Dear Dumbiss Country and Western Singer,
(a.k.a. – Toby Keith)

I just got home from the movies, where as a part of the ad-fest preview, I heard about three seconds of your music (over and over again, since I had the misfortune of arriving early).  I don’t think we’ve met before.  This three seconds of music (repeated ad nauseam) is the extent of my connection to the current world of country music, so I haven’t had the occasion to get to know your work before.  And, you’d have no reason to mingle in my crowd – as a lawyer turned writer and nascent Advisor to the President of the United States. Since the occupation of presidential advisor is under such scrutiny these days, I’ve decided that it might be a good time to branch out and start advising entertainers, such as yourself.  So, as I listened to the three seconds of your music (over and over again), I jotted down some constructive criticism that I think might help you to become a cross-over star in the blue states (that is, the large and sane Democratic and progressive portions of America).  Please consider the following:
First, stop falsely shilling patriotic crap.  The three seconds of your act that I caught was the most shameless attempt to woo patriotic simpletons that I have ever heard (and I was a soldier in a brigade whose colonel played us charlie-fucking-pride once a month during brigade runs).  I later learned that your song (to which I was repeatedly exposed) was called Honkytonk U. The lyrics I heard (over and over) were:

I like to get down with my boys in Afghanistan and Baghdad city too.
I am a red, white and blue blood graduate of Honkytonk U

From this line, I can only assume that you majored in marketing at Honkytonk U.  I am sure that this line drives them wild at the military bases in the south.  But, buddy, if you ever want to cross over and market to any of us kindly progressive folks, who have hefty discretionary dollars to spend, I might say, you are going to have to stop saying stupid shit like this.  The only thing that kept me from choking on my popcorn when I first heard this janky jingoistic verse was my strong desire not to be lumped with our pretzel-gagging head of state (batshit loopy, I haven’t totally left you – and what the fuck is up with the bike accidents, man?).  If you want to get down with “your boys” then take your busta ass down to the nearest recruiter, so that when you get fucking shot by your fellow soldiers, the Army Reserves can use you as a big draw and avoid the fucking draft for another sixty days or so.  Okay.  If not, then just shut the fuck up about “getting down” with our troops.  I know it sells CDs to your base.  But, if you ever want to cross-over, you can’t make progressives want to choke when they hear this crap.  Less Patriotic Shilling = Less Progressive Rage = More Cross-Over Potential.  I am pretty sure about this.

Second, hone your message.  Better yet, get a message.  Because, when I came home (with the fucking lyric still rattling around in my head) and started to read a little background material about you, I was hopelessly baffled.

For starters, when I Googled “Toby Keith” and “Patriot” I found that you have more references on the Free Republic (a blog for right-wing nut jobs) than Jerry fucking Falwell (a crucial cog in the right-wing nut job machine).  This is way fucking bad for your cross-over potential.  I will be posting this on the Booman Tribune, a civil home for progressive voices, and that will get you started toward more balanced web coverage (but you are going to have to do more work on your own to correct this problem).

I went on to read where a Freeper (right-wing blogging nut jub – one who may have infringed your copyright, by the way) published the lyrics to another hit of yours Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue (The Angry American) —  (you’ll probably have to have one of “your boys” click on the link and scroll down a bit.)  Let me guess.  They had a class at Honkytonk U called Marketing 202: Cha-Ching and the Red, White and Blue – The Art of Wrapping One’s Fucking Music In the Flag.  Right?

So, after my initial research, I’m thinking, maybe Toby is a right-wing nut job.

But, then I plow forward and learn that you are an ashamed Democrat from Oklahoma.  (You should really read this book for a sense of fucking history – you were a fucking Joad for crissakes, before you shilled your way to fucking success, and Joads should never be fucking Republicans.  Okay.  Republican by fucking definition is against the Joad fucking interest. Okay.)  And, then I read that maybe you had some problems with the Iraq war.  So, then I’m thinking, well hang on a minute.  Maybe Toby is just confused.  Too many hits to the head in the semi-pro football days.  I’m actually thinking to myself, maybe I shouldn’t waste two hours of my life writing this stupid fucking rant.

But, then I read that during your USO tour in Iraq, you swung back toward thinking Iraq was a worthy cause – shilling to Freepers, it seems.  So here I am, two hours closer to death and not a goddamned clue as to where your loyalties lie (cha-ching).  I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that if Karl Rove weren’t so busy, what with his efforts to avoid indictment, he would probably be writing a white paper about how you are a fucking flip-flopper (and it might be the only true thing Karl Rove would have ever written).  So, I guess the point here is, pick a message and stick to it.  Either shill like a xenophobic whore and make money like a war profiteer.  Or, step up like a closeted Dixie Chick fan and decry the outrage of Iraq, and start mumbling and singing folk songs about the evils of the military industrial complex in your best fucking imitation of Bob fucking Dylan.  If you’re not with us you’re against us.  Heh! This is probably beyond the level of mathematics that they teach at Honkytonk U, but try to follow along.  More Clarity on where you stand on the war in Iraq, Where Clarity = It was a fucking lie and an abomination = More Cross-Over Potential.  More Clarity on where you stand on the war in Iraq, Where Clarity = I want to get down with my boys in the war zone = Stagnant Sales in Freeperville.

I’m going to take my pills now.  It’s the blood pressure.  Then I’m going to drink a glass of wine. And maybe take some Vicodin.  Because I’ve got this throbbing headache (lyric).  I might even listen to one of my favorite bands to try to cleanse the mind.

“The time is gone, the song is over, thought I’d something more to say.”

Best Regards,