BYE, BYE MISS CHEVY PIE

To Orwell Today,
re: BYE, BYE AMERICAN PIE & BYE, BYE APPLE PIE

Jacko,

I beg to differ. While I respect your attempt at deciphering the real message of that Anthem of the 70's, now a jingle used as a backing-track for hocking GM products, I gotta tell you, you're almost as whacked as all those loonies that think it's somehow about that goofy plane crash in which the true tragedy was not the loss of 3 marginal 50's singers, nor the end of Rock & Roll, but the fact that we've had to suffer through so many miserable Hollywood films as a result of it.

To anyone with the most remote sense of perception, the song is obviously a story about a wild, partying teenager who drunk and high tries to pass on the shoulder and smashed into a school bus carrying a marching band home from a football game. In the crash, he loses his best friend who was riding shotgun in the passenger's seat. He goes for the plea bargain, serves ten years in the pen where he finds solace in religion. Upon his release, he propositions a hooker, gets turned down then he gets drunk and starts reliving the past and finds himself so racked with guilt and remorse that he immolates himself to death in a hops kiln.

I'm not saying this is what Don McLean MEANT when he wrote the song; I'm just saying that's what the words he uses are SAYING. Re-read it again and I believe you cannot help but see that my view of it is the only possible reading an intelligent individual can arrive at. And I have bolded and underlined what the words SAY.

A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, theyíd be happy for a while.

But February made me shiver
With every paper Iíd deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldnít take one more step.

I canít remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.

So bye-bye, miss American pie.
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin', thisíll be the day that I die.
Thisíll be the day that I die.

Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
If the Bible tells you so?
Do you believe in rock n roll,
Can music save your mortal soul,
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Well, I know that youíre in love with him
`cause I saw you dancin' in the gym.
You both kicked off your shoes.
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.

I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died.

I started singin',
Bye-bye, miss American pie.
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
And singiní, thisíll be the day that I die.
Thisíll be the day that I die.

Now for ten years weíve been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone,
But thatís not how it used to be.
When the jester sang for the king and queen,
In a coat he borrowed from James dean
And a voice that came from you and me,

Oh, and while the king was looking down,
The jester stole his thorny crown.
The courtroom was adjourned;
No verdict was returned.
And while Lennon read a book of Marx,
The quartet practiced in the park,
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died.

We were singing,
Bye-bye, miss American pie.
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkiní whiskey and rye
And singiní, thisíll be the day that I die.
Thisíll be the day that I die.

Helter-skelter in a summer swelter.
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter,
Eight miles high and falling fast.
It landed foul on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass,
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast.

Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While the sergeants played a marching tune.
We all got up to dance,
Oh, but we never got the chance!
`cause the players tried to take the field;
The marching band refused to yield.
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died?

We started singing,
Bye-bye, miss American pie.
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkiní whiskey and rye
And singiní, thisíll be the day that I die.
Thisíll be the day that I die.

Oh, and there we were all in one place,
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again.
So come on: jack be nimble, jack be quick!
Jack flash sat on a candlestick
Cause fire is the devil's only friend.

Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in hell
Could break that Satan's spell.
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite,
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the music died

He was singing,
Bye-bye, miss American pie.
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkiní whiskey and rye
And singiní, thisíll be the day that I die.
Thisíll be the day that I die.

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news,
But she just smiled and turned away.
I went down to the sacred store
Where Iíd heard the music years before,
But the man there said the music wouldnít play.

And in the streets: the children screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most:
The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost,
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died.

And they were singing,
Bye-bye, miss American pie.
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkiní whiskey and rye
Singiní, thisíll be the day that I die.
Thisíll be the day that I die.

They were singing,
Bye-bye, miss American pie.
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkiní whiskey and rye
Singiní, thisíll be the day that I die.

Now that Iíve pointed the reality out to you, Iím sure that youíll agree that any other take on it is purely drivel. I find that your Interpretation is very succinct and cogent. However, I believe youíve applied it to the wrong song. It seems to me that it works perfectly over the Post-Apocalyptic ditty, ďYou Donít Send Me FlowersĒ by that subversive, Zionist duo, Streisand and Diamond.

Then again, maybe Iím off base a little. I have been accused in the past.

Thanks for sharing,
Mike Dory

Greetings Mike,

I must agree that your view is one that any intelligent individual could arrive at after reading what your bolded and underlined words SAY.

In other words, I find your interpretation - like mine - very succinct, cogent AND hilariously funny and amusing.

BUT, yours is just ONE of many interpretations including the status-quo "goofy one about a plane crash and loss of 3 marginal 50s singers" and ALSO my conclusion that the song's about the destruction of America as a free nation.

And - as is almost becoming a refrain in itself -:

THE SONG HAS MORE THAN ONE MEANING

There is no wrong - we're ALL right.

All the best,
Jackie Jura

To Orwell Today,

Jackie,

Thanks for being a sport.

I haven't the time right now, but someday I'll forward you the tome of evidence I've amassed proving that, "Starry Starry Night" is really not about Van Gogh's alleged suicide, but in fact tells the story of how poor Vincent was gunned down by Adam Weishaupt who fired the fatal shots from the Corn Depository Silo behind the grassy knoll. I've tried to illuminate people to this for years but they would not listen. . . . . . . They're not listening still. . . . . . . Perhaps they never will.

Currently, I'm embroiled in research into the allegorical message of the "Tootsie Pop" commercial where the boy looks to the wise old Owl for knowledge; only to have his sweet prize consumed openly in front of him after only three feinted licks. Sure, you may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us and the New World Order will arrive.

Until the next time,
Mike Dory

Jackie Jura
~ an independent researcher monitoring local, national and international events ~

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