Now dig this…

For anyone who still retains even the most tatterdemalion shred of affection for the Greatest City On Earth, the city that never sleeps, so nice they had to name it twice, New York Fookin’ NOO YAWK—which, Lord help me, I do; I still consider my years in a succession of tiny, too-expensive mouse-holes on the good old LES* to be the absolute best years of my life, and no matter how terribly the shitlibs who run the place damage it, there will always be some part of me that loves the Big Rotten Apple—this video of 1960s NYC is really gonna grab ya, but good.

Via Ace; helluva find, buddy!

* Excepting my last apartment way down on East Broadway betwixt Clinton and Montgomery: stashed just east of Chinatown smack dab in the middle of the Williamsburg and Brooklyn bridges; convenient to absolutely nothing and/or nowhere at all; completely impossible to find a cab any time of the day or night; who even knows how many hundreds, perhaps even millions, of blocks’ walk from the closest F train (ie, Orange Line) subway station; perched atop an ultra-Orthodox shul and synagogue, providing daily opportunities for low ethnic humor to us non-payessed, goyische shmendricks; 3 bedroom/1 bath/full kitchen/spacious LR, two BRs on the front of the building with street -facing windows, 3rd BR with French doors, parquet floors, and a big window looking down on a street-level garden alcove; a three-floor walkup building in a quiet, calm, safe working-class neighborhood w/ mostly Puerto-Rican residents—that pad was incredibly roomy by NYC standards, quite affordably priced to boot; admittedly, our place was located well away from anything remotely resembling The Action (a/k/a The Scene, The Lifestyle, The Haps) but after a short while that started to look to us more and more like a benefit, rather than a drawback

Update! Dunno why it never occurred to me to check before, but a quick Luxxle search yielded this:

Yep, there she is all right: 241 E BWay, home sweet home.

Vichy GOPers gonna Vichy GOPe

Some things never change.

Ramaswamy Says No More ‘Owning the Libs.’ Respectfully, What Is He Talking About?
At last night’s Turning Point USA event, Ohio gubernatorial candidate Vivek Ramaswamy channeled his inner George H. W. Bush, calling for a “kinder and gentler” MAGA movement: No longer should we concentrate on “defeating the left” or “owning the libs.”

An Axios preview described his speech as “No more ‘owning the libs’: Ramaswamy pushes sharp break for GOP”:

Ohio gubernatorial candidate Vivek Ramaswamy on Tuesday plans to call on the GOP to embrace a less overtly belligerent and oppositional posture, Axios has learned.

  • According to his prepared remarks, Ramaswamy will say the conservative moment is at a “fork in the road” and urge them to abandon its fixation on “owning the libs” in favor of a less overtly confrontational posture.
  • “We can still stand for truth, while viewing those who believe in falsehoods not as our enemies who must be vanquished, but instead as our fellow citizens who have lost their way and must be shown the light,” Ramaswamy will say.
  • “Not to berate them, embarrass them, and banish them — but to pray for them, to talk to them, and to persuade them,” he will add.

The Axios preview was eye-opening because it was almost certainly leaked by Ramaswamy himself.

So I suppose killing three of theirs every time they kill one of ours is just right out, then?

Memezapoppin’!

Welcome to this week’s installment of our Wednesday meme feature, folks. Links to the “found via” sources will be attached to the specific MiQ’s (Memes in Question) whenever I can remember them, which likely won’t be very often. Only the first two memes will appear above the fold to save on bandwidth usage, since I assume not everybody who shows up at this here websty will want to see all of them. This intro will appear at the top of each week’s Memezapoppin’! post. Enjoy, funny-pitcher lovers.

Continue reading Memezapoppin’!

A message to our Jewish “friends”

Figure it out, chowderheads.

For years I clung to the belief that, despite the rise in hostility to the Jewish community, we could still build lives here. I had watched from abroad during Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership of the Labour Party from 2015 to 2020, when Jew-hate poisoned the party and seeped into wider politics. Yet, despite my deep disappointment, I still believed in this country enough to move back from Hong Kong in 2022. I wanted to believe the Jewish story here still had a future, and I was determined to be a part of it.

October 7, 2023, changed everything. Hamas carried out the deadliest attack on Jews since the Holocaust, and instead of residents recoiling in horror, Britain’s streets filled with marches that celebrated it. Even after two Jews were massacred in Manchester yesterday, on Yom Kippur, the marches continued.

Jew-hatred has become mainstream here. It has been excused by leaders. It has been embedded in a culture where terrorism is justified and Jewish suffering denied.
Your main problem is right up there in that first sentence, that “for years I clung to the belief” business.

CLUE TO THE CLUELESS: For many deca∂es, Once-Great Britain was run by “liberals.” Now, it is run by Moslems. Moslems hate Jews with a passion as burning-hot as the Sun. So do “liberals.” Period, full stop, end of story. Figure it the fuck or die; there is no “Third Way” here.

Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest bitch?

Failing that, won’t somebody near her location please put a big-bore round through her head; beat her to death with an 18″ section of rusty rebar; run over her with a Freightliner Cascadia; put a long, Arkansas Toothpick-style blade in her gut, then don’t stop pushing until there’s about 3-4 inches of knife-tip orotruding from her back.

I have no preference regarding who, how, or where she gets hers. Nor do I give a drizzling shit how long she flops around on the ground in agony before she actually does die. Just please, SOMEBODY, get up the gumption and just git ‘er kilt.

SRSLY, y’all, I’m just about fed to the gills with their shit. No joke.

Randi Weingarten keeps poisoning our politics — even after Charlie Kirk’s murde For many Americans, the Sept. 10 assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk sparked some sober reflection on the inflammatory rhetoric that has poisoned our political discourse.

For Randi Weingarten, president of the American Federation of Teachers, it was a chance to kick that rhetoric up a notch.

Weingarten barreled full speed ahead with the launch of her new book, “Why Fascists Fear Teachers,” within days of the tragedy.

From its opening lines invoking Adolf Hitler, Weingarten’s tome equates her political opponents with history’s greatest evils, smearing President Donald Trump and others as “fascists.”

It’s frighteningly similar to the language used by Tyler Robinson, Kirk’s alleged killer, who wrote he’d “had enough of [Kirk’s] hatred” and believed “some hate can’t be negotiated out.”
Gotta admit, the whackadoo ain’t exactly wrong on that one. Hey, bllnd squirrels, stopped clocks, all that. In the days after Kirk’s murder Todd Wolfson, a vice president at Weingarten’s union and president of the American Association of University Professors, ranted on social media that “Trump is the enemy” and equated presidential adviser Stephen Miller — who is Jewish — to chief Nazi propagandist Joseph Goebbels.

“The assassin was a disturbed right wing kid, influenced by Nick Fuentes, that likely murdered Kirk because he was not right wing enough,” Wolfson declared on Facebook long after it was clear the opposite was true.

The rot runs deep in the teachers’ unions, and it starts at the very top.

Hundreds of so-called educators publicly rejoiced in Kirk’s politically motivated assassination, posting gleeful messages that crossed every line of decency.

When parents and others objected, union officials dismissed the backlash as “baseless online smear campaigns.”

The Texas affiliate of Weingarten’s AFT emailed members pledging to “vigorously defend” teachers “targeted” for celebrating Kirk’s death online, and Weingarten herself issued a formal statement defending these teachers’ “free speech.”

Sure, they have the right to spew whatever venom they want on their own time — but employers have freedom of association, too, and taxpayers shouldn’t be forced to subsidize these individuals to indoctrinate impressionable minds with sick, divisive rhetoric.

In fact, they DO have an unalienable “right” to puke up their hatred, venom, death threats, personal insults, and whatever other rancid verbal diarrhea they like. This absolute right remains applicable…right up until some stout, cold-eyed, take-no-shit kind of a guy takes offense to their noxious spew, takes position within the correct range to reach out and touch ’em, and expresses his displeasure via A) a fatal dose of lead poisoning, contracted by high-velocity projectile; B) an impromptu demonstration of his edged-weapon skills; or C) deals out a hand-to-hand ass-whuppin’ so thorough the mouthy twatwaffle ends up in a pine box planted six feet straight down from it.

All kidding around aside, folks, when is enough finally ENOUGH? Is it even possible to reach that point anymore? Asking for a friend.

Heartless, vicious, needlessly cruel blots on the escutcheon of all things good, decent, and worthwhile such as this abominable Weingarten creature *shudder* are unfit to occupy space amongst civilized human beings. I hereby promise that on the frabjous day some enterprising soul takes the vile cunt out sniper-style, I will certainly have a drink or three to celebrate the auspicious occasion. Until that glad day arrives, the obnoxious, mule-faced bitch ought to be on a leash. And one of those training choke-collars that look like a slightly modified bicycle chain.

Making her wear a Cone of Shame all day every day might not be the worst idea anybody ever had, either.

Hard to even imagine a cosl blsck fiend like this….this….this THING was once thought to be a qualified and crsedentialed teacher. Of, like, children. She ought to be legally forbidden to come within 50 miles of a school, a day care center, a playground, or a Chuck E Cheese open-air kiddie zoo.

People so bloated with hate, so vicious, so warped, so inhuman—utterly bereft of compassion, politesse, perspective, who are incapable of compfehending the norms, small courtesies, the self-restraint these and other such niceties constitute the fundation upon which civilization is built. Those who either can’t grasp such concepts or, worse still, disregard their deeper meaning as trifliimg irrelevancies, deny their importance as 

The Daily Donnybrook, and other fine things

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Mega-dittos!

Eeyore makes essentially the same point I tried to get across last night…except he makes a better, more concise, and far more cohesive job of it than I did, or frankly could.

A quick note about Pete Hegseth’s speech to the US military brass the other day.

It’s a sad and terrible sign that it takes 45 minutes to explain what is obviously true, and has been true for all of human history and across all cultures. The merit principle always leads to victory and best results. Secretary of War, Pete Hegseth had to reiterate that basic idea multiple times over 45 minutes. Not because he is inarticulate, but because the US, thanks to communist subversion for close to a hundred years, has inculcated the military and all US and Western institutions with the most failure prone ideas in order to create failure. It has gone so far, that men who simply say they are women can compete against women in sports and use that claim to indulge in sexual fantasies at the expense of unwilling women in bathrooms and changing rooms. Standards have been lowered, which was the real point of DEI, such that any meaningful effort to solve a problem would be increasingly difficult, and should a Western effort come up against a foreign one such as Russia or China where the most obvious truths are still in effect, the Western effort would lose. That is of course, unless Russia and China would allow our Beta males to compete with their women in physical competition. Then we would win. But somehow I can’t…

Preach it, brother, preach it.

Might it come to pass that, years from now, the historic Hegseth Address will be regarded by everyone possessed of a thimbleful of becoming humility, honorable intentions, and a kindly nature as a real turning point in an emergent American Renaissance? To rejigger a phrase originally coined by a certain extravagantly braggadocious and baselessly conceited ex-POTUS of indeterminate sexuality: is this the moment when the Red tide began to ebb, dangerously overheated Leftist tempers began to cool, and the bloody,  battered, and bruised American soul began to heal?

SO. To continue in like vein, then: could this be the moment when the Goosesteppin’ Left began to see, understand, and accept that Real Americans will never A) yield to despair; B) take counsel of their fears and declare themselves well and truly beaten; C) stack arms; and D) formally and fully concede defeat in the long war against neverendimg Progressivist predation, half-clever, poorly thought out, and blatantly hostile Leftiard skullduggery, and the ever-escalating demands spritzed wildly in all directions from the foam-flecked maws of insatiably greedy Lefty loons?

Does our rough-hewn, distinctly American resolve that yes, we will see it through to the very end, even if said end might well be a bitter one; a steely determination which so inspires and enheartens us that we can rise to any challenge, go through, over, or around any obstacle, face down any foe—all these excellent things, in concert with a Brobdingnagian strength of character, body, spirit, and will—does this impressive array of powerful weaponry both conceptual and physical of necessity mean that Leftists must now come up with brand-new strategies, tralblazing tactics, loftier ambitions, and fresh, innovative modes of thought if they seriously hope to retain even a smidge of real influence in American politics, a choice as to how, where, and with whom they shail live, and/or a consequential say in how this nation is to be governed?

i dont know how optimistic I’m prepared to be about the possibility of bringing about real, lasting, and positive change through the political/legislative/judicial/electoral process. But I do know this: I support Pete Hegseth a thousand and two percent. He’s The Man, far as I’m concerned, and whether or not TPTB will allow him to get much of anything done in the relatively short time he has to do it, not to mention the emeti0c cacophonyl of hard-core objection, opposition, and knee-jerk rejection to/of MAJ Hegseth’s words, ideas, goals, plans, even himself personally blariingnonstop from Mordor On The Potomac. Don’t care; let the Dark Lord bring on his mighty legions of trolls, winged Nazgul, and Orcs most foul. STILL don’t care, not the leastt little bit I don’t. Me, I’m behind SecWar Hegseth all the way, no matter what.

DON’T DARE TOUCH THAT DIAL! Stay tuned to this channel for the thrilling conclusion of tonight’s amazing tale of adventure, heroism, courage, and forbidden romance!

Sink, Britannia

For the small handful who haven’t had quite enough of Once-Great Britainistan’s bullshit yet.


Found guilty of being a ((((****JooJooJooJOOOOO!!!****)))) in public, now a capital offense in certain less-enlightened districts.

Fucking lousy fucking Limey Pig. Choke to death on your own entrails, copper. Seems like a reinforced platoon of amped-up IRA shooters is never around when you really need one.

The pathetic embarrassment formerly known as Great Britain, America’s staunchest, most important ally? Not on your life; Jack. No conquered fourth-rate power whose native population consists mainly of contemptible curs too cowardly, difckless, and weak to rise up and fight their ongoing subjugation will ever be any kind of ally of mine. Except for that Tommy Robinson feller, that is. I like him.

(Via the Ace Place)

Make The Military Great Again

Solid 24k badass, that’s what.

The Speech the Pentagon Didn’t Want, but the Military Needed
War Secretary Pete Hegseth’s headline-grabbing speech in Quantico this week has irked the professional commentary class but is drawing accolades from those who matter — the men and women on the frontlines of America’s defense.

Hegseth’s remarks to every general officer in the U.S. military, which called for a force-wide military reset and realignment back to warfighting fundamentals, were derided in all the usual places. The Atlantic led with “hundreds of generals try to keep a straight face.” The New York Times wrote, “his address focused on the kinds of issues he would have dealt with as a young platoon leader in the 101st Airborne Division in Iraq or as a company commander in the Guard. He talked about grooming standards. . . . He preached the importance of physical fitness . . . [he said] without presenting any evidencek, that standards had been lowered across the force over the last decade to meet arbitrary racial and gender quotas” (evidence of that here, should NYT researchers need assistance for future stories). MSNBC’s header proclaimed the speech “was even worse than expected.” “Without presenting any evidence”? This dick-with-ears MUST be joking, after we all saw Old Media story after Old Media story extolling every latest slackening of the standards for scary bull daggers, “transgender” freaks who only enlisted in the first place for free surgical removal of unwanted male courting tackle, fat-body femiNazis incapable of cranking 1 (one) single fucking push up, etc etc etc.

Truth is, Hegseth stood up strong and tall and said some things that desperately needed saying, no more nor less. Obvious things; things so common-sensical and self-evident that, for most Normals, it’s difficult to understand how such basic, ground-zero home truths became too controversial, too red-scorching hot hot HOT, for civilized adults to discuss anymore—not quietly, not among their closest friends or relatives, not obliquely, not in jest. Somehow, these elemental truths, innocuous and universally accepted for many years, had suddenly become taboo, off-limits, unfit for polite, intelligent, decent company.Why, it just isn’t DONE, dearie! 

Happily, the SecWar is trying his best to prod the dysfunctional American military Leviathan—once so nimble it was practically invincible, now so bloated, cumbersome, and over-bureaucratized it can no longer move of its own volition, much less plan, prosecute, and prevail in for-real actual shooting war— in the right direction: towards good training, proper military discipline, physical conditioning, and a soldierly mental attitude, and away from political correctness, haplessness, INdiscipline, self-indulgence, and sloppy, slovenly habits of both body and mind.

Certainly,.the speech was chock-a-block with great stuff—stuff which, in the ears of Normals, sounds like just good, old-fashioned horse-sense, the kind of stuff which used to be thought kinda silly to even bring up, unless some young kid asked a question about it.

These things, taken as read by adults for, oh, a couple of centuries or so, are even now being mulched into fodder by shitlibs for more of their bog-standard fits of apoplectic hysteria and mad predictions of imminent global catastrophe; genocide by the goddamned Jew bastards; the wanton oisoning of our oceans, rivers, lakes, ponds, and creeks; the burning off and dispersal into Deep Space of Earth’s atmosphere by Teh E-ville Rich, who just enjoy doing things like that; and the extinction of all plant, animal, and human life on Earth, probably brought about by some unholy agglomeration of Trump, MAGAts, Big Pharma, Elon Musk, Netanyahu, cops, Xtians, and American automakers.

Ahh, but Hegseth ain’t having any of that guff:

His specific directions about basic training, “To that point, basic training is being restored to what it should be. Scary, tough, and disciplined. We’re empowering drill sergeants to instill healthy fear in new recruits, ensuring that future war fighters are forged. Yes, they can shark attack. They can toss bunks. They can swear. And yes, they can put their hands on recruits. This does not mean they can be reckless or violate the law, but they can use tried and true methods to motivate new recruits to make them the warriors they need to be.”

He stated that standards, not “immutable characteristics,” were his touchstone. In particular, he took aim at the benighted policies that have led to the introduction of women into Ranger and Special Forces units, when it is widely believed the physical standards were cooked to permit them to pass.

But when it comes to any job that requires physical power to perform in combat, those physical standards must be high and gender-neutral. If women can make it, excellent. If not, it is what it is. If that means no women qualify for some combat jobs, so be it. That is not the intent, but it could be the result, so be it. It will also mean that weak men won’t qualify because we’re not playing games.

But if the words I’m speaking today are making your heart sink, then you should do the honorable thing and resign. We would thank you for your service. But, I suspect, I know, the overwhelming majority of you feel the opposite. These words make your hearts full. You love the War Department because you love what you do: the profession of arms. You are hereby liberated to be the apolitical, hard-charging, no-nonsense constitutional leader that you joined the military to be. We need you locked in on the M, not the D, the E, or the I. Not the DEI or the DIE of dime. By that I mean the M, Military, of the instruments of national power.

On the whole, I think Hegseth did what needed to be done. He set some clear standards, most of which will be welcomed. Delivering it to the entirety of the GOFO commanders and their senior enlisted representatives will ensure that there isn’t a cohesive resistance. However, I suspect some careers will come to a screeching halt when they are found to be dragging their feet, if not outright refusing to comply.

As they damned well ought to, and without any dithering, aw-shucksing, or further fiddle-farting about. Any and all such disgruntled Sad Sacks should be de-mobbed at the first hint of foot-dragging or refusal to to the line—thrown out on their un-soldierly cans with a Dishonorable Discharge, perhaps a court-martial for the very worst cases. After all, we have other words for that kind of thing: insubordination, malingering, shirkihg, dereliction of duty, conduct unbecoming, sedition, mutiny, to name but a few.

Hegseth is dead on the money regarding what exactly has gone so terribly wrong with our once-mighty military, and what it will take to put things right again. He’s looking more and more like being the absolute best of Trump’s picks for exalted positions, leapfrogging my girl Tulsi and leaving even her fine self in his dust.

Is it any big surprise that the man leaves witless Woketards flopping around on the floor like landed fish, screaming themselves purple-faced from fear, mindless rage, and hatred, and choking on their own putrescent bile with everything he does, says, or suggests?

A: No. No, it is NOT.

As sensible sorts would expect, the reaction to the unveiling of the Hegseth Plan To Revive, Restore, and Renew the US military from actual people who are actually, y;know, in the actual fucking military—as opposed to the pissypants, sissy-maries, and dainty fancyboys bitching, moaning, and whining like spoiled brats in the first excerpt above—none of which malignancies have ever A) scrubbed a barracks toilet with their own toothbrush; B) shouldered a seventy-pound ruck, strapped on his rifle, sidearm, web-gear with attached flashlight, combat knife, canteen, flash-bangs, field-expedient cookware, and extra magazines, then moved out on a twenty-five-mile Motivation March; C) worn Woodland-pattern BDUs, Level 4 body armor, boonie hat, and desert boots, or D) got the vaguest inkling as to what the Manual Of Arms might refer to, much less either seen it done or attempted it themselves—was somewhat different.

Garrett Smith, an active-duty Marine Corps reservist and CEO of defense tech firm Reveal, said the spectacle was unusual but not without precedent.

“This is a historic come-to-Jesus meeting,” said Chad Robicheaux, a former reconnaissance Marine who deployed to Afghanistan eight times. “The message is clear. The days of divisiveness, resistance and undermining leadership are over.”

“It was crystal clear. Generals and admirals are on notice. Comply and enforce these new policies and culture or be fired. No more woke leaders,” said Amber Smith, a combat veteran and advisor with the Coalition for Military Excellence.

And on that note, let’s enjoy ourselves a wee bit more of the Wit And Wisdom Of Pete Hegseth, shall we?

The topic today is about the nature of ourselves, because no plan, no program, no reform, no formation will ultimately succeed unless we have the right people and the right culture at the Department of War,” Hegseth told the group.

He emphasized that combat fitness tests would be gender-neutral and that high-level officers would need to meet standards.

“It’s completely unacceptable to see fat generals and admirals in the halls of the Pentagon and leading commands around the country and the world. It’s a bad look. It’s not who we are,” he said. “Whether you’re an airborne Ranger or a chairborne Ranger, a brand-new private or a four-star general, you need to meet the height and weight standards and pass your PT test.”

Hegseth announced that all personnel must pass physical training tests and meet weight requirements twice a year and would be required to work out daily.

“We’re not talking, like, hot yoga and stretching,” he said. “Real hard PT.”

I don’t doubt that you are, Secretary Hegseth, sir. Now back to more rank-n-file reax. From what he says next, I get the feeling that this Smith fellow maybe has some issues with the current President.

Smith, who comes from the infantry, said the focus on standards for physical readiness was part of that shift.

“If we want to present a deterring force to the world so we don’t have to go to war, we have to be ready to win the next war. That is the deterrent force we project,” he said.

At the same time, Smith acknowledged the cultural edge of Hegseth’s message.

“There was an obvious and very clear anti-woke, anti-social justice threat in there. That is unique to this administration, and it has to be a part of their message every time. That’s not a surprise given the last four or five years.”

Nor should it be. Nor should any other thing Real Americans decide to do about and/or to their shitlib antagonists in the days ahead, up too and including retaliatory violence, maiming, ass-whupping, and/or outright killing the lousy cocksuckers.

Whatever unpleasantness is eventually dished out to shitlib scoundrels, regardless of how excruciating, injurious, or excessive it might seem in the moment, will be eminently deserved. By their own actions have they brought Hell down on their heads, even though they’ll never cease blaming everybody BUT themselves for it.

Fact is, however severe their punishment, they’ve done much, much worse, have done repeatedly over lo, these many years, with nary an expression of apology, regret, or remorse proffered to the untold millions they’ve so detestably wronged.

Certain varieties of “peace” OUGHT to be disturbed

Jacked intact and as is from CederQ.

A mother in California decided that, after months of speaking to her local school board about allowing boys into girls’ bathrooms and locker rooms (and getting nowhere), that she was show them.

So she started to strip at the podium (she was wearing a bathing suit).

‘I wanted to give them more of a visual, what does it really look like changing and what would it feel like [to have] somebody of the opposite sex watching you change.’

Bourne said she now feels she got her point across.

‘If the adults don’t feel comfortable watching someone – and I’m a 50-year-old woman – how can they expect girls to feel comfortable doing that in the locker room?’ she asked, rhetorically.

‘The more open dialogue, open debate we can have on topics that are controversial, I think, we are going to end up having a safer society,’ she added.

Of course the school board had her hauled out and charged with disturbing the peace.

Of COURSE they did.That’s okay Maw, you sock it to ’em anyway. Pics at the Daily Mail link I didn’t transcribe because reasons; the feisty 50 year oldster looks like the North end of a South-bound mule, but that’s okay too. In fact, it’s probably better that way; a fugly old broad stripping off at the school board meeting drives the central point home harder, faster, and deeper than if it’d been a smoking hot li’l number getting all nekkid, seems to me.

Musical notes

Had a few most excellent old tunes that I’d jdamned near forgotten about altogether pop into my empty head the other day, and I been a-movin’ and a-groovin’ to ‘em ever since. First up, Jack Rabbit Slim’s slashing, energetic “Rock-A-Cha.”

Next up, Travis and Bob’s cool old chestnut, “Tell Him No,” which I used to play with Mook in the Parodis.

Then, we have the legendary Sister Rosetta Tharpe and her great, great rendition of “Didn’t It Rain.”

I dunno, seeing Tharpe wailing on that SG Custom always felt sorta incongruous to me, perhaps because I never could stand an SG myself. Doesn’t seem to bother her any, though.

Lastly but by no means leastly, my own personal favorite of the whole bunch: Larry Finnegan’s strange but haunting 1962 earwig, “Dear One.”

What, you didn’t think I WASN’T gonna delve a little further into this one, did ya? COME ON, MAN! I DID say it was one of my all-timers, ya know.

Finnegan’s wavery falsetto on the intro immediately gives way to a deeper, more chesty man-voice for the rest of the song. It’s just one of several odd, quirky little aspects of this quirky little tune. Others include the spoken lines from the girl who done him wrong, echoing the B-part lyrics sung by Finnegan.

The sudden 180-degree shift in narrative point of view from Finnegan in the victim role to the cheating hussy in this section is almost jarring, but not quite. As the song moves along through, then gets back to the regular chorus-verse-chorus choogle of most pop/rock music, the uninflected, zombie-like recitation of the lame explanation for her faithless betrayal begins to sound funny, really.

Especially the final part, to wit: “But I lost my head/And I lost my heart/And I lost your love to him.” Whuuu….? Lost HIS love, you mean, not YOURS. Right? i mean, how the fug you gonna lose HIS love to etc, ya silly bint?!? Like I said: weird.

Leaving all the departures from standard pop-song form aside, the thing you really want to pay close attention to here is the drummer’s shuffle-beat paradiddling around on the snare. The jangly, tinkly piano is nice, as is the bass line, the guitars, the basic melody, all of it. But it’s the snare drum that drives this thing, that propels the song from run-of-the-mill teenybopper fluff right up into the hightest heights of truly unforgettable music. Once you home in on that snare, that’s it: you’re gone.

As you will no doubt realize straightaway, as inventive and unusual as the entire tune is, it’s that rolling, rollicking snare drum that really makes the whole thing git up and snort. I gots no idea who that drummer is/was, but he’s a bona fide genius—even doing them paradiddles the whole entire song, pretty much, he still never plays ‘em the same way twice.

Reminds me of BP’s drummer Mark, who played similar-type rolls and shuffle-beats on the snare himself, except he pounded them skins so durn viciously you coud almost hear the heads scream in agony. If I’m lyin’, I’m flyin’.

Update! Y’all prolly knew I’d just HAVE to do some poking around on this drummer business, din’tcha?

When it came to music, Larry counted Johnny Cash and Don Gibson as his two favorite artists. While at the university he and his older brother Vincent, then a senior at Boston College, wrote Dear One. They started knocking on the doors of record companies all over New York, but had no takers until they met Hy Weiss, the owner of the small but successful Old Town Records. Weiss had already produced such hits as So Fine by the Fiestas from 1959, and Let The Little Girl Dance by Billy Bland the following year, as well as Life Is But A Dream by the Harptones. Hy Weiss recognized Larry’s talent and saw the potential in Dear One. He also changed Larry’s last name from Finneran to Finnegan, figuring that dee-jays stood a better chance of remembering a common name like Finnegan.

Dear One was recorded at Mira Sound Studios, West 54th St., New York. According to Vincent Finneran, “There was no demo version of ‘Dear One’, just one recording with two takes. And the thing that made the song successful was the engineer Bill McMeekan. He put five microphones in and around the piano and three microphones on the drums which gave the song a unique sound. Dick Pitassy played piano. Two different girls sang on ‘Dear One’; one did the opening female lines and another did the later ones.”

One of the girls, Bambi LaMorte (today Mignon Lawless), remembers, “Larry dated one of my roommates (Sandy Bryant). I attended St.Mary’s College which is directly across the street from Notre Dame. I met Larry through Sandy. We would sometimes all hang out together. I was a music major and since I lived in Pelham, New York (about 20 minutes from Manhattan), Larry asked me if I would sing a female part on his recording. I said ‘Sure.’ We went to a recording studio somewhere in Manhattan over Thanksgiving vacation 1961 and recorded ‘Dear One’. The only professional musician was Gary Chester, the drummer. Larry felt it was important to have an experienced drummer. I believe there were two guitar players, both from Notre Dame. The only things I remember about that night were that the guitar players were not taking the recording seriously enough and kept making mistakes. Larry finally yelled at them and they shaped up. I don’t remember how many tries it took to get the original, but they did a lot of starting and stopping. I do remember that I had to do my part cold turkey, without any practice. I only sang the introduction to ‘Dear One’. They didn’t like the way I spoke the part, and overdubbed it later. I have no idea who the other woman singer is. Larry’s agent hired someone to do it. Larry and I went back to the studio one night and recorded a song we wrote together. I played guitar, he sang, and then we dubbed different instruments onto the recording. It was fascinating to experience his creativity at work.”

Jeez: two takes, no isolation, baffles, or sound damping, just ambient mics and roll tape boys! Sometimes it seems as if there’s a really cool story behind every hit song, out-of-nowhere artist, or recording-studio session, don’t it?

Happy birthday

Or birthday anniversary, at any rate, to one of the greatest pianists of the 20th century, Vladimir Samoylovich Horowitz.

The above vid is just random excerpts from a Teewee show I liked enough to tape on VHS years ago, called Horowitz Plays Mozart, wherein the recording studio session of the maestro playing Mozart’s wonderful Piano Concerto No 23 (K488) is captured—all three movements, plus a hilarious Q&A section with Horowitz as well.

The full version of the show is availabe for perusal on Da Toob also, and well worth chasing down.

Memezapoppin’!

Welcome to this week’s installment of our Wednesday meme feature, folks. Links to the “found via” sources will be attached to the specific MiQ’s (Memes in Question) whenever I can remember them, which likely won’t be very often. Only the first two memes will appear above the fold to save on bandwidth usage, since I assume not everybody who shows up at this here websty will want to see all of them. This intro will appear at the top of each week’s Memezapoppin’! post. Enjoy, funny-pitcher lovers.

Continue reading Memezapoppin’!

Welfare check

A few foks have expressed concern about my brother from anoher mother Big Country Expat and asked if I maybe knew whether or not he was okay. My response to one of those folks was that I had talked to BCE on the phone last week and he was fine, but I’d check with him today and make sure. I am happy to report that he’s still alive and well, albeit a bit dismayed by certain recent developments which I won’t go into—developments which have interposed themselves between BCE and his blog-muse, hence the dearth of posting over at his place.

So fret not, gang; if I know that boy at all, and I do, he’ll grind on through this current rough patch and be back amongst us soon.

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CF Glossary

ProPol: Professional Politician

Vichy GOPe: Putative "Republicans" who talk a great game but never can seem to find a hill they consider worth dying on; Quislings, Petains, Benedicts, backstabbers, fake phony frauds

Fake Phony Fraud(s), S'faccim: two excellent descriptors coined by the late great WABC host Bob Grant which are interchangeable, both meaning as they do pretty much the same thing

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