H-bomb warheads. Our children have inherited technologies whose
by-products, whether in war or peace, are rapidly destroying the whole
planet as a breathable, drinkable system for supporting life of any kind.

Anyone who has studied science and talks to scientists notices that we are
in terrible danger now. Human beings, past and present, have trashed the
joint.

The biggest truth to face now - what is probably making me unfunny now for
the remainder of my life - is that I don't think people give a damn
whether the planet goes on or not. It seems to me as if everyone is living
as members of Alcoholics Anonymous do, day by day. And a few more days
will be enough. I know of very few people who are dreaming of a world for
their grandchildren.

Many years ago I was so innocent I still considered it possible that we
could become the humane and reasonable America so many members of my
generation used to dream of. We dreamed of such an America during the
Great Depression, when there were no jobs. And then we fought and often
died for that dream during the second world war, when there was no peace.

But I know now that there is not a chance in hell of America becoming
humane and reasonable. Because power corrupts us, and absolute power
corrupts us absolutely. Human beings are chimpanzees who get crazy drunk
on power. By saying that our leaders are power-drunk chimpanzees, am I in
danger of wrecking the morale of our soldiers fighting and dying in the
Middle East? Their morale, like so many lifeless bodies, is already shot
to pieces. They are being treated, as I never was, like toys a rich kid
got for Christmas.

Human beings have had to guess about almost everything for the past
million years or so. The leading characters in our history books have been
our most enthralling, and sometimes our most terrifying, guessers.

May I name two of them? Aristotle and Hitler.

One good guesser and one bad one.

And the masses of humanity through the ages, feeling inadequately educated
just like we do now, and rightly so, have had little choice but to believe
this guesser or that one.

Russians who didn't think much of the guesses of Ivan the Terrible, for
example, were likely to have their hats nailed to their heads.

We must acknowledge that persuasive guessers, even Ivan the Terrible, now
a hero in the Soviet Union, have sometimes given us the courage to endure
extraordinary ordeals which we had no way of understanding. Crop failures,
plagues, eruptions of volcanoes, babies being born dead - the guessers
often gave us the illusion that bad luck and good luck were understandable
and could somehow be dealt with intelligently and effectively. Without
that illusion, we all might have surrendered long ago.

But the guessers, in fact, knew no more than the common people and
sometimes less, even when, or especially when, they gave us the illusion
that we were in control of our destinies.

Persuasive guessing has been at the core of leadership far so long, for
all of human experience so far, that it is wholly unsurprising that most
of the leaders of this planet, in spite of all the information that is
suddenly ours, want the guessing to go on. It is now their turn to guess
and guess and be listened to. Some of the loudest, most proudly ignorant
guessing in the world is going on in Washington today. Our leaders are
sick of all the solid information that has been dumped on humanity by
research and scholarship and investigative reporting. They think that the
whole country is sick of it, and they could be right. It isn't the gold
standard that they want to put us back on. They want something even more
basic. They want to put us back on the snake-oil standard.

Loaded pistols are good for everyone except inmates in prisons or lunatic
asylums.

That's correct.

Millions spent on public health are inflationary.

That's correct.

Billions spent on weapons will bring inflation down.

That's correct.

Dictatorships to the right are much closer to American ideals than
dictatorships to the left.

That's correct.

The more hydrogen bomb warheads we have, all set to go off at a moment's
notice, the safer humanity is and the better off the world will be that
our grandchildren will inherit.

That's correct.

Industrial wastes, and especially those that are radioactive, hardly ever
hurt anybody, so everybody should shut up about them.

That's correct.

Industries should be allowed to do whatever they want to do: bribe, wreck
the environment just a little, fix prices, screw dumb customers, put a
stop to competition, and raid the Treasury when they go broke.

That's correct.

That's free enterprise.

And that's correct.

The poor have done something very wrong or they wouldn't be poor, so their
children should pay the consequences.

That's correct.

The United States of America cannot be expected to look after its own
people.

That's correct.

The free market will do that.

That's correct.

The free market is an automatic system of justice.

That's correct.

I'm kidding.

And if you actually are an educated, thinking person, you will not be
welcome in Washington, DC. I know a couple of bright seventh graders who
would not be welcome in Washington, DC. Do you remember those doctors a
few months back who got together and announced that it was a simple, clear
medical fact that we could not survive even a moderate attack by hydrogen
bombs? They were not welcome in Washington, DC.

Even if we fired the first salvo of hydrogen weapons and the enemy never
fired back, the poisons released would probably kill the whole planet by
and by.

What is the response in Washington? They guess otherwise. What good is an
education? The boisterous guessers are still in charge - the haters of
information. And the guessers are almost all highly educated people. Think
of that. They have had to throw away their educations, even Harvard or
Yale educations.

If they didn't do that, there is no way their uninhibited guessing could
go on and on and on. Please, don't you do that. But if you make use of the
vast fund of knowledge now available to educated persons, you are going to
be lonesome as hell. The guessers outnumber you - and now I have to
guess - about 10 to one.

I'm going to tell you some news.

No, I am not running for President, although I do know that a sentence, if
it is to be complete, must have both a subject and a verb.

Nor will I confess that I sleep with children. I will say this, though: My
wife is by far the oldest person I ever slept with.

Here's the news: I am going to sue the Brown & Williamson Tobacco Company,
manufacturers of Pall Mall cigarettes, for a billion bucks! Starting when
I was only 12 years old, I have never chain-smoked anything but unfiltered
Pall Malls. And for many years now, right on the package, Brown and
Williamson have promised to kill me.

But I am now 82. Thanks a lot, you dirty rats. The last thing I ever
wanted was to be alive when the three most powerful people on the whole
planet would be named Bush, Dick and Colon.

Our government's got a war on drugs. That's certainly a lot better than no
drugs at all. That's what was said about prohibition. Do you realise that
from 1919 to 1933 it was absolutely against the law to manufacture,
transport, or sell alcoholic beverages, and the Indiana newspaper
humourist Ken Hubbard said: "Prohibition is better than no liquor at all."

But get this: The two most widely abused and addictive and destructive of
all substances are both perfectly legal.

One, of course, is ethyl alcohol. And President George W Bush, no less,
and by his own admission, was smashed, or tiddley-poo, or four sheets to
the wind a good deal of the time from when he was 16 until he was 40. When
he was 41, he says, Jesus appeared to him and made him knock off the
sauce, stop gargling nose paint.

Other drunks have seen pink elephants.

About my own history of foreign substance abuse, I've been a coward about
heroin and cocaine, LSD and so on, afraid they might put me over the edge.
I did smoke a joint of marijuana one time with Jerry Garcia and the
Grateful Dead, just to be sociable. It didn't seem to do anything to me
one way or the other, so I never did it again. And by the grace of God, or
whatever, I am not an alcoholic, largely a matter of genes. I take a
couple of drinks now and then and will do it again tonight. But two is my
limit. No problem.

I am, of course, notoriously hooked on cigarettes. I keep hoping the
things will kill me. A fire at one end and a fool at the other.

But I'll tell you one thing: I once had a high that not even crack cocaine
could match. That was when I got my first driver's licence - look out,
world, here comes Kurt Vonnegut!

And my car back then, a Studebaker as I recall, was powered, as are almost
all means of transportation and other machinery today, and electric power
plants and furnaces, by the most abused, addictive, and destructive drugs
of all: fossil fuels.

When you got here, even when I got here, the industrialised world was
already hopelessly hooked on fossil fuels, and very soon now there won't
be any left. Cold turkey.

Can I tell you the truth? I mean this isn't the TV news is it? Here's what
I think the truth is: We are all addicts of fossil fuels in a state of
denial. And like so many addicts about to face cold turkey, our leaders
are now committing violent crimes to get what little is left of what we're
hooked on.

I turned 82 on November 11, 2004. What's it like to be this old? I can't
parallel park worth a damn any more, so please don't watch while I try to
do it. And gravity has become a lot less friendly and manageable than it
used to be.

When you get to my age, if you get to my age, and if you have reproduced,
you will find yourself asking your own children, who are themselves
middle-aged: "What is life all about?'" I have seven kids, three of them
orphaned nephews.

I put my big question about life to my son the pediatrician. Dr Vonnegut
said this to his doddering old dad: "Father, we are here to help each
other get through this thing, whatever it is."