Apologies to Summer’s Eve.
1970s. My toddler and tween years. Weekend mornings. Mom and dad wore down the needle playing Solid Gold Rock ‘N’ Roll Volume 1, a compilation album. Johnny Preston’s Running Bear was one of my favorites.
My sister’s favorite, of course, was Dickey Lee’s I Saw Linda Yesterday. I briefly thought about using the song during her campaign for Congress in 2000.
The entire album is filled with memories of childhood.
Bans and walls will not make us or the world safer. It will drive more people to join the radical jihadists. Is this Bannon’s and Putin’s master plan? To divide the world even more than it is now. We must stay vigilant. #resistLoserTrump #banBannon
I’ve been posting song memories since I started this blog thing in December. Inspiration has often come while listening to my iPod Classic. I love that 160gb device. It holds every song I own, 13k, with room left for another 15k. This is my third iPod since the iPod came out. And I don’t know what I’ll do when this one grinds to halt. (Apple discontinued the iPod a few years ago with some lame excuse about not being able to find the parts. Really? You’re Apple. You can find what whatever parts you want, wherever you want.)
I don’t want to stream music to my iPhone, eating up data, and getting interrupted by texts, emails, alerts, and calls. No thanks. I like my music separate from my work. Besides, I’ve crafted so many playlists and smart playlists that sync up seamlessly with iTunes over the years. For me, the system didn’t need fixing.
My playlist called “Singles” is basically all the 45s I owned in the 1980s, ripped as MP3s, along with hits from the 1990s, 2000s, and 2010s that I deemed worthy of being in the playlist. It currently has 7,343 songs. There’s a playlist called “Gym” for working out. One called “Mellow” for when I want to relax or cry. Sometimes I shuffle all 13,000 songs and get pleasantly surprised at how iTunes or the iPod mixes the songs. Continue reading “Believing in Chunky Soup?”
Happy Lunar New Year! It’s the year of the Rooster, but it might as well be the year of the Lunartic Cock, now leaving toxic droppings all over the White House.
The Scum Also Rises
“I should reach the frontier in about six weeks. With a little luck, the network will pick me up. This is Ripley, last survivor of the Nostromo, signing off. ” (From Ridley Scott’s “Alien.”)
It’s a new day in Washington DC. With more of the gimme-that-old-time-religion graft, corruption, rot, and stench than seen…..ummmm…… ever before.
The new President is the worst person in history to inhabit the Oval Office. In fact, he may be the worst person, period, in this country. What he has shown us, however, is that the entire sordid crew from the Republican party is irredeemable at this point. A bigger bunch of slime you would not find floating on a sewer drain into a pus pit in the middle of Hell’s holding pen. Continue reading “The Twat Is Mightier Than The Tweet”
FACT: Alternative facts are lies.
FACT: Alternative facts are opinions.
FACT: Alternative facts are as real as alternative lifestyles.
FACT: Alternative facts are the tools of propagandists.
FACT: Alternative facts are believed as truths by the brainwashed.
FACT: Alternative facts, the propagandists who spread them, and the mental midgets who believe them, are a clear and present danger.
were you in 2015 and 2016 have you been the last 30+ years?
Congratulations! You successfully enabled a man who now declares war on you.
And you deserve it.
You have no one but yourselves to blame for your eroded credibility. For far too long, you have chased sensationalism, the ratings dollar, and portrayed the news as entertainment. So you get what you deserve. It’s tempting to jump on the Trump administration’s media-bashing bandwagon, but we need you now more than ever. You are the only check left on a complete fascist and Orwellian takeover of America and democracy. Your rights—unlike women, LGBT, black, immigrant, voting, and many other rights—are enshrined in, and protected by, the Constitution, because, have no doubt, the current administration would strip you of those rights in a
rushin’ Russian heartbeat. This is what they plan to do to me, my husband, son, sister, mother, and fellow marginalized brothers and sisters. So count yourselves lucky.
Now is the time for responsible journalism. For you to vigorously exercise your rights. Take a long hard look in the mirror. Grow up. Give up the ratings dollar. To regain the public’s trust, if at all possible at this point, you must give up the money. Make your news divisions nonprofit. No more ads during the news. And if you continue to take in ad revenue, you must start and end each “news” segment with “and now a word from our sponsor,” or post a disclaimer stating that you are a for profit institution that will do anything for more viewers. (You will deny or spin this to avoid accountability, but that’s exactly what you did when you provided free airtime to every utterance and tweet of Trump throughout 2015-2016, sometimes for hours and hours without mention of any other candidate.) Continue reading “Just the Facts”
When a candidate receives 2.9 million more votes and still ends up losing, something is seriously wrong with our election system. That’s 2.9 million voters who don’t matter. Their votes, representing more than the total population of eighteen individual states (based on 2010 census), and is more than the total vote in thirty-four states, may as well have been incinerated. We could void votes for Trump in eight states combined (Alaska, Wyoming, North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, Idaho, West Virginia, and Nebraska) or in Ohio alone and still not reach 2.9 million. Imagine the outrage if his votes in any one of those states simply didn’t count. Continue reading “twopointnine don’t count”
We will miss you. Thank you for serving with such grace and dignity, especially during a time of blatant obstruction and relentless hate. We will never forget our time in the White House. (By the way, I stole some cocktail napkins.)
April 1995: San Francisco. After a breakup, I traveled alone for the first time. Sad and scared, yet excited to be exploring and finding myself, I walked, hiked, and biked around the city for days, sometimes never speaking to another person all day. This song, on a mixed tape with Radiohead’s Creep and Counting Crows’ Sullivan Street, kept me company. All three songs are forever etched onto my memory and senses, next to the rolling hills, the cable cars, the Castro, and the Golden Gate. The trip and Mary’s song changed my life.
And here we are with nothing
But this emptiness inside of us
Your smile a fitting, final gesture
Wish I could have loved you better
Baby, where’s that place where time stands still?
I remember like a lover can
But I forget it like a leaver will
It’s the first time that you held my hand
It’s the smell and the taste and the fear and the thrill
It’s everything I understand
And all the things I never will