Two “Dear Abby” songs for hard times.
First, John Prine’s. No matter what your worries are, “You have no complaint / you are what you are and you ain’t what you ain’t / so listen up, buster, and listen up good / stop wishing for bad luck and knocking on wood.” Choice. In a nutshell.
Second, the Dead Kennedy’s. From a far more dire starting point, the song introduces us to a struggling county coroner who is cutting a corner or two to supplement their family’s meat consumption (ick) and wondering what to do. The advice is… priceless, “Consult your clergyman / make sure the body’s blessed and everything will be just fine / just fine.”
Pragmatism. In a lighter-than-expected nutshell of a coffin.
If we can’t have a laugh, what have we got?