Lost somewhere in the stream of Obama hatred and the rhetoric that leads to November and an election that is hardly noteworthy except if you’re in one camp or the other was a simple act done by the president Tuesday.

One of the people honored got lost in the heat of Obama hating conservative fervor while the other was a household name that orbited the earth to save mankind from the Cold War Russians although the Cold War Russians won the battle to be first.

(You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race, that won't laugh at yer looks, your voice or your face — Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie)

Those mattered not to me, it was the third one that mattered and seems to matter to no one but me perhaps because I can swallow my pride and acknowledge when the president does something right.

His is the voice of a messenger but not an angel, because his voice would not be welcomed in a Baptist church choir.

It is, however, a voice who sang about Medgar Evers and Hattie Carroll’s lonesome death and sang for freedom for Hurricane Carter.

It’s more than that, however, and will always be more than that. It’s about finding the right words at the right time about the wrong things, things that make us uncomfortable, things that make us want to walk away but the way it’s presented makes us laugh even when simply spoofing greasy kid stuff and Mr. Clean.

It is a message that makes us yearn to see what’s on Desolation Row although we know we’re better off not to go there or sit and wonder where the long, lost girl from the North Country is now.

Myself, I believe him — It takes a lot to laugh. It takes a train to cry.

This is what led to an honor Tuesday befitting the unofficial poet laureate of the nation. The Russians beat us at shooting a man in a rocket so it’s hardly a first but the music was different and something we should be proud of.

It’s the music I’m proud of. I’m proud of the acoustic and telling President Kennedy what will make the country grow is Brigitte Bardot. I’m proud of the electric and the passionate lyrics of Idiot Wind.

I can relate, can relate more to a musician than a politician, a beatnik over a Sputnik, a tune over a man on the moon.

That it took this long for the honor to come true is a little absurd, but nothing is absurd when you’re a president struggling in the polls and maybe naming this man is a way to win friends and influence votes.

I would like to think, however, it was because of the message this was done Tuesday and because the voice raised our awareness.

It wasn’t always political, but there were pinpricks here and there that made us uncomfortable and no doubt made the mainstream and power brokers itch because a Cadillac is a good car to drive after a war and politicians from then to now haven’t changed: There’s a man on the stand he wants my vote. He’s running for office on a ballot note. He’s out there preaching in front of the steeple, telling me he loves all kinds of people. He’s eating bagels, he’s eating pizza, he’s eating chitlins.

Like Woody who passed the torch to him, he is an American original, a wordsmith, a master songwriter and in my opinion, poet laureate of this nation.

Congratulations Bob Dylan, you earned it and while you’re still here, thank you for the music — Lance Martin

Lance Martin is editor and publisher of rrspin.com