APOCALYPSE NOW!

I love the smell of liberal tears in the morning. Smells like…victory.

Update! Insty:

SO KAMALA DIDN’T SPEAK LAST NIGHT, AND DIDN’T CALL TRUMP TO CONCEDE. A (female) friend messages: “Charming that the Democrats have twice put up a woman against Trump, who gets too drunk the night of elections to give a concession speech.”

They’re not sending their best people. Or heck, maybe they are . . .

Heh. Indeed.

Updated update! Just hit me that I’ve gotta get busy getting the Scrooge Picard theme up and running quick as I can. Why, you ask? Because for once, Christmas truly did come early this year, of course. 😉

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And now for something completely different…

It begins this way:

On a day when everybody’s going to be blathering on about elections and voting and partisanship, I figured we could all do with something completely different.

Said a mouthful there, Peter. The video he embeds, a NatGeo doc called Billy & Molly: An Otter Love Story, is also available on YewToob here, and is simply beyond heartwarming—just a wonderful story. Such a welcome relief from the tedious bullshit that is “American” “elections” nowadays, providing a lively contrast with last week’s P’nut the Squirrel abomination. Narrated by Billy’s bemused wife, Billy & Molly… is slam-full of lushly beautiful Shetland Islands scenery, and tells a story that’s bound to touch anyone with a properly-functioning soul deeply. Not to be missed. As one of Peter’s commenters snarks, thank God Billy and Molly aren’t in New York.

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Webb’s ride

Low-mileage creampuff, only ever driven by Webb Pierce’s sainted mother from Pasadena to church on Sundays, never driven above 30 mph, engine oil change every 500 miles whether it needed one or not.

WebbPontiac 1.

WebbPontiac 2.

WebbPontiac 3.

According to commenter greg over at Phil and CedrQ’s hang, this righteous lead sled was designed and built by the justly famous Nudie Cohn, he of Nudie suit fame. If you click on over to the ‘Nuckles joint, you’ll also see a cpl-three memes which will be showing up in tonight’s Eyrie meme post, if my internet connection will ever stabilize long enough for me to upload and post the damned thing. It’s gotten so dicey around here Intarwebs-wise that in the last two days, I’ve burned through almost all of my high-speed data allotment using the phone for a hotspot.

Re my opening used-car salesman schpiel above, here’s the video backstory for Webb’s baby.

LOVE that song, it’s one of my all-time favorites. Go Granny go Granny go Granny GO!

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Walk that walk

Having been taken somewhat aback by that strong, intelligent Drea de Matteo rant I posted the other day, I thought I’d do some Innarnuts sleuthing and edumacate myself a little about the woman. Turns out, her smackdown of limousine-liberal crawly thing Mark Cuban was definitely NOT a one-off.

‘Sopranos’ star Drea de Matteo says she never played Hollywood celebrity ‘game,’ made walking away easy
Drea de Matteo isn’t big on red carpets or hobnobbing with other celebrities.

The “Sopranos” star, 52, told Fox News Digital that walking away from the industry was “no big deal,” because she never really felt like she belonged in Hollywood in the first place. 

“You know, a lot of people ask me about getting canceled or getting kicked out of Hollywood or shunned. That never happened to me,” she explained. “I wasn’t in there to begin with. I’ve never been a Hollywood player. I’ve done a few acting parts of it on a few TV shows. I’ve done a good job. I even have, you know, some achievement awards and things. But like, I was never really in the industry.”

De Matteo, who played Adriana La Cerva on “The Sopranos,” explained that she has “never played the celebrity game.”

“I don’t own fancy purses and s— like that or walk red carpets. I don’t mingle with famous people. I don’t, it’s just not my world. So, for me to walk away from it, not a big deal.”

Right now, Matteo is focused on her new jewelry collection, which is part of her ULTRAFREE clothing line, joking that the tombstones in her new Tombstone line have name plates on them “in case you forget who you are, just take a look down there.”

Her Protection collection, she explained, has gun pendants.

“What’s funny about that right now is I always wore a revolver, a little tiny revolver with a pearl handle,” she said. “People would give them to me all the time, A, because my ex’s name was Shooter, and B, because I was on ‘The Sopranos,’ and I always wore a bullet hanging from my earring.”

Shooter, of course, would be Shooter Jennings—son of Outlaw Country legend Waylon—to whom Drea was married for a good few years and with whom she has one (1) daughter and one (1) son yclept, wonderfully, “Blackjack.” Now as Fate would have it, I myself have a wee bit of history with Shooter’s dad, to wit:

Just left of center, that’s moi with the facial hair standing behind none other than Ol’ Waylon hisself, who borrowed my black Tele with the fancy tortoise-shell pickguard for an extended jam session with the BPs at the buck-wild Days Of Thunder wrap party thrown by Tom Cruise back in…what, late 1989*, I guess it was? Jessi Colter is clapping along at extreme left, and of course that’s June Carter Cash and her notorious hubby off to the right. We were all so confusticated by the stage-full of country-music royalty we had up there with us we could barely even stand, much less play.

Why yes, it WAS one hell of a damned night, why do you ask?

Anyhoo, bless Drea de Matteo’s heart for speaking out the way she did, and for being the remarkable, level-headed fairer-sex ball o’ Hell she is. Verily, she stands out from the rest of the Tinseltown crowd like the Hope diamond in a red-clay mud bank.

*ERRATA: On further reflection, it musta been 1990, I suppose, since it was right after New Year’s, like January 3th. I remember we all assumed that the only movie types likely to attend would be crew, go-fers, caterers, local production staff, and such-like—surely the stars would have all flown back to H-wood for New Years Eve, right? WRONG! Tom Cruise, Robert Duvall, Duvall’s lovely Tango-dance instructor, and that big goof Randy Quaid shocked us all by showing up for the shindig. Duvall had slyly arranged to fly in the Cashes, Colter, and Jennings on the sneak as a surprise for Tom, see, without ever letting on; he had met those august personages during the filming of Tender Mercies and become good friends with them. I just about fell over in a dead faint when I saw that tall drink of water Johnny Effing Cash (!!!) come walking in as we were about to tear into our rendition of “Rock And Roll Ruby,” a staple of every BPs set in those days. The minute Cash realized what we were playing, he shot me a huge grin and ploughed thru the crowd to stage-front like Moses parting the Red Sea to take my termbling hand in that great big paw of his and compliment me in his deep, crooning drawl: “Ya sound reeaal gooood, son, just like we did forty years ago!” See, I didn’t know at the time that he had actually written the durn thing—hand to God, I had no idea when I introduced the song with an offhand, “This one goes out to the Man in Black!” Yep, that was one incredible night alright…

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Strong, smart women for Trump

Many of them, but nary a one of them stronger, smarter, or just plain smoking-hotter than the alluring Drea de Matteo, who lays it down clean and tight in this vid.


You go, girl, and good on ya for this excellent smackdown of someone who desperately needs it.

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Trump takes out the trash

Rolling over howling Leftard ghouls with élan, style, and great good humor.

Trump trolls Harris and Biden by riding a GARBAGE TRUCK to his Wisconsin rally
Donald Trump trolled Joe Biden and Kamala Harris by riding a MAGA garbage truck to his rally in Wisconsin on Wednesday night in response to Biden’s comments that upended the presidential race with a week to go.

You all know the story Enemedia is mislabeling “Apostrophegate” in their desperation to get a little favorable (to them) backspin on Biden’s exposure of how D卐M☭CRATs really, truly feel about Real Americans; no need to dive any deeper into that particular rubbish bin at this juncture, I don’t think.

What’s dismaying to me, though, is the growing number of naysayers ostensibly on Our Side who are bitching, pissing, and moaning up a storm over Trump’s McDonald’s triumph and this hastily-put-together encore as just stupid, childish, unserious, embarrassing, et al. According to these oh-so-dignified pundits, Trump’s antics are a sure-fire recipe for defeat. Haven’t seen the word “deplorable” from any of them as of yet, but you can practically hear the teeth grinding and gnashing together as they struggle mightily to stop themselves from resorting to it.

Puh-LEEEEZE, Mr Grinch! It couldn’t be more obvious that Trump, far from damaging himself politically, is having a blast. Likewise, millions upon millions of Normals are enjoying the show almost as much as he is himself. Kumhaula talks herself blue in the face about “joy,” but all any interested party needs to do is take a look at her opponent to see the genuine article in action.

And what, pray tell, is wrong with that, exactly? Sourpusses, Gloomy Gus-es, and sundry other Church Lady types both Left and Right can grouse and grump all they want to about Trump’s rollicking, jolly, informal campaigning style, but from where I sit it looks as if most folks find it a much-needed breath of fresh air. It’s refreshing, not alarming.

All of which preceding verbiage affords me a prime opportunity to re-run a wildly apt Cramps tune in honor of America’s Garbageman.

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Scary Halloween music

Via my brother-from-another-mother BCE, this one should fit the bill. A preface, from Big Country himself.

Mongolian throat singing with metal and traditional Mongolian musical instruments… and another side note: The two string ‘guitar’ is a morin khuur which is the national instrument of Mongolia and is known as the “horse-headed fiddle”… in a few of their videos, you can plainly see the Swastika imbedded in the neck as it was originally intended to be, but freaks out the left so badly…

These guys are as awesome as you can imagine live as well. Funniest thing: NONE of them speak any English except the lead singer who’s main phrase was “FUCK YEEEEEAH!!!” which was hysterical…

He ain’t lying about all that, friends, as you can see.

More, from the “About” page of this downright frightening musical ensemble’s official website.

In 2019, an NPR story put a spotlight on “a band from Mongolia that blends the screaming guitars of heavy metal and traditional Mongolian guttural singing,” accurately highlighting the cultural importance and unique musical identity of THE HU. Founded in 2016 in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, THE HU, Gala, Jaya, Temka, and Enkush, are a modern rock group rooted in the tradition of their homeland. The band’s two most popular videos, “Yuve Yuve” and “Wolf Totem,” were produced by the band’s producer Dashka. The band’s name translates to the Mongolian root word for human being, and their unique approach blends instruments like the Morin Khuur (horsehead fiddle), Tovshuur (Mongolian guitar), Tumur Khuur (jaw harp) and throat singing withcontemporary sounds, creating a unique sonic profile that they call “Hunnu Rock.”

Their debut album, 2019 ‘s The Gereg, debuted at #1 on the World Album and Top New Artist Charts. With it, the band have accumulated over 250 million combined streams and video views to date and have received critical acclaim from the likes of Billboard, NPR, GQ, The Guardian, The Independent, Revolver, and even Sir Elton John himself.

Proving their global appeal, THE HU have sold out venues across the world in North America, Europe, Asia, and Australia, with scheduled festival appearances at Coachella, Lollapalooza, Download Festival, and more, creating a community of fans from all walks of life. They quickly grabbed the attention of the industry, leading to collaborations with Jacoby Shaddix of Papa Roach and Lzzy Hale of Halestorm. And most recently, the band received praise from fans and critics for their Mongolian rendition of Metallica’s “Sad But True,” which Metallica picked up on and invited them to record ‘Through The Never’ for their Metallica Blacklist album released in 2021 alongside other high-profile guest artists like Miley Cyrus, Chris Stapleton, Phoebe Bridgers, J Balvin, St. Vincent, and so many more. The band has also explored eclectic ways to reach audiences with their sound, most notably writing and recording music for EA Games’ Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order.

The aforementioned Metallica cover is pretty awesome as well, but what really struck me most of all wasn’t so much the music but the gracious, becomingly humble acknowledgement at the end of the YT vid:

Like millions of people around the world, Metallica has been a huge influence and inspiration for us as music fans and musicians. We admire their 40 years of relentless touring and the timeless, unique music they have created. It is a great honor to show them our respect and gratitude by recording a version of “Sad But True” in our language and in the style of the HU.

Well, you can’t say fairer than that. And all’s well as ends better, as my old Gaffer liked to say, bless him.

Update! Dagnabbit, don’t know how, but this gin-yoo-wine CF institution almost got by me this year.

Ahh, the wonderful old chestnut from Jumpin’ Gene Simmons—no, not THAT Gene Simmons, the earlier, funnier one. I’ve run his version of “Haunted House” every Halloween on Ye Aulde Colde Furye Blogge for more years than I care to remember; it mortifies me to think that this year I durn near forgot. Thankfully, though, this tired old brain came through for us ere the end.

MORTIFIES, get me? A-HENH!

Updated update! What the hell, a backgrounder on Temüjin, a/k/a Genghis the Khan seems apropos.

Genghis Khan (born Temüjin; c. 1162 – August 1227), also known as Chinggis Khan, was the founder and first khan of the Mongol Empire. After spending most of his life uniting the Mongol tribes, he launched a series of military campaigns, conquering large parts of China and Central Asia.

Born between 1155 and 1167 and given the name Temüjin, he was the eldest child of Yesugei, a Mongol chieftain of the Borjigin clan, and his wife Hö’elün. When Temüjin was eight, his father died and his family was abandoned by its tribe. Reduced to near-poverty, Temüjin killed his older half-brother to secure his familial position. His charismatic personality helped to attract his first followers and to form alliances with two prominent steppe leaders named Jamukha and Toghrul; they worked together to retrieve Temüjin’s newlywed wife Börte, who had been kidnapped by raiders. As his reputation grew, his relationship with Jamukha deteriorated into open warfare. Temüjin was badly defeated in c. 1187, and may have spent the following years as a subject of the Jin dynasty; upon reemerging in 1196, he swiftly began gaining power. Toghrul came to view Temüjin as a threat and launched a surprise attack on him in 1203. Temüjin retreated, then regrouped and overpowered Toghrul; after defeating the Naiman tribe and executing Jamukha, he was left as the sole ruler on the Mongolian steppe.

As it happens, the vast empire established by the great Genghis Khan remains the largest of all time, by a broad margin. The Brits, the Spaniards, the Dutch? Stop it already, you make me laugh.

The Mongol Empire of the 13th and 14th centuries was the largest contiguous empire in history. Originating in present-day Mongolia in East Asia, the Mongol Empire at its height stretched from the Sea of Japan to parts of Eastern Europe, extending northward into parts of the Arctic; eastward and southward into parts of the Indian subcontinent, mounted invasions of Southeast Asia, and conquered the Iranian Plateau; and reached westward as far as the Levant and the Carpathian Mountains.

The Mongol Empire emerged from the unification of several nomadic tribes in the Mongol heartland under the leadership of Temüjin, known by the more famous title of Genghis Khan (c. 1162 – 1227), whom a council proclaimed as the ruler of all Mongols in 1206. The empire grew rapidly under his rule and that of his descendants, who sent out invading armies in every direction. The vast transcontinental empire connected the East with the West, and the Pacific to the Mediterranean, in an enforced Pax Mongolica, allowing the exchange of trade, technologies, commodities, and ideologies across Eurasia.

The empire began to split due to wars over succession, as the grandchildren of Genghis Khan disputed whether the royal line should follow from his son and initial heir Ögedei or from one of his other sons, such as Tolui, Chagatai, or Jochi. The Toluids prevailed after a bloody purge of Ögedeid and Chagatayid factions, but disputes continued among the descendants of Tolui. The conflict over whether the Mongol Empire would adopt a sedentary, cosmopolitan lifestyle or stick to its nomadic, steppe-based way of life was a major factor in the breakup.

After Möngke Khan died (1259), rival kurultai councils simultaneously elected different successors, the brothers Ariq Böke and Kublai Khan, who fought each other in the Toluid Civil War (1260–1264) and also dealt with challenges from the descendants of other sons of Genghis. Kublai successfully took power, but war ensued as he sought unsuccessfully to regain control of the Chagatayid and Ögedeid families. By the time of Kublai’s death in 1294, the Mongol Empire had fractured into four separate khanates or empires, each pursuing its own interests and objectives: the Golden Horde khanate in the northwest, the Chagatai Khanate in Central Asia, the Ilkhanate in Iran, and the Yuan dynasty in China, based in modern-day Beijing. In 1304, during the reign of Temür, the three western khanates accepted the suzerainty of the Yuan dynasty.

The Kubla Khan mentioned above is the self-same fellow written of by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, if I remember right. No less exalted a literary personage than the incomparable Rudyard Kipling memorialized Coleridge’s short pome thusly: “Remember that in all the millions permitted there are no more than five—five little lines—of which one can say: ‘These are the pure Magic. These are the clear vision. The rest is only poetry’.”

I shan’t argue. I still remember—having been brought up in the long-gone days when the government schools were in fact schools and not indoctrination centers and therefore still bothered to teach their young charges about the foundation-stones of Western arts and letters such as Sam Coleridge and Rudyard Kipling, to name but two—the opening couplet of Coleridge’s opium-fueled flight of fancy:

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree

Meh, that stuff’s old as dirt, older than that musty, dusty, rusty US Constitution thingamabobber, if such a thing is possible. Probably isn’t even an XboX version of it available, I betcher. I mean, seriously, dude: “Xanadu”? “Kubla Whatsit”? “Damsels with dulcimers,” whatever those might be, sitting around drunk off their asses on “the milk of Paradise,” all that other horsepuckey? SNOOZAPALOOZA!!!

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Season’s greetings

Never having been all that big on horror movies, I surprised myself when Bram Stoker’s Dracula became one of my all-time favorite films after I first saw it. Propelled by gifted thespian Gary Oldman’s marvelously creepy yet also unexpectedly sympathetic turn as Count Dracul, Coppola’s take on Stoker’s classic vampire tale provides an object lesson in how movies ought to be made. Atmospherics, acting, script, cinematography, SFX, set design, eye of newt, wing of bat, toe of frog—every last ingredient that goes into the cauldron to brew up a genuinely unforgettable cinematic experience is included here.

Plus, in the “Dracula’s brides” scene, TITTIES! Okay, nightmarish blood drinking ghoulie-girl titties, sure. But still. Hey, I ain’t complaining; whatever they’re attached to, it’s always nice to see a comely set. Which, y’know, these most definitely are.

I ran across a full-length, free version of the film on YewToob, and in the course of re-watching a little of it there’s one particular scene that, unfortunately, stands out as being of extraordinary relevance today. Judge for yourself why I say so.

“They’re perfectly nutritious”—sounds familiar, don’t it? Even after more than two decades, Renfield’s deranged blandishment is still as fresh and current as tomorrow’s headlines. As a YT commenter notes, Tom Waits doesn’t act much, but when he does, he’s amazing. SO: you vill eat zee bugs, eh? Yeah, NO. Just look how well that worked out for Mr Renfield, the poor schlemiel.

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Just another Biden fuckup

Not so much, this time out. After all, to him and all the rest of his scum-gargling radical Left ilk, she IS dead now.

Biden suggests very alive former Rep. Gabby Giffords is dead after bizarre remark: ‘Nothing wrong with me’
President Biden appeared to suggest Friday that former Rep. Gabby Giffords (D-Ariz.) is either dead or divorced— and no longer his friend — in an apparent gaffe shortly after he told members of a Native American community that there is “nothing wrong with me.”

“Thank you to Sen. Mark Kelly, a great friend — who also was married to an incredible woman who was my friend,” the 81-year-old president told the Gila River Indian Community, just south of Phoenix. 

Kelly, a Democratic senator from Arizona, has been married to Giffords — who is very much alive — since 2007.

Explanatory backstory for my above punchline—in reference not to Giffords but to Wonder Woman Tulsi Gabbard, which is probably the person Stupefied Jaux thought he was talking about anyway. Or talking TO, perhaps; who even knows anymore with that addled, staggerlicious old feeb. In any event, I’ve had this one sitting in an open tab for a cpl-three days now, and I’m a-gonna use it, by gum.

Tulsi Gabbard announces that she’s ‘joining the Republican Party’ at Trump rally
GREENSBORO, N.C. – Former Hawaii Congresswoman Tulsi Gabbard announced Tuesday that she’s “joining the Republican Party.”

Gabbard, a former Democrat and independent, made the declaration during a North Carolina rally for former President Donald Trump, as the GOP nominee for president – her inspiration for making the party switch – stood nearby.

“The Democrat Party has no home for people like us, but we do have a home in the Republican Party – where we are welcomed with open arms by President Trump and so many of you who love our country,” Gabbard said. 

“And it is because of my love for our country and specifically because of the leadership that President Trump has brought to transform the Republican Party and bring it back to the party of the people, and the party of peace, that I’m proud to stand here with you today, with President Trump, and announce that I’m joining the Republican Party,” she declared. 

Trump, 78, later noted that he wasn’t expecting Gabbard’s announcement. 

“Wow, that was a surprise,” the former president said, calling it a “great honor” to have influenced Gabbard to join the ranks of the GOP. 

Well said, Tulsi, and good on ya for it. Don’t look now, but there may well be another, more apposite reason for Gabbard’s sudden switcheroo, and America’s Only Trustworthy News Source knows what it is.

Tulsi Gabbard Finally Realizes She’s Far Too Attractive To Be A Democrat
WASHINGTON, D.C. — There was great rejoicing in the GOP yesterday as former Democrat Tulsi Gabbard finally realized that she’s far too good-looking to be a Democrat.

Sources close to Gabbard say the realization was a long time in coming, but that she finally decided to switch sides after realizing that she didn’t blend in at all.

“I’d felt very out of place for a while now,” Gabbard said as she announced she was now a Republican. “Everyone around me was either a creepy perv like Walz or a mummy like Pelosi or some uggo like Kamala. And then half of the Dems were just trans and pretending to be the other gender, honestly. I’m just glad to be joining the party with all the lookers, you know? Finally settled that one. Second Amendment, can I get an amen?”

Attractiveness experts agreed that Gabbard no longer had a place among the “sea of androgynous bags” that make up the Democrat Party. “We’re so glad she finally realizes how gorgeous she is,” said attractiveness expert Bubbs Bronson from Fort Wayne, Indiana. “Easy on the eyes, that’s for sure!”

The smokin’ hot, intellectually agile, leggily sexadelic, and unashamedly patriotic Ms Gabbard is certainly a breed apart from the blubberous manatees; bloated bipedal hippopotami; green-bewigged Manwomen; bong-ripping, dorm-dwelling Reluctant Femmes sporting nasty, smelly white-girl dreads; and mange-rife screech monkeys which constitute pretty much the complete taxonomy of feminine “pulchritude” in today’s D卐M☭CRAT Party. Not since the famously fugly Mrs Franklin D Roosevelt have we beheld such a gorge-raising gaggle of fairer-sex gargoyleens. Gruesomighty! Next to these present-day specimens, even Her Herness HILLARY!© Clinton begins to look pretty darn fetching.

So welcome aboard, T, we’re mighty glad to have ya with us adorning the side of good ol’ Truth, Justice, and the American Way; far as I’m concerned, you’re making us look better already. And it’s early days yet; if we can persuade you to reconsider some of your holdover Leftist ideas and opinions in the days and years to come, our joy will be boundless. Not that looks are everything, of course. Then again, they aren’t exactly nothing, either. Certainly, in politics as in many other aspects of life on this here blue marble of ours, they don’t hurt.

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Troll level: Samurai

Just may be the funniest thing you’ll see all week.

As Rush Limbaugh used to say, he’s living in shitlib heads rent-free. Mollie Hemingway, for one, is grateful for our Media overlords’ kindness and consideration in refusing to allow this evil spawn of Satan and Hitler—LITERALLY!—to pull the wool over Amerikan eyes:

Mollie @MZHemingway

Where would we be without corporate media telling us that Donald Trump is *not* an actual McDonald’s employee and is *not* currently rostered with the Pittsburgh Steelers.

Said a mouthful there, Moll. Mary the K Ham, for her part, is having some trouble grokking it all.


Ahh, but not all is sweetness, light, beef-tallow fries, and Terrible Towels in Trumpland, I’m afraid.

Oh dear. It would seem that even into the life of the world’s wealthiest burger-flipper, some rain must fall.

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Serendipitous musicallality

Woke up at around 3, 3:30 this morning with a post about Aerosmith already assembling itself in my head when somehow, some way, the incomparable Barrence Whitfield elbowed his way into my creative process. I dragged myself up out of bed, went to the can to take a leak (bipedal males should take a moment to thank their lucky stars for being able to enjoy life’s simple pleasure of standing up to pee), grabbed a cup of java, and off we go…

I first got hipped to the man they call the Round Mound Of Beantown Sound and his fine band back then, the Savages, when I was living in the town of Ocean Drive, SC by a DJ who gigged weekly at the bar I worked at, Fat Harold’s HOTO Tiki Bar location—Harold’s On The Ocean, that would be— beachfront under the grand old Ocean Drive Beach and Golf Resort. HOTO’s is still around, or it was last time I was down thataway a few years ago, at least. Sadly, Fat Harold, the old skimflimp (in Pogo parlance), is long gone himself.

Harold’s other joint (of three, actually), only a cpl-three blocks up the way (a tumbledown little roadhouse with a big outdoor dance-deck yclept the Pad), is of course a bona fide legend in the Shagger/Beach music community. To be honest—even though I’ve been going to OD, Myrtle Beach, and Cherry Grove ever since I was a little kid and even spent a summer living in OD and bartending for Fat Harold back in the early 80s—I’ve never once set foot in the Pad for some odd reason, couldn’t tell you why. Never learned how to dance the Shag either, although years after he died my mom shocked the living hell out of me with the revelation that my dad had actually been a world-class Shag dancer, even had a big box full of trophies he’d won in various Shag competitions stuck up in a corner of the attic someplace. Blew my mind, I tells ya, I did NOT see that coming. Dad never said a word about it, not that I ever heard.

At any rate, modern Beach music sucks the big green weenie if you ask me, although the early stuff—basically just good old-school R&B and rock and roll, mixed with a little smidge of real true blues—is a whole ’nother story. Judged by that definition, this makes Barrence’s stuff the genuine Beach music article, no more nor less, so small wonder a DJ at HOTO’s would be playing him. First up, dig if you will this perfect-for-Halloween selection: “Bloody Mary.”

The rest of the Barrence Whitfield tunes I’ll tuck below the fold. Take my word for it, you’re not gonna want to miss a one of these gems; in my whole entire life, I’ve never heard anybody quite like the guy.

Continue reading “Serendipitous musicallality”

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DeSantis delivers

Ron the Great slaps ‘em down again, and it’s a joy and a wonder to behold.


PREACH it, Guv. “Show more” transcript:

“The chance of me virtue signaling for people in the media is zero. So, do not count on that. I do not subscribe to your religion.”

“I get you have an agenda, I understand that. I think you should be more honest about what that would mean for people: taxing them to smithereens, stopping oil and gas, making people pay dramatically more…we would collapse as a country.”

And that’s the whole story. Hit ‘em again, Gov, harder and in the head this time—I think I see one of the shitlib pieces o’ shite still crawling around under that pile of stinking corpses.

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Rock on, Party Cat!

I loved the Pat and Party Cat saga so much I simply HAD to do a follow-up post, after digging a little further into the story.

Rescue Cat Sees the Country From the Back of a Bike
Just because you ride a bike and you look like a tough guy, that doesn’t mean you can’t have a soft side too. Just look at New Jersey biker, Pat Doody, and his rescue kitty, Party Cat.

Doody was on his way back to New Jersey, after a cross-country trek to Born Free in California. At a truck stop in Nevada, Doody found this poor little guy abandoned, with burns all over his fuzzy little body. But instead of saying, “oh, that’s so sad,” and moving on, Doody picked up the cat, put him in his vest, and brought Party Cat along for the ride.

Apparently, Party Cat took to the road instantly.

Doody did a pretty excellent job of documenting the duo’s adventure back home, too.

“Found this little orange nugget in wells nv. He’s done a few hundred miles in vest so far. Looks like he burnt his lip some how. But he’s a cool dude,” Doody posted on his Tumblr, along with the picture above from Pinebrook Trails.

Apparently the road was good to Party Cat, as Doody says the cat is doing much better, and that his burns have almost healed entirely. So not only has the cat found himself a home, he’s also found himself a hobby. Ride on, Party Cat, ride on.

Yes indeed, little guy. Another:

Biker Rescues Tiny Injured Kitten and Goes on Cross-Country Road Trip Together
It’s certainly an unusual sight to see a heavily-bearded biker carrying around a tiny kitten, but Pat Doody and his furry friend Party Cat are a match made in heaven. They came together serendipitously, as Doody was headed towards his home in New Jersey all the way from California. He was at a truck stop in Nevada filling his tank with gas and noticed that the little guy needed help–he was badly burned. Doody rescued Party Cat by tucking him into his vest and taking him on the road.

The rest of their relationship is history. Although Doody was still thousands of miles away from his destination, the calm, well-mannered Party Cat was okay with the trek. He nibbled on dry tuna during the ride, and his new-found human applied ointment to his injuries along the way. “His burns are pretty much all healed up except for the little spot on his lip…It looks a lot better and doesn’t seem to be bothering him,” Doody explained to Revzilla.

Now that they’re home, Party Cat is eating proper cat food and has seen a veterinarian, and Doody has gained an adorable, permanently-loyal pal.

More great photos of the dynamic duo appended to the above short article, including this one:

A damned good-looking pair, wouldn’t you say? I sure would.

This Biker Does Not Look Like A Cat Lover, But After A Motorcycle Show He Had No Choice
When biker and sheetmetal worker Pat Doody left the Born-Free motorcycle show in Silverado, California, he expected to make the trek back home with friends, but he didn’t think he’d be sharing his bike with a new one.

He was noticeably injured and obviously a stray, so naturally the biker felt like he needed to take him in.

After getting some consistent food and rest, the little cat quickly began to regain his health.

Eventually, he was healthy enough to join Doody on his day-to-day adventures…

Wherever they are, whatever they’re doing, Party Cat just goes with the flow.

But finally, after a long and eventful journey, the pair arrived safely at home, where they both continue to enjoy their new friendship.

Lots, lots more heartwarming photos at that one, including a candid photo of PC enjoying his new Jersey digs:

Heh. Looks like Party Cat fell into a pretty schweet set-up all around, I am happy to report. One more:

Biker saves badly burned kitten and takes him on a cross-country adventure
Party Cat is living a great life on the open road.

He’s known as Party Cat.

Rescued by New Jersey biker Pat Doody at truck stop, Party Cat was found with burns all over his body. Instead of leaving him behind, Doody tucked him in his vest and continued on a cross-country adventure.

Despite his name, Doody describes Party Cat as “so chill.” Doody has a YouTube channel, but he has yet to make a video featuring Party Cat, and his Instagram is currently locked. Thankfully, Doody’s Tumblr is full of adorable cat pics, and we’re waiting patiently for Party Cat’s eventual social media stardom.

There’s another brief article w/pics here, among plenty of others. I say again: Good on ya, Pat Doody, and God bless you and Party Cat both. Best wishes for many more happy two-wheelin’ years together.

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