These kids today—Duron-wielding punks with their vague taxation ideas. There was a time when Nashville impost artists were Renaissance men. They could write symphonies, Grammy-nominated pop songs and Purity Dairy jingles. They wrote books on government and economic theory and co-wrote James Earl Ray’s autobiography. They opened restaurants and painted watercolors. They were itinerant monetarists, not suspended bridge defilers. And you can bet the artist behind “Don’t Try This at Home” won’t have a later-life jazz career reawakening with something called the Chocolate Orchid Piano Bar. Our money is on a huffing-induced toll collection attempt where troll meets Amtrak.