“I Could Love You, Baby, It’s a Crying Shame”

You may ask yourself, "What song will mark Aunt B.’s triumphant return to driving her own ass to and from work?"

I asked myself that question this very morning.  I flipped through the CD case, thinking, maybe my unofficial anthem, Rob Zombie’s "Pussy Liquor," or Led Zepplin’s "Travelling Riverside Blues," or maybe something on the radio, or maybe just expectant silence.

But it’s raining with this low grumbly thunder, which made me think of the one man whose voice in my ear never fails to make me feel like the grand queen bee–McKinley Morganfield.

So, I drove to work surrounded the rumble of thunder, the rumble of Muddy Waters’ deep voice, and the rumble of my car’s engine.  Is there any happier sound on a Friday morning on your way to work?  I just don’t think so.

I don’t want you to be no slave.

I don’t want you to work all day.

I don’t want you to be true.

I just want to make love to you.

I don’t want you to wash my clothes.

I don’t want you to keep our home.

I don’t want your money too.

I just want to make love to you.

One thought on ““I Could Love You, Baby, It’s a Crying Shame”

  1. cars and sex – the connections are lost on me, but they are quintisenntially American and I am happy for you that they are not lost on you and you can enjoy contributing to the confusion. Will it be the same song while driving home?

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