Turn Your Radio On (1972) --- Andy Griffith

Do I want to believe this, or do I want to believe in nothingness? 

("This" is actually more logical---life doesn't exist in a vacuum. Oh, and actual physicists like Einstein say that energy "cannot be created or destroyed." So if you die, where does that energy go? PBS says: There's "Dark Energy" out there in space, but they don't know what it is... Hmmm... If both the left-wing PBS and astrophysicists don't know...)

Leave It to Andy! :)

Well, come and listen in to a radio station
Where the mighty hosts of heaven sing
Turn your radio on, turn your radio on
If you want to feel those good vibrations
Coming from the joy that His love can bring
Turn your radio on, turn your radio on

Turn your radio on and listen to the music in the air
        Turn your radio on, heaven's glory share
        Turn your lights down low and listen to the Master's radio
        Get in touch with God, turn your radio on

Don't you know that everybody is a radio receiver
All you got to do is listen for the call
Turn your radio on, turn your radio on
If you listen in, you will be a believer
Leaning on the truth that will never fall
Get in touch with God, turn your radio on

Congrats Spurs! On to the Finals!

I've been a Spurs fan since the 1990s, when my mother lived there. In 1999, I actually got to attend a Finals game, Spurs v. Knicks---the Spurs winning the series.

Popovich was called a "great" coach for many years---only when he had great stars like Robinson and Duncan. When he didn't have stars to work with, he was mediocre.

Popovich had a stroke in November 2024--which was the only way the Spurs org could get rid of him.
In the 7 or 8 years prior to that time under his leadership, the Spurs hadn't done anything.  
When new coach Mitch Johnson took over in November 2024: The Spurs were mediocre that one year. But in the very next year: They're now in the Finals! 

 

What would YOU do?

You've been with someone (in this case, my first lover) for about 6 months. She invites you to spend a weekend in Galveston with her. Going out to eat is fine. Walking on the beach is fine. You get home on Sunday. And are lazing about in bed on this Sunday, as lovers do...

While lazing, the girlfriend's roommate takes a call from the girlfriend's ex-lover and the girlfriend starts talking to her. WHILE I'M IN BED WITH HER. I wait a few minutes for the call to end, then maybe 10 minutes more, then I get the fuck out of bed and pack up my stuff and go home.

What should have been a pleasant, intimate ending to a nice weekend turned into shit. What happened here is pretty much what happened once me and this shitty GF actually moved in together the following December. We couldn't have people over without her coming on to every "femme" in the room. 

This was my first lover. And I do NOT blame myself, because I was young and had no idea how creepy and awful a "first lover" could be. I thought it would automatically be nice!

What would YOU do if, after a supposedly romantic weekend, your lover---while IN BED WITH YOU---took such a call?

How you know you're old:

Back in 2019, the feral Mama Cat that I'd been feeding for a few months had her babies in the yard next to mine, then moved them all into my yard. A Mama and three babies. I posted flyers at my workplace, and asked people that I worked with (especially two women who were cat-lovers) if they wanted a new kitten... One just didn't like ME, so she didn't want my kittens! The other told me, honestly, that she was now too old----in her mid-60s; she didn't feel that she could take on a baby pet that might outlive her.

That might have been the first time I thought seriously about being old, and about dying: You can't just adopt a new pet at random if you think their life-span might be longer than yours.

And still relevant to getting old:
I've been making decent money for the past 7 years or so, and so have been finally able to contemplate long-term finances (as opposed to just scraping by).  

One of my financial fantasies: Buy another good used car at 60; then at 70, buy a brand new car that will last me 'til the end! But---at age 60: I might not live to age 70. And I've never had a new car in my life. So, I think that at age 60, I should go ahead and experience getting a new car for the first time ever!

AND: A few years ago, I wrote here about shower curtains and couches----When you're young, the options seem endless and timeless. But at a later date in your life, you realize you're keeping these shower curtains and couches for around 5-10 years... And that you only have so many shower curtains and couches left in your life cycle....

Urban Cowboy: Bud + Sissy

That placing of the "Sissy" plate back in the window is
one of the most iconic of ALL scenes in ANY movie.

This whole movie was well-done in every way.
I loved "Bud." I loved "Sissy." I loved their whole white-trash relationship.
One of my favorite films ever.

Andy Griffith: Sourwood Mountain (1961)

Belly: Feed the Tree (1993: The last Alt album I ever bought at that time?)

I'd also just bought Courtney Love's "Live Through This" in 1994. 

Which was mediocre, but we were supposed to like it 'cause it was about Kurt.
Around 93-94, I stopped listening to Alt Rock altogether. 

I was in my late 20s, I'd just moved to San Francisco for grad school. I wanted a change.
Back then, there was no Internet or YouTube, 

but you could still order "12 CDs for $1" from newspaper ads! :)
So, just to shake up my music-listening, I used my $1 to order some rap and some old-school Country.
I remember Warren G sucking especially.
And I remember George Jones and Tammy Wynette being especially good!

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

But this last-call Alt Belly album was also good:

This old man I've talked about
Broke his own heart, poured it in the ground
Big red tree grew up and out
Throws up its leaves and spins round and round

I know all this and more
So take your hat off when you're talkin' to me
And be there when I feed the tree

This little squirrel I used to be
Slammed her bike down the stairs
They put silver where her teeth had been
Baby silver tooth, she grins and grins

I know all this and more
So take your hat off, boy, when you're talkin' to me
And be there when I feed the tree
Take your hat off, boy, when you're talkin' to me
And be there when I feed the tree

This old man I used to be
Spins around, around, around the tree
Silver baby, come to me
I'll only hurt you in my dreams

I know all this and more
So take your hat off, boy, when you're talkin' to me
And be there when I feed the tree
Take your hat off when you're talkin' to me
And be there when I feed the tree

Wemby Highlights in Game 1

 

Western Conference Finals: Game 1 (Spurs vs OKC)

I've been a Spurs fan since my mom lived in San Antonio in the 1990s. Even got to attend a Finals game between the Spurs and Knicks in 1999!

We've sucked for the past 7 or 8 years (Popovich's coaching decline and his refusal to give up the helm---until he was absolutely forced to by his stroke in late 2024). 

But we're back now, baby! Double overtime win against the defending champs: Go, Spurs, Go!

Weird Old Women in Laundry Room

OK, first, not to exclude men from being simultaneously "weird" and "old." There are plenty of Weird Old Men out there! BUT: What I've noticed is that most old men---unless they've been extremely drug/drink-addled for decades---usually don't end up in apartment complexes. Most made enough money in their prime years to have a house of their own in their latter years. Whereas, in my many decades of living in apartments, I've come across quite a few middle-aged to old women who seem to be both stuck in apartments and partially off their rockers. (When I was in my 20s and 30s, I used to feel sooooo sorry for them. Now, I'm apparently one of them!)

Prior to my going to NYC in 2007, I had at least rented my own HOUSE for 7 years. Once I came back to Austin in 2010, though, I had no money and was temping and forced monetarily to live in a one-room apartment for 4 years! And then, finally, a new full-time editing job and a mild upgrade to a small (800-sq-ft) 2-bedroom apartment for the next 3 years. And as of 2017, I've been in a pretty nice, big apartment for the past 9 years. However: While I currently have 1200-sq-ft of space, a small yard, etc., my complex has a mixture of apartment types, so I'm sharing grounds/laundry facilities with people who can afford spaces ranging from 400-sq-ft to 1350-sq-ft. 

And, though I'm currently earning $20K more per year than when I left my university editing job in 2019 and started a much-better job in early 2020, post-COVID inflation is such that I STILL cannot afford to buy a home of my own. And I'm almost aged out of even WANTING a home of my own! I've never been a Miss-Fixit, and while fixing up stuff is cute-n-fun when you're in your 30s or so, or if you have a partner... At age 60, I really don't want to have to do any of that stuff (nor am I actually capable of doing it); OR hunt around for an expensive repair-man; OR buy new refrigerators, roofs, heating systems, etc., for a house! So I'm kinda not even that mad at this point about never having had a house of my own. (More a pride thing. But, from a practical standpoint, I think at my age I'm now better off living in nicer apartments, where you can call the manager to repair/replace things for free!)

That said: One thing about living in nicer places is not having to deal with weirdos. Harmless weirdos, in my current case, but weirdos, nonetheless, who give a weird psychological vibe. So here are my two Weird Old Woman (WOW) stories for today:

WOW #1: 
I work from home; we're currently very slow, so in down-time, I can do household chores, like laundry. When I carted my stuff to the laundry room today, the woman who lived next-door to the laundry room followed me in. 70-ish, very bronzed and wrinkled but still youthful-ish, with long gray hair and colorful hippie-ish garb.

(She'd moved in about a month ago; has cool-looking screens and plants and such set up on her back patio. The space inside is about 400-sq-ft, but the patio is almost that big. It looked pretty nice, and I'd seen a pretty cat sitting on the patio---who has come over to sit on my own outside window-sill to look inside! None of my own cats even noticed that this cat was sitting there sassily! So I initially had good vibes from her decor and cat, though I'd never seen her in person until now.)

After she followed me in to the laundry room, she asked me if I knew the code. I at first thought she meant the code to get into the room---but since she had just successfully walked in, I was puzzled. But then she said she didn't know the code to download the app and start a machine; she had been told it was "7 numbers." 

There was a big chart up on the wall about how to download the app and enter a code to start doing laundry. Since I myself did not know how to do this when the complex switched over from debit card to phone app a few years ago, I was initially empathetic and glad to try to be of help: 

ME: "I didn't have any idea, either! The office helped me download the code to my phone years ago---ever since then, I've never had to enter it again. It just works automatically every time I come in here."

HER: "It was supposed to be 7 numbers."

ME [staring at chart on wall, which, for the Code, had 3 lower-case letters + 4 numbers ]: "Well, there are 7 digits there in the Code field."

HER [peering closely at the chart]: "But I was told NUMBERS. All of those aren't NUMBERS."

ME:  "Well, maybe try exactly what's written up there. I'm clueless, but the office was really helpful. They got me set up when I didn't know how to do it. They're nice; they'll help you out."

HER [heading toward the exit]: "I can't do laundry with my sciatica. It's very painful. Do you even KNOW what sciatica IS?"

ME: "Yes... The sciatic nerve... I'm sorry..."

But she had already exited the room. OK.... (But I'd thought your patio decor and your cat were so pleasant!)

WOW #2: 
Same day, 30 minutes later, when it came time for me to switch my clothes over from the washers to dryer, there was a different WOW in the room. About 5 ft tall, Hispanic, black-rimmed glasses, dressed all in black---with silver sequins. 
Normally, when you walk into this small laundry room and there's someone else there, you both say "hi" and then you both go about your business. So I said "hi." Nothing in response. (Which is sometimes the case with young people who are too screen-oriented and not able to talk to a real human. But this woman, like the one earlier in the day, was also 70+ years old.)
She had a laundry cart with some clothes in it, and was staring intently at one washing machine at the left end of the row of four.
I started to take my 2 finished washers full of clothes and transfer them into a dryer.
She then moved her cart closer to where I was moving my stuff, to the point of being almost directly in my way.
I attempted to make eye-contact (as in "what the fuck?") but she never looked at me. Just stood there staring intently at the washing machines. Once I'd gotten my stuff out of my first of two machines, she started loading her clothes into it, then left the room. 

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

I seriously don't think that the behaviors of either of these two were normal. And, while relatively mildly odd and annoying----at this point in my life, I'd like to be able to do my laundry without having to encounter weirdos! Not too much to ask! That may just be the impetus for actually getting my own home! (I must say that it was, indeed, the impetus for finally getting my own car after NY---so I wouldn't have to constantly put up with the ongoing BS from the decrepit bus-riders!)

When your idols sound terrible...

This breaks my heart, how bad Paul just sounded on "Saturday Night Live." A beautiful song, but awful vocals.

I love George Jones, Paul, Joan Crawford. But all of these greats stayed around in public long past their "sell-by" dates.  (That doesn't mean they weren't worthy as humans after they failed to perform publicly. Just that they should NOT have been performing publicly when they were not capable of reaching their former greatness.)

After this SNL appearance, Paul went on to appear on Stephen Colbert's last show (singing "Hello Goodbye"). Colbert is a left-wing Trump-hater. And, sorry to say, Paul appeared in 1964 in the US mocking Goldwater. I love McCartney's overall music, but he's not so bright as a thinker. Just as John Lennon was also not so bright in his '70s adopted radicalism.

Ginny's father recently died in Georgia...

He died in his 80s, running a junk shop. 
That's kind of like how I want to end up: running a junk shop. Except I live in Austin, not in a rural town, so I can't afford any such place.

Back in the early 1980s, after a couple of years of college, Ginny wasn't in touch with me, but I found out that her parents owned a used book store. I went in, bought a Nietszche book, which I have to this day. 

(Buying the book from her parents' store didn't make Ginny love me again.)

Monsieur Verdoux (1947)

By far my favorite post-Silent Chaplin film---and the only good post-Silent film that he made. An actually "integrated," well-done film overall. 

By "integrated" I mean Chaplin wasn't still relying on his previous Silent-type schtick, as in "The Great Dictator." AND Chaplin also managed to integrate his final "message" a lot better than at the ending of "Dictator"! 

One intellectual problem, though: Chaplin's character's argument at the end of "Verdoux" was that he only murdered a few dozen women----whereas the "munitions manufacturers" in the headlines shown in the film had murdered far more, at a much greater scale... So what's the difference?

I remember another Charlie---Manson---making EXACTLY the same argument at his real-life trial a couple of decades later: Manson, too, claimed that since thousands were being murdered in Viet Nam, why were we all so disturbed by a few celeb killings in LA?

Up until Chaplin's final death-row speech in "Verdoux," I was semi-rooting for his character and his charm: He had a crippled wife at home, and a kid, and he was trying to earn money for them after being let go from his decades-long banking job in 1930, just after the crash. And the women he was killing for money were portrayed as so obnoxious! (Martha Raye is a real treat to watch, though! The high point of the movie.)

And then there's this film's "waif"----played by Marilyn Nash, who, because she reads Schopenhauer and believes in love, is thus deemed worthy of life by Chaplin's character, who had initially planned to kill her.

(At the end of the film, when Chaplin encounters this "waif" again, she has since married a munitions manufacturer. He basically gives up on life after hearing this, and allows himself to be captured by police.)

A very psychologically interesting movie. But SANS the tail-end Communist propaganda of "munitions manufacturers are making us act like this" and "I lost my job and so I must start murdering to survive." 

Chaplin was not a member of the Communist party, but he really was a Communist/Atheist in his beliefs: As in "Do what thou wilt." No society can exist with that precept. (Just to clarify: I agree with artists being able to present whatever they want to present. However: When you tack on some stupid Communist dogma at the end of your piece, then you open yourself up to criticism on the basis of your intellectual argument.)

My First Mammogram!

The left boob went fine. The right one took a few extra shots. I'm not in the habit of talking to my boobs, but I apologized profusely to both afterwards. 

Belinda Carlisle Goes Solo: Mad About You (1986)

I was about to be loyal to The Go-Go's and not include this---until I saw a shot of Crawford/Gable from "Strange Cargo" in the background! (Plus, it's a really good song, despite the very cheesy make-over of Carlisle and the equally cheesy "boyfriend-and-beach" scenes.)

p.s. The "boyfriend" that I called "cheesy" is Morgan Mason (son of actor James Mason, Republican politico in the '80s, film producer [sex, lies, and videotape]). He and Carlisle have now been married for 40 years---40 YEARS!! Congrats to both of you for your patience!

p.s.s. Also RE a recent 2024 interview I read with Carlisle when asked about the secret to a long marriage: Liking each other, and making each other laugh. (Plus Mason put up with her drug/alcohol addiction for a very long time before she got sober in 2005. Which means he liked her to begin with!)
RE liking and laughter: If those are the criteria (and they are) for couples' longevity, aside from the basic sexual attraction that first brings people together, then in my own life, I would say Ginny and Bill were the only two. 

My first lover Mollie was very good-looking but extremely stupid and, at 36 (when I met her), still had a fetish for teenagers and vampires. And---most tellingly---had only 2 books in her "library": "Dianetics" by L. Ron Hubbard and "Lolita." I'm not kidding. But, hey, it was my first, and she was an ageing party/club-queen, and I wanted to experience that "wild club scene" that I'd been reading about for years. I thought my virginity would make this special for both me and her. Nah! Mollie was a creep to begin with, and she remained a creep during and after. 
 
As for Sandra: Also very good-looking. AND a brilliant painter and poet, which was a huge turn-on. Mollie also "did" paintings, but they were very simplistic splashes of paint on canvas, with no thought behind them. When I looked at Sandra's paintings, though, they reverberated with her complicated-yet-ordered-here thought processes. Same with her best poems. If she hadn't been stuck in Houston battling an ex-husband for alimony and then still obsessed with the man who slept with her at age 17 (after he slept with her mother---and then slept with Sandra again in her 40s), and then trying to get support from another aging powerful lover who was eventually put away by his adult children.... Dear god. Too much. I loved Sandra; didn't like her half of the time. I also incorrectly thought that her biggest need was to become independent financially, to get a job, to find her own place. So, while I was looking for my own job after coming back to Austin from NYC, I also spent an equal amount of time looking on Craigslist, et al, for simple jobs for HER that she might be suited for: Personal shopper, part-time art-gallery employee, doing those simple "wine painting" classes for her fellow upper-middle-class women. (She'd already failed on her own at being a substitute teacher---didn't show up when they called her. And failed at being a real-estate agent---though she went thru this training, there's no way she could have handled the financials and the organized thought required. She got her license, but never sold anything.) She later told me that, of all the job links that I'd sent her, she never followed up on one of them.

So Sandra was a lot more complicated. She was my second love (after high-school Ginny). I fell in love with her from afar in a poetry class we shared with David Wevill in 1985-86 (though we did have some personal interactions then, including her driving me to Wevill's Christmas party, and what was supposed to be a mutual appearance at a local cafe poetry reading---I chickened out and didn't show). And then she "found" me again online in 2008, when I was in NYC, and had posted something on this blog about my remembrances of that poetry class... We ended up talking almost every day between 2008 and 2015, long after I'd returned home to Austin in 2010. But we never gelled in person. Post-Austin return, our former poetry professor Wevill had an appearance at UT. She and I were having some sort of argument, so I was too upset to attend. That should have been a place and time when every minor argument was put aside in favor of celebrating our mutual past. Neither of us was wise enough to give in. Something in me started to give up on her at that point. Many other similar situations followed, until the very last "situation"---her death in 2024.

So, no, I didn't do much laughing with Sandra! But I did like her, though that was alternating constantly with love/hate/dislike. So maybe add Sandra to the Ginny/Bill list----I LIKED the former two much more, and they were both much saner, well-integrated, pleasant people! But---guess Sandra was my "rescue fantasy" or something. (Mollie, on the other hand, was just a low-life. UGH. I feel so sorry for my 23-year-old self having encountered this creep.)

The Go-Go's: Head Over Heels (1984)

 Great song, great video.
Watching Belinda taught this college-kid how to dance! Thank you! :)

p.s. I saw the Go-Go's in concert at the Erwin Center in Austin in 1984.
Still have my pink concert T-shirt! 
I was in about the 4th row. Made eye-contact with bassist Kathy Valentine. 
(She wasn't even my favorite Go-Go---but it's very cool when you make eye contact. 
Only happened twice in my life at concerts: With Kathy Valentine, and with George Jones.) 

The Go-Go's: Our Lips Are Sealed (1981)

 

The Go-Go's: Lust to Love (1980)

 Just saw the 2020 doc of this band---I'd forgotten how much I loved them in high school! 
In 1984, when I was in college, they came to the Erwin Center in Austin---
I was on the 4th row; still have my pink concert T!

It used to be the fun was in
The capture and kill
In another place and time
I did it all for thrills

Love me and I'll leave you
I told you at the start
I had no idea that you
Would tear my world apart

And you're the one to blame
I used to know my name
But I've lost control of the game
'Cause even though I set the rules
You've got me acting like a fool
When I see you I lose my cool

Lust to love
Was the last thing I was dreaming of
And now all I want is just to love
Lust turned to love

That was when the fun was in
The capture and the kill
In another place and time
I did it all for thrills

Love me and I'll leave you
I told you at the start
I had no idea that you
Would tear my world apart

A year ago on Mother's Day...

I was taking my first plane trip in 15 years: To see "Joan Crawford Superstar," a very simple play put on by a small San Francisco troupe. (The director had offered me a free ticket to the show, which was impetus enough for me to get off my sluggish ass and try to get back out there in the world!)

I'd lived in San Francisco in 1994-95, gotten my Master's Degree from the writing program at San Francisco State. Despite the beauty of the city, I also simultaneously hated the utter political correctness of the professors at the university, which was my main source of human interaction at the time. 

(I also hated some personal encounters on the streets: Like when a young black guy got on a bus and refused to pay the fare. So we all had to sit there, and sit there, while his blustering went on: "Ain't gon' pay NOTHIN'"... This type of thing happened a few times. I remember thinking at the time: "You wouldn't DARE try to act like this in Texas."----Little did I know in the mid-90s in SF that this behavior would soon be the accepted norm in the rest of the United States by 2016.)

At any rate: When visiting San Francisco last year, I was again struck by just how utterly gorgeous it was geographically. To the point where I was asking myself: "Why on earth were you so unhappy? Look how beautiful this is!" (But: Being a tourist and looking at beautiful scenery and being treated nicely by hoteliers for 3 days is quite different from having to attend a college where everything was utterly PC---years before PC took over the entire nation.)

Still: I hadn't been outside of Austin since I flew home from living in NYC in 2010 with my tail between my legs. So it was nice to GO SOMEWHERE and try something different. 

The obnoxious white Uber driver on my way to the Austin airport was an utter dick. (I was 8 minutes late in responding to his text that he had arrived. The fucker started to give me a big lecture about lateness, until I told him: "Look at me! My hair is still wet! I didn't have time to blow-dry my hair! I've never taken an Uber before! I haven't flown in 15 years! GIVE ME A BREAK!" He then calmed down a bit, enough to share his idiotic philosophies on the way to the airport...)

And since I hadn't been in an airport since 2010, the whole "checking in" process was a bit confusing. Some things were now done electronically (despite the fact that I'd already bought my ticket, etc.) And the airport staff were a mixture of downright rude AND helpful. (One snotty black staff-member at a counter refused to help me, while another black staff-member then helped me fill in my info at a kiosk---noting that everyone had been having trouble with that!) 

Once I got out of the Austin airport and arrived in SF, everything was fine! Great travel from the SF airport to the hotel, great hotel service, great everything while in SF!

Though, there was an ongoing theme for that weekend, especially at both the Austin and SF airports: Everyone kept telling me "Happy Mother's Day!" "Oh, thanks" I said a couple of times. And then "No, not a Mom, just a Cat Lady" a couple of times. (On the flight home, I sat next to a black woman who, after asking me about my kids on this Mother's Day, marveled at the fact that, at my age, I didn't have any---"How did you avoid that?" Imagine if I'd actually tried to explain the history of my life to this random stranger!)

So this 2026 Mother's Day was a lot calmer! I woke up excited to watch NBA playoffs on TV! Cleaned the apartment a bit. Napped a bit. Sad to see the Spurs lose Game 4. Packed up some Etsy packages due out next week. Wrote a bit here...

Oh, yeah: My own mother is still alive, and we haven't been speaking for the past couple of years. That's also been quite on my mind each time "Mother's Day" rolls around. So, last year, while I was doing something adventurous, and this year, when I was not, I still thought about her. I am grateful to her for helping me on some occasions. Yet... Here is how she is:
I cannot forget the time she hung up on me when I called her from NYC begging for help to escape my creepy roommate. (She did send a check to get me out of that horrible roommate situation---she just didn't want to talk about it. God forbid!)

Game 3: Spurs beat T'Wolves: 115 - 108

I DESPISE the fact that some NBA playoff games are only on Amazon Prime, rather than on any regular cable channel---fucking ridiculous. But thank you to this random YouTube blog site for allowing me to follow the game tonight: 

The guy was good at his amateur play-by-play (his girlfriend/wife not so much; a help-meet rather than contributing anything original). At some point, I was doing other things around the house while listening to them---kinda imagining what it must have been like listening to the radio in the 1920s while knitting or something!

George Jones: I Just Don't Give a Damn (1975)

 

Congrats Spurs! 133 to 95 over T'Wolves! (Round 2, Game 2)

 Spurs lost the first game by 2 points.

yes.sandra@

In some hotel or hostel
I have no shampoo
and roommates come and go
and then you!

The Isle of Wight
is where we are. We go out at night
or try to. (I have no shoes.)

But as in life, you break away.
The Yes was for you to say. 

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

Sandra died 2/21/24. I'm not that much into witchy stuff, but when I found out about her death, I did actually set up a ouija board and beg a pendulum to put me in contact with her. To no avail.

My very first contact with her spirit was last night, in a dream. (Neither of us have ever been to the "Isle of Wight." Or anything else particular here. But in this dream, and in these circumstances, we were in proximity.)

ANNOYING YouTubeTV ad running incessantly during "Portlandia"

A Government ad promoting keeping an Emergency Kit on hand.

Asian grannie/daughter/kid sitting at kitchen table.  

Middle-aged daughter takes out a wrapped set of two can openers that is CLEARLY MARKED "Two for One." 

She then whines to Grannie: "Mahhhm---did you have to buy TWO can openers for our Emergency Kit?" 
(HUH? We all, and you, just saw the label saying "Two for One." So, NO, Grannie did not BUY two can openers. She got one for free.)
Responds the jolly Asian Grannie: "I couldn't help it---two for one!"  (But you didn't BUY the second one---it was "Two for One," so you got the 2nd one for free!)

PLUS: If you find yourself in an emergency and have to rely on canned goods to eat for months, then you certainly don't want just ONE can opener on hand, 'cause that could break! THEN what would you do??

Oh my god. And YouTubeTV keeps running this idiotic ad over and over and over again---but apparently ONLY on the "Portlandia" channel! In the past week or so, I've seen this hideously stupid thing 20 times per hour---sometimes even 2 times in a row (which indicates some sort of glitch). STOP IT!!

Sorry I couldn't find an example on the Internet YouTube---but trust me: It's the most annoying/stupid thing since the "Particle" ads asking "What is a gennle-man?"

p.s. After repeated viewings, this Chinese Mom ad is from ready.gov and from the "Start a Conversation" campaign from that site. However, upon multiple searches, I could not find this god-awful video.

Kentucky Derby 2026: Golden Tempo (23-1)

Golden Tempo was listed at 23-1, and he was DEAD LAST in the group at the beginning of the race, and for most of the race!
(Congrats to his female trainer Cherie DeVaux---the first woman to train a Kentucky Derby winner.)
And congrats also to the 70-1 Ocelli ("never won a race in his life" according to the announcer), who finished 3rd! (Hope some intrepid bettors made some money!)

Portlandia: Movie in the Park

Portlandia: Allergy Pride Parade

 

George Jones: Hello Trouble (1983)

 

Woke up this morning, happy as could be 

Looked out my window, what did I see
Comin' up my sidewalk, as big as day
Oh well here comes Trouble that I never thought I'd see since she went away
 

Hello Trouble, come on in
Well you talk about heartaches

 Where'n the world have you been
I ain't had the Miseries since you've been gone
Well hello Trouble Trouble Trouble, welcome home!
 

We'll make a pot of coffee and you can rest your shoes
And you can tell me them sweet lies, and I'll listen to you
For I'm just a little part of all the life you've lived
But I'd rather have a little bit of Trouble than to never know the love you give
 

Hello Trouble, come on in!

George Jones: I Said All That to Say All This (1998)

 

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

On a highway deep within the heart of Texas
I was just about as lost as I could be
I was drivin' round in circles tryin' to find the border
But Texas was as far as I could see

Hey, well I stopped and flagged me down a state policeman
I said, "My patience's growing mighty thin
Can you help me get the hell out of Texas"
He just flashed me some old lone star Texas grin

And he said, "You can't get the hell out of Texas
No matter how hard you try
Why in Texas we raise hell son, just like you raise a crop
It started with the Alamo and it ain't gonna ever stop"

As long as there's a Houston and Austin
Amarillo, Lubbock, Dallas and Fort Worth
Lord you can't get the hell out of Texas
'Cause it's the hell-raisin' center of the earth

Oh, late last night I fell in love with Texas
I called my dear sweet mama on the phone
I said, "I've seen the light, ain't life a joy
I'm a changed man, I'm a good old boy
Mama I ain't never comin' home"--Unh-uh!

For as long as there's a Houston and Austin
Tyler, Beaumont, Dallas and Fort Worth
Lord you can't get the hell out of Texas
'Cause it's the hell-raisin' center of the earth