So, I am now over two thirds of the way through this daily blogging challenge. A part of me is wondering weather I should start preparing for next year by implementing a fazed retirement scheme, meaning that these blog posts would get progressively shorter, in order to acquaint me with my new life next year away from the rigours of daily blogging. Of course, there was a time that retired bloggers could rely on their state pension, but sadly those days are gone, so I might have to do a few odd jobs to keep the wolf from the door, such as washing neighbour’s cars or a bit of prostitution. Or I suppose I could start up a zoo in my garden and charge people for entry. Obviously I’d make sure that my zoo contained a few lions, tigers and coyotes which should prove a formidable defence in the event that the wolf did come to my door. I could do a special deal whereby you can come and look at the animals while I wash your car, and then we have sex. What a quality deal. Obviously I’d charge extra if you wanted to involve any of the animals in the sex. Hmm, I’m getting a good business model together here I think. So that’s my retirement plan all sorted then.
When I got in today’s taxi, the driver was playing a song on the car stereo. The only words I caught were “so don’t talk to me about Muhammad.” The rest of the song was cut off by an incoming phone call. I couldn’t understand the phone conversation because he wasn’t speaking English, so my mind began to wonder back to the song. I assumed there was more to the song, although I suppose he might have had a special feature installed in his car that plays a little jingle/song whenever the passenger opens the door to get in. And for some reason, this particular driver had chosen “so don’t talk to me about Muhammad.” Maybe this was an instruction to his passengers. The passengers would get in the taxi, here the little jingle and then know that this particular driver doesn’t want to have a conversation about Muhammad, which as we all know is a common conversation topic among passengers and drivers of taxis. Maybe other taxi drivers have their own chosen jingles installed, such as, “so don’t ask me whether it’s been a busy one, or what time I’m on til. Do you really think I want to spend my life answering the same inane questions over and over again?”
To be honest, I was glad that this driver spent the entire journey on the phone, because I wasn’t sure what I’d talk to him about, given that he didn’t want to talk about Muhammad, which is generally my go-to conversation topic with taxi drivers. While the driver chatted away, presumably about something none-Muhammad related – I hope his friend knew the rule – , I did an Internet search on my phone for “so don’t talk to me about Muhammad song lyrics,” and discovered the words to a song by an artist called Dawud Wharnsby. As well as the lyrics, there was a link to the song on Youtube, and when the chorus kicked in I knew that it was the same song that I’d heard a few minutes earlier over the car speakers. So it seems as if it was just chance that I happened to get into the car, just as an impassioned voice warned me not to talk about Muhammad, before being cut off by a phone call. So it wasn’t a custom-made jingle designed to warn passenger’s of taboo conversation topics; that cleared that up then. But then, as I looked further down the webpage, I noticed the title of another of Dawud Wharnsby’s songs: “So Don’t Ask Me If It’s Been a busy One Or What Time I’m On Til.”
The song Don’t Talk To Me About Muhammad has some rather interesting lyrics.
“It would be such a pleasure to have you come along with me,
I accept your gracious offer of kindness and company.
But as we walk along young man and as you help me with my load,
I’ve only one request as we travel down this road,
Don’t talk to me about Muhammad.
Because of him there is no peace and I have trouble in my mind,
so don’t talk to me about Muhammad
and as we walk along together we will get along just fine.”
So this person has made it pretty clear to his companion that he doesn’t want to talk about Muhammad, but rather than just simply saying, “oh by the way, I know it’s a bit of a strange request, but while we walk together I’d appreciate it if we’d avoid talking about Muhammad if that’s OK with you?” The companion might be a bit taken aback by this odd request, but would probably oblige and they’d spend a pleasant walk together chatting about none-Muhammad related stuff. But I would argue that this man has gone a very unusual roundabout way of asking someone not to talk to him about Muhammad. He’s asked his companion not to talk to him about Muhammad, before proceeding to go off on a bit of a rant about Muhammad. Still, he’s made his point very clear, and presumably now they can get on with their walk and chat about the weather or something. But no. The man continues blabbering on about the very thing he doesn’t want his companion to talk to him about. It’s becoming clear that this person doesn’t have a problem talking about Muhammad himself, he just seemingly doesn’t want someone else to talk about Muhammad to him.
“That man upsets me so, and so much more than you could know,
I hear of his name and reputation everywhere I go.
Though his family and his clan once knew him as an honest man,
he’s dividing everyone with his claim that “God is One”
So don’t talk to me about Muhammad.”
The man is seemingly unaware of the irony of what he’s doing, chattering away ten to the dozen to his companion about the very thing he’s telling his companion not to talk to him about. But as I say, he’s clearly not appreciated the irony of his behaviour, because he continues to whitter away about Muhammad some more.
“He’s misled all the weak ones and the poor ones and the slaves,
They think they’ve all found wealth and freedom following his ways.
He’s corrupted all the youth with his twisted brand of truth
convinced them they all are strong, given them somewhere to belong.
So don’t talk to me about Muhammad.”
I’m not even sure that there was any indication that this man’s companion even had any plans or desire to talk about Muhammad. The man is clearly mad. By this point the companion is presumably trying to interrupt the insane man’s Muhammad-based blabber, but he is having none of it. He continues.
“Let me give you some advice, since you’ve been so very nice,
From Muhammad stay away, don’t heed his words or emulate his way.
And don’t talk about Muhammad.”
By this point the man’s companion is probably losing the will to live. He had no intention of talking about Muhammad, although he’s now so sick of this weird man’s incessant chatter about not talking about Muhammad, that he’s tempted to start talking to him about Muhammad, just to antagonise the deranged idiot. Eventually the man stops his Muhammad-based diatribe and says to his companion, “Now before we part and go, if it’s alright just the same,
may I ask, my dear young man, who you are? What is your name?”
This man has presumably talked about Mohammed for so long that they’ve reached the end of their walk and he hasn’t even managed to let his companion introduce himself. The last few lines of the song are, “It is truly rather funny, though I’m sure I must be wrong,
but I thought I heard you said that your name is Muhammad……
Muhammad? Oh talk to me Muhammad!
Upon you I pray for peace for you have eased my troubled mind!
Oh talk to me Muhammad
and as we walk along together we will get along just fine,
and as I travel down life’s road I will get along just fine.”
What the bloody hell has just happened there. The companion has presumably told the man that he is called Muhammad, either that or the man is so deranged and so completely Muhammad obsessed that he has just misheard the man’s name as Muhammad, even though the man clearly said that it was John. Or maybe the companion has said he is called Muhammad in order to wined the man up, although surprisingly we discover that, rather than being annoyed or upset at this revelation, the man instead is jubilant and then jumps to the wild conclusion that the companion is actually The Muhammad, the very Muhammad that he has been ranting about all this time. He then begins profusely praising him
So, it seems as if Islamic music is just as stupid and risible as Christian music. Religions really do have more in common than they have in contrast. If only more religious people thought, “look, our music is nonsensical claptrap, yours is clearly incongruous bilge. We essentially like the same thing, only you’re lyrics are frequently peppered with the word Muhammad and ours with Jesus, but essentially it’s the same shit. Let’s be friends.” This realisation could save our planet and increase tolerance amongst the religions. You see, there was a kind of moral to this blog, wasn’t there. Oh, these Dollops work on so many levels.