The fall product rollout [update]

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A few days after I mused here about the new war for which the neocons and corporate media have formed their very own Occupy-style drum circle I had this idea, but I felt it would sound too silly to trouble you with before giving careful consideration to my choice of wording. Welp, as seen on Balloon Juice, it looks like someone has described the prospective conspiracy that corporate media would be expected to denounce as... "a conspiracy theory":

Here’s a prediction. Netanyahu, in league and concert with Romney, Santorum and Gingrich, will make his move to get rid of Obama soon. And he will be more lethal to this president than any of his domestic foes.

See, I think there are certain ideas that may be too dangerous for a nobody like me to fluff up on my crummy blog, but Andrew Sullivan evidently thinks his high profile as a celebrity blogger will protect him from right-wing opprobrium. We'll see about that.

You may remember back in January when the publisher of the Atlanta Jewish Times had to "step down" for suggesting that maybe "Israel's most inner circles" might "order a hit" on Barack Obama in order to rid themselves of an unfriendly US president. So here's another approach that might amount to a fatal political hit if the "product" were rolled out as an October Surprise.

I don't think this idea is too insane to have been dreamed of, kicked around all hush-hush-like, or even to have arrived at some stage of planning. Because the marketplace of ideas is oversupplied with insanity. I'm sure the very idea quickens the pulse of many. And who knows: maybe certain people with the right connections and levers think they could get away with such a thing. But if that's the case, they are making one of the classic strategic blunders: underestimating the adversary.

As it happens, every President of the United States has his own "most inner circle," not to mention a heavy metal national security apparatus and---thanks to Richard Bruce Cheney and The Boy Who Would Be President---a carload of extra-constitutional surveillance and law-enforcement powers. And this one knows how to play 10-dimensional chess, so watch out.

Update: I forgot to state that any such conspiracy would not involve nobodies like Santorum, Gingrich, or Romney. But I do think it's fully plausible that it could involve Americans. I don't think there is any shortage of latent traitors on the far right.

Friday Evening Prayer Meeting

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I heard someone commenting on NPR earlier this evening that it would be "impossible to overstate" the impact of Billy Strange on American pop.



Well, I don't mean to pick on the late Mr. Strange, who died on Tuesday. But, no, it wouldn't be impossible at all to overstate his influence. In fact, I'll do it right now:

Billy Strange was without doubt the most influential American pop musician of the 20th and 21st centuries!

Hyperbole is the chronic halitosis of our public discussion. Being the rhetorical equivalent of typing with the CAPS LOCK ON, it's tiresome. (Funny---I just noticed that type on the key cap of the CAPS LOCK key on my MacBook Pro is set in all lowercase characters.) Being the distorter of meaning, it undermines our collective ability to communicate. And in this case, reflexive hyperbole can set up the uninformed (including myself) for disappointment upon investigation. Meaning that it does a disservice to the memory of the deceased. It's cheap.

Yes, Mr. Strange penned some hits (including the horrible "Limbo Rock" for Chubby Checker) and had some enjoyable musical input to the Frank and Nancy Sinatra repertoire of the mid-1960s. And he was a member of the fabulous Wrecking Crew, a noteworthy career milestone with an ensemble that did in fact have an outsized impact on 1960s rock and pop. But, c'mon, leave the poor guy rest in peace, stupid mass media "culture" reporters.

Here's a nice, previously-unseen-by-me video of Billy Strange performing acoustically with meteoric bilingual boner mill Nancy Sinatra (and I say that with the utmost sincerity). Mr. Strange was a competent and accomplished musician. I'll listen for his Wrecking Crew work next time I play the $#!+ out of Pet Sounds.

Bang Bang, Billy Strange with Nancy Sinatra (mid-1960s, provenance unknown [but probably not US TV considering Nancy's lingua franca intro), embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

He just finds it "a little troubling"

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John Ellis "Used To Be A Conservative" Bush (JEB), the former Florida governor whose Republican machine unethically thwarted a fair and balanced presidential vote recount in 2000, feels

it's a little troubling sometimes when people are appealing to people's fears and emotion rather than trying to get them to look over the horizon for a broader perspective and that's kind of where we are"

according to a HuffingtonPost article with an embedded Fox link. JEB is of course referring to those nattering nabobs of negativism, the 2012 Republican presidential candidates. The HuffPost report indicates that JEB's opinion is shared by his bosom old buddy Karl "Still The Queen Of The Jackbooted Neocon Admen" Rove. I'd interpret their sentiment as an unintentional admission that they are momentarily embarrassed by the monster created by Rove's mentor, the late Lee "Nigger Nigger Nigger" Atwater.

The monsters have come to Maple Street

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As seen on Atrios, here's a dispatch from the front lines of the Bedwetter Wars.

I'm sure we all understand the potential dangers that lurk. They're the same as they were 30 years ago and 50 years ago. What's so different in 2012 that a Philadelphia suburb needs to put schools on lockdown because a stranger was seen waiting for a bus?

My first wild guess is that it has something to do with how deeply immersed most people are in electronic infotainment media. A critical insight published by Jerry Mander over a quarter of a century ago in Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television is that TV is a sensory deprivation technology. He asserted, and I agree, that the pictures, motion, and sound conspire to create an illusion of reality, but that the human mind is not fooled by the illusion for long because boredom sets in rapidly (as compared with sensational, tactile reality). And I will throw computers and mobile IT devices into that pot as well.

As people are immersed in the claustrophobic surreality of corporation-mediated "experience," actual, random reality may begin to seem foreign to everyday experience. And threatening. I wonder if a plurality of the population simply doesn't know what to make of life experience that isn't responsive to a remote control or a computer touchscreen.

Back in the good old days, if we saw a stranger standing on a corner doing nothing we'd never think of calling the cops; we'd just kick his ass seven ways for Sunday. (JK---ROFL!)

Sneak preview of the fall product line

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Many of us remember reading about the July 2002 Downing Street Memo, in which we learned the the chief of Britain's MI6 had expressed the view that our very own President of the United States

wanted to remove Saddam Hussein, through military action, justified by the conjunction of terrorism and WMD. But the intelligence and facts were being fixed around the policy.

The US public learned of this interesting fact through a British press leak in 2005, well after the deadly Bush/Cheney hobby horse had galloped out of the corral with the liberal New York Times glued into the saddle like a pair of Judith Miller's panties. When President Obama schlepped the last combat troops out of Iraq (or so "they" say) late last year, it wasn't just because he's a Nice Guy: it was because that corporation-driven war of aggression had no more measurable public support and addressed no critical US security interest.

Everyone who is nostalgic for a post-911 stiffie should be happy to hear that British Foreign Secretary William Hague is blaming Iran for threatening to make the civilized nations of Terra launch a "new cold war." That's mighty thoughty of the Persians, as Bullwinkle used to say, because it seems that this is exactly what all true patriots both happen to want and want to happen. And by all true patriots, I am referring to the usual cast of neocon civilian politicians and their heralds employed by the corporate media. Have you been sensing this lately, too?

Friday Night Fish Fry

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Not in Lent yet, but we're having fish on Friday anyway, so there!



First things first: this is one that needs to be listened with earbuds jammed brainstem-deep and cranked.

One of the reviews on the YouTube page refers to Chicago Transit Authority as one of the best-engineered albums of its times, and I agree. I first borrowed this album from Larry K. as a high school sophomore and listened to it on one of those tube-driven phonographs like the gradeschool AV department had, where the left stereo speaker is built into the lid over the turntable. This cut, the first on the "CTA" album, floored me with its brassy ensemble riff, percolating bass, and swells of Hammond organ. I'd always enjoyed horn-heavy arrangements, like The Buckinghams often used, but this was the first rock band I'd ever heard built around the core voices of big band instrumentation. I listened the shit out of it until I had to give it back, but soon scrounged $4.95 (it was a double album, you know) to get my own copy at Zayre.

Within a few months I'd bartered something (probably some Playboys I had stolen from Doug Pearson's garage) for a Heathcraft phono amp, and by means now forgotten cobbled together a more powerful record player. This was the first album I played on the Heathcraft, and again I was not disappointed in the results---more presence and excellent-quality bass response; a nice improvement over the bare phonograph. CTA also was the first album I played on the old man's Kenwood rig in the family room, pushing out 100 (peak) watts! And so over the years, Chicago Transit Authority---and "Introduction" in particular---became my reference song for every new stereo component upgrade. The other night I discovered that I've had my nifty B&W speakers bi-amped improperly for 3 years or more, with right bass and left treble coming from the left side, and the converse coming from the right. So I fixed it, and tonight I cranked "Introduction" to 60 (because 11 isn't high enough).

To me there's a certain poignancy to this fantastic chart and performance because I think it's the best thing Chicago ever did. One might say I think everything after this track was downhill for Chicago, even though most of the cuts on this album are at least in the same league as "Introduction." (Actually, I think "Questions 67 and 68 is its equal.) The most impressive thing to me has always been how many changes the band walks the listener though so easily. In fact, it's brilliant, and they show off every single thing they can do, except for Terry Kath's Hendrix-type guitar neck-wringing (which comes later on the same album). The tragic flaw of Chicago, though, is that they kept coming back to the same well for years and years thereafter. Horn ensembles based on minor variations of Jim Pankow's signature trombone arpeggio; no more trumpet solos of note from Lee Loughnane as far as I can recall; and no tenor solos ever, to my knowledge, from Walt Parazaider. Maybe the fellows tried to extend themselves later, but if so I lost interest long before then. After hearing Hot Rats in 1969 and upon being disappointed by Chicago 2 in 1970, Frank Zappa soon became my jazz-rock pied piper.

There was some material I liked on Chicago 2 (the "25 or 6 to 4" album), but it didn't compare to CTA. Plus, even to my immature ears, I thought the sound was abominable. The bass had no presence and the horns sounded like they were recorded off a transistor radio somewhere in the next studio. The lyrics were even more contrived than before (lyrics were always their weak point, in my opinion), and the vocals seemed self-conscious and even awkward. By the release of Chicago 3, it sounded to me like the band was just going through the motions. Nevertheless, I was lucky enough to see that original lineup at Soldier Field in Chicago, summer 1970, and they opened their set with this song. The sound was abysmal (due to Soldier Field "acoustics," not record producer malpractice this time), but I appreciated the thought and felt the presence.

Introduction, Chicago (1969, from Chicago Transit Authority, Columbia CS-9809), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

Lousy blogger

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Hi. How are you? I am fine!

In the past few days I've come to the conclusion that my experiment in civic engagement has failed and that I will abandon it in order to spend more time with my blog.

Two years ago I volunteered to serve on the board of a local organization dedicated to the preservation and conservation of historic buildings. A good cause, I thought then and still think now. But the whole episode began to disagree with me even before Day 1. And, unfortunately, my duties for this organization directly impinge on the mental resources I rely upon for my own creative output.

A week or so ago I started working toward a humane exit strategy in which I'd add a bunch of value for whomever is recruited to fill my sorry place on the board. As fate would have it, a matter of some consequence has arisen for my organization---a matter that must be handled with leadership, excellent communication, teamwork, and intelligence. Several days into handling this issue my hapless group has shown little of the four graces aforementioned in excess of what I have been able to provide... and I am the least-well-informed person among them. This is not to say that the people are bad, because they are not. But the organization is a helpless mess.

The events of this week have inspired me to tighten up my exit strategy. I'd originally planned to leave with a 50-50 blend of consideration and dickishness, but I've leaned-down the consideration blend to about 35-65 now as I waste time in nowhere email conversations. My Chinese penpal, Roflmao Zedong, warned me that my "friends" (as he referred to them) will not see my exit as merely 65% dickish, but will see it as 100% dickish. I explained to him that I was aware of that possibility, which is why I'm prepared to go 100% dickish in reality if they don't watch themselves and even if they do. I am temperamentally unsuited for working as part of a committee.

I'd much rather spend my evenings with you than worrying about how goddam far behind I am on the newsletter schedule. So it's coming. I am hoping for a significant uptick in blog activity within about 3 weeks. Thank you for your attention in this matter.

How to ratfuck your dead sister's memory

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I feel like throwing in my several cents about what the reactionaries at Susan G. Komen For The Cure did to their "brand" this week.

It doesn't surprise me to see that the mastermind behind this Komen policy coup was Ari Fleischer, the Bush administration's filthy little PR homunculus.

We all know that nobody squeals more pathetically than a bully when the intended victim punches back, and nobody becomes so undignified in fear as the bully when he feels outnumbered. So it's as inevitable as the four laws of thermodynamics that the flagship publication of right-wing bullies calls public reaction to the Komen affair "gangsterism."

One of the fun things about today's reactionary mouthpieces is that they project their own motives and tactics onto their critics. This is a psychological malfunction called "telling on yourself." Really: it's gangsterism for the public to be revolted by a raw, uncalled-for assault on Planned Parenthood by a powerful political lobby using a Disney-esque nonprofit juggernaut ("the cure" is their intellectual property if not their mission) and to take their money elsewhere. Many of us, upon learning "that anti-abortion rights activists have been pressuring Komen for years to end their relationship with Planned Parenthood," would be tempted to think of that as gangsterism... except then Ari Fleischer would refer to us as jack-booted thugs.

In addition to the obvious, I think it's worth remembering that the Komen foundation was established in honor of Susan Goodman Komen, who contracted and died of breast cancer as a young woman in the 1970s. The organization was founded by Susan's sister Nancy Goodman Brinker

who believed that Susan's outcome might have been better if patients knew more about cancer and its treatment, promised her sister that she would do everything she could to end breast cancer.

Or, perhaps, almost everything. Every little thing that's possible on the Komen CEO's (2010) salary of $459,406. Way to go, Ms Brinker.

I don't know what she is like in real life, but Ms Brinker certainly resembles a leering, plastic monster in this official State Department photo from 2007. (Oops---gangsterism!)

Multiple choice

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Here is a pop quiz, based on a fact I learned yesterday. Your three choices are:

a. Bill Clinton
b. Ron Paul
c. Gabrielle Giffords

Which one do you think said this:

I have a Glock 9 millimeter, and I’m a pretty good shot.

Yeah, me neither. I heard it last night on Fresh Air; Terry Gross was interviewing a guy who just published a book about Glock. Here's something else you hit when you google "giffords glock":

http://www.rawstory.com/rs/2011/09/01/gop-in-giffords-district-holds-raffle-for-glock/

Not being familiar with firearms, neither had I heard of "Glock foot," a condition sometimes contracted by law enforcement officials who switch from a Colt service revolver to a Glock and find out the hard way that the Glock's easy trigger action greatly increases the probability that one will shoot oneself when de-holstering the weapon.

Appropos of what, I do not know.

Cute SOTU comment by Guardian correspondent

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Richard Adams at The Guardian said this near the SOTU:

10.02pm: So it feels like a rather non-partisan speech – although Republicans may disagree, we'll find that out later – and Obama is now moving into his healer-in-chief mode.

Non-partisan my foot! Mr. Adams does not seem to have the immersive cultural context necessary to hear the liberal dog whistles and pure Republican-punching hilarity. And, incidentally, I'm not complaining about that.

For starters, Obama's citing of GOP diety Abe Lincoln is not a healing gesture toward Republicans---it's an eye-gouging thumb cuz, see, modern Republicans hate Lincoln. Also, too, because Obama would not have been on the podium without the good offices of Republican progenitor Honest Abe. Which is why modern Republicans hate Lincoln.

Obama's invocation of Seal Team 6 as a model for partisan teamwork restates in no uncertain terms that he---not Dick Cheney and his inquisitors---bagged OBL. And also that Republicans who try to ratfuck the teamwork are unpatriotic. The President started with this and he ended with it. So, snap, you America-haters!

Then there was Obama's shout-out of the guy laid off from a furniture factory now working for a new-energy company that used to (guess what?) build yachts! And the speech was chock full of goodies like those, which people who voted for him have been waiting 3 years to hear. I'm sure a lotta GOPpers are fuming, hitting the Jack and tranks right about now (the speech just ended).

Jesus God! Someone on NPR just said this was Obama's "most Clintonian speech" so far! The radio is still on, and the NPR commentary has become so vapid, condescending, and ignorant (a winning combination!) that I'm killing it and going for a refill on the booze and pills.

Saturday Night Fish Fry

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Brother's bought new glasses/Shaped like Leon Trotsky's
They look very nice on the mantlepiece/Next to the royal family



This is the single version of the opening track from one of a small handful of discs from the '80s that I really like (i.e., Confessions Of A Pop Group by Style Council). I'm afraid if I told you how I first became aware of Style Council, other than the radio, I'd have to slit your throat from ear to ear in order to silence you about it.

I'm surprised how cheezy the video is. I would have expected a high-concept, arty treatment. But then my mind is too literal ever to be an artist. (I'm more of a craftsman.)

Inspired by this post by Our Man In London, who seems slightly disoriented by Meryl Streep's touching performance portraying a sociopathic, now-demented former prime minister. Every time I listen to this track I myself am a bit disoriented by how much rage infects the synth-y, breezy pop performance. Excellent way to get one's "message" into the dance clubs. This one deserves to be heard through headphones, cranked high.

Life At A Top People's Health Farm, The Style Council (1988, from "The Singular Adventures Of The Style Council," Polydor 837 896-2), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

Santorum at The Citadel

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I awoke this morning to hear a recording of Rick Santorum campaigning at the famous South Carolina military academy, which was established as a paramilitary force to perpetuate the peculiar institution of slavery. Addressing an audience of cadets, Santorum worked his mad campaign skills with an opening volley in which he compared his "trademark sweater vest" to a flak jacket, then deploying his finely honed stump speech which included this rhetorical fusillade in which:

... he cast himself as a Goldilocks candidate: just right when compared to Gingrich's "too hot" rhetoric and Romney's "too cold" personality.

Because nothing will inspire loyalty in a soldier like comparing yourself to a naive little girl lost in the woods. Unless it's bringing your stuffed animal collection along for show and tell.

Friday Evening Prayer Meeting

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It seems that Johnny Otis departed the scene on Tuesday. Listen to this.



It was only recently that I learned Johnny Otis recorded the hit version of "Willie And The Hand Jive." It's a song I never cared for, so that never registered with me. I know of Johnny Otis mainly through some of his popular recordings on Savoy that were compiled by that label as part of a 1977 double LP called The Roots of Rock 'N Roll. And, unlike many other compilations of that same name, that one is aptly named. Roots includes the cut featured here.

This recording is from an era in American pop music that has interested me for a long time, which began right quick after World War II. For economic reasons, big swing bands were no longer affordable to maintain considering that musicians made their big money from touring; a big band, like an army, travels on its stomach. So different things began happening to jazz, most of which involved pared-down orchestras exploring different sounds. One group brought jazz instrumentation to the blues---the "jump blues," to be more precise---retaining a brass section and featuring the emerging electric guitar more prominently than it had been used in most jazz. Others went in a more vocal-oriented direction, sometimes featuring full-harmony groups that provided roots for doo-wop.

I can't find any quick reference to the personnel comprising the Johnny Otis show, but I recall that it was on the largish side---maybe 7 or 8 guys plus vocalists. This cut features "Little Ester" (barely a teenager at the time) and the Robins. It starts with the characteristic arpeggiated chord played by Otis on vibes, which opened many of his sides during the Savoy era. The structure is a simple 12-bar blues, but listen to how much is going on in the mix. In back of Esther there's classic rock-sounding fills, a hyperactive rolling piano, and a bit later lots more vibes. Then there is Robins close harmony buoying Esther's melodic taunts and accusations all the way, and in the third chorus "Daddy" ripostes with his own denunciations. Finally, they spend the fourth chorus dueling to the bitter end.

So to summarize, in this Johnny Otis production, you can hear jazz vibes, rock guitar, doo-wop backgrounds, plus blues vocalists and piano. More roots than you can stake a shick at.

Incidentally, Otis had an extremely interesting career that you can read a bit about here and here. At the latter link you can hear parts of a 1989 interview Terri Gross did with Otis. Worth a listen if you have 20 minutes.

Double Crossing Blues, The Johnny Otis Show featuring "Little Esther" Phillips (1949, 78 rpm recording Savoy 731-A), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes. 

Happy holidays!

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And by "holidays" I mean Groundhog Day, St. Valentine's Day, and Presidents Day. Which is to say, I will retire Santa to his digital Rubbermaid container sometime soon. Thank you for your attention in this matter.

Hillary for VP!!!

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A correspondent has been annoying me for what seems like months about the fantasy some people have that Obama's best chance to be re-elected involves putting Joe Biden out to stud and selecting Hillary Clinton to run in his place. I ran out of patience even faster than I usually do about things, after explaining my view that a political strategy must involve some actual strategy. A presidential political strategy must not only have a grand objective, but it also must have an accurate and concrete idea about handling the obstacles to achieving that objective.

Today my correspondent sent a link to this op-ed column on the topic by former Times executive editor Bill Keller, which proposes that it's time for this dumb idea to ascend from the musty precincts of "the blogs" and be taken seriously... because, for some reason. He says the arguments in favor of it "are as simple as one-two-three":

One: it does more to guarantee Obama’s re-election than anything else the Democrats can do. Two: it improves the chances that, come next January, he will not be a lame duck with a gridlocked Congress but a rejuvenated president with a mandate and a Congress that may be a little less forbidding. Three: it makes Hillary the party’s heir apparent in 2016.

Simple for simpletons (not counting my correspondent, who is just enthralled with his own wishful thinking). Now, over the years I've gotten a clear impression that many commentators think Bill Keller is quite the simpleton. So I googled "bill keller stupidity," and I found this point-by-point rebuttal by Alex Pareene at Salon:

One: What? Prove it, maybe? Two: Haha what, again? Congress will get ungridlocked if the president switches vice presidents? To a Clinton? Three: OK, but what if Obama/Clinton loses? And if Obama wins again wouldn’t any Democrat be at a disadvantage in 2016 due to historical trends anyway, making it a “safer” bet to not be his running mate, assuming she actually wants to be president still, which is not at all a given?

One-two-three!!! See? Anyone can play!

[I'll interject a thought here about "Two". I don't think most people appreciate why "the Clinton brand" is disliked by many on the left and insanely despised by everyone on the right.]

If you're either interested in or sick of the absurd storyline that Hillary Clinton will ride in, chickenfight-wise, on the shoulders of her peckerwood husband to save Obama's electoral hash this year, I suggest that you read the whole Keller op-ed first, and then Pareene's piece. Pareene's rebuttal goes beyond the easy mockery of Keller to discuss some inconvenient truths that Hillary fans gloss over. Such as the fact that there is no evidence-based argument to support their fantasy.

So Hillary Clinton won the Gallup "beauty contest" of most-admired women in the US: what do you think that is worth to Obama in terms of either electoral or popular votes? Likewise for the concrete advantages conferred to Obama through Hillary's application of campaign warmth and female body parts? Show your work.

Friday Night Fish Fry!

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Because we haven't had one in so long! And because I get to choose which night the Fish Fry happens, versus the Prayer Meeting. So here:



I haven't played anything "horny" for Gurlitzer for a spell, so here's one she will remember fondly from the days of "Boom-Chuck-Chuck." (No, assholes, that's not at all what you might think it means. Thank you for your attention in this matter.)

To my teenage earbones, this studio single version of "The Letter" by Joe Cocker was much more exciting than the later recording captured on the Mad Dogs And Englishmen live album. It's fresher, not yet played to death on the road, and the horn solos are more lively. I was  not originally a fan of this song as recorded in 1967 by the Box Tops. Today I would call that one "overproduced," and Alex Chilton delivers the melody line straight up-and-down, rhythmwise, which doesn't interest me.

But the arrangement heard here---by Leon Russell, I presume---struck me as rhythmically off-kilter in a novel way. It begins with some hammering on the piano, sounding like a hungover warmup exercise, then joined by drums reminiscent of (but not exactly like) the stereotypical "Indian" tom-tom figure BOOM boom boom boom BOOM boom boom boom, which itself is very straight up-and-down. But I was and still am fascinated how Cocker joins this ape ensemble with his lummox vocals, threading his melody through that piledriving rhythm environment like a drunk driver who thinks he's going to escape the police cruisers by madly weaving through the bollards lining Wall Street. And he does! (This time.) You can somehow tell it's the same song the Box Tops recorded, but not very.

The Letter, Joe Cocker and the Shelter People (1970, monaural 45 rpm single A&M 1174), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

Editor's note: I hadn't heard the studio single for years because my highly unique local corporate oldies channel plays only the live version. But I just received it in the mail yesterday as a bonus track on the "deluxe" CD. Haven't even heard it in hi-fi yet, but will before the night is over.

New Year's Eve

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When Betty Boop sold herself to some 1%-ass mogul in the mid-1930s, possibly Hearst, her life was made for her, henceforth-wise. It looks like she lives in a scale model of Xanadu, in a neighborhood where every mansion even has its own rooster!



This Fleischer Brothers short subject portrays the morning after Betty's birthday party. But I am exercising blogger's license to state that her birthday happens to be 31 December, because first, I'm going for a holiday theme; and second, it's as likely as her having been born on any other day of the year except 29 February. (However, on momentary reflection, I'm thinking she might actually have been conceived on New Year's Eve. That's not a problem, though, since cartoon characters have a virtually instantaneous gestation period.)

Had this cartoon portrayed her 1933 party, it is likely that she would not have awakened alone---there would have been at least one animal in bed with her, and very possibly a spooky clown, too. But this event occurred after 1 July 1934, so our heroine slept alone. Hollywood's golden age of censorship depressed her enough that she put on some weight below the neck and lost some above. Plus most of her spunk (heh heh). Back in 1933, pre-Code, Betty went mano a mano fearlessly with gorillas, skeletons, hungry cannibals, and ogres; but in 1937, she is daunted by the mess her degenerate guests made of her crib. "I'm tired of cleaning things/But I'm tied to my apron strings," she complains. The plutocrat pig Hearst did this to you, baby---run for the hills, Betty! Burn the place to the ground! Call Bimbo and tell him to meet you back at St. James Infirmary!

Too late. Grampy's here. Well, at least he drives a bitchen roadster with four spare tires (just in case!), no doubt one of his original designs. Whatever flows through Grampy's veins, it seems much more effective than a 10% solution of the type Sherlock Holmes employed. Judging by Grampy's reaction to mainlining it at about 4:30, I'd guess a cocktail of mescaline, absinthe, and espresso... on Sunday morning, a few minutes after sunrise!

I think Dave Fleischer might have been trying to sneak something past the Code office at the very end, where Betty sucks down Grampy's thick, foamy head. How about you?

Happy New Year, "gangstas"!

House Cleaning Blues, Betty Boop and Grampy (1937, A Betty Boop Cartoon; Dave Fleischer, Director; Eli Brucker and David Tendlar, Animators; Fleischer Studios), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

Merry Christmas to my ectoplasm!

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Jak sie masz, Babies! This year I got you two a nice robot to share! And it's not one of those phony Transformer shits, neither---this one's actually real! You can tell just by listening! Plus, he's "as strong as a moving van"! What could be stronger than that?



It is not widely known that "The Mechanical Man" is the first known recorded example of techno-rap. Also, careful listeners will note a sly postmodern reference to a 1964 Peter and Gordon hit near the end. (Not really.)

The Mechanical Man, Bent Bolt And The Nuts (1966, MGM Records K-13635-A), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical commentary and educational purposes.

Big Otis!

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Santa Crutch has decided it's time to jak sie masz Big Otis so he stops picking through everyone else's Christmas stocking. Sing along!



I think you should work this into the rotation when make your traditional Christmas caroling rounds tonight. I'd suggest premiering it at the Persia VFW post, after guzzling perhaps about half a dozen bottles of Slits beer.

Do be sure to have a Blessed Season on this, the Eve of The Most Beautiful Holiday ever conceived by the mind of Homo sapiens. And if you must drink and drive during this holiday season, drink Slits!

Mr. Businessman, Ray Stevens (1968, from "Even Stevens," Monument 18102), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical commentary and educational purposes.

Speculations on the origins of Marginalia

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Jak sie masz, sir. Let us travel back through the mists of history to examine what I am certain to be a credible account of the Marginalia origin myth.



"They came in tins." Hotcha! I think this explains why that chain mail was all rusted up inside. I am happy that you were able to win the heart of "the missus" (if not then, then eventually) and that your decades of toil enabled you to retire to "the allotment" to produce a bumper crop of "bangers and mash" or whatever it is that grows on your foggy isle. Best wishes to you both.

In my imagination, Swinging London was probably a still a glorious place even at the sunset of Peter and Gordon's recording career. I did in fact enjoy those lads a lot, including---inexplicably---this particular selection. This tune hit in Chicago during the winter of 1967 and helped to keep me company as I walked a predawn paper route with a Montgomery Ward transistor radio about the size of a cinder block in my canvas bag. (It belonged to my sister and played 45 rpm records, too!) It also reminds me of sniffing model airplane glue for some reason. I am certain that you were up to even more glamorous things in those days, in pursuit of your Fair Maid.

The Knight In Rusty Armour, Peter and Gordon (1966, 45 rpm single Capitol 5808), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical commentary and educational purposes.

...now, you didn't really think I as going to leave you with that thing, did you?



Only three Georgie Fame singles charted in Chicago in the mid-1960s, and this is both the most obscure and my favorite. I've looked for it on YouTube in the past with no success, but now there are several versions posted. I remember being fascinated by the jazzy arrangements of "Yeh Yeh" and (especially) "Get Away." I thought his voice and delivery were about the coolest thing I'd ever heard. Even today, this sound strikes me as unique, and I couldn't really make a very good guess about who influenced his style. I hope this selection isn't overplayed on the oldies programmes in Merrie Olde England, and that it is as much of a flash for you as it was for me to rediscover it.

Get Away, Georgie Fame and The Blue Flames (1966 or 1967, live performance at the Town Hall, Offenbach, West Germany [other performance notes not available]), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical commentary and educational purposes.