I don't love the Timberlake or Lady G, but tracks 1-7 (click post title or link below) make this gimp want to dance.
Just a smalltown girl, livin' in a lonely world. She took the midnight train going anywhere. . .
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Top party songs
I don't love the Timberlake or Lady G, but tracks 1-7 (click post title or link below) make this gimp want to dance.
What I learned/realized/acknowledged in 2009
• Pomegranates are the most overrated fruit.
• Reincarnation to the nth degree doesn't always produce Gandhis and Mother Teresas. Sometimes you just get a person who knows how to game the system to get what they want.
• Listen to more Cowboy Junkies.
• Eat more processed sugar.
• Rare steak, not ambrosia, is the food of the gods. A little Heinz 57 sauce increases the joy.
• In pronunciation, there is nothing wrong and many things right with the flat "I."
• High tenor is the ultimate hillbilly singing voice.
• Love quickly, but watch your back.
• Nothing in this world is funnier than a good LOL cat.
• Forgive all; forget nothing.
Hawt, she haz it
More pics of Foster to ring in the new year. Gah, look at those dykey hands.
Oh, Clarice. . .
Jodie, woman of the decade
May I nominate Jodie Foster, even though she's never come out? Maybe especially since she's never come out.
In the days of Paris Hilton and Octomom and parents who pimp out their little boy to get a tee-vee show, Miss Foster's fierce defense of her privacy warms the heart. And other parts. . .
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Oh, wait
The word "breast" in a headline caught my eye as I was closing out the Interwebs.
This article (click post title or link below) is titled "14 things every man should know about breasts," but I'm thinking it applies to all.
Stop it. Stop it now.
Click the post title for misuses The Oatmeal insists you seize, er, cease and desist now.
Home again, home again
Just in time for new year's eve.
Click the post title or go here for the decade represented in icons, courtesy of the New York Times.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
East bound
Looks like the weather held. I strike out for Nashville via Frontier Airlines in a bit.
Blogging to resume tomorrow afternoon/evening, after the young 'uns collapse from their big day.
Merry Christmas.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Night music
Emmylou Harris ripping out your heart. Go here or hit the post title.
Happy happy, joy joy for your Christmas eve eve.
Watch out. That bass will blow out your speakers.
I remember holdin on' to you
All them long and lonely nights I put you through
Somewhere in there I'm sure I made you cry
But I can't remember if we said goodbye
Somewhere in there I'm sure I made you cry
But I can't remember if we said goodbye
But I recall all of them nights down in Mexico
One place I may never go in my life again
Was I just off somewhere just too high
But I can't remember if we said goodbye
I only miss you here every now and then
Like the soft breeze blowin' up from the Caribbean
Most Novembers I break down and cry
But I can't remember if we said goodbye
But I recall all of them nights down in Mexico
One place I may never go in my life again
Was I just off somewhere just too high
But I can't remember if we said goodbye
One place I may never go in my life again
Was I just off somewhere just too high
But I can't remember if we said goodbye
Another festivus miracle
The tradition of Festivus begins
with the airing of grievances. I got a lot of problems with you people!
'The 50 Hottest Dead People of the Decade'
As the 00s close, someone selected the 50 most fabulous who expired those years.
Hit the post title or go here: www.bestweekever.tv/2009-12-22/the-50-hottest-dead-people-of-the-decade
My top 3: Rosemary Clooney, Suzanne Pleshette and Eartha Kitt.
The 12 Redneck Days of Christmas
Hit the post title or go here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q6Ht0KXpZ6c
I love that the youtube poster doesn't get the reference to Copenhagen.
And oh, here's a great Internet comment I tripped across while looking for art for this post. One old boy said that snuff pouches (tobacco in small mesh sacks instead of loose snuff) "are liking eating pussy through pantyhose."
AND SOME PARTS TO A MUSTANG GT!
Open hearts, open minds
The United Methodist Church used the slogan in the headline a few years back to lure gay people and "other others" (e.g. blacks and Latinos) to the fold without overtly saying that "the gay," et al, are OK in the eyes of God.
The ruse was obnoxiously practical but not too effective.
The UMC last had gumption before the American Civil War. Now they're mealy-mouthed with no passion for any position. And you know what the B-I-B-L-E says about lukewarmedness:
From the King James Version: So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth. Revelation 3:16
Let it snow. . . next week
Hmmm. We shall see if I and eleventy zillion other holiday fliers get out of DIA tomorrow.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Music City, here I come
Nashville is my town.
Street preachers in the heat and humidity. It's always raining in Guitar Town, you know. The tourists have taken over Lower Broad, swishing in their windsuits down Second Avenue. The homeless down on the Cumberland River have mostly been moved out of sight, so as not to offend the visitors who'll buy a gee-tar that'll never come out of the closet when they get home to Ohio.
The Indigo Girls once deplored my town, with reason.
Hateful Baptists. Provincial minds. Did I mention the heat and humidity? And that commercial crap they mainstream as music.
But, Lord. There's more there--a milkshake on Elliston Place, the memory of Minnie Pearl, even that god-awful replica Parthenon. The town drew Emmylou Harris, Steve Earle, Dolly Parton, Patsy Cline. Mandy Barnett sings there.
And by God, the Ryman still stands.
Nashville is where the doctors fixed my heart. It's where my daddy died. It's where my niece came into the world.
Nashville. I can't quit her.
Listen to Lacy. She knows.
Happy winter solstice
I'm a day late. Sorry, Uncle Bruce. I know for you pagans/atheists, it is the most wonderful time of the year.
Go here for some factoids on the shortest day of the year.
Buxom bounces back. Maybe
V magazine (apparently a big-time fashion pub) will feature "plus-sized models" in its January issue.
I know; I was skeptical too. But "plus-sized" means, gasp, a size 12. Wow.
I guess the editors figured out that American women aren't getting skinnier. Please note also that Marilyn Monroe, our retro icon for beauty, was easily a size 12 and may have gone higher.
This dishy site claims Norma Jean also wore a 36D bra. Take that, twiggies.
OK, I see that I've blogged this morning about Dolly Parton and Marilyn Monroe. How, um, Freudian.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Kathleen does Molly
The late Molly Ivins was a proud liberal from Texas who famously sliced and diced George W. Bush (she called him "Shrub") in print. She was a broad critic of conservative culture. And to hear her twang out loud about Lone Star politics and the national scene--oh, my.
She, Ann Richards and Linda Ellerbee are in heaven today, slugging bourbon and trading stories.
Kathleen Turner will portray Ivins in a Philadelphia theater production, Red-Hot Patriot: The Kick-Ass Wit of Molly Ivins (click post title).
Hear and see Ivins opine about "ort" in Texas by clicking http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKckRXKRmRg
Hear and see Ivins on the Texas law against sex toys (dildos are illegal in the Lone Star State) by clicking http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GaUl6x1YXpg
Some quotes from Ivins:
"I have been attacked by Rush Limbaugh on the air, an experience somewhat akin to being gummed by a newt. It doesn't actually hurt, but it leaves you with slimy stuff on your ankle."
“It is possible to read the history of this country as one long struggle to extend the liberties established in our Constitution to everyone in America.”
“I dearly love the state of Texas, but I consider that a harmless perversion on my part, and discuss it only with consenting adults.”Next time I tell you someone from Texas should not be president of the United States, please pay attention. We are the people who run this country. We are the deciders. And every single day, every single one of us needs to step outside and take some action to help stop this war...We need people in the streets, banging pots and pans and demanding, 'Stop it, now!'" (from her last column) | |||||
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Sunday sermon
Women Be Wise
"The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they're okay, then it's you." Rita Mae Brown
"If someone betrays you once, it’s their fault; if they betray you twice, it’s your fault." Eleanor Roosevelt
Men Be Too. Occasionally
"If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and a man." Mark Twain
1984 in music, cont'd
"Purple Rain" by Prince.
Click the post title or follow the link below.
Cut #5 is "Darling Nikki," Prince's homage to a masturbating young lady. Sounds sorta quaint today, but Tipper Gore raged over it in 1984.
The title track (#9) is opera-esque.
"When Doves Cry" (#6), with its frenetic sexual beat, is a perfect anthem for the man who oozed sex during the Reagan years. "Just-say-no" Nancy herself probably got a little moist listening to the last minute or so of this one.
Retro crush--Dianne Wiest
From Zellweger to Wiest, I have a thing for squinty-eyed women who can act.
Wiest is one of our finest character actors. Click the post title or the link below for a clip from "Parenthood," with Wiest as a divorced mother who accidentally views risque pics of her daughter, played by Martha Plimpton (another actress with non-conventional looks that I crush on. Yes, I know I'm a freak.).
"Do you know why I'm having sex with machinery?"
Top 10 animal videos of 2009
Paw Nation sez so. I especially love the pug with the stroller, the sneezing baby elephant, and the koala getting a drink (yes, the last one there made me cry).
Hit the post title or follow the link below.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Smarty pants
I sometimes suck at sporcle.com quizzes.
But I got 'em all with time to spare on "combo animal names."
Off to drink liberally. Wait. That was last night.
Are "lyric" and "lyrics" interchangeable?
No matter. I'm fixated on song today.
Here are more song words for the weekend. Dickey Betts co-wrote. Of course, of course.
My father was a gambler down in Georgia
He wound up on the wrong end of a gun
I was born in the backseat of a Greyhound bus
Rolling down Highway 41
I'm on my way to New Orleans this morning
Leavin' out of Nashville, Tennessee
They're always having a good time down on the Bayou
Them delta women think the world of me
Braggin' blues
Coda: Bonnie Raitt is perhaps the first white woman to get away with boldly boasting in song about her snug peash.
Exhibit A: Cut #2 ("Mighty Tight Woman") at the link below.
I got all of them saying that I'm tight in everything that I do. . .
Drunk talkin'
I argued music with a walking music encyclopedia last night. After a bit of holiday spirits. OK, a lot of spirits.
Not smart, eh?
I concede this morning that Bonnie Raitt does have a strong country-blues mentality.
Lesson learned: Don't mess with the JCatt when it comes to music. Even when gulping vodka. Maybe especially when gulping vodka.
Here's Raitt with "Angel from Montgomery" (cut #9). Matches my pensive mood today.
Just give me one thing that I can hold onto
To believe in this living is just a hard way to go
And if you want a good snot cry, hit "Louise" (cut #13). There is no sadder couplet in lyric than the way Bonnie delivers Louise rode home on a mail train, somewhere to the South, I heard 'em say.
Sometimes a bottle of perfume
Flowers and maybe some lace
Men brought Louise 10-cent trinkets
Their intentions were easily traced
Everybody thought it kind of sad
When they found Louise in her room
They'd all put her down below their kind
Still, some cried when she died this afternoon
Christmas, Simone style
Not flippant. Not funny. Not reverent.
Just poignant holiday music from a master.
He did it!
My cousin graduates today from TTU with a bachelor's in mechanical engineering. Here he is with his kids.
FTR, academic slouches don't get engineering degrees from Tennessee Technological University. The curriculum weeds those out.
Way to go, Mark!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Oh, Mandy
I intended to write words and words and more frothed words when I blogged about Mandy Barnett. But all I can say is Sweet Baby Jesus.
And this: If ever Tennessee gets civil unions, this is the gal I would go after. A friend gets a gaydar hit from Mandy, but I can't say I care either way. I would gay-marry this woman and go happy to the Lord in heaven the next day.
Listen. And look. But not too hard. I got dibs.
Mullet-less Runaway
The movie "The Runaways," to be released in the spring, will chronicle Joan Jett's first band. Kristen Stewart will play Jett. (Click the post title to see the trailer.)
The intertwines are abuzz that Stewart sports a mullet in the movie.
I am from the Southeast. I have shopped in more Wal-Marts than most people will ever pass on the interstate. I have been to a professional wrestling match--in person. I have seen (and sported) many a mullet in its natural habitat. Stewart's "mullet" (see accompanying pic) is a '70s shag.
See how her ears are covered? How the back is not radically longer than the front?
Not. A. Mullet.
To paraphrase my brother, "No, Tammy. I know what a mullet looks like."
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Merry Christmas blah blah blah
A bit of snark--and a bottle of bourbon--make the holiday go down.
I tolerate Christmas. I love my family. Hit the post title to join me and Robert Earl in acknowledging that love without smothering in schmaltz.
Mom got drunk and Dad got drunk at our Christmas party
We were drinking champagne punch and homemade eggnog
Little sister brought her new boyfriend; he was a Mexican
We didn't know what to think of him 'til he sang Feliz Navidad
Brother Ken brought his kids with him, the three from his first wife Lynn
And the two identical twins from his second wife Mary Nell
Of course he brought his new wife Kay, who talks all about AA
Chain-smoking while the stereo plays noel, noel, the first noel
Carve the turkey and turn the ballgame on
Make margaritas when the eggnog's gone
Send somebody to the Quik-Pak store; we need some ice and an extension cord
A can of bean-dip and some Diet Rites, a box of Tampons, some Marlboro Lights
Hallelujah, everybody say cheese
Merry Christmas from the family
Fred and Rita drove from Harlingen; I can't remember how I'm kin to them
But when they tried to plug their motorhome in they blew our Christmas lights
Cousin David knew just what went wrong, so we all waited out on our front lawn
He threw a breaker and the lights came on, and we all sang Silent Night
Carve the turkey and turn the ballgame on
Make bloody marys 'cause we all want one
Send somebody to the Stop-N-Go; we need some celery and a can of fake snow
A bag of lemons and some Diet Sprites, a box of Tampons, some Salem Lights
Hallelujah, everybody say cheese
Merry Christmas from the family
Mississippi. Goddamn.
I note that my blog has turned South in the last day.
Hit the post title and play cut #2 for leavening perspective on down yonder. From Nina Simone--you better listen or she'll haunt your dreams. Nina will cut a bitch. From the grave.
Go go, GQ
GQ chronicles the most stylish cars of the 1960s (hit post title).
My top 3 from the list: a family-esque coupe (Buick Riviera), a sports car (Chevrolet Corvette), and for my redneck heart, a muscle car (Ford Mustang Fastback).
Sheville
More answers for Sullivan's Southern question (hit post title).
One answer suggests Asheville, North Carolina, where I will likely land if I ever live east again. There are so many of "the gay" there that lesbians just drop the "A" and call it Sheville.
Asheville is the acme of the Mountain South. My favorite answer from this Sullivan blog segment:
"If I want to visit the Southern equivalent of Funky Town I drive up to Asheville, North Carolina, a city so steeped in bohemian culture the favorite local T-shirt says "It's not weird, it's Asheville." This heartland Appalachian city has a very open GBLT population, a foodie atmosphere celebrating vegan and Indian food, a high ratio of tattoos to skin; and an arts community embracing every known medium, and then some."
Carpetbaggers, er, tourists coming your way
Andrew Sullivan's blog at The Atlantic asked readers for recommendations on visiting the authentic American South. Hit the post title to see some answers.
Having lived in both the rural and urban South, I pick this sentence as my favorite: "But living a hair north of Charleston focused my attention on one salient fact about the South: her cities are islands of cosmopolitan excess in seas of poverty and (relative) provincialism."
My answer to the blog question: Eat some kraut canned by a mamaw.
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