Coda

Chicago

part III

Saturday Night Fever

Yeah, I said it. Saturday Night Fever.

part II

The Color Purple

Don't mess with Shug Avery.

Soundtracks we all should own part I

Out of Africa

You know what to do.

She'll cut a bitch

That's the title of Kathy Griffin's new stand-up DVD. I hope to see her on her upcoming tour.

The post title takes you to a mash-up of hilarious moments (and one sad scene) that some gay guy put together and posted on youtube.

Squeak sez. . .

. . . that I must post a pic of a dog in costume as equally humiliating as the kitty pic  in the previous post.

Hit the title for more canine shame.

Halloween pets

Click the title for top costumes. 

Squeakus Maximus, the cat with whom I reside, is again this year going as Her Royal Highness, aka herself.

 That is all.

Death

Hit the title to read about Lemaricus Davidson's sentence of death in the penalty phase of his trial for the rape and murder of Channon Christian and Chris Newsom.

Davidson has already arrived at Riverbend, Tennessee's death-row location.  Knoxville--where he was sentenced around 10 a.m. today--and Nashville--where he arrived at Riverbend around 7 hours later--are more than 3 hours apart by car. Looks like the authorities got him out of the city of his crimes right fast.

The President honors the fallen

Barack Obama salutes as the remains of Sgt. Dale R. Griffin arrive at Dover Air Force Base. Sgt. Griffin was killed in combat in Afghanistan.

Best costume contest

I nominate Michelle.

Sweet Jane

Jane Lynch, these days inspiring giddiness in "Glee," is profiled by Village Voice (click post title).

And here she is with Jennifer Coolidge (cute in her own right with those vaguely crossed eyes) in "Best in Show."

Thursday Loretta

Click the post title for Loretta Lynn on the Muppet Show. With Muppet babies! And Fozzie the Bear!

Sidebar: I love how this Disney version fiddles with the footage so you can't clearly hear Lynn deliver the line "The Pill may change the world tomorrow."

'Bid Adieu to Earthly Scenes'

In honor of all hallows eve: Click the post title to go to a blogger's chronicle of 101 ways to say "dead."

Run, rabbit, run

Click the post title for a blogger who says it better than I can: John Updike blows.

An excerpt: "What, then, makes John Updike such a god to the media? It certainly isn’t his writing, which vacillates from the tedious to the atrocious. His style falls somewhere between Thomas Hardy and Kate Chopin on the soporific scale."

I tried so long to like his writing. I can read a cereal box and think, "not bad." I shiver with delight at the discovery of a cache of unread Reader's Digests in the attic. I believe that Barbara Cartland could be clever. I have no discrimination; I will flat-out read anything.

Except for pretentious crap like Updike. God, how many adjectives did the man need?

Florence King once wrote that reading Updike was like cutting through whale blubber with dull pinking shears. Amen, sister. A-frickin'-men.

The Interneck hits the big 4-0

Click the title for a CNN story on the inventor of the Internet (not Al Gore).

Sidebar: I knew the writer was male without looking at the byline. No woman would equate the Miracle Mets (seriously?) with Man landing on the moon.

Relativity

No, I'm not going all Einsteinian. I mean "relativity" in the sense of what a word or phrase means to different subcultures.

A "skiff of snow" amounts to what's in the picture above in my native neck of the woods. What does the phrase signify in the snowy Mountain West? Half a foot, I'm guessing. Hardy har.

Vittles

Poor people the world over make do with crap ingredients, turning them into cuisine gold. How else to explain chitlins?

I don't have a taste for that dish, since it tends to be predominantly African-American. But I do love pinto beans (87 cents a ton) and garden food (free except for the seed money and hoe labor).

Wild blackberries threaten to take over the landscape in the verdant South, and they cost nothing to pick for those willing to brave chiggers and copperheads. Blackberries make a killer cobbler for those who survive.

Poke sallet is a poisonous weed that Southerners can harvest and eat without danger for a brief while after it surfaces in the spring. It is good with scrambled eggs.

Souse meat. Now there I pause. Yes, I was raised on a hog farm and have personally seen souse made. Yes, the adults of my childhood relished the stuff. But I can't stomach a substance with a recipe that begins with the sentence, "cook hog head and ears well done." A famous story of my childhood: My aunt once phoned our house to inquire, without so much as a "hello" or "how's it going," whether the hog's eyes should be gouged out or left in during the making of souse. Yum.

Guilty

Hit the post title for Satterfield's story on Lemaricus Davidson's guilty verdicts in the murders of Channon Christian and Chris Newsom. Sentencing on Thursday.

Bluegrass slapdown

The lowly Tennessee Vols on Saturday came within one ace of beating Alabama, the top team in the nation.

While UT didn't quite "slap down" the Tide, hit the post title for the Osborne Brothers and Tennessee's theme song. Three things slay me about this video:

The half-goatee sported by the banjo picker

The shirts worn by the crew

The electric bass (as opposed to the traditional upright favored for bluegrass)

"Once I had a girl on Rocky Top

Half bear, the other half cat

Wild as a mink and sweet as soda pop

I still dream about that"

Think I'll just stay here and drank

I was going to scooter to the auto insurance office to get a policy.

Instead, the chorus of Merle's classic has inspired me to do otherwise. As in nothing. (Hit the post title for more. Feel free to two-step if you are inclined that way.)

It's 30 degrees and snowing here. Time for a scotch and a beer back.

Run, Forest, Run

I am awash in the minutia of life. Specifically, I'm shopping for supplemental medical insurance (I'm on Medicare due to my disability).

Bear with me. Meanwhile, the accompanying graphic is a reasonable facsimile of my kitty. And an explanation of why my living space is littered with cardboard boxes.

Mountain South phrase of the day

A woman describing life in a big Northern city: "I'd just as soon be in hell with my back broke as live there."

Feliz Navidad

I saw Christmas cards on display at the grocery today.

Get started early by hitting the post title.

No better way to kick off the Most Special Time of The Year than with Robert Earl Keen.

It's my kind of yuletide tune that starts with  "Mom got drunk and Dad got drunk at our Christmas party" and includes the stanza "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 and some Marlboro Lights."

My word-use high horse

"Disinterest" denotes impartiality. Judges are disinterested (we hope) in proceedings in their courts.

"Uninterest" means "not interested."

The two words are not interchangeable. 

Man does not live by bread alone. Except on Mondays.

The post title takes you to an explanation of a Baltimore brouhaha (moohaha?) over "Meatless Mondays" in school cafeterias. The beef and pork industry no like.

I was raised on a family farm. I think 4-H is a wonderful organization. I relish rare steak.

But feeding kids healthful vegetarian fare one day out of five does not deprive them of much-needed protein. Believe it or not, children all over the world eat beans and other foodstuffs instead of hamburgers and hotdogs every day of the week.

But going veggie for 1 meal out of 21 does deprive factory farms of a few dollars. 

Enough rope to hang themselves

Hit the post title for reasons why giving state legislatures the right to opt their jurisdictions out of a public health-insurance option is genius. For Democrats, that is.

An excerpt from blogger Andrew Sullivan's logic:

"It's political nightmare for the right as it is currently constituted. In fact, I can see a public option becoming the equivalent of Medicare in the public psyche if it works as it should. Try running against Medicare."

Wake up and smell the Yuban

The best part of waking up is not Folger's in my cup. Trust me on this.

A friend turned me on to the Yuban brand. Legal, liquid speed. Now that's what I'm talkin' about.

And the company contributes to the Rainforest Alliance. Hit title for link.

More on Christian and Newsom

Click the post title for a 16-minute film on the murders.

Sidebar: I worked for a couple of months with the newspaper reporter who first is seen at 5:24. Jamie Satterfield is that rare combination of a steely, cagey, canny police reporter who can write well.

There are no words

I spent a day back east with a friend watching a live webcast of a trial (hit post title for details).

Channon Christian and Christopher Newsom, a young couple, were tortured and slain in January 2007. You can find the unspeakable details by googling those names. Be warned: What was done to the two, particularly Christian, is almost beyond comprehension.

My friend and I crawled into a bottle of scotch while watching the trial and discussed the myriad ways we would dispose of the perpetrators. 

This week before Halloween, a fun and frivolous holiday, remember that evil does indeed walk this earth.

All Quiet on the Western Front

Back from 10 days of visiting family and friends in Jesus Land. If Christ wore a belt, the buckle would have been smack dab in my Mountain South.

While there, I learned that my name and social security #, along with those of 1,200 other current and former employers at my last job site, had been stolen from an employee's car. Why that employee was hauling around that much data, I do not know.

That was the downer of the trip, along with a trial related to a heinous crime (see post above).

So. Rest and laundry. And more blogging on the flip side.

Liquid smoke

I love me some Scotch. Hit the post title for a link to an Esquire list of overlooked Scotch regions.

No country for middle-aged women

I'm in my beloved mountain South this week, where the people are wonderful. I speak the dialect, my gimp status appeals to the native kindness toward the disabled, I admire the steadfastness of the people of Appalachia--the prettiest--and poorest--place in these United States.

Why do I not live here?

This is a superstitious land. And they don't care for blacks, gays and other "others" in these parts.

Gah. I love this place and these people. But I can't abide their politics.

So I landed in the mountain West. I love that place and those people, particularly my friends there.

Home is where the heart is, says the trope. I'll always maintain a vacation chamber in Dixie.

Rump roast

I wish I was in the land of cotton
Old times there are not forgotten
Look away, look away
Dixieland

I'm not really in the land of cotton this week; eastern Middle Tennessee is technically of the old Confederacy but actually on the line where East Tennesseans broke decisively for the Union. This hilly country and more temperate climate never sustained cotton plantations and the slaves required thereof. Lincoln was as popular--maybe more so--in my native county as Jefferson Davis.

But that's another post for another day.

Not-so-surprising news that I am indeed today smack-dab in Republican country. "Voted f0r Eisenhower, 'cause Lincoln won the war," sez songwriter John Prine. Update that to "voted against a black man, because my granddaddy said I should."

Hit the post title for a breakdown of how the GOP is a rump party, as they say on political blogs.

Wonk on

I have found a new nerd niche. Hit the post title to go to a blog dedicated to the Supreme Court of the United States. Be still, my heart.

The latest news: Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who should be a heroine to every woman with a brain, had a fainting spell. Ginsburg has recently been treated for pancreatic cancer. 

Thursday truth

I'm a relatively erudite gal. But sometimes I don't understand the cartoons in The New Yorker.

The Boss

I voted for Ronald Reagan. I was 18. It was the last ballot for the GOP that I cast, and likely will ever cast. (hit the post title for one reason why).

1984 was in theory all about contentment and calm and besting those damn commies. No unrest, no unpopular war, no cities burning. We wore big perms and peg-leg acid-wash and waited for the world to acknowledge us.

Then along came Bruce to tell us that tomorrow might be a bitch on wheels, that disappointment and desperation would surely smack us in the face, that the have-nots were people just like us.

He said it so eloquently. I took it to heart.

Today on many social issues, I am to the left of Karl Marx.  I see the helpless and the hurt and the hungry and I am so mad.  

I am grateful for that anger. It lets me know that I live. While I and the rest of my generation were dancing to "Footloose" in those heady days, Springsteen planted a fire in my belly that said music can make us know who we are and what we will and will not stand for.

I feel that burn still today.  I'm thankful to the Boss.

No retreat.  No surrender.

It's so colorful!

Some topical art by O'Keeffe for S and J.

Norma Rae and Tammy Sue go rogue

Hit the title for a truckin' tune. I'm east bound and down Thursday.

FYI, my handle during the CB radio craze was Chicken Legs. My hero was a classmate's older sister, who had a '78 Trans Am. With T-tops.

Thought for the day

Seen on dailykos.com:

If cats could blog. . . they wouldn't.

All pigs are equal; some are more equal than others

Jon Stewart skewers Faux News. Again. 

Click the post title to see how Fox covered the 75K or so Americans who think Obama is a fascist, that he was possibly born on Mars, and/or that God hates people not like them. Contrast that with the coverage crumbs Fox tossed 75K Americans or so calling for equal rights.

"Queer and loathing" indeed.

Fat and Fabulous

For the record, Suzanne Sugarbaker is buxom. Pleasantly so. Hit the post title for proof.

"You all act like I should be ordering fabric over at Georgia Tent and Awning."

Straight up

There are two things a Highlander likes naked, and one of them is malt whisky.
Scottish proverb

My favorite single-malt scotch tastes of peat moss, iodine and smoke. For a sugar fiend such as I, it's an unexpected fetish. 

I think it's my favorite personal contradiction.

The very thought of you

Tom Tomorrow sums it up.

What's the hold-up?

The prez was bound to stall on revoking the military's "don't ask, don't tell" policy on homosexuals. The man is a middle-of-the-road moderate, not the answer to every progressive's prayers. Deal with it.

But "don't ask, don't tell?" The public is ready for that to go away, gays were ready the day after it was implemented. And the military? Does it matter? They follow orders. When racists whined that ending racial segregation would cause chaos in the ranks, Truman essentially said the country has bigger problems than whether PFC Bubba Redneck gets his feelings hurt because his roommate is black.

Same dealio with DADT. If you can't get over the fact that the guy or gal in the shower stall next to you might catch a view of your business and might be gay, you are A). Conceited. You think you're the only one in the world with that equipment? and B.) Out of your element. You really have no place in today's armed services.

End it already, Mr. Obama. You are the man. Act like it.

Tuesday blues

linda ronstadt (hit post title) is speaking for me today. see, i don't even have cap letters.

Take it up with Miss Brown if you disagree

The post title takes you to the best musical double entendre ever.

Lordy

Click the post title for a blog chronicling men who look like lesbians.

Warning:  This site can be addictive. I myself check it at least weekly to make sure someone hasn't mistakenly posted my pic.

Hahahahahaha. Ha.

Amen

From Silkstone's recap (hit post title for full text) of last night's Mad Men episode:

"In the wee small hours, things happen.  People have sex, but they also have conversations, dreams and dark thoughts.  They realize that what they have isn’t enough for them, or agonize over having been told that they themselves are not enough.  Either way, it’s enough to keep you up all night."

See the USA in your Chevrolet. Or Ford

I am one mobile heifer now. This weekend I bought a 1986 motorhome in amazingly good shape.

Going to take to the roads of the American West soon.

Hit the post title for a guide to what God has wrought, what Columbus "discovered," and what we Americans have managed t0 preserve.

P.S. For those wondering, that is NOT a photo of my actual new wheels.

I'm coming, Elizabeth!

The celebration of Columbus Day can cause contention. Native Americans and other groups get a bit piqued over memorializing Christopher C.

In solidarity, and for an excuse to honor his favorite entertainer, my brother instead is observing "Redd Foxx Day." The comedian died on Oct. 11, which falls on or near Columbus Day every year.

On Columbus Day, my bro watches DVDs of "Sanford and Son" all day and gorges on Fred's favorite foods. Today I join Brother in giving the finger to The Man.

Streep III

A jaw-dropping performance from "Postcards from the Edge."

I have more Streep singing clips, most obscure (she sang in "Ironweed," a movie that about 7 people saw).

But I'm thinking this trinity of Meryl will suffice.

Streep II

With Lily Tomlin in "Prairie Home Companion."

Streep I

I worship Mama Meryl. Have since I saw "Sophie's Choice" on the big screen, then read the book and couldn't get out of my dorm bed for a week. (20-year-olds take things to heart, you know.)

Streep's singing is acknowledged but not that noted. It should be. Here she is with "Amazing Grace" from "Silkwood."

It's the little things in life . . .

. . . that make the difference.

Go Slugs!

Why do sports teams play it safe with mascot names? Philadelphia--the cradle of our republic--is the only big city that can claim "Eagle" as a fitting team name.

Some reach for the relevant but miss the mark.

• Denver Nuggets--This ties into Colorado's Gold Rush, of course. Check. But "Nuggets." Really. That makes me think of processed chicken parts. How about "Miners." Or "Prospectors." Something that doesn't make us think of McDonald's.

Others are so ludicrously ironic that you can't cheer for them with a straight face.

• Utah Jazz--I'm sure the franchise owners thought they were honoring New Orleans, where the team originally was located, in keeping that name. But "Jazz"--a word that connotes African-American innovation in a city known for frivolity and freedom (it's the Big Easy, for gawd's sake)--appropriated by the Mormon state of whiteness and Jello? The folks who think caffeine is a sin?

Then there are those that fit.

• The Oklahoma Sooners, a name derived from the Great Western Land Rush. The Ohio State Buckeyes, that state's well known nickname. The Florida State Seminoles, for a Native American tribe with a long and proud history in the Sunshine State.

There are those that are not obviously right until you pause to think.

• The Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets, from Atlanta. Anyone who has been to the Southeast, particularly on a warm fall day (i.e. football weather), has encountered these pests than can be deadly. Good mascot name.

Finally, there are mascot names that are the perfect combination of flip, fun and flawless, though you can never explain just why and how. 

• The University of California-Santa Cruz Banana Slugs.

Fear the Slug, people. Fear it!

Saturday a.m. wakeup

I confess I am watching football (What happened to Auburn??) and not thinking about blogging.

So hit the post title for 2009 rock-and-roll-hall-of-fame inductee Wanda Jackson. Surely those fringes will tide you over.