Eric Faulkner: The Frontline (2015)

Eric Faulkner of the Bay City Rollers at "String Theory," Hawick (2015).
Being from the US, I don't know what either "String Theory" or "Hawick" are.
And I also cringe at the knee-jerk labor/leftist philosophy borrowed from the 1930s.
That said: Eric was my favorite Bay City Roller. Back then I liked his eyes and his lyrics. Glad that he went on to perform post-Rollers.

George Jones: Four-O-Thirty-Three (1966)

Stopping Point in My Life

Now that I'm in my 50s, there's nothing else left for me to do other than try to---what's the word?---ameliorate the rest of my years on this earth. At this point, I'm obviously not going to advance much in life. I've reached a respectable point in my editing career that I can only hope to coast on for the next 10 years until I retire. (Not a given, mind you, since I don't work for the government---I can be let go at any time.)

I won't ever have a house. But, as I discovered a couple of years ago when I tried to buy one for the first time: The monthly mortgage would be more than my monthly rent. And when a fridge or a dishwasher or a heating system broke, as they have during my past few years at my apartment complex, I'd have to pay for that, and arrange for maintenance guys, if I owned my own home.

In my 50s, I'm too old for that now. The time for buying a house is in your 30s, with a partner, with hopes and dreams for the future. When you're a 50-something woman on her own, though, you don't "dream" about what all you can be fixing up for the next 20 years. Rather, you just want a place with maintenance provided.

So...No more dreams of a house. I can, though, dream of a rent-controlled senior condo! One that allows me to smoke (ha! not likely nowadays), and one that prevents kids from visiting for more than 2 weeks per year (no one without grandkids wants any obnoxious grandkids around).

I'm kind of stuck right now, and don't see anything else in my future other than the above. I've come to terms with the above, but it would still be nice if something else turned up!

Klimt "Freundinnen"

I've got a 4 x 4 ft Klimt hanging in my bathroom and was trying to order crystals for a shelf to match both the color and the vibe of the painting. The green fluorite looks fine, but the sunstone---rather than looking like an inspiring "sunstone" per its name---looks like chunks of raw meat!

Gonna have to let this all marinade for a few days and then make a decision as to where to put that sunstone! (Originally was looking for citrine, but that's way more expensive!)

 

Dinner Party

An oft-asked rhetorical question: What historical figures would you invite to a dinner party? Assuming that some sparkling conversation would ensue.

Here's who I'd like to see around a table, talking it out amongst themselves (me not there but definitely listening in):

Jesus
Jim Jones
Charles Manson
John Lennon

(Absolutely no "scholars" at the table because all of their info is gained from books. Not having experienced anything, they thus don't KNOW anything.)

I think the fey political poseur John Lennon would flee the table after about 15 minutes, because his "world views" were garnered only circa 1972 from his elitist (banker-daughter) left-wing-radical wife that he was so desperate to please---I don't think he quite thought anything through. His received ideas wouldn't stand up for more than 15 minutes, despite Charlie's admiration.

The other three, though, were actually original, strong male thinkers... Probably pretty interesting to listen to their compared notes re "socialism."

And I guess go ahead and add Hitler in there. What would Hitler, Manson, and Jones have to say to Jesus? Probably, "How did you manage to last for 2000 years, man?"

And also the mental state of each man: Jones, Jesus, and Hitler---all suicidal. (Jones a suicide with only a minor fight, Jesus a suicidal martyr, Hitler a suicide after a constant fight. Manson = self-preservation above all!) Discuss THAT, boys!

Charles Manson: Look at Your Game Girl (1967)

Charlie Knows the Story (1993 interview with Diane Sawyer)

One philosophy of Manson's that I agree with completely:
You are responsible for your own actions.
(That concept was especially important in his own case, of course.)

One interesting thing that I noticed at the end of the interview, as the cameras were being put away and mikes taken off: Manson dropping his bravado-mask and quietly asking Sawyer where in Kentucky she was from (they both grew up there).

Crystals for Beginners

Who starts out with OBSIDIAN?! :)  It now looks pretty on a red dish near my fireplace, but it surely AIN'T yet helpful psychically. (In fact, when this was the only stone in my house and I had the full pound of it sitting right next to where I slept, it was much more agitating than "protection from dark energy" and "aura cleansing.")

Below are the stones that I've ordered---top to bottom from first to most recent: obsidian (raw), labradorite (tumbled), quartz crystal (raw), sodalite (tumbled), green fluorite (raw), citrine (raw).

What I like best so far are my labradorite and my sodalite (does this mean I can only psychically handle tumbled and not raw stones?!). And of these two, I feel the most attracted to the labradorite. Looking at these stones reminds me of my cats; and, according to "Crystals for Beginners," labradorite helps with:

Bringing out magical qualities, reducing negativity, tempering negative aspects of the personality, detoxification of addictive substances, tempering impulsivity and recklessness, connection to higher realms, aiding in intuition, dispelling illusion.

Jim Jones: At Least One Bet a Day

 "A man's gotta make at least one bet a day, else he could be walking around lucky and never know it."
--Jim Jones

Ha! Company that turned me down in 2020...

 ... has now listed the same position for the 6th time on Internet job sites!

I've probably written this here before, but... here's why I hate them:

(1) I interviewed with them in late 2019, but after that, they didn't get back to me until early 2020.
(2) For the second interview, their stupid secretary got the time wrong. So when I arrived, the obnoxious Indian guy boss INCORRECTLY chewed me out for being late.
(3) The white wife of the Indian boss asked me if I smoked, and when I said I did, said that, funny, I didn't smell.
(4) This whole group---the boss, the wife, and about 4 or 5 secretaries---were all stuck in one tiny room, with a spare conference room.
(5) The place was only about 10 miles from my home---but it took me over an hour each way to get to/from this location, thanks to Austin's disgusting traffic.
(6) After I provided writing/editing samples, and when the wife was about to condescend to hire me, she called my old boss (why I quit the old job---utterly incompetent boss), who told her that she would not hire me again (my old job was a State job, and it's actually illegal to say this---especially since all of my annual reviews were very good; so I had to contact HR and State reps, etc.). The potential new boss expressed her doubts about me, and I, being desperate for work, scrambled like mad to get other GOOD references to contact her so she'd like me... After a few days, she condescended to offer me the job, with a 3-month trial period... But at that point, I'd been offered another job---that paid about $10K more per year than both the old job and this crummy potential new job.

I'm still at the same great new job that I was offered, while these losers are still scrambling around---for the 6th time!!---for someone desperate enough to join their horrible one-room group.

Jim Jones Final Mass Suicide Speech at Guyana (11/18/78)

Why can't he thay hith etheth.

The Marxist "revolutionary suicide" proponent Jim Jones is now utterly drug-addled, incapable of speaking properly. Congressman Leo Ryan and entourage (with 16 defectors out of 1000) have now left Jonestown and been shot, and Jones now addresses his flock in the aftermath.

Christine Miller is the one bold member questioning the need to die. (The group had discussed in the past the possibility of going to the Soviet Union if hounded from Guyana.) The other Temple members mock her.

(After her public questioning, Miller was injected with cyanide against her will.)

Elvis Presley: Hound Dog (Milton Berle Show, 6/5/56)

Elvis Presley: Wearin' That Loved-on Look (1969)

One of These Days (Tammy Wynette, 1976)

One of These Days (George Jones, 1972)

Wanna-be Divas

A very fit young woman and her very fit male companion (they both wore athletic gear proclaiming their fitness) were at the Post Office counter right in front of me today. I think they were trying to send out wedding invitations, but the postage price wasn't to their liking. They stood there for an awful long time arguing with the clerk, who tried to explain prices to them. (I was too far away to actually understand what the problem was, though I wished they'd hurry the fuck up.)

As the young woman got more and more agitated, her hunky mate soothingly patted her back, and at one point took over "negotiations" with the postal clerk.

This reminded me of other encounters re a "diva" and her "male companion," all back in the '90s:
(1) A guy and girl at a relatively cheap restaurant, but the guy elaborately doing everything for her, including even opening the menu! (After he ordered for her, I didn't see them speak.)
(2) A guy and girl at a bowling alley (part of an adjunct to my group of friends). The girl clearly wasn't comfortable in a bowling alley, and the guy spent his entire time literally kneeling at her feet, making sure she was "OK." (The girl---not attractive, but obviously with attitude---spent the whole time "posing," not making any attempt to bowl or interact with anyone else.)
(3) A close friend invited me to her husband's bar/restaurant so we could hang out and eat/drink. At one point, my friend started complaining to her husband about how one waitress had "dissed" her. (I was with them the whole time---the waitress didn't dis my friend.)

Is the above what being in a "close relationship" means? Going along with bullshit?

I'll go ahead and add a very personal detail: My brother's house usually looks like something near the "Hoarders" TV show. His car, last time I was in it a few years ago, was equally trashed. I grew up with the guy, and I saw his first few apartments once he moved to Austin to go to college: He was always neat, even as an 18-to-20-year-old kid. His house now is far from "neat." At one point, my brother, wife, and two sons went on vacation, and my elderly mother took it upon herself to clean up the bedroom of her grandsons---within weeks upon the family's return, it quickly reverted to its previous trashed level.

Also: My brother, once a good-looking, fit young man, is now a 275-lb fat slob. How does that happen? Trying to agree with his school-teacher "Social/Emotional Learning" + "You're RACIST!" racist wife?

Willie Nelson - Whiskey River (1973)

Willie Nelson - Shotgun Willie (1973)

Dissing: Globally Understood Problem

Whether you're a Karen in a supermarket, or a hard-core prisoner, when someone is disrespectful to you, you get mad---hopefully in proportion to your environment.

I'm a middle-class, middle-aged white woman. My problems aren't life or death. However, I have an environment that I operate in, and it pisses me off when jerks don't act right, and I have a right to say something about it. (I'm not claiming it's "serious" in the Grand Scheme of Things---but I AM claiming this is a recent problem among young people working at supermarkets that their managers need to get control of.)

Today at the grocery store, I was in line putting my stuff on the conveyor belt. My checkout girl, Kaylee, was busy chastising the bag boy for allegedly not liking to read and not keeping up with politics. (Seriously. This was their conversation.) I "dared" to interrupt Kaylee's conversation by asking if she could please put a plastic bag around the 2 ice creams that I'd bought. (Ice creams leak in the 100-degree Texas heat.)

Every time I come to this supermarket, every 2 weeks for the past 5 years, I ask the same thing: Please put a plastic bag around the ice cream. And every time until now, the clerk says, "Sure."

This time, though, Kaylee tells me, "Yeah, if you want to BUY a bag."

The store does charge for grocery bags if you didn't bring your own. But I brought all 5 of my own. I just wanted a small plastic bag to keep the ice creams from leaking.

ME: No, I don't want to BUY a bag. I just want a plastic bag around the ice creams to keep them from leaking.

KAYLEE (sarcastically to bag boy): She doesn't want to buy a separate bag.

After this, I don't pay particular attention, except to make sure my coupons are entered. I thank obnoxious Kaylee and bag boy, then leave the store. When I get to my car and start to load stuff into my trunk, I stop for a sec to check on the ice cream---no, there's no plastic bag around them.

I had to go back in the store, and go back to Kaylee's checkout #4 and make a minor scene: "I just got out to my car, and you didn't give me the plastic bag for my ice cream! Next time I ask you for a plastic bag, give me a plastic bag!" She gave me a goddamn plastic bag at this point. And then I went to complain to a manager. (As I'd thought: Yes, if you don't bring grocery bags, you get charged for them. But you DON'T get charged for bags around ice cream or meat.)

Again, it's not a major LIFE problem. However... it IS an indication of lack of quality control at this particular store, and perhaps in general: Who is this chick at checkout to make an issue if I simply ask for a plastic bag around my ice cream? GEEZ. I'm not living in a fucking Third World country just yet---though the downslide is on the way: where basic tasks are sneered at by Woke dummies making Covid-inflated hourly rates. In this case, I'll not shoot someone but, rather, just report the dis to "the manager," as we Karens have been conditioned to do.

KISS: C'mon And Love Me (1975)

This and "Do You Love Me"---two of my favorite KISS songs.



She's a dancer, a romancer
I'm a Capricorn and she's a Cancer
She saw my picture in a music magazine
When she met me, said she'd get me
Touched her hips and told me that she'd let me
I took her hand, baby, this is what I said

I said, "Baby, baby, don't you hesitate
'Cause I just can't wait
Lady, won't you take me down to my knees
You can do what you please
Come on and love me."

I'm a man, I'm no baby
And you're looking every inch a lady
You're good looking and you're looking like you should be good
You were distant, now you're nearer
I can feel your face inside the mirror
The lights are out and I can feel you, baby, with my hand

So baby, baby, don't you hesitate
'Cause I just can't wait
Lady, won't you take me down to my knees
You can do what you please
Come on and love me
Come on and love me
Come on and love me
Come on and love me

KISS: Do You Love Me (1976)

You really like my limousine
You like the way the wheels roll
You like my seven-inch leather heels
And going to all of the shows, but

Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Really love me?

You like the credit cards and private planes
Money can really take you far
You like the hotels and fancy clothes
And the sound of electric guitars, but

Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Do you love me?
I mean now do you really love me?

You really like rock and roll
All of the fame and the masquerade
You like the concerts and studios
And all the money, honey, that I make, but

Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Do you love me?
Really love me?

Your backstage pass and black sunglasses
Make you look just like a queen
Even the fans, they know your face
From all of the magazines, but...

Do you love me? (Do you love me?)
Do you love me? (Do you love me?)
Do you love me? (Do you love me?)
Really love me? (Really love me?)
I wanna know

KISS - Detroit Rock City (1976, album version)

[...President Ford says that he's disappointed
with Congress's performance...
In Detroit, a Pontiac, Michigan, youth
was reported dead at the scene of
a head-on collision on Grand Avenue this morning
He was reportedly driving on the wrong side of the boulevard when he struck a delivery truck
and was catapulted through the windshield of his car
The driver of the truck is reported to be uninjured
The identities of both men are being withheld by local police
County legislators today are expected to rally
to the aid of striking longshoremen
in hopes of ending the nine-month deadlock...

"...I wanna rock and roll all night
And party everyday..."]

I feel uptight on a Saturday night
Nine o' clock, the radio's the only light
I hear my song and it pulls me through
Comes on strong, tells me what I got to do
I got to

Get up!
Everybody's gonna move their feet
Get down!
Everybody's gonna leave their seat

You gotta lose your mind in Detroit Rock City

Get up!
Everybody's gonna move their feet
Get down!
Everybody's gonna leave their seat

Getting late
I just can't wait
Ten o'clock and I know I gotta hit the road
First I drink, then I smoke
Start the car and I try to make the midnight show

Get up!
Everybody's gonna move their feet
Get down!
Everybody's gonna leave their seat

Moving fast, down 95
Hit top speed but I'm still moving much too slow
I feel so good, I'm so alive
Hear my song playing on the radio, it goes

Get up!
Everybody's gonna move their feet
Get down!
Everybody's gonna leave their seat

You gotta lose your life in Detroit, Rock City

Twelve o'clock, I gotta rock
There's a truck ahead, lights staring at my eyes
Oh my God!
No time to turn
I got to laugh 'cause I know I'm gonna die
Why?

Get up!
Everybody's gonna move their feet

Get up!
Everybody's gonna leave their seat
Get up! 

KISS - Black Diamond (Detroit, 1976)

Ingmar Bergman Films

Can't find a clean, simple list online without bullshit links and photos that force you to click on something.

At any rate, here's what I've seen so far via Netflix (the old-fashioned 2-at-a-time mailed discs):

Summer with Monika (1953)
The Seventh Seal (1957)
Wild Strawberries (1957)

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

And in my immediate queue in this order:

The Magician (1958)
Torment
Crisis
Port of Call
Summer Interlude
Smiles of a Summer Night
The Virgin Spring
Winter Light
Ingmar Berman Makes a Movie
The Silence
Persona
Shame
Cries and Whispers
Scenes from a Marriage
Saraband
Face to Face
Autumn Sonata
Fannie and Alexander
Bergman Island

"The wonder of it all, baby..."

Wings (1975): Listen to What the Man Said

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night (Dylan Thomas, 1951)

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Obsidian

Geologically, obsidian is a dark glass that forms from lava that has cooled rapidly.

Metaphysically, here's an online text sample:

Obsidian is a talisman of those who dare to see…the past, the future, or one’s own inner demons and darkest truths. It is no ordinary stone, but nature’s glass formed from volcanic lava and hardened so quickly it formed no crystalline structure. It has no boundaries or limitations, and works rapidly with great power. Its edge can be razor sharp, and its dark, glossy surface polished into cold, hard glass, a “mirror stone” for those prepared to look deep into the inner being, the subconscious, to reveal one’s shadow self…flaws, weaknesses, fears, all. Nothing is hidden from Obsidian

This shamanic stone can be brutal and direct, yet it carries the wonderful power of catharsis and deep soul healing. It reveals the reasons behind one’s imperfections and causes of dis-ease, and provides a clear picture of the changes needed to ameliorate them. It impels growth and resolution, and lends solid support and direction during the process. Obsidian provides essential grounding, connecting the base of the spine to the heart of the earth. It is highly protective, shielding one from negativity in the environment, from others, and from within the self.

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

I mention the above because I just ordered a pound of raw obsidian from Amazon. I liked the rawness of it, and the blackness of it in my red/back/white living room. But I was also aware of its metaphysical properties and was attracted by the potential "catharsis." While I was winding down last night, reading, I rubbed one of the raw obsidian stones for over an hour before I fell asleep. During the night, I kept waking up and seeing "various triads of city scapes" (put in quotes because while half-asleep I saw 3 different groupings of spiked silhouettes that I couldn't identify). And when I woke up today, I was in an irritable, aggressive mood. Unlike the "I'm getting older, so I must be humble" attitude that I've been semi-trying to nurture recently as an antidote to my regrets over my past spastic behavior while young.
So was this obsidian a GOOD/BAD aggressive thing (like either Viagra or Thomas's "do not go gentle into that good night"), or a good/bad passive thing (like...oh, I dunno---even the saints were more aggressive).

Perhaps I should just order some rose quartz... 
(Ha! Just kidding. There's nothing "rose quartz" about me. I don't relate to "rose quartz" at all. I most likely should try to, but I don't. Obsidian and bloodstone and labradorite are what I've been drawn to so far. The weird, moony, CALMLY [as opposed to RUDELY] psychic labradorite being about as calm as I might ever hope to get.)

If I had someone to travel with...

 ...here would be one vacation I'd take, centered in the Deep South. (Was just inspired by learning that a home that F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald once briefly lived in [1931-32] in Zelda's home-town of Montgomery, Alabama, is both a museum AND part of the AirBnB circuit, for only $135 a night!)

My potential (though not likely) itinerary:

Fly in to Atlanta. Margaret Mitchell/GWTW site tours. (One day; spend night; rent car.)

Drive out to visit Ginny's grave in McDonough, Georgia, and briefly to the area where I lived for under a year as a 3rd-grader (Warner Robins AFB). Drive on to Montgomery.

Montgomery, Alabama: Visit Fitzgerald house/museum and locations where Scott/Zelda met in 1918, and where her parents once lived/where she grew up (now torn down). Spend night in Fitz AirBnB (2nd story of the house above the museum).

Tremont and Tupelo, Mississippi: Drive to visit birthplaces/museums of Tammy Wynette and Elvis Presley, respectively. (One day; spend night in cheap local place)

Memphis, Tennessee (Elvis's Graceland mansion), and Shiloh Battlefield. (One day; spend night in [probably very expensive] hotel)

Nashville, Tennessee. Ryman Auditorium and other historical country-music club sites downtown, plus George Jones's gravesite. (One day; spend night)  Turn in car, fly home to Austin.

I think this would be a GREAT 7-to-10-day vacation! (Trouble is, I don't know anyone else who does! My tastes are very specific! For one thing, when my mother, younger brother, and myself moved from Texas to Georgia pre-3rd grade to join my military father, my mother drove us all that way through the Deep South. Beautiful and mysterious country (unlike the more hard-scrabble-looking Texas, except for its Eastern woods). I would like to see both the East Texas pines and these southern states again.

The big-city Atlanta and Nashville parts of the trip would probably NOT be the highlights for me. Aside from the scenery while driving, I'd be looking most forward to the Fitzgerald house and the museums and the graves.

KISS: Goin' Blind (MTV Unplugged, 1995)

KISS: Goin' Blind (1974: Hotter Than Hell)

When I first heard this song around age 13 in the late '70s (a few years after it had first been released), I thought it was profound and sad. IT STILL IS.

And I know how it's to be
There is nothing more for you and I
Some are young and some are free
But I think I'm going blind

'Cause I think I'm going blind
And I know how it's to be, yeah

Little lady, can't you see
You're so young and so much different than I
I'm 93, you're 16
Can't you see I'm going blind

'Cause I think I'm going blind
And I know how it's to be, yeah

You're much younger, can't you see
There is nothing more for you and I
I'm 93, you're 16
And I think I'm going blind

Furniture Collapse!

I lived in a one-room (400 sq ft) apartment from 2010 to 2014, and one piece of real-wood furniture I bought during this time was a TV stand from a neighbor who was moving. I think I paid $40 for it. Because it was made of real wood, and not particle board, I'd assumed it would last me for the rest of my life. Though I've been in a bigger apartment since 2017, and one with a black/white/red theme, I'd still hung on to this "redwood" piece. It's been working just fine in my current apartment as a TV stand, and I assumed that it would, at one future point of my life, end up in my garage, or on a porch, or...somewhere.

Nah. The bottom board just collapsed dramatically this weekend (scaring both the cats and me). It's done, and there ain't no fixin' it.

I was mildly disturbed at its demise. I liked this simple table. And also: I haven't been in a lot of places for a "long" time. This current place: nearly 6 years. The next-longest place: 6 years. I was previously used to moving and dumping furniture, and so I never had the experience of having something that I liked actually give out on me! Today ordered a generic black particle-board thing from Amazon to take its place. Looks better, but isn't real wood, and has no story.

(Pictured below: After collapse, having moved the black cube off the bottom board and removed the 3 slats from the right side of table.)

The Seventh Seal: Clowns and Penitents

Aside from this scene, Bergman has his Clown Family survive the plague. I think he was just being kind.

Ingmar Bergman Movies

Odd, but when I did multiple searches on the Internet, I could not find a clear-cut TEXT list of Bergman movies.

Oh well. 

The list that I was searching for would have helped me keep track of the Bergman movies as I watched them. Watched so far:

Summer with Monika
Seventh Seal
Wild Strawberries

I've seen many more than this back in my college years (80s), but am just now starting to go through them again via Netflix, trying to go from beginning (including '40s) to end.

Poop Conversation

I live in a large apartment complex, and some of the residents with dogs don't pick up their dog poop. I usually haven't noticed this, but just last week I did notice that there were about 10 piles of poop right outside my backyard fence. And they stank.

I e-mailed the apt manager about the poop problem. An employee mailed back that I should try to "take pictures" of the miscreants! (Really? I'm supposed to hang out in my backyard with a camera and then pop out and snap shots of pooping dogs? Rather: Management should have their maintenance guys pick up the piles of poop if they can't enforce their rule that residents pick up after their dogs.)

Didn't take any pictures, but---when seeing several dogs/owners walk past my window toward the popular poop patch, I did go out after them and ask if they were "scooping their poop" because "there's been a problem." I felt like a total jerk (aka "Karen"), but in talking to two people (who happened to live together but walked their big-ass dog at separate times), I did glean that they were not the problem, but that there was one guy that they'd both witnessed letting his dogs out sans leash to poop freely... I told them that I'd report that to management, and I did.

This whole thing was so weird that I actually had a dream about it a couple of nights ago, in which I kept confronting various people in this apartment complex about their dogs and their poop!

Pool Conversation

My pool day today was pleasant. The most annoying thing EVER is a 20-something guy coming out there and cranking up his speakers. Didn't happen today, thank god.

I went out about 11:45am, had the pool to myself for about an hour. After that, a Hispanic woman and her young daughter came out.

Had an odd conversation with the mom: She had a pump, and a couple of blow-up floats. She asked me if I wanted her to blow up a float for me (!). I said no, thanks, I was just going to sit there by the side of the pool and read.

The Mom: What are you reading?
Me: The New Yorker. I have a stack of New Yorker magazines that I need to catch up on. [I cancelled my 20-year subscription to the New Yorker in 2016 because of their insane anti-intellectual takes on Trump, but I still have a stack of 10 or so mags that I still haven't read and take out to the pool.]
The Mom: I like to read The Great Books.
Me: What?
The Mom: The Great Books.
Me: When I come out to the pool, I don't want to bring any nice books---don't want to get them wet or get any suntan lotion on them, so I just bring my old magazines.
The Mom: I like to go to Half-Price Books and get The Great Books.

Oh. OK. Jesus. (What in the world are "The Great Books" in her mind? Say I'd asked her what particular "Great Book" she'd bought at Half-Price. Where in the world would that have gone? A serious discussion of Dickens?)

I'm about to be 57 years old next month! NEIN!

Crap! I can't hide it any longer: I just don't look cute any more!

Oh well. Guess from now on I'll have to attract other weirdos like me via my insinuating T-shirts and stated proclivities for George Jones and Joan Crawford and desire to travel to Thomas Hardy and F. Scott Fitzgerald and Southern and Russian and German sites. An acquired (and rather particular and unmatched) set of tastes. (Actual thoughts, though, can't quite be transmitted via the Internet.)

Yes, I fully expect to grow old and die alone---while surrounded by my beautiful cats and listening to the Beatles and George Jones, and watching Joan Crawford movies, and reading Hardy and Fitzgerald and Plath. Not such a terrible way to go out. Thought I really would prefer to have seen Paris and Moscow and Boston (and to have re-visited my father's East Texas and my mother's Wolfsburg) before I died!

Nietzsche bietzsche!

George Jones: Live At Austin City Limits (1980)

Full Austin City Limits George Jones show!
Just posted 4 days ago on YouTube (I came across by accident). Very excited to see this for the first time!

Special kudos to fiddler Johnny Gimble! And to the zither guy with his Tammy Wynette T-shirt! :)

Metallica: Enter Sandman (Live in Moscow, 1991)

(What is it about "Moscow" that adds goose-bumps? They're so grateful.)

"So there's been a Nuclear Attack..." NYC PSA released July 12

"Don't ask me how or why...The Big One has hit, OK?... Don't worry, you've got this."

What's more alarming?
NYC government employees seem to think that a nuclear attack is eminent.
We're not supposed to ask "how or why."
Some stupid wokester in a Steve Jobs outfit tells us, in therapy-speak, that if we go inside, we're fine---we "got this."

Anything wrong with any of the above?

George & Tammy: We're Not The Jet Set (1974)

By a fountain back in Rome
I fell in love with you
In a small cafe in Athens
You said you loved me too

And it was April in Paris
When I first held you close to me
Rome, Georgia, Athens, Texas
And Paris, Tennessee

No we're not the jet set
We're the old Chevrolet set
There's no Riviera
In Festus, Missouri

And you won't find Onassis
In Mullinville, Kansas
No, we're not the jet set
We're the old Chevrolet set
But ain't we got love?

No we're not the jet set
We're the old Chevrolet set
Our steak and martinis
Is draft beer with weenies

Our Bach and Tchaikovsky
Is Haggard and Husky
No we're not the jet set
We're the old Chevrolet set
But ain't we got love?

No, we're not the jet set
We're the old Chevrolet set
The Jones and Wynette set
Ain't the flamin' Suzette set

George Jones: "If I Don't Love You (Grits Ain't Groceries)" 1965

Well, you got my heart a-feelin' used and junky
The road of love is gettin' mighty, mighty bumpy
Tell me, pretty mama, have I filled your heart with hate?
Well, with someone new you're affiliated
And it's makin' me feel like I'm outdated
If I don't love you, grits ain't groceries
And that's on every poor man's plate

Well, let me know honey, tell me what's a-matter
Let me know what's on your mind
If I don't love you ain't a cow in Texas
They raise 'em there all the time
Well, I don't want to sound like I'm demandin'
I just wanta get a little understanding
If I don't love you, grits ain't groceries
And that's on every poor man's plate

--- Instrumental ---

Well, won't you tell me something, baby
Tell me what's a-matter
Let me know what's on your mind
If I don't love you ain't a cow in Texas
They raise 'em there all the time
Well, I don't want to sound like I'm demandin'
I just wanta get a little understanding
If I don't love you, grits ain't groceries
And that's on every poor man's plate...

George Jones & Keith Richards: "Burn Your Playhouse Down" (2008 duet of George's 1960s song)

George Jones: "You Better Treat Your Man Right" (1984)

1984 version of 1964 song.

Gods/Ghosts/Aliens

We, as humans, are clearly bored with ourselves. We've invented all sorts of stupid things to keep our wandering minds busy. Aside from the surface media, drugs, cars, makeup, and porn, there's also an underlying theme in our collective search: God(s) or ghosts or aliens. Regardless of which we choose to believe in, we all seem to realize that there's some inexplicable thing missing from our lives. Having kids doesn't fill it, our jobs don't fill it, drugs don't fill it, media certainly doesn't fill it. There's something clearly missing, but... WHAT IS IT? Belief in Gods/Ghosts/Aliens are all universal varieties of human recognition that something once present is gone, and attempts to re-connect with whatever that core thing was.

WE'RE ALL WATER by Yoko Ono (1972)

Back in 1983, before I went off to college, I was in love with a girl, and I made her listen to this whole 1972 album ("Some Time in New York City") over and over again. No wonder she dumped me. (She was into Heart and Ricki Lee Jones.)

In Yoko's defense: John made her enter the rock realm, when she had previously been a fey, abstract, rich-girl performance artist. Lennon had a Stu Sutcliffe/Astrid complex---a fantasy from his teen years about being part of an arty couple: Cute and cool with the beautiful Stu and Astrid, but not so cute with John and his annoying NYC received-radical-politics mate.

That said: I do like the concept and lyrics of this song!

There may not be much difference
Between Chairman Mao and Richard Nixon
If we strip them naked

There may not be much difference
Between Marilyn Monroe and Lenny Bruce
If we check their coffins

There may not be much difference
Between White House and Hall of People
If we count their windows

There may not be much difference
Between Raquel Welch and Jerry Rubin
If we hear their heartbeat

We're all water from different rivers
That's why it's so easy to meet
We're all water in this vast, vast ocean
Someday we'll evaporate together

There may not be much difference
Between Eldridge Cleaver and Queen of England
If we bottle their tears

There may not be much difference
Between Manson and the Pope
If we press their smile

There may not be much difference
Between Rockefeller and you
If we hear you sing

There may not be much difference
Between you and me
If we show our dreams

We're all water from different rivers
That's why it's so easy to meet
We're all water in this vast, vast ocean
Someday we'll evaporate together

Helen Shapiro & The Beatles 1963

The Trans Generation

From the below Wikipedia descriptions (and with these first six I generally agree):

Lost Generation: 1883-1900.
Greatest Generation: 1901-1927.
Silent Generation: 1928-1945.
Baby Boomers: 1946-1964.
Generation X: 1965-1980.
Millennials: 1981-1996.

But then appear the much more random people:

Generation Z: 1997-2012.
Generation Alpha: OK, "Generation Alpha" will never catch on. These poor kids are at the tail-end of civilization, not at the beginning of anything.

A name I propose for everyone born after 1996: The "Trans Generation." (1) Their social-media avatar culture has encouraged them to make up identities for themselves (reasonable when online, but nonsensical when carried over to the real world). (2) Academic representatives have been falsely insisting that whatever people claim to be, they must be. And mainstream political and media leaders have been insanely adopting this same psychotic stance.

Thus: You guys are the "Trans Generation." (1) For claiming to be something you're not (with no rational adults/scientists willing to tell you any differently). And (2) Because---hopefully---you only represent a brief transitional period into something much better and more rational.

Wikipedia defs:

• The Lost Generation, also known as the "Generation of 1914" in Europe,^[34] is a term originating from Gertrude Stein to describe those who fought in World War I. The Lost Generation is defined as the cohort born from 1883 to 1900 who came of age during World War I and the Roaring Twenties.^[35]
• The Greatest Generation, also known as the "G.I. Generation",^[36] includes the veterans who fought in World War II. They were born from 1901 to 1927;^[37] older G.I.s (or the Interbellum Generation) came of age during the Roaring Twenties, while younger G.I.s came of age during the Great Depression and World War II. Journalist Tom Brokaw wrote about American members of this cohort in his book The Greatest Generation, which popularized the term.^[38]
• The Silent Generation, also known as the "Lucky Few", is the cohort who came of age in the pre–World War II era. They were born from 1928 to 1945.^[39][40] In the U.S., this group includes most of those who may have fought the Korean War and many of those who may have fought during the Vietnam War.
• Baby boomers are the people born following World War II from 1946 to 1964. Increased birth rates were observed during the post–World War II baby boom, making them a relatively large demographic cohort.^[41][42] In the U.S., many older boomers may have fought in the Vietnam War or participated in the counterculture of the 1960s, while younger boomers (or Generation Jones) came of age in the "malaise" years of the 1970s.^[43]
• Generation X (or Gen X for short) is the cohort following the baby boomers. The generation is generally defined as people born between 1965 and 1980.^[44] The term has also been used in different times and places for a number of different subcultures or countercultures since the 1950s. In the U.S., some called Xers the "baby bust" generation because of a drop in birth rates following the baby boom.^[45]
• Millennials, also known as Generation Y^[46] (or Gen Y for short), are the generation following Generation X who grew up around the turn of the 3rd millennium. Researchers and popular media use the early 1980s as starting birth years and the mid-1990s as ending birth years. According to the Pew Research Center, the generation spans those born between 1981 and 1996.^[47] The Pew Research Center reported that Millennials surpassed the Baby Boomers in U.S. numbers in 2019, with an estimated 71.6 million Boomers and 72.1 million Millennials.^[48]
• Generation Z (or Gen Z for short and colloquially as "Zoomers"), are the people succeeding the Millennials. Researchers and popular media typically use the mid-to-late 1990s as starting birth years and the early 2010s as ending birth years. Pew Research Center describe Generation Z as spanning from 1997 to 2012.^[49] Statistics Canada describe Generation Z as spanning from 1993 to 2011.^[50][51]
• Generation Alpha (or Gen Alpha for short) are the generation succeeding Generation Z. Researchers and popular media typically use the early 2010s as starting birth years and the mid-2020s as ending birth years. Generation Alpha is the first to be born entirely in the 21st century.^[52] As of 2015, there were some two-and-a-half million people born every week around the globe, and Gen Alpha is expected to reach two billion in size by 2025.^[53]

Olivia! ABC-TV Special with Andy Gibb & ABBA (1978)

I'm torn: The peak of 1978 music, yet... how cheesy as presented. I love ABBA to this day, and I like Andy Gibb and think Olivia Newton-John is OK... but clearly something needed to break through this stifling blandness (and whoever choreographed this thing should be posthumously fired).

In a similar vein, I've watched my beloved Joan Crawford on the insipid "Hollywood Palace" TV show ('64-'70)...and was similarly repulsed by the phoniness and utter lack of real-life energy. Understood that this sort of phony thing would have to go.

Today, the cheesy, bankrupt rap shit on every media platform is equally phony and played out and DONE, but no one currently has either the guts or the talent to sweep it away into the dustbin of late '90s/early 2000s history, where it belongs.(At this point, no one needs to see another video with group dancers, or hear about lower-class 20-something thugs with tats and their drugs and hos, or read about lower-class hos and their drugs and lip-fills and stripper pasts. All of the public decadence of the past 20 years has become quite tedious---nearly as tedious as Olivia Newton-John was in 1978, except ONJ actually had some singing talent --- her music can still be listened to 40 years later. Rap? Sing-songy, jump-ropey---and then the gangstas kicked in: How much longer are the millionaire "gangstas" gonna be singing about their cribs? How much longer are the up-and-coming former drug-dealers gonna be seen as "fresh"---someone's already told that story. (And someone's already slept with that Kardashian.)

The Beatles: Long Tall Sally (Swedish TV, 1963)

The Beatles: She Loves You (UK TV "The Mersey Sound" 1963)

Whew! A relatively harmless Fourth o' July!

I've got "family," just not family that I have cookouts with on holidays like July 4. So THAT has always been depressing. (And then there are the long-ago memories of my first girlfriend back in the early '90s. We broke up after a year-and-a-half, but then the BS lingered on for several more years---sometimes we were together on the 4th, sometimes not. I remember spending 4th of July weekends watching Wimbledon on TV by myself a lot...)

And then, aside from emotional angst, there's the firecracker angst of the 4th (and of New Year's Eve). I moved into my current apartment in 2017. And for the first 3 years or so, I had multiple obnoxious neighbors (20-something males) who set off firecrackers within the complex itself (not just in adjoining parking lots or streets) on the 4th and New Year's Eve. Come to think of it, the same thing happened back when I lived in a different apartment in 2015-2016: Young people setting off fireworks until 3am or later in the parking lot. There's a fine line between having a good time on holidays and being obnoxious. On the 4th: I expect loud noises from dark until around midnight. On New Year's: I expect loud noises from midnight 'til about 2, I guess. But in past years, it has gone on and on... Scares me, scares my pets.

This year, though, it wasn't so bad at all. I heard some muffled stuff, but for the most part it was over by about 1:30am.

Didn't watch any Wimbledon this year! (Haven't for many years.) What I did watch all holiday weekend was "Naked and Afraid" on TV. Had nothing else to do, so tried to find something not too depressing. Though people being "naked and miserable" was kind of depressing! Still, I held on to some kind of "triumph of the spirit" at the end... Well, until I went to the Wikipedia page to learn more about the show, and read:

Each episode chronicles the lives of two survivalists (1 human being who identifies as male (man); 1 human being who identifies as female (woman)...

Jesus Christ. I can't stand this sick "identifies as" bullshit that has spread from academia to the mainstream (despite all science). Question: Remember Rachel Dolezal, who was white but "identified as" black? She was rightly mocked. So why in the world the language in the press and social media sites re "identifies as male," etc.? Either you're biologically a male or female, or you're not. You can have operations. You can take hormones. You can FEEL LIKE something else. And all of that is fine. Live your life; do what you want to your own body. But don't expect the rest of us to play along with your "feelings." Yet... the media and, most ominously, many workplaces are now trying to force people into acknowledging something that's clearly not biologically true. I am constantly aware of the "Emperor's New Clothes" folktale---Everyone's brainwashed into pretending that something false is true until a little kid dares to call out the real truth.

As for me: I'm a female who's attracted to both sexes. About 80/20 female/male. And so what. "So what" is how it should be. I don't want any sports teams wearing logos on their uniforms. I don't want anyone forced to "declare their gender" in public or on company/university websites. I don't want a special "Pride Month." In today's lingo, I suppose I'm "gender fluid." But who gives a flying fuck? Do your own thing, and don't force society as a whole to glorify whatever LGBTQ+!@ crap the academics come up with (including taking kids to drag shows---that's a specialized campy art form meant for adults that little kids don't yet need to try to figure out).

Happy Birthday, America! Hang in there!

From FreeSchool.com:
The Star-Spangled Banner is the national anthem of the United States of America. The lyrics were composed in 1814 by young American lawyer Francis Scott Key after watching the bombardment of Fort McHenry by the British. The battle raged on through the night and he waited until dawn and he could see whose flag flew over the fort. In the morning, the American flag still flew, indicating that they had not been defeated!


O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light, 

What so proudly we hail’d at the twilight’s last gleaming, 

Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight 

O’er the ramparts we watch’d were so gallantly streaming

 

And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, 

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there

O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave 

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Nietzsche, Bietzsche!

"That which does not kill us makes us stronger.”

“It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship, that makes unhappy marriages.”
 
“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.”

“Sometimes people don't want to hear the truth because they don't want their illusions destroyed.”

“The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning  yourself.” 

“What if, some day or night, a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: 'This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more' ... Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: 'You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine.”

“A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything.” 

“The lonely one offers his hand too quickly to whomever he encounters.” 

“Meaning and morality of One's life come from within oneself. Healthy, strong individuals seek self expansion by experimenting and by living dangerously. Life consists of an infinite number of possibilities and the healthy person explores as many of them as possible. Religions that teach pity, self-contempt, humility, self-restraint and guilt are incorrect. The good life is ever changing, challenging, devoid of regret, intense, creative and risky.”

Paul McCartney - I've Got a Feeling (feat. John Lennon) (Glastonbury 2022)

George Jones on Pop Goes the Country (1979)

Two years after his divorce from Tammy Wynette:
Still mourning her. A mess. Anorexic, alcoholic, can't sing his high or low notes. At his very lowest point.
But...how great and soulful he still is. He's not sloppy.
His sad eyes are still alive, his shattered voice is still beautiful, his body still moves in time to the music...

He wouldn't get his shit together for another few years. He married his 4th wife Nancy in 1983, who became a stabilizing presence (though he still continued to drink and do drugs for a few more years, albeit not to such psychotic, self-destructive levels).

George Jones: White Lightning (live in Florida, 1987)

"Trying to be...helpful."

George Jones: She's My Rock (Live at Farm Aid, 1985)

I like the way he moves.

George Jones: The Race Is On (Live at Farm Aid 1985)

George Jones: Tennessee Whiskey (Live at Farm Aid, 1985)

What used to be a "strong woman" is now a "Karen"

But I don't CARE-N. 

One thing that stands out in my mind is in the late '90s, when I lived in a dump of a duplex and workers had to come in to fix something or other. When I got home from work, I discovered that one of the workers had taken a huge dump in my toilet---a huge splattering dump, with shit all over not just the bowl but the rim and seat, as well. And I was too fucking wimpy to call the owners and complain. I cleaned up that nasty shit myself. And hated myself for it.

Since then, I've consciously worked to become more assertive. Only to find that I'm now labelled a "Karen" by leftists on the Internet.

Today, I went out to my apartment pool. Shared it for an hour or so with a mom and kid and the mom's dad. (They were only mildly annoying: The fucking interminable out-loud search for "the marble" at the bottom of the pool... And the bursts of singing---dear god, how forced. I grew up in pools as a kid---my neighborhoods usually had them, and I usually went to them either with my dad or, more often, by myself. And there was no weird singing, and no stilted conversations. If I was with my dad: we'd swim and have races, he'd toss me off his shoulders, etc. If I was by myself: I'd splash around and practice swimming underwater and/or pretend I was Agent 99 from "Get Smart.")

After these two left, I had about 10 blissful minutes of the pool to myself.

Then the "dude" who lives behind me showed up. (This guy's front door is a few feet from my backyard. Every time I try to go outside, he's always annoying perched right there on the brick wall smoking and looking into my yard. He can't stand up and walk while smoking, etc. So, I dislike him to begin with.) He's a pool regular---I know this 'cause of his rainbow-bright trunks as they pass by my front window a million times a day. Usually, though, he goes out to the pool around 2pm, then stays 'til about 7pm, with multiple trips back and forth to either pee or eat, who knows. Occasionally, but not usually, he has a girl literally trailing after him.

Today, The Dude came out to the pool around 1pm while I was still out there. He immediately set up speakers from his iPhone that starting blaring out music. I was about to leave anyway, and I could have just left without saying anything, but... Remembering the SHIT situation from years earlier:

Me: Hey, man!
Him: [???]
Me: Your music that loud isn't cool. Other people don't want to listen to your music.
Him: Go in, then.

I did "go in" then. What was I supposed to do: Go and grab his iPhone and toss it in the pool? But at least I said something.

Abortion

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abortion

Don't trust Wikipedia (ever), but they still provide a general overview.

Aside from all of the current abstract US political considerations: WHY and HOW did ANYONE ever come up with the idea to scrape an unborn baby out of its mother's womb? 

I'm guessing that even centuries ago, married men didn't want babies born from their mistresses, and so they paid doctors to figure out ways to terminate the pregnancies.

(Similarly, in many recent polls, the strongest supporters of abortion are men. Just on a shallow, physical level, they have the most to either lose or gain if women become more hesitant about having random sex because of the actual serious consequences. It's in men's immediate physical best interests to convince women to "just do it" with them.)

In the "olden days," pre-birth control, women were often societally shunned for getting pregnant out of wedlock. Today, though, that's not the case. Unwed mothers are the norm rather than the exception (and they even get cheesy TV shows).

And today there are multitudes of very cheap (or free) birth control options, including the "morning-after pill." Take advantage of these options.

In short: Today, there's no good reason for having an abortion. It's gruesome and utterly unnatural. (What other species murders its own?) If you didn't use birth control and don't want to raise a kid: Then... give it up for adoption after 9 months. Be strong and serious. Don't think about the abstract politics, or about what your cheesy boyfriend or the TV and Internet leftists tell you to do. Think about what you're actually doing to a living being inside you, and to YOU. (I know 3 women who have had abortions, and every one of them regrets it to this day, even 20 or 30 years later.)

George Jones: I'm a People (1966)

 

In praise of the Absurd. AKA "subverting authority."

Subversive acts in public forums (e.g., national TV) by representatives of the poor are centuries (probably millennia) old---not just limited to blacks, as claimed by today's post-1968 purveyors of Critical Race Theory.

NOTE: Said "subverting authority" lingo and praise for the "Absurd," once a joke, is now constantly repeated---sans irony---in government, in media outlets (social/TV/papers/movies), in sports, in business. I first came across this leftist desire for labeling in the mid-1990s while attending a grad-school writing program at San Francisco State University (SFSU)---where my poetry was dismissed UNTIL I (1) came out as gay to my gay professor, and (2) stripped down a poem to the bare minimum for an Asian professor who wrote EXACTLY such minimalist poems. (After my supposed conversion to their beliefs, I was a class favorite.) I was also mocked by my thesis advisor---the department head, Frances Mayes (to publish "Under the Tuscan Sun" 1 year later)---for being half-German ("Are your family Nazis?" Mayes asked me seriously. Mayes was/is from Georgia---imagine if I'd asked her if her family were slave-owners---Who does that? And why?)

I can't stand "received-info" leftists who can't think for themselves or relate to others in a natural, personal way---all they can seemingly do is recite their leftist propaganda when encountering other people, and use said propaganda to dismiss them unless they mirror their own received beliefs.

NOTE: I'd never encountered this psychotic phenomenon among people I grew up with in small-town Texas. I was, though, first aware of the creepiness and falsity when I came to the University of Texas in Austin in 1983. Magnified when I was at SFSU in '94-95. Conversely, when I lived in NYC and New Jersey in 2007-2010, I found the people to be very down-to-earth and straightforward and "regular," just like small-town Texas people.

George Jones: 1959 medley on "Town Hall Party"

From Rolling Stone Online (4/26/16):

For his debut appearance on Town Hall Party, a popular California radio broadcast that made the transition to TV on Los Angeles station KTTV, Jones was offered a 10-minute slot during which he performed six songs: “You Done Me Wrong,” “Life to Go,” “Don’t Do This to Me,” “Seasons of My Heart,” and his then-current single, “Who Shot Sam,” which would reach the Top Ten that year, giving Jones a remarkable 35-week run on the Billboard charts that year. Although “White Lightning” was penned by J.P. Richardson (the “Big Bopper”) and “Sam” was co-written by Jones and two other writers, the songs share a similar style and were both recorded under the direction of Buddy Killen. Both hits for the Mercury label, the songs were cut at a time when Jones was doing some of his heaviest drinking, but his live TV performance was seemingly unaffected.    

In this vintage clip showcasing one of Jones’ earliest TV performances, the singer is introduced by Jay Stewart (whose voice would later be heard announcing several TV game shows). Jones is joined by regular Town Hall Party band members including fiddler Harold Hensley (seen here in the plaid shirt), Gordon Terry on fiddle (and later electric guitar), Jimmy Pruitt on piano and Pee Wee Adams on drums, along with Skeets McDonald on electric bass, Cliff Crofford on acoustic guitar.

Jones’ voice was admittedly a bit worn from constant touring (among other things), but he finished his first Town Hall Party appearance with an encore of another 1956 hit, “You Gotta Be My Baby.” Introducing it as “one we hadn’t did in a long time around this part of the country,” Jones and band kicked into the quick-tempoed tune with gusto, with another rapid-fire piano solo from Pruitt.

Jones would influence nearly every artist that came after him, especially as his legend grew. Listen closely to the way he delivers the last verse and you’ll hear a similar vocal style in another iconic songwriter he no doubt influenced – Bob Dylan.

George Jones: Still Doin' Time (1981)

George Jones: Shine On

One of my recent Redbubble.com T-shirt orders included a shirt with the cover of George Jones's 1983 album "Shine On."

I was wearing the T-shirt today while making a beer run at my corner store. A raggedy homeless guy, under the age of 35, held the door open for me and, as he did, exclaimed, "That's George Jones! Yeah!"

I don't know if it's "Texas" or "the South" or what---but it's really cool that a young, obviously messed-up guy would bother to hold the door open for a lady AND know, and appreciate, who George Jones was.

George Jones: If Drinking Don't Kill Me (1982)

Recorded in 1981, performed here in 1982.
His last line re "Tammy's memory will" is especially sad (though he jokes about it for the vast professional-event crowd)---they had divorced in 1975, and he hung on for a very long time.

He finally married his last wife Nancy in '83 and settled down somewhat (or at least got over his Tammy obsession).

So pleased to discover that the crap company that rejected me back in 2019...

 ... has still not found anyone. (I subscribe to Indeed, so I continue to see the local job listings for my field.)

At the time, in 2019, I was sad and desperate after quitting my cushy state job. Went to 2 interviews at this place. (At the second interview, the husband accused me of being late to the interview---as it turned out, his secretary had gotten the time wrong.)

A small-time husband-and-wife outfit (Indian guy and his American wife). The wife contacted my old state job, and my old boss said she wouldn't hire me again--- After I heard this, I had to threaten to file a case against that boss with the University to shut her up.

The wife at this new place, after talking to my old boss, then condescendingly offered me only a temp position---which I rejected, since I'd (very luckily) been hired by my current company that very day.

Very satisfying to see that this shitty company, in the past 2 years alone, has had to re-list the same position over 4 times.

Me? I'm very happy at the company that hired me back in 2020---where I can now work from home! The location of the crappy company above took an hour to drive to for my job interview way back then (though just 12 or so miles away---Austin traffic); during Covid they went with Covid, but have long since asked their employees to work within their 20 x 20 ft tiny office, with 5-8 people scrunched into one room.

Dear God, I'm so grateful for my current job! THANK YOU, UNIVERSE!