Tag Archives: music

Damned treadmill distractions

Hi readers.  I was on the treadmill down at the Olathe Community Center around 0530 this morning, walking to New Orleans, Fats Domino style when some guy in an orange jump suite completed the preliminaries to get his head chopped off.  Fairly unexpected thing on my end.  He explained his loss was a consequence of the US foreign policy in the Middle East.

But the guy in the black Ninja-like garb might have coerced him to say that.  Might have told him there were other body parts could be cut off in advance if it weren’t properly explained for viewers.  Afterward he offered up another guy in an orange jump suit and asserted he’d be next, depending on the activities of the US wossname, president in the White House.

Luckily the guy in the Ninja suit spoke with a British accent.  Gives the prez and all the lackeys an opportunity to send a drone to knock off someone we don’t like in the British Isles.  Maybe snag the British Museum and haul it off just to teach them a lesson.

But the fact is, the guy in the orange jumpsuit is probably not in a position to judge who’s at fault for his demise, unless it’s the Ninja.  Nobody ever said running around in pestholes full of poisonous human beings was going to be without some measure of risk.  Maybe it’s his own fault he was there, the orange jump suit guy.  If it was the fault of his government, I hope he had time to ask himself whether the fault existed back before the day he was kidnapped.  And if it did, was he aware of it.  And if he was cognizant of it, was it his own fault he didn’t beat feet out of harms way?  Or was it the fault of a government comprised of scum who aspire to run the United States?

I’m in a mood to say it was his own damned fault.  If he didn’t know it was a good place to get your head chopped off, he should have.

Same with all these damned US troops who reenlist after having gone over there already and seen it if they were too stupid to know before they enlisted the first time.  When one of them gets killed, hell, it ain’t as though he wasn’t asking for it.  Begging for it.

Too bad.  Maybe, though, it’s better in the long run.  The damned human gene pool doesn’t need any more stupidity than it’s already got, with a lion share in governments, pulpits, Pentagon-like places, and the Middle East.

Harmless stupidity takes place in safe environments.  Stupidity that gets people killed gets people killed.  Condolences to the kinfolks and hope you teach your other kids to use their heads instead of getting them chopped off.

Old Jules

Bob Dylan goes Senior Citizen

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

I’m not a person who toadies to celebrities.  I couldn’t care less what they say or think about anything, what they do with their genitalia, what they eat, drink, or snort.  If I like something they do on stage, on audio, on screen, that’s what gets my attention.  I mostly don’t read biographies, autobiographies, mostly don’t watch interviews.

With rare exceptions.  Leonard Cohen interests me.  Louden Wainwright III interests me, Guy Clark interests me, and Tom Russell interests me.  But Guy Clark and Leonard Cohen are the only ones I’d ever seen interviewed until now.

But I got to wondering whether Bob Dylan is still alive.  I first was introduced to his music at a place on Bleeker Street in Greenwich Village during the summer of 1964.  McDougal’s might have been the name of the place.  And same as everyone else at that time and place, I was blown away.

So I went to the miracle of YouTube and started searching, thinking at least to hear some good music.  And there they were, interviews with Bob Dylan, interviews with other people talking about Bob Dylan.  Dozens of them scattered over half-century.  So I picked a few, beginning with back when he was my age, 70 times around the sun.

Bob Dylan Interview and a very revealing one at that

For Bob Dylan it is Always the Same Interview 42 Years in 24 Minutes

Bob Dylan.Funny Interview.

I don’t care what the Beetles think, or thought about Bob Dylan, nor about anything else for that matter.  But they did have a few good songs, and maybe what they say about Dylan will interest someone.

The Beatles talk about Bob Dylan

John Lennon and Bob Dylan Conversation

Bob Dylan and John Lennon on God and Religion

Bob Dylan: San Francisco Press Conference (Dec. 1965) 1/6

Bob Dylan – After The Crash – 1966-1978 (Part 1 of 12).mp4

I never knew Dylan got religion, or whatever it was he got, but I’m glad for him, though I don’t care whether he did or not from the perspective of knowing about it.

Bob Dylan – The Gospel Interview

Bob Dylan 1966 Interview, WBAI

Bob Dylan – Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award – 1991 Grammy Awards

Dylan and I didn’t know it because we never got around to discussing the matter, but we shared a lot of respect for Johnny Cash.  Johnny Cash, I suppose, might qualify as another person I’d have possibly cared what he thought about some things.  If I’d ever met Dylan we could have regaled one another with Johnny Cash respect, I suppose.

Bob Dylan on Johnny Cash. NDH outtake

I’ve mentioned Loudon Wainwright III is one of the people I’m mildly interested in what they might say about something outside the context of a song.  Well, in this instance I didn’t have to look outside Loudon Wainwright’s music.  He wrote this song to Dylan on Dylan’s 50th birthday.

Loudon Wainwright III – Talking New Bob Dylan.wmv

The Simon and Garfunkel thing about Dylan has always seemed to me to be a cheap shot.  Dylan wrote the song that launched Simon and Garfunkel into fame.  Sound of Silence.  But when Dylan left ‘folk’ behind to invent ‘folk rock’ Simon and Garfunkel got offended enough to personally attack him in song:  Bastards, both of them.  Screw them, though they did one-hell-of-a-lot of great songs.  If they’d kept their nasty little comments off their albums I’d never have known.  Pricks.

Simon & Garfunkel – A Simple Desultory Philippic (or How I Was Robert McNamara’d into Submission)

The Sound of Silence (Original Version from 1964)

Peter, Paul and Mary got pretty pissed when Dylan drifted to folk rock, too.  I saw an interview with one of the guys several years later in which he said it was the only really nasty attack song they ever recorded, and that they all regretted it.  Something about what he said made me thing it was directed at Dylan.  Listen to the words carefully to hear the sarcasm “between the lines”.  But at least they did it with some class.  They made a lot of money and miles off Bob Dylan creations.

I dig rock n roll music

So I think I’ll just toadie to Loudon Wainwright’s birthday tribute to Bobby Dylan and make a wish when I think he’s blowing out the candles in the wind:  “Here’s hoping you outlive me Bobby Dylan.  I’d like an excuse to begin my next lifetime in time to hear what you do after I exit the vehicle.”

Old Jules

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