Old Testament and DNA

I can't remember where online I read this, but someone once posited that perhaps the biblical Ark animals weren't physical animals but rather DNA of all the life forms that needed to go to the New World!

If you read the Old Testament portion of the Bible (and I've been trying to recently), it's kind of mixed-up and nonsensical. There is NO WAY that you can take all of this stuff literally. No knock against God, but the people who wrote this were mightily addled and in no way inspired by a higher power. (That's what made me so confused as a youngster first trying to read the Bible---even at a young age, I realized how ridiculous MOST of it was.)

Back to the "DNA theory," though: Say there was an Original Society. (On Mars, on another planet?) And either the society's planet itself was about to be extinguished---or else they were just banishing a group of miscreants. (I tend to believe the latter.) The Original Society isn't totally cruel, so they send along their DNA samples, plus some of their societal precepts, to accompany the miscreants, but with the crazy instruction: "Don't seek knowledge!" (But like hell the new immigrants weren't going to seek knowledge! What the hell were the Originals thinking?)

Dream and Gift: "once wed in water, now widow's weeds"

I have not been visited by A Muse for decades. The Summer of 1985, for instance, I wrote and wrote and wrote, and thought I was the successor to Dickinson and/or Plath! But after that, there were few visitations. I kept writing poetry regularly through the late 1990s, but only infrequently afterwards. (Sandra in 2008-2009 inspired a few very good poems, but only then; there's been nothing since.)

My personal poetic claim-to-fame is that in early 1997, I sent the Poet Laureate of England Ted Hughes (who was also the widower of my favorite poet, and genius, Sylvia Plath) a batch of my poems. I'd been in a poetry program at San Francisco State that I hated in 1994-95, and I had had an actual dream in which I was sitting across from Hughes at a wooden table and handing him my poems... 

I sent him a letter decrying this tepid poetry program, and saying what an inspiration his work had been to me, and telling him of my dream, and including about 5 poems.

I got a note-card (with the famous "Court Green" inscription at top) in the mail, hand-written by Ted Hughes himself, dated 30 June 1997:

Dear Stephanie ---
Thank you for your cheering salute.
I like your poems --- a real language, real inner momentum.
All the best and take care
Ted Hughes

I have, unfortunately, not gone on to fulfill my poetic promise. But a dream I had last night reminded me of it:

I woke up to these very precise words: "once wed in water, now widow's weeds."

What will happen to these words? A Muse gave them to me. It's a beautiful line, but will I be able to do something with this gift?

 

The Ballad of Barney Fife

Mendelssohn: The Hebrides Overture, Op. 26 (1832)

Felix Mendelssohn: Song Without Words (1845)

Nick Drake: Cello Song (1969)

The cello is my favorite classical instrument, and it does appear briefly here----but...
This "died-young-Nick-Drake" cult stuff is a lot much. Here: Guitar-work = Good. Lyrics = Pretty juvenile ("told of a life where spring is sprung"). But I can see many a teenager (and modern music blogger) dreaming that someone will recognize their "pale and sincere" eyes and long to go to their "place in the cloud"!

 

In the past week, I just ordered 2 books about him, plus his final record "Pink Moon," plus a collection of his MOTHER's songs recorded at home! (The latter for psychological purposes---It's interesting to me to find out about the root of an artist, and of his perhaps-genetic mental illness, and the Drake family kept a LOT of personal recordings and letters, et al.) All of this ordering came about because someone online posted something generic about "Best Songs Ever" or something----and I'd heard of all of the songs and agreed for the most part, EXCEPT I'd never heard of their listed "Pink Moon" by Nick Drake. 

(I mean, I know and own all sorts of popular music of the last century, from the 1920s thru today, but I'd never even heard of this guy.)

 

So of course, I had to go check it out, and then discovered the whole press cult about him. I just received the first bio (by Richard Morton Jack)---so far, Drake just got admitted to Cambridge despite not having earned it. All his schoolmates and schoolmasters say he's quiet but "perhaps" has "potential." And he really likes his guitar...
 

Look, I hope to be enlightened into the cult as I go on. But as for his self up 'til age 19, he's kind of a slug. And since he died of a drug overdose at age 26, let's hope his charisma gets better between 19 and 26! 
 

His 3 albums were released in '69 (Five Leaves Left, age 21), '71 (Bryter Layter, age 23), and '72 (Pink Moon, age 24); he died of his prescription-drug overdose in November '74, after having lived with his parents since 1972, and having undergone psychiatric hospitalization and shock treatments---and having done many drugs. (From most accounts, he was a regular person with full control of his faculties until his street-drug use started, and then after his doctor-prescribed psychotropic drug use started.)

Strange face, with your eyes so pale and sincere
Underneath, you know well you have nothing to fear
For the dreams that came to you when so young
Told of a life where spring is sprung

You would seem so frail in the cold of the night
When the armies of emotion go out to fight
But while the Earth sinks to its grave
You sail to the sky on the crest of a wave

So forget this cruel world where I belong
I'll just sit and wait and sing my song
And if one day you should see me in the crowd
Lend a hand and lift me to your place in the cloud

Neither 311 nor 911 were very helpful in Austin today!

Even on my day off from my regular job, the chore of mailing off online goods does not end, so... 

I was piddling along the back-ways to my local post office around 1pm. At the first cross-section I reached, going straight south, I had the green light. The car coming from the left (east) road did not; but they ran their red light and turned left onto my street in front of me. I honked, but thought it was just a minor careless thing on their part. That car and my car continued south until the next intersection, a more major one, with much heavier traffic. It's a 2-way road, north- and south-bound. On our south-bound side, there's a dedicated right-turn lane, and then there's the main lane, where you can either go straight, or turn left. And then there's the opposite-direction lane for north-bound traffic to turn onto our street.

What the nut in front of me did when she got to the stop-light: She, heading south as I was, pulled into the opposite, north-bound lane and put her left blinker on! Thankfully, there were no cars coming right at her, and she managed to make the left turn without being hit by anyone. I was also turning left (from the lane I was supposed to be in), and saw where she was going: She made another left into a big Goodwill parking lot (while I went on to the post office).

At this last stoplight, when she maneuvered into the completely wrong lane, I started fiddling in my purse to find a pen to write down her license number, and couldn't find one! So I repeated the license number over and over in my head until I arrived safely at the post office and could call 311 to report this crazy driver. 

As it turned out, after I told the 311 operator the details, she informed me that this incident was more serious---for 911, not 311. And so I needed to call 911. I still couldn't find a pen, and asked her if she couldn't put in the call to 911 herself, since I'd just given her all the info and was about to forget the license number that I'd just given her! (Surely the Austin dispatchers can do that! Nope! It was, according to them, serious----yet the 311 person could not put this supposedly serious report on over to the 911 side. I had to hang up with 311 and then re-dial 911.)

OK, so I dialed 911. "What is your emergency? What is your location?" 
"I'm at the post office on [location], but it's not my personal emergency. 311 just told me to call you about a crazy driver that I just witnessed."
"What is your location?"
I gave the post office location, but stressed again that I did not need any help at that location. But rather, I'd just seen someone driving crazily.
"What is your call-back number?"
I gave my phone number, but "I really don't need a call-back! I'M not in trouble---I just saw a really reckless driver."
"Where did you witness this?" 
"Can I first give you the license number of the car? I don't have a pen, and I'm about to forget it."
"No, we first need the location."
"It's on Anderson; the car pulled into the Goodwill lot."
"What is the exact location?"
"I don't know the exact address. It's on Anderson, in the Goodwill parking lot." [I KNOW the Police Dept can look this up on GPS!]
"We need an exact address, ma'am."
"You would think that you needed the license number of the car! I'm about to forget it, I don't have a pen---can I just give it to you now? It's [I finally got to give the 7 digits that I'd memorized]."
"You would think, yes. But we need an exact address."
"I don't KNOW the exact address! On Anderson, and they turned into the Goodwill parking lot just a few minutes ago."
"What is the intersection?"
OK---I had THAT! Gawd. The End. Finally, I got to hang up.

GOOD LORD, what an utter hassle! Had the person just run a red light and cut in front of me, I never would have called any police help, because that happens sometimes. But once they later swerved over into the wrong lane to make a left turn, it was clear that there was something wrong with them. Either utterly impaired or utterly incapable of driving (too young? too old? illegal?). And instead of helping, the police dispatchers gave me the runaround. And I highly doubt that they dispatched anyone to said parking lot to find out what the driver's problem was. Had I been feeling my oats, maybe I should have followed the driver into the parking lot and confronted her myself and shot some photos of the car, etc.? Ridiculous.

Kinda reminds me of the last time I actually needed Austin police help---back in, I think, 1997 or so, when a random driver rammed his car into the wall of my duplex and then ran off on foot. I immediately called the police, but they didn't show up for over 4 hours. After someone had just driven his car into my wall---and then left the car right there!

CHRISTMAS IN JAIL: THE YOUNGSTERS (1956)

Brenda Lee: Hound Dog (1956 on TV: "The Junior Ozark Jubilee"; about a month after Elvis's version appeared)

Brenda Lee: Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree (2023 Official Music Video)

And she's 82 in this video!

Brenda Lee: Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree (1958)

She was only 13 when this was released!

Rob Reiner: “I Am Your Child” and Why the First 3 Years Matter (1997)

Says Reiner in the interview: 

"You will not find one single person in jail for a violent crime who had a great childhood."
(Reiner was referring to "poor kids"---not his own son. He spoke so assuredly about everyone else.)

Early Childhood Development: What Rob Reiner Thought He Knew

The December 14 murder of actor/director/social activist Rob Reiner and his wife Michelle by their drug-addled son Nick was/is horrifying and nightmarish.

I watched several specials about Reiner over the weekend: On CBS and ABC, mainly covering his directing career. But then CNN ran an hour-long 1997 interview with Larry King, in which Reiner was promoting his "I Am Your Child" documentary, hosted by Tom Hanks. 

A familyfrontier.com summary (including a list of guest celebs). And an AI summary:

Overview of "I Am Your Child"
"I Am Your Child" is a television documentary that aired in 1997. It blends documentary and staged segments to explore the critical impact of community-supported parenting on infants during their first three years. The film emphasizes how small acts of love can profoundly shape a child's development.

Rob Reiner's Role
Rob Reiner, a well-known filmmaker and actor, was a key figure behind this initiative. He co-founded the "I Am Your Child" campaign to raise awareness about early childhood development. The campaign aimed to highlight the importance of nurturing environments for young children and the long-term effects of neglect.

Impact and Legacy
Reiner's advocacy extended beyond the documentary. He played a significant role in California's early childhood education policies, including the passage of Proposition 10 in 1998, which funded health and education services for children from birth to five years old. His efforts have left a lasting legacy in the field of child advocacy and education.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All of the above sounds fine and dandy: Who would NOT be against helping little kids in their early development? Except that, as Reiner's own demise proved, all the money in the world (either your own or the government's) will not help prevent a child from turning into a useless, or perhaps even murderous, drug addict. 

The above "I Am Your Child" doc is a prime example of liberal Reiner's failure to comprehend complicated reality. In his mind, if you tax cigarettes to pay for early-child-care, then all children will turn out just fine! (Various other political campaigns of Reiner were similarly simplistic: Hillary = Saint; Trump = Satan.)

Similarly, sadly, I suppose that he thought making "Being Charlie" in 2015 as a favor to his druggie son Nick (who co-wrote the screenplay) was his way of making amends for something? He hadn't paid enough attention to Nick as a kid up until the age of three, according to the "I Am Your Child" precepts?

I certainly don't blame Rob Reiner for his own murder by his psychotic son. However, I DO blame Reiner for being so quick in past decades to publicly and aggressively promote extremely simplistic solutions (like throwing government money at them) to various complicated problems. Nick Reiner, I'm sure, had quite a cushy life up until age 3 and beyond. So what happened then?

There's an old trope: "A Conservative is a Liberal who's been mugged." To that, I might add, a bit glibly: "A Conservative is a Liberal who's been murdered."

Phew! Relaxing for the first time in 3 weeks!

For the past 3 weeks, my online sales for Christmas sky-rocketed---I was literally spending 4 hours a day packing up stuff, and then when I'd go to the post office with 20 or so packages, I'd still have 35 orders to do for the next day, and the next day. It was fun and exciting---this was the 3rd year I'd had my shop open, but I'd certainly never seen anything like this before! (First Christmas: Nothing. Second Christmas: Nothing special, just the usual maybe 5 sales per week. This Christmas: INSANE! Revenue for the past month = Over $3,000. (Can't wait for tax-time! Ugh. This year, I'm going to have to go to professionals to do my taxes for me.)

Anyway, now that it's the week of Christmas, it's all calmed down. Anyone buying this week does not expect it to arrive by Christmas! (Unlike last week, when I got a few frantic messages: "I need it right away!"----even when I'd just returned from the post office for the day. I never went back to the post office TWO TIMES in one day, but for the past 3 weeks, I DID go to the post office 4-5 days per week to get all of the stuff out as quickly as possible.

For someone completely inexperienced in handling any of this, I think I did a pretty good job. For the most part, I had most of my popular items fully stocked. And I also correctly anticipated the mailing supplies and ink cartridges I'd be needing, so there was no panic there. I might have lost out on maybe $100 because supplies ran out---but that was because my wholesaler sent me the completely wrong item one time, and I had to re-order (and thus wait another couple of weeks for the stuff to arrive).

All of this selling stuff aside, I'd also been unpleased with how my apartment has been looking recently---primarily all of my Joan Crawford books/ephemera crammed onto a 3-shelf bookshelf and looking crowded and ugly and dusty. A week or so ago, I ordered a new black 5-shelf case so I could have a project over the upcoming Christmas holiday. Today, I was so energized by NOT having a million things to pack up to mail, that I dived (dove?) right into my Joan shelf-building and reorganization! Here she is (with my Mini in the kitchen background)!

 

 

 

 

Who feels the need to act like this?

My Air Force father requested to be stationed in the Philippines around 1975, when I was about 10 years old. (I must say, I enjoyed the calm time around the home in Texas while he was gone.) 
The parents had been having problems for years. Earlier, in 1973, he'd requested to be stationed in Georgia just because the marriage was so bad; after a couple of months, my mom weakened and dragged us kids there to join him. So I was taken out of my regular school for just this one year, then back to Texas.

Decades later, after I was long into my 40s, my mother revealed to me that my father had said re their marriage relations, upon coming home from the Philippines: "I got all of my meanness out on the whores. I'm better now." (This was supposed to be a hopeful declaration for the future!)

Those poor, desperate women in the Philippines, having to have sex with American servicemen for money. And here's a blond one with a pleasant, smiling face---maybe this time won't be so bad! God knows what poor women he smashed in the face or raped or whipped.

My father also once mentioned casually in writing that he was often mean to our longtime pet dachshund Fritz whenever the rest of us were away. As a kid, I noticed that Fritz would always growl whenever my father was around. After my younger brother's birth in 1971, Fritz---once an inside dog---was relegated to the backyard. So hopefully, he didn't have to encounter my father too often.

Who feels the need to act like this? Who abuses prostitutes and animals---except psychopaths? (My father was mean to both my mother and myself, but of course not on the level that I'm sure he subjected the women in the Philippines or my dog to.)

p.s. Funnily/Sadly, my father was voted "Friendliest" in his high-school senior yearbook.

I'll Fly Away (Andy Griffith, 1972)

Andy Griffith: Turn Your Radio On (The Carol Burnett Show, 1972)

I just posted this same video a few weeks ago, but I was in such an ANDY MOOD
tonight, that I had to do it again. 

 

[As I posted weeks ago: Andy has the patience of a saint in the face of the clueless effetes
who choreographed and performed this number! Though, in their defense: 

Being a weekly show on a tight schedule, they had little time to think up something 

better. Plus, I don't think they had any idea of what an old-school revival really was.]
Aside from my criticisms of the weirdo "Russian peasant" dancers: 

This is an interesting song to me, RE the concept of "being a receiver" for God's vibes.

Away in a Manger: The Andy Griffith Show (1960)

Somebody Bigger Than You and I (Andy Griffith, 1972)

Andy was classically trained; he's using his "Big Voice" here. 

Lead Me To That Rock (Andy Griffith, 1972)

Billy Sherrill produced this album---the same producer of George Jones in 
this exact same time period!

Brown University Shooting

Watching news now, with suspect "Claudio Neves Valente" found dead in New Hampshire.

So many incompetent spokespeople for Brown over the past few days---the full panoply of DEI:
Brown President Christina Paxson (research specialty: consequences of Hurricane Katrina on "vulnerable populations")---Doesn't know what's going on.
Brown Police Chief Rodney Chatman---Doesn't know what's going on. 
Providence, RI, Police Chief Oscar Perez---Doesn't know what's going on, breaks out in Spanish when he gets especially confused.

------------------------------------------

Since I wrote the above, Brown Police Chief Rodney Chatman has been fired.

"Andy Griffith Show" episodes in last 3 seasons

The show ran for 8 seasons total (1960 thru 1968), the first 5 with Don Knotts and in black-and white; the last 3 sans Knotts (except for 5 guest appearances) and in color. I've visited online chat sites about the show, and, of course, everyone likes the first 5 seasons a lot more than the last 3! As a newcomer to fandom of the show, I thought everyone was being either overly dramatic or overly nostalgic for Knotts. But----Since I got YouTubeTV last summer and, by saving ONE show to DVR automatically then saved ALL the shows for all 8 seasons... So, instead of just watching them randomly on "TVLand" when I got off work each afternoon, I started watching in order from the very beginning. 

I'm now up to nearly the end of Season 8, the last season. The last 3 seasons ARE really sub-par. I blame the writers for this. Griffith is still handsome and folksily charming. And the show maintained its top ratings up until the very end. And I always found Don Knotts to be annoying neurotic, so it wasn't that I was missing "Deputy Barney Fife" so much at first... BUT: What the Fife character brought to the show was someone for Andy to talk to and reminisce with. They were cousins, they'd gone to high school together, they had over 20 years of history together in the town. Barney was often pretentious and silly, but there were two main things that the character allowed for the show: (1) The comedic, but sometimes poignant, personal reminiscences and interactions; and (2) The comedic sheriff's-office daily routines: The locals breaking the law (including town-drunk Otis); the occasional "desperadoes" who made their way to Mayberry.

Once Knotts/Barney Fife left, there was no one for Sheriff Taylor to interact with in the Sheriff's office, and so the show's focus shifted to home life----lots more of Aint Bee and Helen and Opie/Arnold: Did we really need to see Aint Bee/Clara in Mexico? Or Opie/Arnold and the baby? And then lots more of Goober and Howard: Did we really need to see Howard leaving Mayberry for the Caribbean? All of these side characters were just fine in small doses, but NOT as the main focus of any episode. (And if I have to listen to Aint Bee's shrieky/warbly voice again, I will SCREAM! In the early episodes, she actually did not always speak in this annoying fashion.)

There are a few good moments in the last 3 seasons: I thought Andy/Helen dancing wildly at Opie's school party was cute. I thought Aint Bee putting on eyelashes and acting "wild" to put off a suitor was cute. And I really thought it was funny when the elderly Clara initially went to lecture Opie's new rock band about "priorities in life" and then we later see Clara jamming with them! But overall, though, the latter 3 seasons... they're a DRAG, man! (As Clara would say.)

George Jones: You Can't Get the Hell Out of Texas (1981)

It's true! Just try to drive across it---it never ends! :)
And if you're born here (me, George, and Joan Crawford)---same thing! :)

George Jones: The Cold Hard Truth (1999)

George Jones: The Lone Ranger (1996)

As a feminist with good taste in music, here's what I'd rather listen to from 1996 

instead of Bikini Kill or Sleater-Kinney:

The Heart Throbs: Dreamtime (1990)

The Heart Throbs: Blood From A Stone (1990)

The Heart Throbs: Kiss Me When I'm Starving (1990)

The Heart Throbs: I Wonder Why (1990)

"If heaven can wait, why then can't I?" Indeed!

"The Punk Singer" (2013), and then trying my best to listen to Sleater-Kinney

I've had Sleater-Kinney's "Dig Me Out" (1997) and "The Woods" (2005), allegedly their best, cranked up for hours now, and I'm just utterly irritated, not at all inspired. I just can't, and can't stand, any more. Most of the songs aren't that good.

I was of Riot-Grrrrl age in the mid-1990s and knew of Bikini Kill and Sleater-Kinney. Didn't at all get into them then. In the early/mid-'90s, I liked Belly and The Heart-Throbs a lot---much better lyrics and much more tuneful and soulful. 

More to come later on "The Punk Singer," which I just watched on Criterion last night RE Kathleen Hanna of "Bikini Kill" and the supposed "mystery": Why did she disappear after 2005?? OMG! 
I'll go ahead and give the big reveal: She got Lyme Disease!
Didn't some "Housewives of Beverly Hills" get this at the same time? Wasn't "Lyme Disease" the "disease du jour" for just about every rich lady during this same time period? (No men, mind you---I never heard of one man going public with his "Lyme Disease." Not even a gay man! Why is this?)
Like I said, I'm not going to go into the specificities of "The Punk Singer" right now, but... Kathleen Hanna complains often about people not believing her---and thus not believing WOMEN as a whole. Sigh. There are women you believe, and there are men you believe. Neurotics of either gender, you tend not to believe. 
Though---wait, wait: "A broken clock is still right twice a day."

AKA Mildred Pierce, Businesswoman: Part Two

OK, this isn't quite the same as making money from selling stuff online (see my post of a few days ago), but I was still proud of myself Thursday for showing another bit of business smarts:

On Wednesday, my elderly car died while pulling out of the post office after delivering another massive batch of online sales. ("Phew!" I thought to myself. "At least I got these out before I don't have a car any more!" And the tow-truck came within 45 mins, and I got to ride in a tow-truck for the first time on the way to the garage. It was hard to climb up in, and hard to get down out of! But all of that part of the solution was relatively OK, and even semi-interesting.)

The next day, the garage (which I've been going to for the past 5 or 6 years, so I have a record with them) called and told me that it was my fuel pump, and that the pump and labor would be over $2200! Labor itself being about $600. I said OK, take care of it. 

But then started doing some research online: I have an old Mazda 2, and both AutoZone (which is right down the street from this shop) and the local Mazda dealership listed Mazda 2 fuel pumps as ranging from $580 used to $780 new. I searched the price at about 8 or 9 different places, came up with the same thing. And then called my garage back with my findings: "I have the AutoZone page open right now---a new Delphi fuel pump is only $780. Do you want me to take a bus there and buy the pump and bring it over to your shop?" The guy that I'd been dealing with said, "No, no, let me do some more research and get back to you." He called me back 10 mins later, and---lo and behold!---he didn't know why the initial parts store he'd looked at had been so expensive! He was going to send a man to the AutoZone down the street to pick up the fuel pump and have my repair done by that afternoon. For only $1200. Not the original $2200. 

So, ladies (and gents): DO YOUR ONLINE RESEARCH! Your car shop is assuming that you don't know a thing about how much parts cost---but since you have dozens of sources available at your fingertips to check, then check them and come up with an average price to report to the garage.

If all else fails, leave a bad Yelp review! I've done this twice before years ago, after learning after-the-fact that I'd paid far more than the average cost of a particular part----both times, the manager of the car shop contacted me after reading the review and offered me a partial refund if I would revise my public review. Hey, if it saved me $500 or more, then no problem!

Shaun Cassidy: Take Good Care Of My Baby (1977)

I didn't appreciate this at all when I was 12, but:
Cassidy really enunciates well, and he has a very supple and attractive voice!
I mean, I thought he sounded sexy when I was 12, but listening now: 
He's actually a very good singer!

Shaun Cassidy: Morning Girl (1977)

Morning girl
Where you been so long?
Your lips have got some color now
A little too much color now
Your clothes have gone from nylon
To lace somehow

Morning girl
My, you've been around
I see you haven't found your man
The diamond's on the other hand
Well, a man is hard to find
In all this land

Oh, don't let too many fears
Wash away your dreams
Just tell yourself that nothing matters
But be prepared

'Cause someday, girl
You'll forget my name
And all I've ever said to you
And all I've ever meant to you
And now you're getting up
And I've got things to do
Morning girl

Shaun Cassidy: That's Rock 'N' Roll (1977) + My First (and only) Groupie Experience

Shaun Cassidy was my second musical love, after the Bay City Rollers.

 

And the BCR would have been my first concert, except they didn't sell enough tickets at the Tarrant County Convention Center in Fort Worth, so they had to cancel the show (after my mom had already bought tickets for me).

Shaun Cassidy DID sell enough a few months later----and HE was my very first concert, in 8th grade. My MOM took me and my best friend, Debbie! (Opening band was "Virgin.") Most people's "first concert" stories don't include their mother! 

My second concert, later in 8th grade, also at the TCCC, also involves a mother: This time, Debbie's mom took both of us to see Journey---a bit cooler than Shaun Cassidy! (Opening band, "The Babys.")

 

It wasn't until I was a freshman in high school that I finally got to attend a concert with a friend sans any Mom accompanying us---The Knack! I can't remember now why Debbie couldn't go (were we fighting?), but I went with a very casual friend, Kim. Her mother dropped us off and picked us up after---at SMU's small McFarlin Auditorium in Dallas. (Kim lived in Azle, like I did, which is about an hour's drive away from Dallas; what did her poor mom do in the meantime?)

 
I initially had on a glittery tube-top that Kim had lent me---and my mom said that I was NOT leaving the house wearing that. So, duh, I put a glittery pink shirt on over it and buttoned it up---then promptly took the outer shirt off later! 

 

And this concert was where I got to act like a little groupie (the kind that Debbie and I had been avidly reading about in "Creem" for the past 2 years): I came on shamelessly to a college-student usher/ticket-taker at McFarlin and let him grab my butt a few times...And he actually got me and Kim backstage passes!!! (My god---the thrill of my young pre-sexual life! I was never to repeat this triumph!) Backstage, lead singer Doug Fieger was there with THE Sharona, and I posed for a pic with them. But, with bassist Prescott Niles and guitarist Berton Averre, I overtly asked them if I could kiss them! And both of them gave me a polite "minor" bit of tongue! I got pictures with them also, and a pic with drummer Bruce Gary (but no kiss). And all of them, including Sharona, signed the program that I'd bought. I still have the program, and the Polaroids, somewhere back in the depths of my closet---should've dug them out for this post, but too lazy! :)  

 

The next Monday at school, Kim and I both wore our jeans with The Knack backstage passes still plastered on the thigh. Debbie and I must have been feuding at the time, because I remember parading it around her without actually talking to her about the excitement. SHE had never gotten a backstage pass, heh-heh-heh, is what I remember feeling. And what's also strange is that Kim and I never went on to become real friends. We had this one brief intense experience together, but we never really hung out afterwards; and we'd never actually spent much time together before the concert, either. Weird. I remember that she was very nice/calm, and had bleached-blonde straightened hair. And later went on to date a school football player---the less-talented younger brother of a star school football player. (I would later see her sitting in the school mall on a daily basis with her hand on his thigh.) But I can't remember a single conversation I ever had with her, or why she and I ended up going to a concert together!

To this day, I still think that about 33% of Cassidy's songs are good

 (including all posted here!), and that about 90% of the Bay City Rollers' songs are good!

Shaun Cassidy: Right Before Your Skies (from "Under Wraps," 1978)

[written by Shaun Cassidy]

Places please
The lights go down
A brand new town
And we all look the worse for wear
Hiding on the stairs
Holding onto all we know
Surrounded by the protocol
I hear the place was packed last night
But last night's group played basketball

And suddenly
We're so far away
From yesterday
And tomorrow we'll be far from here
We just disappear
Living in disguise
Remember how it used to be
Right before your skies

Holy Crap! I feel like Mildred Pierce!

About 2 years ago, I opened up a shop online to sell crystals and things. For the first 6 months or so, nothing much. Maybe one sale a week. It was a hobby, so I wasn't anxious about any sales.
From then until last summer, it picked up a little bit: Maybe 10  sales a week, to where I was making about $350 a month, which was nice pocket money. 

But after this summer, it went nuts! About $1000 per month from summer thru October, and then $2000 in November, and then $1200 in the first week of December alone! I'm sure most of this November/December is Christmas shopping, and things'll taper off again----but it sure is exciting! And also mildly stressful! (Only "mildly" because I'm making money! It's not like some annoying person in my life is stressing me out!) In this money-making case, I'm mildly stressed because I have to constantly be aware of my stock, and what's selling and what's not, as well as constantly being on the lookout for wholesale items that I can buy cheap in bulk---but they may be triple in price the very next week if I don't catch them in time. Plus what size boxes/envelopes I have to re-order per the stock selling, and the ink (for printing shipping labels) and tape, and all that sort of thing.

It's very interesting to me! A whole new world! Seriously---I was an English major, interested primarily in lit'rature, movies, music, and pop culture for DECADES. And then I figured out: The business world moves on subterranean intuition and currents, as well: "Buy low and sell high"! :) BUT you also have to be logical about your stock; you might initially "feel" that something might sell, but if you discover it does not, then mark it down or re-combine it into some sort of bargain mix, then move on (and don't order it again).

At any rate, I do NOT expect this $2000-per-month side-hustle to last outside of this holiday season. However, the experience of learning over the past couple of years which items sell and which don't has been informative---I've had piles of stuff sitting around my spare bedroom for a while now, and in the past few months, those piles have been WAY whittled down with all the sales, thank goodness! (And now I know what to never order in bulk again!)

It's kind of exhilarating! Making a sale actually feels to me like getting a poem accepted in a small magazine did in the '90s! Nowadays, only minority poets are considered "worthy" of publications and awards. Look at the most-recent Yaddo photo (hardly a male in sight, hardly a white person in sight) and compare this lot to past years, and to past accomplishments of its residents, like Bernstein, Bishop, Capote, Carver, Hughes (Ted and Langston), Lowell, Plath, Welty. Social-engineering sickness has taken over merit.

Sales can, of course, also be influenced by social trends; but, ultimately, either you like a product or you don't. And if you don't, you don't keep buying it. There's no government funding forcing you to buy it.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang: Music Box

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang: Chu-Chi Face

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang: Toot Sweets

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang: Me Ol’ Bam-boo

This is insanely hard to do! Wow! What talent the choreographers and dancers had!

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Theme Song (1968)

Ronnie Howard Sings ("The Music Man," 1962)

How cute is this?!
I used to think that I hated all musicals. 

BUT: "The Music Man" and "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" are GREAT! :

Andy & Opie sing the Crawdad Song

I miss sleeping with fresh air.

I live on the ground floor of an apartment complex. 
And so I can't ever leave my windows open at night to get any fresh air in.
Thank you, Manson Followers and Bundy! (Seriously, every time I think about leaving my bedroom window open, I have to recall: Even when you're very rich and live in the hills of Los Angeles---there can always be some random creep who comes in through your open window to murder you.)

Robyn Hitchcock: Somewhere Apart (1986)

From 1986 to 1988, I loved Robyn Hitchcock (his "Element of Light" and 

"Globe of Frogs" albums), and listened to him constantly.

One line has always echoed in my mind---back then, and for the past 40-odd years: 
"I'll never ever be a dancer."
Even back at 21, when there wasn't actually anything that I had NOT been yet.
But I knew the future regret, the future impossibilities, in that one line.

A similar jolt of recognition about life occurred after seeing a re-run
of the 1960 "Twilight Zone" episode "The After Hours" back in 2010 or so---
"That's EXACTLY what life is!"
And it's not depressing (to me, at least)---it's actually INTERESTING 

to find glimpses of profound truth revealed even via such odd conduits.

Somewhere apart
Somewhere you must be dreamin'
Somewhere the world is screaming
Somewhere apart
A space between is not a final answer
I'll never ever be a dancer
So get me fish eggs and a violin

I'm gonna burn your bongos tonight
And let Graham have a chance
'Cause no one ever lets him dance
And all them see-through things are crawling
From the sea

Somewhere apart
A whistle summons up the lava
We must be somewhere East of Java
"O shed your bags, here comes a mule!"

The phantoms of the dispossessed
Wander through the wilderness
Crying out in mortal stress
Never ever come to rest
Somewhere apart
You know they're always
Somewhere apart

Somewhere apart
With flowers and a Geiger counter stumblin'
And for his distant keys he's fumblin'
Mule-headed man
Somewhere apart

George Jones: I Just Got Tired Of Being Poor (c. 1966)

My life with trouble goes back to the candy
That I stole from Jessie Walker's country store
A penny separated me from choosing sides with honesty
And I just got tired of being poor

Some folks eat their supper off of silver
And the only world they'll ever know is wealth
But I can't blame the rich folks for these big tall walls
This prison is the doings of myself

Freedom ran away from me at twenty-three
I broke the lock on one too many doors
My hungry hands would not behave
When they got close to things they crave
I just got tired of being poor

 
I remember Willie Jackson laughed at me
And the talking about the ragged clothes I wore
That's when Willie got a taste of all my knuckles in his face
I just got tired of being poor

Some folks eat their supper off of silver
And the only world they'll ever know is wealth
But I can't blame the rich folks for these big tall walls
This prison is the doings of myself

Freedom ran away from me at twenty-three
I broke the lock on one too many doors
My hungry hands would not behave
When they got close to things they crave
I just got tired of being poor
I just got tired of being poor...

Tammy Wynette: You Can Be Replaced (1976)

Somebody new is loving you
And you're gonna go with her I know
But there'll be no tears running down my face
Go on with her---you can be replaced

Take back your ring and everything
Let's both forget we even met
There is no love time can't erase
The minute you're gone, you can be replaced

You can be replaced by loneliness
By sleepless nights and all the rest
I'll miss you so but none-the-less
You can be replaced by loneliness
You can be replaced by loneliness

Tammy Wynette: It's a Matter of Time (1970)

Someday, some way, you'll realize that you've been blind
Yes, darling, you're going to need me again
It's just a matter of time

Go on, go on, until you reach the end of the line
But I know you'll pass my way again
It's just a matter of time

After I gave you everything I had
You laughed and called me a clown
Remember, in your search for fortune and fame
What goes up must come down

I know, I know that one day you'll wake up and find
That my love was a true love
It's just a matter of time

Tammy Wynette: Crying Steel Guitar (1974)

I'm not surprised to find you here in this old dim-lit world
I'll bet you've helped a thousand poor broken-hearted girls
You sound so sad, you must have had your share of misery
But you're just a crying steel guitar so cry again for me

Cause while you're crying, his mem'ry's dying
There's a special kind of sigh in the lonely way you cry
You express my feelings and my tears no one will see
So let your cold blue lonely strings cry once again for me

I'll be here at this table again tomorrow night
Each time that I'm close to you I know I'll be all right
I loved him more than anything but it's over I can see
If you don't mind please steel guitar cry once again for me

Cause while you're crying...

In the Afterlife...

Many people have fantasies about meeting up with family members and/or past loves when they die. At age 60, I've finally figured out: I have no desire to be with any of these people! My family (aside from Ma-Maw in the 1970s and Uncle Monte in the 2020s) has been pretty negligible when it comes to being kind to me. And my two supposed "great loves"?? Ha! I loved them, but they didn't love me. 

And so I tell myself: Live on for your own intellectual interests. Read, listen to music, watch old movies, pursue your hobbies. All of these things are very interesting and a way to be a part of the world that you live in, both past and present. And they will sustain you until the end. Most PEOPLE will not.

Andy Griffith: Whoa Mule

Andy Sings: There Is A Time

Ann Rule: The Stranger Beside Me

I'm interested in the psychology of some serial killers, but never that much in Ted Bundy, who basically just bashed a bunch of girls in the head and raped/murdered them in the mid-1970s. But I just bought a used 2000 edition of the original 1980 book by Ann Rule, who once worked with Bundy for a few months in a Rape Crisis Center.

When Bundy was executed in January 1989, I was 23 and working at a Fort Worth-area Half-Price Books, and had found Rule's book for the first time and took home a copy to read. Having just moved from Austin to Fort Worth to be with "friends," I was utterly miserable in my personal life, and just recently out of college; and this book, along with the current news of Bundy's execution, gave me an overall creepy feeling about life in general. (Bundy was being safely executed, but I felt extremely alone and at the mercy of whatever forces.)

But re-reading the 2000 20th-anniversary edition TODAY in 2025: Ann Rule's book is brilliant! 35 years later, I'm definitely not so young and jittery when it comes to learning about weird, horrible things. And this book, while it does give plenty of details about the gore, also gives biographical info about the victims and what they were doing on the particular day they were killed. AND, which is the whole point of the book: The author worked beside Bundy in a Rape Crisis Center for months, and then communicated with him for years via both letters and phone-calls: First as a friend, then after he was initially accused of only one kidnapping (and was protesting his innocence and it looked like he was innocent), and finally after he was convicted of the violent murders of numerous young women.

What is so striking is the dichotomy between the sane Ted Bundy on paper proclaiming his innocence to his friend Rule (and his doing the same in court), and the actual facts of every one of his murders. And then the actual facts of his life prior to the murder spree in 1974-1975, as well as the final 1978 Florida murders after he'd escaped from prison. Prior to 1974, he'd actually led a mainstream life, attending various colleges (getting his undergrad degree from the University of Washington, then attempting/failing to finish law school). And being in multiple long-term relationships with women during the same time that he was murdering other women.

Bundy/Gacy/Dahmer: They really WERE "split personalities." Bundy and Gacy were both capable of functioning in higher levels of society: Bundy was active in local Republican campaigns in Washington State, and Gacy was active in Democrat politics in Chicago, a Jimmy Carter supporter, and was even photographed with Rosalynn Carter in 1975. (Dahmer had no such public presence: Despite his academic father, he worked in a chocolate factory and lived in a bad neighborhood. Yet he also was able to function in this lower-class world, while also seeking murder victims in his free time.)

People tend to mock the concept of "split personalities." But I think Bundy, Gacy, and Dahmer are perfect examples of this: They were utterly capable of functioning in society on a daily basis. Yet, after hours...

Kill them although they also exhibit some humanity? I say yes. If there is such a great flaw, then they shouldn't be among the rest of humanity any longer.

Interestingly: I recently looked up Dahmer on findagrave.com, and came across info about his relatives. His mother's grandfather was in a mental hospital (the site didn't say what for). And info after the Ann Rule book: Ted Bundy's grandfather has been revealed as a drunken maniac around his house, and it's suggested that he raped his own daughter, Bundy's mother---and thus was Bundy's father. (But Bundy always said he was so nice...)

Why Alone on Thanksgiving?

When I was younger, I used to wonder why on earth anyone would not ever be with their family on Thanksgiving! 

The first time I came upon this phenomenon was when I was in my 20s and worked at my very first full-time job as supervisor of a library floor. A brother and sister worked with me: The sister a supervisor on another floor, and her brother a book-shelver on my floor. Me, being young and scattered, was excited about the upcoming days off, and full of attempted conversations with my co-workers: "Are you excited about going home for Thanksgiving?!" Well, no, some people were not. 

In the mid-'90s, I worked at an office with some leftists: They mocked the holiday and said they'd rather go out and eat hamburgers on that day. (Me: I can eat a hamburger any day; I'd prefer something special on Thanksgiving.)

(Just as last year, when I was getting my hair cut right before Thanksgiving, I tried to make conversation with my stylist, a young Hispanic woman; when I asked her about her family plans for Thanksgiving, she replied: "We don't celebrate Thanksgiving." Yikes. Sorry for asking. Based on other conversations with her, her father is illegal, though her mother was born here; the father just never got citizenship. Aside from that, though---you're in America and don't celebrate Thanksgiving?! What are you protesting? I dunno---what's an equivalent----Say I moved to whatever country and they had whatever holiday. I'm almost certain that I'd try to be a part of my new country's culture instead of being a left-wing asshole about it.)

I'd earlier been alone on Thanksgiving because of geography: In 1994, I was in San Francisco in grad school. In 2007-2009, I was away in New York City. 

Today, I was alone because of family dysfunction. But I actually didn't feel bad. Earlier in the week, I'd bought a cooked chicken, and some garlic mashed potatoes, and a 4-pack of crescent rolls, and some LeSueur peas, and canned Ocean Spray cranberry sauce, and a bottle of cheap Woodbridge Chardonnay. Oh, and some Heinz gravy in a jar. I made my meal, and I watched the Cowboys on TV (a yearly tradition for decades), and I was JUST FINE.

Merle Haggard: The Fightin' Side Of Me (1970)

I read about some squirrely guy,
Who claims, he just don't believe in fightin'.
An' I wonder just how long,
The rest of us can count on bein' free.
They love our milk an' honey,
But they preach about some other way of livin'.
When they're runnin' down my country, hoss,
They're walkin' on the fightin' side of me.

Merle Haggard: Mama Tried (1968)

The first thing I remember knowing
Was a lonesome whistle blowing
And a young'un's dream of growing up to ride
On a freight train leaving town
Not knowing where I'm bound
And no one could change my mind but Mama tried

One and only rebel child
From a family meek and mild
My mama seemed to know what lay in store
Despite all my Sunday learning
Towards the bad I kept on turning
Till Mama couldn't hold me anymore

And I turned twenty-one in prison doing life without parole
No one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried
Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading I denied
That leaves only me to blame 'cause Mama tried

Dear old Daddy, rest his soul
Left my mom a heavy load
She tried so very hard to fill his shoes
Working hours without rest
Wanted me to have the best
She tried to raise me right but I refused

Merle Haggard: Are The Good Times Really Over?

I wish a buck was still silver
It was back when the country was strong
Back before Elvis
Before the Vietnam war came along

Before The Beatles and 'Yesterday'
When a man could still work, still would
The best of the free life behind us now
And are the good times really over for good?

Are we rolling down hill
Like a snowball headed for Hell?
With no kind of chance
For the Flag or the Liberty Bell

Wish a Ford and a Chevy
Could still last ten years, like they should
Is the best of the free life behind us now?
Are the good times really over for good?

I wish Coke was still Cola
And a joint was a bad place to be
It was back before Nixon lied to us all on TV

Before microwave ovens
When a girl could still cook and still would
The best of the free life behind us now
Are the good times really over for good?

Lionel Dahmer: A Father's Story (1994, William & Morrow)

On p. 247, Lionel gives a list of items he had to retrieve from his son's home. Aside from the blood-stained sheets and pillow-cases and various tables, there were these specifics:

Videos: Blade Runner, Star Wars, Hellbound, Exorcist III, Hardmen II, Rock Hard, Tropical Heat Wave.

Music: Motley Crue; Def Leppard's "Hysteria" 

Books: Four books on the care of fish, the rest gay porn. 

Andy Griffith Dances (Season 6, Episode 22)

Seasons after 5 get a bad rap from Andy Griffith fans, 

but this episode from Season 6 is GREAT! 

Son Opie (Ron Howard) is afraid to dance, because at the last old-fashioned school dance, 

he stepped on a girl's toes. But there's some new dancin' afoot in 1965!

Side theme: Andy is revealed by his peers as having also been a clutz back in the day---

In this episode, he's the school dance chaperone, along with girlfriend Helen (the town school-teacher)---who inspires some 1965 moves from Andy!

(The metal music backdrop here is all I could find on YouTube for this funny scene! 

But it's kind of appropriate for this bizarro occurrence!)

Trump, Mamdani speak after White House meeting: FULL

Adults getting along. What a shocker!

New Cheap Chair

One of those "memory foam" chairs from Temu that comes vacuum-packed in a very small box, and then you un-box it and let it sit for 3 days and "plump it" a few times in the meantime, 'til it looks decent.

 

I like how this ended up looking. It's not super-comfortable (too hard---as my previously-bought expensive living-room chair with memory foam was), but it's...decent.

(I read some hyperbolic reviews online: "OMG, it's the most comfortable thing EVER... I fell asleep in it immediately." Like hell anyone would ever fall asleep on this!)

 

A couple of years ago, I had the old beige World Market chair in this room (bought used back in 2011 or so for a couple of hundred bucks) hauled away. It had a real cushion, but was by this time too stained (and had red candle-wax stains on one arm) to want to keep any more. Getting rid of it seemed symbolic of a new, fresh life at a new apartment.

 

This new thing was under $80. So I'll get my money's worth, sitting on it only every now and then. (But at least my "Thought Fox" and "Scream" pillows now have a home! They'd been randomly ensconced on a foot-stool ever since the last real chair went away.)

 

 

George Jones: Things Have Gone To Pieces (1965)

Trump: Saudi investment + trying to explain the insanity of "trannies"

Wow! Someone engaged with me!

Ever since COVID in 2020, I've been working from home. Which I at first thought was great, but then discovered was very isolating/lonely. Basically, the only people I ever see are at the corner beer store every other day, at the grocery store every few weeks, and at the post office twice-or-so a week when I drop off what I've been selling online.

Today when I went to the post office, I had on a "Plague Doctor" T-shirt. The clerk (with whom I've had friendly conversations with before, but just about business or mocking other customers) actually said he liked my shirt and where did I get it! (Similarly, last year some time, a 20-something girl working the seafood counter at the supermarket said she liked my George Jones T-shirt.)

When was the last time that anyone ever said they liked anything about me?! (While I do like working from home for the most part, there's also the missed everyday interactions: "Did you just get your hair cut?" "How 'bout them Cowboys!" "Nice shirt!" "Want to go out to Happy Hour?") 

Andy Griffith: Maggie Peterson + The Darlings: There Is A Time

Andy Griffith: Doug's Tune

Andy first suggests: "How 'bout 'Dirty Me, Dirty Me, I'm Disgusted with Myself'"---
This was turned down! :)
(90% of the time, Andy plays it straight. He does sneak a few weird things in, now and then.)

Ivor Novello in Hitchcock's "The Lodger" (1927)

I've been hearing for decades about Hitchcock's 1927 film "The Lodger," AND about Ivor Novello----not knowing anything much about either. I finally watched it last night.

Novello is very weirdly sexy. As soon as I saw him, I thought he was gay. Upon research next day: Yup, he was gay.
Yes, Hitchcock's staircase shots, etc., were interesting. As was the flashing "GOLDEN CURLS" show sign and his take on media and audience. (But: The 20-ft-high shadows in a middle-class boarding-house room, kind of far-fetched. And the foot-fetish bathtub scene---those ugly, fat toes were surely NOT of the leading lady. Was this some sort of Hitchcock joke, showing his own toes?)

From the beginning, Novello's "Lodger" character was presented as a complete weirdo. I quickly got bored with this, and started to invent my own story: Wouldn't it be interesting if he were NOT the killer, but instead was just in this boarding-house to FIND the killer of his sister or something? And maybe the police-man boyfriend of Daisy is actually the killer? (I was right about some of this, but not all.)

For a 1927 silent film, interesting.

1914: Keep the Home Fires Burning (written by Ivor Novello)

Protect your country, Brits. Then and now.

Andy Griffith Show: "The Midnight Special" (w' Andy and James Best)

Day Off: Three Minor Places to Go

I have very few places to go in my free time. I mean, there are places listed in the weekly paper that I could go to. (For instance, I'm into crystals, and there are shows.) Often, I just stay home on my days off. Not just because of hangovers; even on non-hangover days, I sometimes just am too lazy to get off the couch and stop watching TV.

Today, though, on Veterans Day, I just had 4 solid days off, and the weather was crisp and cool for the first time in forever, and I woke feeling like GETTING OUT THERE! (Now, to most of you, "getting out there" might mean a bit more! But for me, I was happy to feel like doing a little tour: Dollar Store, Catholic consignment store, Goodwill store.)

Results:

Dollar Store -- A cool (to me) spiral-trio hanging in the Christmas section for $1.50. (I like that spiral symbol, which is ancient, and not usually seen on any Christmas decorations!)
Catholic consignment store -- This place usually has VERY nice, unique things! It's not a Catholic "St. Vincent de Paul" store, but the same thing with a different name. I've only bought minor things from them in the past, like crystal bowls and other similar dishes. This time, found a hand-blown-glass thick vase, plus a wooden cross, both for about $20. 
Goodwill -- The Goodwill in my neighborhood is really bad. Huge space, but only about 10% of it is devoted to odds-and-ends. The vast majority is racks of clothes that I've never felt like rummaging through. The selection there is always very sparse when it comes to interesting things. (This time, I found a big metal "J" and a small metal "S" for $7---not pictured here, because my hands were full trying to cart all of my other finds---and dinner/beer---into my apartment. They're still sitting in the back seat of my car.) Oh, and p.s.: Goodwill has "Senior Discount" days on Tuesdays for 55+----The checkout girl didn't even ask for an ID today, just gave me the discount! I hate you, Goodwill! :)

 

 

I saw a real CROW today!!

Growing up in North Texas, and living in Austin (South Central Texas) for the majority of my adult life, I'd never seen a real-life Crow---just read about them, and their Raven cousins. (Thanks to Ted Hughes and Edgar Allan Poe, respectively.) 

Side note: Difference between Crows and Ravens.

What I'd always seen multitudes of in Austin were grackles! Just as plentiful and obnoxious in the city as pigeons. And they're black, but small. And not in the Crow/Raven "Corvidae" family.

The first time I saw a real Crow was when I lived in San Francisco in the mid-1990s. Looking down into the alley from my apartment window, and there was HUGE black bird! This thing was over a foot tall! I'd never seen ANY bird that big! It was a really odd thing to see in person, since I'd only been used to seeing little 4-6 inch tree birds and then, later, pigeons/grackles and such! Kind of freakish to witness firsthand a big bird walking around like that---so, yes, I see the sense of the uncanny associated with them. (I did see some big-ass geese strutting around outside of my workplace in New Jersey when I lived in that area 2007-2010---they left poop as big as puppies!---but they were hardly mysterious.)

After the one and only Crow in San Fran, I hadn't seen another since. Until today. In the parking lot of an Austin Dollar Store! 

From sciencenotes.org: Crows are often associated with:

• Death and omens: In many cultures, crows are viewed as harbingers of death or bad luck. This belief may stem from their scavenging behavior and presence near battlefields or cemeteries.
• Intelligence and cunning: Their tool use, vocalizations, and group strategies have earned them a reputation for cleverness.
• Transformation and trickery: In Native American mythology, crows are tricksters that bring change or reveal hidden truths.
• Urban adaptability: In modern symbolism, crows often represent survival, resourcefulness, or the “outsider” archetype.
  

I got no "bad vibes" at all from this bird; rather, just a sense of wonder and amazement. I didn't think to take out my phone to take a picture, but rather just stared at it and said out loud, "WOW! Oh my god. Look at you! Hi!"

somewhere I have never travelled,gladly beyond (ee cummings, 1931)

I haven't read ee cummings in DECADES, probably not since I was in college. I do have his Collected Works, but I don't sit down with it any more. (I rarely "sit down" with anything nowadays, other than the computer---to my intellectual and spiritual detriment.)

My Criterion Collection app/subscription doesn't have Woody Allen movies usually, but for this month, they have "Hannah and Her Sisters" available. This is another work that I haven't seen in decades, but immediately watched when I saw it was available. In it, a married man in love with his wife's sister buys the sister a cummings collection at a bookstore, and specifically asks her to read this poem. (I copied the below from the Poetry Foundation site version, which I suppose is true to cummings' original punctuation/spacing.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond

any experience,your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, 

or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me

though i have closed myself as fingers, 

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and 

my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals 

the power of your intense fragility:whose texture

compels me with the colour of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens;only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

Jeffrey Dahmer books: Monster

"Monster" is reporter Anne Schwartz's tale. She was a Milwaukee newspaper reporter first on the scene, the day after the murders were reported. She saw Dahmer's apartment firsthand---after only the police. And she had access to later police reports and social worker reports.

I read it yesterday: I got some minor insights into a press member's experience. But no insight at all into a serial killer's mind. 

I also just bought father Lionel Dahmer's book (but haven't read it yet)----maybe that will give me more clues.

Crowded House: Better Be Home Soon (1988)

Somewhere deep inside
Something's got a hold on you
And it's pushing me aside
See it stretch on forever

And I know I'm right
For the first time in my life
That's why I tell you
You'd better be home soon

Stripping back the cloaks
Of lies and deception
Back to nothingness
Like a week in the desert

And I know I'm right
For the first time in my life
That's why I tell you
You'd better be home soon

So don't say no, don't say nothing's wrong
Cos when you get back home maybe I'll be gone

When the nights go down
When you've had your fill
When there's nothing left

 

It would cause me pain
If we were to end it
But I could start again
You can depend on it

I know I'm right
For the first time in my life
That's why I tell you
You'd better be home soon
That's why I tell you
You'd better be home soon

Paul McCartney: The World Tonight (1997)

A good song, I think, but a rather cheesy video. 
And both John and Paul didn't EVER need to include their wives in their solo works.
(I'm a feminist, but neither Yoko nor Linda were interesting. 

Yoko had a better artistic pedigree---her NYC Fluxus exhibits---

but her subsequent attempts at "philosophy" were ridiculous and phony:

"World Peace"! What a concept!)

When there is no Love, then... Rules

Depeche Mode: Just Can't Get Enough

I used to drive around in the late '80s/early '90s with this 1981 song blasting.

It made me feel GREAT!
Today, at 60, I was driving around, and this song came on the BOB station in Austin.
Cranked it way up, rolled down my windows so everyone around me could hear it---

I was an obnoxious 20-something again! I momentarily felt GREAT again!
Some songs (and feelings)---however stupid and simple---are, nonetheless, immortal!

----------------------------------

A few years later, I couldn't listen to them any more.
Their "Black Celebration" (1986) and "Violator" (1990) were the soundtracks to my desolate years after the breakup with my first girlfriend. 

Just as I used to love the brilliant "The Wall" album (1979). After missing Ginny so much after losing her in 1983, this album was all I listened to for months. I was as mentally wounded as "The Wall" narrator was. "The Wall" got me through some bad times, I suppose, knowing that someone else had been there. But in a very very sad way. 

I can't listen to "The Wall" or "Black Celebration" or "Violator" today.

Burn Another Honky Tonk Down (George Jones, 1966)

I work on the mountain cutting the timber
I work till my fingers are sore
Cutting the timber that goes through the sawmill
To build another honky tonk floor

While down in the valley she's spending my money
Having herself quite a ball
Spending my money I earn at the sawmill
To build another honky tonk bar

Early each morning I'm back on that mountain
Wishing her lies were the truth
Cutting the timber that goes through the sawmill
To build another honky tonk fool

But tonight it's all over
I'm through cutting timber
I know right where she'll be found
I look through the winders [!]
And if she's still in there
I'm gonna burn another honky tonk down...

What to do sans Disney/ESPN networks?

As of October 31, YouTubeTV (my streaming service since last July, which I'm very happy with in comparison to my previous Spectrum/Comcast cable) has had a contract dispute with Disney/ESPN. 

I despise the leftist Disney/ESPN conglomerate, but until this past weekend, I didn't think that whatever they did applied to me: 
I have no desire to watch any of the cheesy Disney channels. No loss there.
And I've sometimes liked watching ESPN morning talk shows re-capping the games of the night before----until they get to the dumbly blathering Stephen A. Smith or, in the evening, the mind-numbingly dull Scott Van Pelt. No thanks. (Though I've always liked "Get Up" with Mike Greenberg. And liked his earlier "Mike and Mike in the Morning" with Mike Golic thru 2017.)
Disney/ESPN also own ABC (again, absolutely NO loss there, either news or show-wise).
BUT: They also control ABC's Monday Night Football! PLUS the SEC conference college games, which the UT Longhorns appear on! YIKES!

So I didn't get to watch my Longhorns beat Vanderbilt this weekend. As of right now this Monday night: No Cowboys on TV, but I just figured out: RADIO! 98.1 KVET in Austin! Ha-ha! Like in the olden days of the '70s, when I drove around with my Daddy listening to games on AM radio in his pickup! 

There's a workaround for everything! 

Good riddance, Disney/ESPN, to you and your squirrelly, left-wing owners and hosts. (Not YOU, Mike Greenberg, but almost everyone else. Most of you have long sucked, especially Smith and Van Pelt.)

p.s. Third Quarter: The 2-5 Cardinals are beating the Cowboys 24 to 7. No reason for this. Maybe the Universe had been telling me that I didn't need to be watching this game at all!

1965: Opening from "The Andy Griffith, Don Knotts, Jim Nabors Show"

#9 Dream (John Lennon, "Walls and Bridges" 1974)

So long ago
Was it in a dream, was it just a dream?
I know, yes I know
Seemed so very real, it seemed so real to me...

Dream, dream away
Magic in the air, was magic in the air?
I believe, yes I believe
More I cannot say, what more can I say?

The Beatles: From Me To You (The Royal Variety Performance, April 1963)

My own technique for not dying ahead of time:

Focus on something that makes you happy.
This song, this band, makes me very happy.
(Lennon's post-Beatles comments are nasty and stupid as hell; I try to ignore those---

his desperation for acceptance by his new leftist wife and NYC radicals.

I try to remember Lennon's initial charm and originality.)

In Search of Religion (Part Two)

I only started watching EWTN (the Catholic "Eternal Word Television Network") a few months ago, back when I still had Spectrum cable. After I switched to YouTubeTV, EWTN was only available as a "+" station, which I added for free. Since no cable/streaming station has any sort of philosophical channel, EWTN was the closest I found. It doesn't scream at you, and I've now found that Catholicism has a high level of both intellectual and historical content. Which I was STARVED for.

One series that I just discovered last night:

"The Heresies"

https://www.ewtn.com/tv/shows/heresies
https://ondemand.ewtn.com/Home/Series/catalog/video/en/the-heresies

1. Gnosticism
2. Arianism
3. Pelagianism
4. Nestorianism
5. Albigensianism
6. Jansenism
7. Modernism I
8. Modernism II
9. Donatism
10. Iconoclasm
11. Post-Modernism (refuting that "all claims to truth are simply expressions of power")
12. Heresies Against the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist
13. American Heresies

I don't know about "Albigensianism," for instance, but I do know from personal experience that Post-Modernism is utterly corrupt. And so I'm very curious to learn more about the other so-called Catholic "heresies" from past centuries!
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On 11/6, as of the first 3 episodes: The biggest debate seems to be RE whether Christ is a man elevated to God, or a God made flesh in man. (Catholics say the latter.)

In Search of Religion (Part One)

I was raised in a primarily agnostic house that had no opinion on religion, either pro or con. Though I was baptized in a Texas Lutheran church as a baby (my Mom being from Germany, where Protestant Lutherans prevailed), and we did only-very occasionally attend both Lutheran and Methodist services in my early years in northern Texas, up 'til about age 10.

In my later early/mid teen years, I lived in a rural Fort Worth area where fundamentalist Baptists were the primary influences; I did once attend a Baptist teen summer camp with my best friend and neighbor Marla. We were asked to leave because: (1) We ran around without bras; and (2) One day at camp, every kid was given an assignment to go out into the woods---solo---and "think about your sins." Rather than doing so, Marla and I ran around together and ambushed other serious campers: "Tell us about your sins!" At 14 or so, we giggled like mad, but looking back---how utterly obnoxious we were! :(

A few later high-school encounters with religion:
At 15, my close friend Suzanne (a very beautiful and voluptuous and talented fundamentalist Baptist) won the role of "Sarah Brown" in our school production of "Guys and Dolls." (I had unsuccessfully tried out for "Miss Adelaide.") Once the show premiered at the school, she got LOADS of attention from various football players, and dated one of them for a few WEEKS. And her parents immediately withdrew her from the public school into a local Baptist school. I remember weeping on the phone with her, then begging my mother to allow me to withdraw from my public school and attend the Baptist school with Suzanne! (She sensibly did NOT allow such a thing---thanks, Mom!) :)

At 15, I'd also started reading the Bible by myself. Didn't learn much, just skimming and skipping over things. I thought I learned there that women were considered inferior---and I knew that I certainly was NOT inferior, and so I dismissed the rest of it.

At 17, I met a new transfer to my high-school from California. He was a Mormon guy, and we dated for only a couple of months. But during that time, I skimmed his "Book of Mormon" and met with his preacher once. (I remember asking the man "What about the dinosaurs and the cave-men? Why doesn't the Bible mention these things?" I also actually fasted for a day just 'cause this Mormon boy was fasting. Not for a religious purpose, but just to prove that I could do it---and to impress him, I suppose.)

Later that Spring of 1983, also at 17, I met the girl (Ginny) who would be my first real love. I was still rather religiously obsessed. This time, I'd been reading about "Unitarianism." And I'd somehow found a Unitarian church in Fort Worth. Ginny's parents were devout Baptists, and they thought Unitarians were quite radical. But Ginny was rebellious, and so we set out to drive one Sunday morning to where we thought a Unitarian service was being held... We wound up on some dirt road with only ramshackle homes. ("Is THIS how bad off Unitarians are?" I thought---not really knowing anything about Unitarians. No---I'd only confused the addresses. As I found out later, Unitarians actually had a very nice, big "regular" church elsewhere in Fort Worth!) I can't remember the circumstances upon arriving back at Ginny's parents' home: We were both dressed casually, in jeans. And her father asked us: "I thought you said you were going to church." (I don't think we were dressed any differently when we first left---and I'm not sure what we told him when we first left. But somehow what we had on was an issue, and proved that we had not been where we said we were going.)

Today, over 40 years later: How innocent we were! Our idea of "rebellion" was seeking out a non-Baptist church! Oh, yeah, and Ginny and I also tried to play "The White Album" backwards on the record player after hearing so much about that from the rock press! But only when her parents weren't home!