2005-04-04 : Strange Fruit
I apologize in advance if I "offend" someone but let me just get this off of my chest: I couldn't give a DAMN that the Pope is dead. I am a "recovering" Catholic and though this Pope might have been one of the better ones the Church has seen, he still was very narrow-minded about women's rights and he still advocated not using ANY birth control, which makes me ill. I just DESPISE The Church and ALL that The Pope (any Pope) stands for. I'm glad he's passed on and isn't in anymore physical pain, though..but all this mourning..give me a fucking break. I'm also sick to DEATH of hearing about Terri Schiavo and anything related to her. God, let it rest!!!

Does anybody watch "Cold Case" (I cringe from the fact that I'm discussing tv shows now, but sue me!)?? Who saw the one from last night? It was really well done and towards the end I was a sobbing wreck...how depressing, and the song "Strange Fruit"..what a beautifully grotesque poem. I wish they would have used Billie Holiday's version instead of Nina Simone, but still, the song was so moving and appropriate for the ending of the show.

It inspired me to google that song and I read up on the original author of it, Lewis Allan (real name: Abel Meeropol) who was a white Jewish activist from Brooklyn, and it was fascinating. The song started out as a poem he wrote, and he also happens to be the man that adopted the Rosenberg children, after the Rosenberg's were executed. I guess there is even a documentary made called "Bitter Fruit" that deals with this song. Here are the disturbing lyrics/poem:

Southern trees bear strange fruit,

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,


Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,


Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.






Pastoral scene of the gallant south,

The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,

Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,

Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.






Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,

For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,

For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,

Here is a strange and bitter crop.