Tag Archives: music

Kinky Friedman: “Israel is Texas in the Middle East”

Hi readers.  I’ve been enjoying Kinky Friedman’s songs since the early 1970s.  Back when his band was, Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys.  I don’t agree with him in a lot of ways, but his views are, at least, worth hearing and considering.

The only country-western song ever written about the Holocaust, Ride’em Jewboy, stands up as one of the best CW songs of the 20th Century in my opinion.  Give it a listen.

Heck, he’s the founder of the Utopia Animal Mission rescuing stray dogs.  He can be wrong about a lot without being wrong about a lot else.

In a lot of ways he didn’t intend I think he’s probably right when he says Israel is Texas in the Middle east.  It used to be Ireland in the Middle East until the Northern Irish got tired of blood feuding with the kinfolks over religion.  But Texas never met a war it didn’t like and killing and exploiting the weak and powerless is a song that resonates among them.  A lot more than Ride’em Jewboy ever did.

Old Jules

Olathe Free Concert in the Park – Brody Buster opens for Paul Thorn

Brody Buster One Manning opening for Paul Thorn

Brody Buster One Manning opening for Paul Thorn

 

Paul Thorn Band

Paul Thorn Band

Hi readers.  When Jeanne’s oldest son, Kenneth, called around 6pm last night Hydrox and I were wondering whether to pester Shiva all evening.

Kenneth:  There’s a concert down at the Olathe Park tonight.  We were wondering whether you’d care to go.

Me:  Does the Pope crap in the woods?

And so it happened.  Kenneth, Andrew, Hailey [Kenneth's daughter] and I drifted down and got a parking spot about a quarter-to-half mile from the park.  And with a rest stop or two and a bit of heavy breathing, I spang walked down there for a bit of toe tapping and grinning.

Brody Buster – Guy’s a bull-goose harmonica player.  Does a middling fine Creedence Clearwater Revival song or three as a stand-alone.

Paul Thorn Band – Reminds me in some ways of Leon Redbone.  Reminds me in some other ways of early Jesse Winchester.

Heck of an enjoyable evening.  Now that global warming went on coffee break it was comfy enough so all us people in shorts were wondering whether it was worth a walk back to the car for a jacket.

hailey july 2014

Hailey ended up wrapped in that blanket sticking the plastic light sticks out waving them around in the dark.  Me, I figured it was going to be better struggling back to the car in cool night rather than crawling back on all fours in regular old honest late-July heat.

Turned out both bands were sufficiently good to distract everyone from global warming or a hair cool for the choice of clothing.  Got them waving their arms around and clapping instead of talking about the polar bears dying off and Antarctica either melting or not melting.

An evening well spent.  Physical therapy performs wonders.  I never thought I’d be able to do something of that sort again.

Old Jules

 

We few, we happy few

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

Down at physical therapy we’re folks who’ve seen 17-year cicadas emerge the way they did in 2013 enough times so’s we shrug it off.  Old hat.  Centuries change and we say to one another, “Back in ninteen hunnerd and eight-one I was fishing out in Colorado or somewhere and caught one hell of a brown trout.  Or maybe it was the Black Hills.  Rainbow trout.”

Seventeen year cicadas just ain’t going to impress people such as us.  Because we all remember all the words to, “I’ve got a feeling called the blues since my baby said goodbye.  Lard I don’t know what I’ll dooooo, all I do is sit and cryyyyy oh lard that last long day she said goodbye, etc.” 

There’s an instrumental version on the boom box and a pair of octogenarian who quit whatever machine they’re on and stand together and sing it everytime it plays.  Not too bad duo, either.  And all the rest of us mouth the words while they sing it through.

She’s evidently one of the people who’s got the kind of insurance pays for her to go down there forever as a cost saver.  His ain’t so good.  I overheard them saying his will be running out in a few weeks, a little before mine.

So I’m thinking I might get a chance to get up and sing some old Inkspots or Otis Redding, once he clears out of here.  Maybe Hair, too.  Everybody’s Talking At Me I Don’t Hear A Word They’re Saying Only the Shadows of Their Eyes

Maybe run through a little standup comedy.  Some tap dancing.

Fact is, though, if it weren’t for the fact my energy level and limitations are being demonstrated to me while I listen, I otherwise feel more prone to do some jitterbugging and Texas Two Step and trying to remember the words to songs and sing them except as background noise to 17 year cicadas.

 Got to see a Century change, we did, got to see Haley’s Comet once.  Four times around for those 17 year cicadas.  And we got a feeling called the blooooose.

Ought to be ashamed of ourselves.

Old Jules

Thank you for your service – Cold War Conscription era sleeze

Hi readers.  Someone posted a sign telling us veterans thank you for your service in one of the places I go, and in the Dollar Tree they asked again if I’d like to contribute to help the dependents of US active service military.  Fact is the romance and drama of thanking GIs for their service has been happening so long it’s probably okay to give it a break.

I got transferred once and hadn’t gotten paid yet, no money until payday.  Red Cross loaned me the money to last until the end of the month or my pay records caught up.  At loan-shark interest rates.  I was getting paid $68 per month at that time.

Maybe if they paid the all volunteer military less money they would be able to take care of their dependents without begging by proxy at the cash registers of the stores in the US.  Paying the bejesus out of them evidently hasn’t done the trick.

Seems to me it’s a sickness resulting from the supporting wars where you’re own kids aren’t being forced to go off to serve.  The out-of-balance “let’s you and him fight” paid for with a “Thank you” and nobody in my family had anything to do with the war and I support it so long as they don’t.  I’ll shower you with thankyous and give a buck down at the Dollar Tree for your kids.

All American Boy – Bobby Bare

Working for the Yankee Dollar

Hank Locklin, My Little Geisha Girl

Fraulein – Bobby Helms – 1957

Kitty Wells – I’ll Always Be Your Fraulein

COWBOY COPAS: “FILIPINO BABY”, 1945

Jean Shepard & Ferlin Husky – A Dear John Letter

Jean Shepard & Ferlin Husky – Forgive Me, John

Kenny Rogers & The First Edition – Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love To Town

Ballad of the Green Berets – [HD] – – – SSGT Barry SADLER

Johnny Burnette…..God, Country, And My Baby

Merle Travis – Re-Enlistment Blues

Elvis Presley – G.I.Blues

I’m thinking of writing a CW song about GIs sitting around waiting rooms in VA hospitals wearing their VETERAN caps and wondering whether they made the secret lists.

Old Jules

 

The White Man’s Burden: Sharing US Culture

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

Hell they just want to be like us.  You can’t blame them.  Who in the world doesn’t want a piece of the best sociology, culture, society, music, attitude, behavior, the US has to offer.  The centerpiece for the cultural best has to be exported for the advancement of humanity.

But there’s not room for two.

People in conquered lands always want to imitate the conquerers.  That’s why British all try so hard to behave as though they’re Normans.  And [East] Indians try so hard to be good Christians.

Same as the whatchallem, Native Americans who aren’t whites, Mexicans, Blacks, Asians, and such.  Aboriginals, they’ll likely want to be called sometime. Tribal Americans, some other time.

The Rooskies have always been good at gangsta, but they always felt something was missing over there in the KGB, GRU, and up in the Gulag.

We haven’t gotten around to conquering Pakistan yet, but maybe dropping a few cruise missiles and drones down their smokestacks was enough.  Bound to be an explanation and drones might be it.

Africans adapt surprisingly well to modern US culture.

New York Jewish gangsta rap would be difficult to top by Israeli gangsta rap I’m betting.

Australian aboriginals get into the swing about as well as a person can wish.  Hard to find fault with that.

All in all I’d say this fits the 21st Century better than Christianity fit the earlier ones.

Old Jules

 

Mysterious Kansas Parrot Fetish Revisited

 

The feet definitely look more like robin feet than parrot feet.  But the hooked beak is more parrot-like in my expert opinion.

The feet definitely look more like robin feet than parrot feet. But the hooked beak is more parrot-like in my expert opinion.

Hi readers.

The mysterious Kansas parrot fetish post left most of you on the edges of your chairs most likely in hopes I’d follow it up with clarifications, and maybe more music explaining just what the hell that parrot is doing to get itself venerated by Kansans.

I believe the purplish design on the right side of the thing is a stylized version of the parrot-head.  A sort of modern-Kansas equivalent of an ancient Egyptian Eye of Horus.  But what the hell do I know?

I believe the purplish design on the right side of the thing is a stylized version of the parrot-head. A sort of modern-Kansas equivalent of an ancient Egyptian Eye of Horus. But what the hell do I know?

I’ve seen a lot of these in a wide range of contexts since I posted the ‘mysterious Kansas Parrot fetish’ post.  I wish I could report to you with confidence it isn’t just a robin walkin’ walkin’ walkin’ to Missouri, but I can’t.

I think there’s still a strong case to be made that it’s a cryptic protest about the absurdly higher gasoline prices on the Kansas City, KS, side of the state line than on the Kansas City, MO, side of the boundary.

Fact is the whole thing was a lot nearer the public consciousness in verbal terms during the late 1940s and early 1950s than it is today.  Nowadays it’s just out there as flags and whatnot.

I wash my hands of the whole matter.

Old Jules

 

 

They still want to do the Dirty Bop – And they all want to play Hamlet

I’m trying to remember my partner in disgrace.  Might have been Patsy Bohannan, maybe.  Around that time I recall we sat on opposite ends of a seesaw in the park surrounded by other kids, her singing, “Why do fools fall in love”, had me squirming something awful.  But she was a preacher’s daughter.  Not a good candidate for the Dirty Bop.

So it might have been Linda Kiker or a girl with a really bad reputation named Nancy Koch.  Seems I ought to remember, but at the time the disgrace was so overwhelming and the likely consequences so widespread, identity got swept into the grader-ditch of history.

Anyway, it was one of those Junior High School events at the Portales Memorial Building.  I’d never heard of the Dirty Bop, presumably the female side of the equation also had never heard of it.  The only time either of us had ever danced the bop was probably sneaking around practicing behind locked doors at home.

But great minds think alike, I expect, and there’s always becoming absorbed in the event, showing off, whatever.  We danced the Dirty Bop.  A Portales First, most likely.

Got our asses kicked spang out of the Memorial Building for our trouble, got to have a long prayer meeting with Mr. Livingston.  A man in authority who had a lot of familiarity with my backside with the paddle he kept in his office.

Anyway, it all worked out for the good in the end.  I eventually became me.  Likely, whomever the girl was eventually became her.  And I don’t recall ever encountering her later in any waterfront bar or strip joint somewhere.

But I guess the Dirty Bop is still around after all these years.

High school requires signed dance contract that bans twerking

http://news.yahoo.com/video/high-school-requires-signed-dance-210216483.html

Annapolis High School in Maryland is now requiring that students and parents sign a dance contract which aims to cut down on provocative dancing at the school’s next homecoming. As reported by WMAR ABC 10 News, the contract outlines the school’s policies and expected student behavior very specifically. Junior Lexi Pline said, “The first day we get it, it’s usually just kind of funny to read it because of the way, like the way they describe everything. It’s kind of hilarious.” The contract states that “sexually explicit dancing will not be tolerated,” and defines explicit dancing as “grinding,” “making out,” and “buttocks touching a partner or in the air.” The last point apparently intended to stop twerking at school functions.

Just goes to show, as Carl Perkins or someone once said, “You can’t stop Rock and Roll“.   Or maybe it was Bill Haley and the Comets.  I heard a while back he died as a street person in Alabama or somewhere.  Still dancing.  Nobody ever explained the consequences of dancing the Dirty Bop to him.

Old Jules

Afterthought:  Actually I think it was Carl Perkins talking about that British group, the Beetles or whatever, when they first showed up on the radar,  “They aren’t Elvis, but they aren’t all that bad.”

Pickin’ Up Beer Cans on the Highway

While I’m thinking about Homer Henderson and the Dalworthian Garden Boys I think I’d better go ahead and post this before I forget.

Homer Henderson – Pickin’ Up Beer Cans on the Highway

The Song of the Sewer

Art Carney – Song of the Sewer 1955

“My father he worked in the sewer uptown.
I followed his footsteps and worked my way down.
That’s how I got into this here industry:
I just sort of fell into it. Heh! Lucky me!”

I intended that to end the last post, but WordPress ain’t letting me edit my posts these days.

Old Jules

Speaking of KENM, 1450 on your radio dial circa 1955

This is Monet George talking to you from KENM, Portales, New Mexico.  The peanut  basin of the nation.  And we’ve got a little song here for you today.

The theme song for the station was “My Adobe Hacienda.”

Lord how I hated that song.  They played it at every opportunity.

But they also loved, “Dear Hearts and Gentle People,” which didn’t exactly describe the local population except in fantasy.

Helped them feel better about themselves than they had any business doing.

“Doing What Comes Naturally” actually fit them better and, believe it or not, they liked that one, too.

I suppose “Buttons and Bows” would have resonated with any but the most stalwart souls in Portales, New Mexico, circa 1950-60, and it sure as hell got plenty of play.

Those were the days of “Knock knock” jokes, and the favorite joke around there was, “Knockknock.”  “Who’s there?”  “Kilroy”  “Kilroy who?”  “Kill Roy Rogers!  I’m Gene Autry’s fan!”

KENM was a Gene Autry Fan.

WWII vintage folks ruled the world then.  If it hadn’t been for “Tennessee Waltz”, Bonaparte’s Retreat” and “Fraulein” I expect KENM would have had long silences trying to figure out what to play.

Old Jules