Joan Baez
Jon
promiscuous in her youth.
She enjoyed the privilege of living a rich life. Not everybody gets that
chance. Through her music and through her activism she left a permanent
impression on millions of people's lives. In her old age she enjoys being
esteemed as a legend. Her voice isn't what it used to be but her voice of
the past has enough momentum that her inferior voice today is overlooked and
doesn't matter.
However, Joan Baez is no legend. She lived all her life in a convoluted
bubble fueling her invincible ego with presumption she made a difference,
which she never did. The world was just the same before Joan Baez, and the
world was just the same after Joan Baez. Nothing she did ever really
mattered. The world is as if she were never born.
Joan would beg to differ. Didn't she inspire audiences in a way she
imagined herself to inspire them? No. They could care less. Didn't she
promote justice in a way she imagined herself to promote justice? No. She
promoted nothing. Joan Baez is the speck on my computer screen that I
mistake as a period. Her existence is irritating, not needed and redundant.
I don't want to be a part of her dead and forgotten past of free love and
surfing the fleeing waves of the society she exploited to selfishly promote
her ego and all the hideousness that descended on her victims instead. She
is vain, she is arrogant, and she makes no difference in anyone's life but
her own. In the time she has left in her life, she might reflect on the
scars she has left in people and weigh them out against her vanity hoarding
the limelight from scores of defeated and broken aspiring singers, much less
to mention her sibling rivalry that left her sister dead.
Joan Baez is no legend other than a warbling voicebox more expertly
perfected by a bird in the morning time of no name, invisible in the trees,
and benefiting of no glory.
