Cadillacs

Black Cadillac - Lightnin Hopkins



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Pink Cadillac - Bruce Springsteen



Cadillac Ranch - Bruce Springsteen



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Freeway of Love (the Pink Cadillac Mix) - Aretha Franklin



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Brand New Cadillac - The Clash



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My great-uncle Kenneth, may his soul rest in peace, had a purple Cadillac.

Really.

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DIY Greenville space - Garaj Mahal

The new DIY Greenville space, known as the Garaj Mahal, had their first show last night. It was epic! I am SO PROUD of these kids. They are very open, accepting, and intensely committed to diversity and creativity. They are ready to try anything, the whole DIY ethic brought to life. Daisy hereby gives the whole endeavor a big fat A plus.

The new space is in an old garage near Paris Mountain; the "before" photos show a piled-up dump of furniture and detritus right out of the TV show "Hoarders" ... the DIY collective jumped in with aplomb; cleaning, hauling trash, scrubbing, building, installing a usable toilet and importing the requisite stinky old couches required by punk rockers everywhere (there's a law somewhere, I'm certain of it). When we arrived, the place was staffed with eager young volunteers with hula hoops and balloons-- as well as the occasional baby and dog.

The overall vibe really reminds me of the days of 70s Deadhead culture, people selling (or giving away) their own handmade comics, patches, buttons, t-shirts and zines of all descriptions. Although the music is (mostly, not entirely) punk, I can distinctly remember a violent, repellent, scary skinhead/biker atmosphere in the days of 70s punk, which often served the purpose of keeping women and gender-variant people away. Neo-nazis invariably showed up at 70s punk shows, usually sporting biker chains, swastikas, racist patches sewn on their butts ("Drop the Bomb and let God sort em out" was a real favorite) and other unfriendly paraphernalia. (It was due to this default-racist atmosphere within punk, that the Rock Against Racism movement was born, which I was proud to be part of.)

By contrast, the young folks in the current DIY movement seem more like the artist-rebels at an event like Burning Man. They are lots of fun, dedicated to advancing anti-corporate culture, and very positive.

And not a single swastika.

~*~


Photos below, and as always, you can click to enlarge.

Hay Fever, featuring lovely singer/guitarist Amber and drummer Ryan.



~*~

Weapon Y/Z



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I was thinking that this guy brought the freaking house down with his bang-up Broadway-stripper version of Total Eclipse of the Heart, and I thought Who is he? And whaddaya know, he's already one of my Facebook friends! Small world, huh?

I also heard the opening bars of "Nothing compares 2 U" and I was really disappointed he didn't tear that one up as well.

NEXT TIME, Jake Xingu! I'm holding you to it!



~*~

From Indiana, Ghost Mice--lots of fun!



~*~

Below, the Ghost Mice fiddler with her significant-other and adorable little leopard-clad baby; dancers; hula-hoopers, etc.

And the very last photo, a man who certainly needs no introduction here at DEAD AIR: my fabulous radio co-host, DOUBLE A, rock and roll diehard.



And a splendid time was had by all!

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Greenville DIY benefit at the Radio Room

I attended the benefit for Greenville DIY space last night at the Radio Room. I took some great photos! (As always, you can click to enlarge.)

In order, Trublklet, Katalyst, Crocker, M.E.H., and the last three photos are Dables, who have a truly gifted drummer (hereby singled out for honorable mention).

And a splendid time was had by all!

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Ratstorm

Photos from RATSTORM show, December 6th at Cabin Floor Records in Greenville. Ratstorm hails from Bloomington, Indiana.

Lots of moshing, so I had to keep my distance for safety's sake. (Nobody over 50 was moshing, needless to say.) But I love how the photos came out, accurately reflecting the energy and chaos of the show. (as always, you can click to enlarge)

~*~

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Vegetarian intestinal distress leads to insightful thinking

I have discovered an excellent reason to stay vegetarian.

After a decade and a half, if you inadvertently eat anything made with meat, you barf your guts out.

I have been sick for several days... and my husband, who ate the same thing (and is not vegetarian) is just fine. It was not food poisoning... or rather, IT WAS, but not the usual kind.

For ME it was.

I guess there is no going back!

The item was already-prepared "chicken-fried tofu"--which I assumed (and you know what they say about that) was not actually fried in chicken. (After all, as Mr Daisy said, frying it in actual chicken fat kinda defeats the whole purpose of eating tofu in the first place, doesn't it?) It seems I have eaten it before (although hardly ever) and did not have this cataclysmic, days-long reaction... but I did eat a significant amount on this occasion. It has been horrific. I am genuinely surprised at my body's response.

It could also be that the person frying it, in this particular instance, went ahead and actually chicken-fried it and didn't consider trying to make it vegetarian. I have often tasted Chinese and other foods, duly advertised as technically "vegetarian" (as in, no meat in the actual recipe) but tasted suspiciously as if possibly dumped into the same wok as the chicken-fried rice, made earlier in the day... after a long time without meat, it jumps right out at you. But imitation-meat flavors are, admittedly, much harder to gauge... the whole focus of the flavor profile is the imitation-meat flavor.

I am not a purist, and I have eaten imitation-bacon-flavored potato chips and so forth, with no negative reactions. I read labels! (Of course, with prepared hot-bar foods, you can't do that.) A "flavor" is usually a chemical, and real meat is not the same as chemically-enhanced "meat-flavor" and never the twain shall meet. So, I assumed I was eating the equivalent of tofu fried in chicken flavors.

Wrong. My ailing intestines and tummy say otherwise.

As I said, sick for days. I even recorded my radio show while still suffering (the show must go on, and all that), so my pissed-off ranting came much easier than usual. Have a listen!

And pity the poor vegetarian who no longer has the 'choice,' as one always likes to think one does.

Perhaps this is a lesson about all such choices: after a certain point, you can't undo that choice, it is permanent. It is not simply a choice of the mind; the body, the life, is irreparably marked with it.

~*~

I have been reading Susan Sontag's diaries... and I am just so jealous of her brilliance. Her one-and-two-sentence observations, just while she is sitting on a beach or whatever, are far more brilliant, incisive, and genius than anyone else's (even as they congratulate themselves for their limited brilliance and clarity). My goodness, how I miss her. I always idolized her, and now I know why: this is the kind of public female intellectual that simply does not exist anymore. She was a pure product of her time.

One thing I did, was trot out to buy a little notebook and resolve to scribble my own (decidedly non-brilliant) observations in it. I can see that she would write lines that later ended up in her other books; ideas that would later direct her thoughts and passions. I can't tell you all how many times I have tried to remember what I was thinking back on Tuesday, only to forget all about it... one thing I have liked about blogging is how it is an accurate, uncensored record of our thoughts and feelings. I have decided keeping a notebook, even of one and two line-passages, is a way to make that even more detailed, more comprehensive, more precise.

~*~


Whilst recovering from my epicurean disaster, I watched TLC network, and although its hard to avoid the constant commercials for Honey Boo Boo (saints preserve us), I was very interested in the new show about conjoined twins Abby and Brittany Hensel. The TLC documentaries about their lives were well-received and popular, and I watched them a couple of times; this show is not surprising. They are extremely likable, smart, capable... and they don't seem at all disturbed that other people are disturbed by them.

In a very real sense, their lack of being disturbed is part of their unique condition: they are together. They are not alone. A person defined as "a freak" by our society, left all alone and gawked at unmercifully (i.e. the Elephant Man), tugs at our heartstrings in an almost-excruciating way. That poor soul, we think, nobody will ever understand him. But Abby and Brittany have each other, and they understand what the other is experiencing. Their very difference itself, makes them strong together. They murmur to each other, they make inaudible one-word remarks and grin. They are able to make fun of us right back. Therefore, they plow onward, unperturbed and undaunted. You can't help but be drawn to them.

And you know, the fact is, it is going to be hard for these girls to make a living in the regular ways. It isn't like they are going to get hired for the local Burger King or Dairy Queen. They are very logical and realistic young women, and at some point, I can see them sitting down for the cost-benefit analysis: okay, how are we going to make money? The Salon article I linked above, asks the obvious question, IS THIS A FREAK SHOW?--but forgets an obvious historic reality: people went into freak shows to be able to eat and find a warm place to sleep. Many of the people in the shows took the proverbial bull by the horns and started running their own shows and were able to retire in relative comfort. Others were exploited by ruthless circus-ringmasters. It was not always obvious which was which, simply by looking.

To me, as in the prostitution business, the question is: who is making the money? The fact is the exploitation, not necessarily the "freak show" aspect. After all, people surround these girls everywhere they go. They might as well start charging. How to do that in a civilized fashion? Reality TV seems to be the ticket. After this TV-series, people will surround them as celebrities, not (only) as 'freaks'. Also, people will have heard of them. They will know who they are and not drop their iced tea in the mall, and start following them around to be sure they saw what they thought they saw, as some reporter did some years ago in Minnesota's Mall of America. (And then, writing a really rude, gee-whiz-guess-what-I-saw article about them, that of course, I cannot readily locate now to properly link.)

Instead, they might actually get some respect, since Reality-TV celebrity is one of the few ways physically-different people can get some respect these days.

And may I also say: Its also very nice to see a whole Reality-TV show in which so many young women are portrayed as decent for a change, instead of the usual nasty, mean-girl bitches. It is heartening to see Abby and Brittany's female support network; when the gawkers descend, they close ranks around them and don't allow them to take unauthorized pictures and videos.

Now, that's something to be proud of, too:

[The TLC show] is unrelentingly positive, and at times flatout heartwarming. In the documentary about them at 16, their mother explained just how protective their friends were, closing ranks whenever anyone would stare at them. In college, the twins seem to have duplicated this kind of sheltered social environment. Unlike so many TV shows — reality and otherwise — “Abby & Brittany” is a kind of soothing ode to the niceness of 20-year-olds, and especially of 20-year-old girls. The women who live with Abby and Brittany [in their college dorm] are normal in that explicitly Midwestern way, which is to say, normal to the point of notability, grounded, smiley, well-adjusted, well-behaved, just like Abby and Brittany. The roommates are a sort of Greek chorus, supplying the audience with the information it needs — about the girls’ physiological differences, how much tuition they pay (one and a half) and the differences in their personalities — and also expressing their endless, genuinely heartfelt admiration of the two and their astounding simpatico.

I won't be able to stay away from the show, and ain't ashamed to say so.

Note: In keeping with the disability-rights concept that disability is a social construct, as I believe it is, I am tagging this blog entry with "disability"--although it is pertinent to note that Abby and Brittany are not "disabled"--as dwarves also are not. But their man-made environment (car seats, college desks, etc) DOES disable them, as it does very small people. People are "disabled" by environments and their minority status, even if they are in perfect health. (i.e. Severely scarred individuals are disabled by other people's reactions to them, not usually by the actual scars.) Just wanted to do a quick commercial for this radical perspective, since Abby and Brittany are a perfect example of it.

~*~

Other links inspired by my new notebook habit:

The Death of Sun Ming Sheu: A Government Sponsored Assassination? Thanks to Onyx Lynx!

William Gibson on Punk Rock, Internet Memes, and ‘Gangnam Style’ Required reading!


As regular readers know, I am fascinated by the multitude of changes wrought by our relatively new internet culture. And so is Gibson:

WIRED: In your essay in the new book Punk: An Aesthetic, you write that punk was the last pre-digital counterculture. That’s a really interesting thought. Can you expand on that?

GIBSON: It was pre-digital in the sense that in 1977, there were no punk websites [laughs]. There was no web to put them on. It was 1977, pre-digital. None of that stuff was there. So you got your punk music on vinyl, or on cassettes. There were no mp3s. There was no way for this thing to propagate. The kind of verbal element of that counterculture spread on mostly photo-offset fanzines that people pasted up at home and picked up at a print shop. And then they mailed it to people or sold it in those little record shops that sold the vinyl records or the tapes. It was pre-digital; it had no internet to spread on, and consequently it spread quickly but relatively more slowly.

I suspect — and I don’t think this is nostalgia — but it may have been able to become kind of a richer sauce, initially. It wasn’t able to instantly go from London to Toronto at the speed of light. Somebody had to carry it back to Toronto or wherever, in their backpack and show it, physically show it to another human. Which is what happened. And compared to the way that news of something new spreads today, it was totally stone age. Totally stone age! There’s something remarkable about it that’s probably not going to be that evident to people looking at it in the future. That the 1977 experience was qualitatively different, in a way, than the 2007 experience, say.

WIRED: What if punk emerged today, instead of in 1977? How do you think it would be different?

GIBSON: You’d pull it up on YouTube, as soon as it was played. It would go up on YouTube among the kazillion other things that went up on YouTube that day. And then how would you find it? How would it become a thing, as we used to say? I think that’s one of the ways in which things are really different today. How can you distinguish your communal new thing — how can that happen? Bohemia used to be self-imposed backwaters of a sort. They were other countries within the landscape of Western industrial civilization. They were countries that most people would never see — mysterious places. You’d pay a price, potentially, for going there. That’s always cool and exciting. Now, where are they? Where can you do that? How are people transacting that today? I am pretty sure that they are, but I don’t have that much firsthand experience of it. But they have to do it in a different way.

He's totally nailed it... and I think this explains why I am so startled by the lack of "loyalty"--the lack of "investment"--that young people have in the ideas and lifestyles they adopt today.

That's because they ran across it on the internet, exactly as if they were leafing through a catalog.

I realize now, this is what is behind my constant requests for "cred" in young internet-denizens who challenge me... their challenges are just another fun thing to do, whereas I take them very seriously as challenges to my self. That's because I take such aspects of MY SELF seriously; I sweat for my ideas and experience. I didn't just thumb through some catalog and decide, "I believe/like this; its cool, so its me."

This may also be the reason they rarely ACT on their political ideas, since no ACT was required to gain the knowledge, other than sitting and clicking. Back in the day, you had to work hard for your counter-cultural knowledge, and thus, for some inexplicable reason, you therefore felt obligated to act.

Yes, I know, this whole post is "tl/dr"--as the kids say. (stands for "too long/didn't read"--you didn't expect them to read anything LONG, did you? Is it longer than a soundbite? Fuhgeddaboudit!)

The protracted length is precisely because: I didn't really write it for them. ;)

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Tuesday Tunes: Mind of the South edition

Mary Huff, calling up the ghost of my mother (right down to the hair and the bass), sings "Nitty Gritty"--yeah!

Nitty Gritty - Southern Culture on the Skids



~*~

Mary's bouffant hairdo made me think of Kate Pierson's.

In case you didn't know, there is also a pretty good movie named after this song, titled My Own Private Idaho, starring Keanu Reeves. It's based on Shakespeare's Henry IV and Henry V. Really.

I love Fred's canary-yellow pants.

Private Idaho - B-52s



(Did you catch the Twilight Zone theme?)

The lyrics also contain some excellent advice, as well as an important historic workers-reference (see link):

You're living in your own Private Idaho
Living in your own Private Idaho
Underground like a wild potato

Don't go on the patio
Beware of the pool
Blue bottomless pool
It leads you straight
Right through the gate
That opens on the pool

You're living in your own Private Idaho
You're living in your own Private Idaho

Keep off the path, beware the gate
Watch out for signs that say "Hidden Driveways"
Don't let the chlorine in your eyes
Blind you to the awful surprise
That's a-waitin' for you at the bottom
Of the bottomless blue, blue, blue pool

You're livin in your own Private Idaho
Idaho
You're out of control, the rivers that roll
You fell into the water and down to Idaho
Get out of that state
Get out of that state you're in
You better beware

You're living in your own Private Idaho.
You're living in your own Private Idaho.

Keep off the patio
Keep off the path
The lawn may be green
But you better not be seen
Walkin' through the gate that leads you down
Down to a pool fraught with danger
It's a pool full of strangers

You're living in your own Private Idaho
Where do I go from here to a better state than this?
Well, don't be blind to the big surprise
Swimming 'round and 'round like the deadly hands
Of a radium clock at the bottom of the pool

I-I-I-daho
I-I-I-daho
Whoa, oh, oh, oh
Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah
Get out of that state
Get out of that state
You're living in your own Private Idaho
Livin' in your own Private Idaho

Who could argue?

~*~

I know I've played this one before. This is my favorite song by Pylon, the best Athens band you never heard of... the band who didn't get famous, while all their friends did.

And they should have. :(

Danger - Pylon



Silent film footage is from The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920).

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Look out honey, cause I'm using technology

Got some great music for this Music Monday, starting with hizzoner, Iggy Pop.

And it's where we get today's blog post title. Too wonderful for words!

Search and Destroy - The Stooges



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Yes, I confess, whenever somebody goes postal and shoots up a place, this song runs through my mind.

Best line: "Say something once, why say it again?"

Psycho Killer - Talking Heads



Second-best line: "I hate people when they're not polite."

~*~

Transmission - Joy Division



If you still haven't seen the terrific biopic about Ian Curtis, CONTROL, heartily recommended!

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Tuesday Tunes

Turn it up!

Somebody argued with me that Blondie wasn't a punk band, so this is for them. Yes, I know they made pop hits to pay the rent, but this song totally burns the place down.

And I hereby rest my case!

Detroit 442 - Blondie



It also helps that Debbie looks fabulous.

~*~

It has been pointed out to me that Tom Petty was ON "King of the Hill" (well, his animated image was, in any event!) --but this lovely tune was recorded in 1991 and the cartoon started in 1997... I wonder if the song was an inspiration for the title?

It's easy to figure out who wrote what parts of the song: the verses sound like Petty/Heartbreakers, but the chorus is pure McGuinn/Byrds... beautiful!

King of the Hill - Tom Petty and Roger McGuinn



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Too amazing for mere words:

Here But I'm Gone - Curtis Mayfield



May his soul rest in peace.

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Happy Halloween!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN YALL!

Hope you enjoy my favorite Halloween songs:

Human Fly - The Cramps



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I wrote about the following song in more detail here.

Where Evil Grows - The Poppy Family



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And I first shared this one last Halloween... I still love it!

Journey to The Unknown (TV series opening)



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Links to my previous Halloween posts:

Halloween Horror movie thread! Don't go to sleep! (2007) -- Comment thread includes people's favorite horror movies.

Halloween horror movie thread II (2008) -- Several great old horror movie trailers.

Happy Halloween! (2009) -- Dogs For Autism benefit, including a Doggie Costume Party.

Happy Halloween! (2010) -- I shared the above TV-theme, and in the comments I talked about an old trip to a local fundamentalist "Judgment House"--and several people thought I should have made a whole post out of it.

Hope your frightful holiday is good!

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Tuesday Tunes: The Problem is You

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Monday Music: And the cat just finished off the bread

LIVE FROM NEW YORK, 40 years ago... this contains excellent, rare old photos of the band, as well as some blistering guitar solos to wake you up this Monday.

One Way Out - Allman Brothers Band (Live 1971)



~*~

Playing this to commemorate 9/11. Of course, it's significantly dated now, since we have no longer have any Berlin wall. Do the kids understand? (Could they ever?)

"Please don't be waiting for me."

Holidays in the Sun - Sex Pistols (1977)



~*~

"When I see you comin, I just have to run"... he was so funny! Debating if I should use a BDSM tag or not. (Nah.)

Vicious - Lou Reed (1972)



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Who else thinks, "I am a passenger, I stay under glass" is the greatest line ever?

(PS: And now, you will also be earwormed to death with LA LA LA LA LALALA LAAAAAH! for the rest of your day.)

The Passenger - Iggy Pop (1977)



~*~

And this is the song that gives us today's blog post title.

Pinball - Brian Protheroe (1974)

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This is Radio Clash

On the air in less than 24 hours, and my nerves are shot. It doesn't help that Mr Daisy has (unavoidably) had to leave the state on the weekend of my radio debut. In addition, my Green Party guru (and radio co-host) passed out on his cardiologist's floor this afternoon; my internet flickers in and out for no apparent reason that the bemused AT&T man can figure out, and I am suddenly worried that I will need to change my blog motto-- from Ain't Skeered to Skeered.



Gah!



I remember I used to get this nervous when doing AA talks, and I have to remember: talk-radio isn't nearly as unnervingly personal as that was. As I think Richard Pryor once said, even if you're funny, talking about yourself is always scary... unless you're lying.



Politics, one fervently hopes, will be a far easier topic.



Why do I find sending words over the internet (in blog or Facebook form) so easy, yet find the idea of speaking on airwaves (about many of the same subjects!) so daunting? I have been talking to the public, in various forms of customer service, for many years, so it isn't that. I think just a general lack of experience in radio, has given me pause. I am going where I have never gone before (or only a few times, long ago).



Wish me luck.



~*~



This is Radio Clash - The Clash

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Life imitates art

London's Burning - The Clash

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Odds and Sods - Skeptical edition

From Yellowdog Granny, who has all the funnies.



All sorts of busybodies weighing in about all sorts of heavy topics. Your humble narrator is terribly outclassed in trying to keep up... and in figuring out a decent opinion.

Amanda Marcotte worries that the atheists and skeptics are "mixing up" their respective social movements. (I didn't even know they were still separate, so that tells you how much I know.) In doing so, she doesn't miss a chance to use the "fairy belief" comparison. (sigh)

Really, can't yall come up with something else? As a lifelong scifi-fan, I resent the fantasy-fans' terms being privileged over mine... if you are going to insult me, please call me a believer in aliens and UFOs instead. Okay? Instead of "sky-fairy believer"--I insist upon FLYING SAUCER believer. In fact, you can use any term you like: Flying Saucers, UFOs, Area 51, Aliens, Extraterrestrials, Little Green Men/Women, be my guest. But seriously, fuck this fairy-obsession, you know?

Ah, but here we come to the heart of it... the Politics of the Insult. Are they willing to write off the UFOs, as they freely write off fairies and God? Since they claim they are all about rational evidence, certainly they will unquivocally announce that UFO-belief is all bullshit too? But few do. Hm, I wonder why?

Lots of atheists like sci-fi and consequently do believe in aliens, is the awful truth.

Not that they could prove aliens exist; they simply enjoying thinking they do. It's a matter of faith. It's FUN. Just like fairies and St Francis are enjoyable and fun, right? But their fun and our fun isn't comparable. They are lots smarter than us, so their fun is allowed under the rules of rationality, while ours is dangerous and must be abolished... right along with those innocent fairies, who last time I looked, didn't do anything to anybody. Rationality uber alles.

Amanda doesn't like it that Skepticblog actually thought Christians (fairy believers) should participate (!) in a famous Skeptics panel.

She wants to trash people, but you know, not when they are actually sitting right there in front of her.

~*~

Before I get accused of being all mean to Amanda, I did very much enjoy what she wrote about the 20th anniversary of Nirvana's Nevermind. And I find it fascinating that even though we are 20 years apart in age, I had the exact same emotional reaction to the Anarchist Cheerleaders that she did.

I tried to wrestle with the fact that 20 years has gone by since then, and I found myself thinking--

Don't let it be forgot
That once there was a spot
For one brief shining moment that was known
As Camelot

I tried to rewrite this for grunge, couldn't quite get there. This was the best I could come up with:

Don't let it be unsaid
That once there was a dread
of scary kids who took the plunge
into Grunge.

In any event, my sentiments are the same as Camelot.. and my hugs and kisses to you kidz out there who tried to resurrect the old faith. It was a nice moment, and you should be very proud and remember it fondly your whole lives.

~*~

Feministe has an endless thread about adoption as a feminist issue, that you must read. Although very long (374 comments as of this writing)-- it is amazingly heartfelt, as first mothers and adoptees and adoptive mothers and everyone else jumps in with their opinions, experience and knowledge. The thread includes excellent links and research, particularly about the feelings of mothers who give up babies for adoption. One commenter says the regret-percentage is as high as 96%, which surprised me... but not really.

Lots of talk on that thread about why people feel the necessity of having their own biological offspring, had me skipping all over the net, and eventually brought me to this scary story on Strollerderby: Sperm Donor Never Reported Fatal Illness: 24 Biological Children Could Be Affected Yow!

But why is that so surprising? You pay some guy for his sperm, which he'd just be wasting anyway, right? Easy money. Why wouldn't he lie to keep the easy money coming? Why would he kill the proverbial goose that lays the golden eggs?

When you pay money for the biological properties of reproduction, this is one of the things that can happen, as in any other retailing or merchandising: a lack of quality control.

As PT Barnum famously said, you pays your money and you takes your choice.

~*~

Warren Jeffs is guilty! Well, of course he is, but now it's official. How many of you DEAD AIR folks listened to the tape recordings of the 12 and 14 year-olds (Jeffs' "spiritual wives"), having the sordid FLDS "facts of life" explained to them? The sound of little-girls "amens" was freaky and alarming. And then, the silence on the (audio) tapes as he rapes them. He doesn't deny anything. The infant of the 14-year-old (now 15) was proven through DNA to be Jeffs' -- so the evidence for that was already a done deal.

The Prophet (as he is known) Warren Jeffs stood defiant at the end during closing arguments (he acted as his own lawyer after opening arguments) and was silent for the allotted 30 legal minutes of his closing. Instead, he stared at the jury, one by one. They stared back. (I knew then, dude, you are going down.) Finally, he announced in prophet-like tones, "I am at peace." (Honestly, my first thought was of the fictional character modeled on Jeffs, Harry Dean Stanton in Big Love, who would do something equally melodramatic and unexpected in a courtroom.)

Today, during sentencing, Jeffs walked out after reading a statement about his Prophethood:

Jeffs is the leader of the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, which believes polygamy brings exaltation in heaven. Yesterday, he was convicted of sexually assaulting two girls, ages 12 and 15, whom he'd wed during what his sect considers "spiritual marriages."

Jeffs represented himself during the eight-day trial. Before the punishment phase began today, Jeffs asked to leave the courtroom, saying he objected to the proceedings against him. He also read a statement promising a "whirlwind of judgment" on the world if God's "humble servant" isn't set free.

District Judge Barbara Walther told Jeffs that he couldn't leave and continue to represent himself. She ordered two lawyers who had been standby counsel to represent him.

Jeffs could be sentenced to life in prison.

Yeeeuch.

Certainly, I understand where Amanda and James Randi and everybody else gets their skepticism, or atheism, or whatever they are calling it. This kind of thing is too disgusting for words.

But I am utterly confident that if there was no religion, the Warren Jeffs of the world would find another playground to exercise their disgusting desires, oppressing women and exploiting children.

I wish I were not so confident of that (sigh), but I am.

~*~

To celebrate the 20th anniversary of Nevermind, time for some grunge!

Biographical background: Some years ago, I decided to 'pick up' (as we say in recovery) a substance I had sworn off. You probably know which one it is. I had gone without it for 23 years... Twenty. Three. Years. Can you believe? But at the time, things were emotionally very rough... and I thought, you know, I will choose the most benign substance I can think of... and I will offer no excuses.

And I don't and I haven't.

And yes, I know the guy singing this is dead. I wish he'd chosen a more benign substance, too.

Alice in Chains - No Excuses



It's alright, there comes a time
Got no patience to search for peace of mind

Laying low, want to take it slow
No more hiding or disguising truths I've sold

~*~

Have a great weekend everybody!

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Choctaw Bingo and other Saturday earworms

Lots of people prefer the original by John Prine, who wrote it... but I am partial to the version by the Man in Black.

Paradise - Johnny Cash



~*~

A great song about a drug dealer, although some have posited that it's actually about capitalism and bosses (Joe Strummer was red to the end). How fascinating that they are interchangeable!

Quite simply, some of the tightest rock music ever recorded.

Hateful - The Clash



~*~

Mimi Farina wrote this song about Janis Joplin, upon hearing of her passing in 1970... it was recorded by her sister, Joan Baez, in 1972.

Great photos of Janis in the video.

In the Quiet Morning - Joan Baez



~*~

You knew it was time for Steely Dan again, right? I tried to stay on topic about the economy and the budget and everything. ;)

Great graphics!

Black Friday - Steely Dan



~*~

As Charlie Daniels used to say, Time to Get Loud, Children. Starting at about 2:25, this boogies so hard, it will knock the mud right off your boots.

And check out Mary Huff's outfit, I MUST get one. (My late mama had that exact hairdo, exact color.)

Southern Culture on the Skids - White Trash/Greenback Fly



~*~

James McMurtry played Asheville recently, and I am told the entire audience knew all the words. (Well, of course they did.) I was fortunate enough to hear this performed live a few years ago, in a venue fulla rednecks jumping up and down. At the time, I realized, this was a quintessential southern moment, so it isn't surprising that "Choctaw Bingo" has turned into a southern anthem, of sorts.

Ann and Lynn come down from Baxter Springs
That's one hell raisin town way up in Southeastern Kansas
Got a biker bar next to the lingerie store
That's got them Rolling Stones lips up there in bright pink neon
And they're right downtown where everyone can see em
And they burn all night
you know they burn all night
you know they burn all night

And yes, you really should listen to all 8+ minutes, if you want the whole Choctaw Bingo experience. It's actually far better live, with raucous yelling and jumping-redneck accompaniment, but I could not locate a good live version, so going with the studio rendition for now.

Choctaw Bingo - James McMurtry



Have a great weekend everyone.

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Gut feelings

I recently spotted a local celebrity in the flesh, a woman who is a regular on the local fundamentalist religious TV station. She is something else, and her old-school bouffant hairdo is hard to miss. She was getting food and sitting down for a quick afternoon meal with her family.

The overhead music was playing, and I heard Lou Rawls' old 70s hit, "You'll never find another love like mine"... and just as I passed her, as we both gathered our napkins and silverware, I heard her singing along with Lou, "You're gonna miss my lovinnnnnnn"... and I was momentarily startled. She likes old disco, I thought, surprised. Did I think all the fundies were raised in caves or something? They share the same pop-culture as the rest of us, as separatist as they sometimes are.

As I heard the TV-evangelist sing along with Lou, I was filled with a sudden, unaccountable affection, possibly because I had previously only heard her sing bad gospel songs.

I also realized that being a professional fundie was her job, and it is possible she gets as tired of her job as the rest of us get tired of ours.

I turned and smiled at her, as she was singing the old Lou Rawls song, and she smiled warmly back at me. It was a nice moment.

~*~

My second recent realization is one that I need to chew on awhile... but I will share it with all of you nonetheless. You can help me nail it down, so to speak. To wit:

I live in a very conservative area, and as someone with radical politics and personal style, this means I have to possess a pretty strong personality to go against the grain of the majority.

If someone lives in a very liberal area, and has very conservative politics and personal style, they will also have to possess a strong personality to go against the grain of the majority.

My realization: I may be temperamentally more similar to the minority-conservative-in-liberal-area, than I am similar to the liberals around them. In a majority-liberal area, people can easily take liberalism for granted and don't often get very spirited about it. Thus, the liberals may be lukewarm liberals that in a conservative locale, would be lukewarm conservatives.

When conservatives emigrate to the upstate (and yes, they do, as if there weren't enough of them here already), they are excitable and revved up, like new converts. You can spot them. They take nothing for granted. They have arrived at Ground Zero of Tea Party Central--the Promised Land--and they are raring to go.

They remind me of myself, back in the day, when I got to Berserkley and thought I knew everything.

It's an unnerving realization that I first got whacked with upon reading Eric Hoffer's brilliant book, The True Believer (that all fanatics and extremists are more alike than different). But I never made the connection about geography before, and the concurrent personality types.

In a place where 'everyone' is liberal (Seattle, San Francisco), then an individual's liberalism will mean something very different that it does in a place like upstate South Carolina, where they will try to run you over for having pro-Obama/vegetarian bumper stickers on your car. Thus, the individual's response to political challenges will be very different. There is no need to be defensive when you are in the majority. It is interesting (and telling) to note how this political defensiveness is exhibited. What happens in one place, as standard and typical, would never happen in the other.

Example: During a recent group-conversation, I used the word "evolved." (Correctly, as in, "We evolved to crave fat and carbs"--this may have been, in fact, my exact phrase.) I used the word in a dietary context a number of times, and in each instance, two people in the room corrected my word choice, "created." We were not evolved to crave fat and carbs, we were created that way, by God Almighty. (Well, if we were indeed CREATED that way, why bother to fight it?)

I did not want to start a fight over Darwin at that particular juncture and in that social setting, so I allowed them to correct me, but kept right on using the word, too. And I realized, that kind of shit annoys me, and it's the type of thing that people living in liberal areas don't realize we have to put up with. And the conservatives don't realize it either. (I always wondered what William F Buckley thought of the dopey-fundie brand of right-winger, which he surely knew existed? Or did he believe all conservatives were yacht-club members in good standing?) In the same social situation, would the radical atheist from San Francisco just drop everything and jump in whole hog, and start preaching the Darwin gospel? I only know a couple of radical atheists here in the upstate, and neither behave in this fashion; I think the new arrivals might let a few things slide, the way the rest of us have learned to do.

And how does this influence us and our approach to what we do? Our politics? Our writing? The way we frame the issues?

Can you tell when a blog is written in a conservative or liberal area? How can you tell?

Just some ideas. Discuss amongst yourselves!



~*~


And of course you know I have been earwormed with the damn thing ever since, right?


You'll never find another love like mine - Lou Rawls



~*~

I heard the first two minutes of this old Devo song on the Weather Channel (!) of all places, played over and over during the weekend whilst announcing rain, and now I am earwormed to death with this, too.

And so, it magically becomes our blog post title for today.

Gut Feeling - Devo

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