Country Music Fans: 40 Hour Work Week Alabama...How would you like to honor the laborers, Today?

I'd start an armed revolution

to take our government back

have representative democracy as intended

(not the shameful thing thats going on now)

and having done so

for the workers of the world

declare thirty hours a week the maximum one can be made to work.

And 30 dollars an hour plus full dental medical and retirement,

the minimum one can be payed.

I know there's a lot of buffoons in this country who SAY

that businesses would go under if they didn't cheat the very people who create all that profit for them,

but its just damn lies

and anyone with even a skirting acquaintance with economics knows

the increasing productivity in this country means those businesses

make more

and more

and more

all the time

no matter what they pretend

and they pay you

less

and less

and less

and I think to have a fascism going opn

where the free press no longer exists

and anal clowns say things on tv

for people to parrot

so that those very laborers have been tricked into making the excuses FOR those businesses to rob THEM

is just abysmally tragic.

Dont doubt it when you hear it wouldn't be in the politicians interest to improve our very low educational standard. A dumb American is a useful American, for what they want.

*hangs head in shame*

btw, where the heii do people work anymore anyway?

I mean after the Reagan administration decriminalized criminal business activities, the bastards sold all the factories...so where do "WORKING people" even work?????

As far as I can see, the only industries this country has left are

war

cops&robbers

and the health care scam

You cant base an economy on that.

We're in the toilet.

I'd honor laborers today, by passing out arms, and saying "Lets Roll"

Working Man's PHD

~ Aaron Tippin ~

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xynOjYA-aBo

You get up every morning 'fore the sun comes up

Toss a lunchbox into a pickup truck

A long, hard day sure ain't much fun

But you've gotta get it started if you wanna get it done

You set your mind and roll up your sleeves

You're workin' on a working man's Ph.D.

With your heart in your hands and the sweat on your brow

You build the things that really make the world go around

If it works, if it runs, if it lasts for years

You bet your bottom dollar it was made right here

With pride, honor and dignity

From a man with a working man's Ph.D.

Now there ain't no shame in a job well done

From driving a nail to driving a truck

As a matter of fact I'd like to set things straight

A few more people should be pullin' their weight

If you wanna cram course in reality

You get yourself a working man's Ph.D.

When the quittin' whistle blows and the dust settles down

There ain't no trophies or cheering crowds

You'll face yourself at the end of the day

And be damn proud of whatever you've made

Can't hang it on the wall for the world to see

But you've got yourself a working man's Ph.D.

Now there ain't no shame in a job well done

From driving a nail to driving a truck

As a matter of fact I'd like to set things straight

A few more people should be pullin' their weight

If you wanna cram course in reality

You get yourself a working man's Ph.D.

Hard Workin' Man

~ Brooks & Dunn ~

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPoREHvrkiA

I’m a hard workin’ man

I wear a steel hard hat

I can ride, rope, hammer, and paint

Do things with my hands that most men can’t

I can’t get ahead no matter how hard I try

I’m gettin’ really good at barely gettin’ by

Got everything I own

By the sweat of my brow

From my four-wheel drive to my cowboy boots

I owe it all to my blue collar roots

I feel like I’m workin’ overtime on a runaway train

I’ve got to bust loose from this ball and chain

I’m a hard, hard workin’ man

I got it all on the line

For a piece of the promised land

I’m burnin’ my candle at both ends

‘Bout the only way to keep the fire goin’

Is to outrun the wind

Come Friday night

I like to party hard

I carry on with the Cadillac cuties

Spend my whole week’s pay on some weekend buety

Come Monday mornin’ I’m the first to arrive

I ain’t nothin’ but business from nine till five

Chorus

I can’t wait to get up in the mornin’

And do it all over again

Well I’m a hard livin’, hard workin’ man

Here's mine:

We Can't Make it Here Anymore ~ James McMurtry

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jTW0y6kazWM

Vietnam Vet with a cardboard sign

Sitting there by the left turn line

Flag on the wheelchair flapping in the breeze

One leg missing, both hands free

No one's paying much mind to him

The V.A. budget's stretched so thin

And there's more comin' home from the Mideast war

We can't make it here anymore

That big ol' building was the textile mill

It fed our kids and it paid our bills

But they turned us out and they closed the doors

We can't make it here anymore

See all those pallets piled up on the loading dock

They're just gonna set there till they rot

'Cause there's nothing to ship, nothing to pack

Just busted concrete and rusted tracks

Empty storefronts around the square

There's a needle in the gutter and glass everywhere

You don't come down here 'less you're looking to score

We can't make it here anymore

The bar's still open but man it's slow

The tip jar's light and the register's low

The bartender don't have much to say

The regular crowd gets thinner each day

Some have maxed out all their credit cards

Some are working two jobs and living in cars

Minimum wage won't pay for a roof, won't pay for a drink

If you gotta have proof just try it yourself Mr. CEO

See how far 5.15 an hour will go

Take a part time job at one of your stores

Bet you can't make it here anymore

High school girl with a bourgeois dream

Just like the pictures in the magazine

She found on the floor of the laundromat

A woman with kids can forget all that

If she comes up pregnant what'll she do

Forget the career, forget about school

Can she live on faith? live on hope?

High on Jesus or hooked on dope

When it's way too late to just say no

You can't make it here anymore

Now I'm stocking shirts in the Wal-Mart store

Just like the ones we made before

'Cept this one came from Singapore

I guess we can't make it here anymore

Should I hate a people for the shade of their skin

Or the shape of their eyes or the shape I'm in

Should I hate 'em for having our jobs today

No I hate the men sent the jobs away

I can see them all now, they haunt my dreams

All lily white and squeaky clean

They've never known want, they'll never know need

Their sh@# don't stink and their kids won't bleed

Their kids won't bleed in the da$% little war

And we can't make it here anymore

Will work for food

Will die for oil

Will kill for power and to us the spoils

The billionaires get to pay less tax

The working poor get to fall through the cracks

Let 'em eat jellybeans let 'em eat cake

Let 'em eat sh$%, whatever it takes

They can join the Air Force, or join the Corps

If they can't make it here anymore

And that's how it is

That's what we got

If the president wants to admit it or not

You can read it in the paper

Read it on the wall

Hear it on the wind

If you're listening at all

Get out of that limo

Look us in the eye

Call us on the cell phone

Tell us all why

In Dayton, Ohio

Or Portland, Maine

Or a cotton gin out on the great high plains

That's done closed down along with the school

And the hospital and the swimming pool

Dust devils dance in the noonday heat

There's rats in the alley

And trash in the street

Gang graffiti on a boxcar door

We can't make it here anymore

Music and lyrics © 2004 by James McMurtry

@ bruckcie ~ Apologies, but all's fair, I guess!

Sing For The Common Man by Dolly Parton.

Working Man PHD By Aaron Tippin

American Dream by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

Performed by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, with Linda Ronstadt

I beg your pardon, mama, what did you say?

My mind was drifting off on Martinique Bay.

It's not that I'm not interested, you see;

Augusta, Georgia is just no place to be.

I think Jamaican in the moonlight.

Sandy beaches, drinking rum every night.

We got no money, mama, but we can go;

We'll split the difference, go to Coconut Grove.

Keep on talking, mama, I can hear

Your voice, it tickles down inside of my ear.

I feel a tropical vacation this year,

Might be the answer to this hillbilly fear.

I think Jamaican in the moonlight.

Sandy beaches, drinking rum every night.

We got no money, mama, but we can go;

We'll split the difference, go to Coconut Grove.

Voila! An American Dream.

Well, we can travel girl, without any means.

When it's as easy as closing your eyes

And dream Jamaica is a big neon sign.

Just keep talking, mama, I like that sound.

It goes so easy with that rain falling down.

I think a tropical vacation this year,

Might be the answer to this hillbilly fear.

Voila! An American Dream.

Yeah, we can travel, girl, without any means.

When it's as easy as closing your eyes

And dream Jamaica is a big neon sign.

Just think Jamaican in the moonlight.

Sandy beaches, drinking rum every night.

We got no money, mama, but we can go;

We'll split the difference, go to Coconut Grove.

Candy

I personally feel that country music is music that comes from the heart. It is about life experiences and it tells a story of what that person has been through.

I'd like to dedicate the song 'Working Class Hero' by Alan Jackson to the laborers.

Workin' Man's Hands - Patty Loveless

40 Hour Work Week is my favorite Alabama song

9-5 Dolly Parton