Retail Christmas Muzik: Merry Christmas, Everybody!

At left: Is it--? Yes it IS! It's Phil Spector as Santa Claus! Take cover!


NOTE: This is one of my favorite posts, although my blog was largely unread when I wrote it back in December of 2007, so I am rerunning it here. A very harried Christmas in retail gives me precious little time to write, so I am dipping into the Greatest Hits.

It was originally titled "You'll be doing all right, with your Christmas of white." The Slade video was yanked eons ago, so I had to hunt down another one.

Enjoy!--DD

~*~

If one is fully experiencing what a former co-worker of mine at the Open Book used to call The Zen of Retail, then one is able to detach from one's immediate surroundings and carefully observe the psychology of both Christmas and capitalism. Careful analysis of the music, which reflects the selected ambience, the projected market or target of the music, the veritable soundtrack of the season, if you will... ah, here is true yuletide wisdom!

I try to remember these wise words, every year.

As a retail wage-slave, I have been listening to lots and lots of Christmas music, against my will. Some of it barely qualifies as holiday music, unless you consider "Shake your ass for Christmas" or "Spank me for Christmas," part of your Advent repertoire, and certainly, some folks do. It's either that or a buncha damn kiddie songs, Holly Jolly Christmas, and so on. Bah, humbug! (You're a mean one, Mr Grinch.)

Sometimes, if you're lucky, you get the transcendent Charlie Brown Christmas music. Spookier this year than last year, is Frosty the Snowman, as delivered by Ronnie Spector and the Ronettes, since you know her creepy, homicidal ex-husband (see above) was standing nearby and forbidding her to leave his sight. (*Source: He's a Rebel) Maybe they should play that song at Halloween instead?

On the EZ-smooth muzak station, we hear Frank Sinatra sing his sweet version of "Oh by gosh by golly, it's time for Mistletoe and Holly"--just as smooth and nice as gravy on rice. Then we hear him later in his Vegas period: "Just! Hear! Thoooo-oooose! Sleigh Bells ringling! Jing-jing-jingling too! Jack!" and it's interesting to think about his progression from the young Sinatra to the old Sinatra... but that is way beyond the scope of this blog, or even Christmas itself.




Madonna's "Santa Baby" was xeroxed (that is to say, stolen) from the far-superior original by Eartha Kitt, but I'm sure she's cagey enough to call it a "homage" instead.

Elvis is credited with starting the pop Christmas music trend, but please, you should not BLAME him, just as he can't be held accountable for any bad rock music that followed. Elvis recorded a whole Christmas album at a time (1957) when only mainstream singers (which meant: no rock or pop) like Frank Sinatra, did. Many believed Elvis cut the record only to garner respectability, since it indeed DID bring him major respectability. Even mainstream people who disliked rock and roll bought the Christmas record, which was a sensation containing the huge hit ballad Blue Christmas. I've never believed that he did it only for respectability, but also to stake a claim that he was as good as the Frank Sinatras of the world. As for the Christian-respectability angle, it was something Elvis fell back on his whole life, making gospel records right alongside the others. (I know this because my grandmother owned them all.)

Dean Martin's "It's a Marshmallow World in the Winter" makes me think of Tony Soprano driving that poor guy out of his lakefront house by broadcasting Dean Martin 24/7 at deafening levels, from a boat on the lake. Imagine waking up to DEAN MARTIN serenading you, huh? Yes, I'd have to move, too.

I already played my Kinks Christmas song for you, and now here is my ABSOLUTE favorite Christmas pop song by glam-rock band Slade, which I defy you not to love as much as I do. Lots of Americans have never heard of Slade, believe it or not:

Slade were one of the most recognisable acts of the glam rock movement and were, at their peak, the most commercially popular band in the UK. They are well known for the deliberate misspelling of their song titles and for the song Merry Xmas Everybody (released December 1973), now one of the most iconic Christmas pop songs in the United Kingdom.

(from Foxytunes)

Turn it up!

~*~

Merry Christmas, Everybody - Slade



Look to the future now, it's only just begun.

Gonna rock it up, roll it up, do it all, have a ball...

Stealie flag is from Disc-O-Pizza.



Assorted quick notes on this busy and beautiful Saturday morning
--

Our sordid South Carolina stimulus situation never goes away. State Attorney General Henry McMaster filed a motion Friday to return a stimulus case brought by two students to the South Carolina Supreme Court, arguing the issue cannot be tried in federal court.

And so, the endless, interminable legal wrangling over Governor Sanford's determined blockage of the economic stimulus funds maddeningly continues. Funny how he calls himself an economic conservative and yet is spending bushels more in his attempts to BLOCK it, than if he simply took the money, the swine.

At Fetch Me My Axe, two Proposition 8 videos that you simply MUST WATCH.

Phil Spector is sentenced to 19 years-to-life. And it's still too good for him, IMHO:

Phil Spector stared straight ahead. It was the appointed hour for the legendary music producer's six-year murder case to come to a close and the courtroom was packed with reporters, fans and detractors eager to hear his sentence. But he did not look at the judge, take notes or whisper to his lawyer.

For Spector, it seemed, it wasn't worth it. A life sentence is mandatory for second-degree murder and the only decision before the judge Friday was whether Spector, 69, should have his first parole hearing in 2027, 2028 or 2034.

After listening to arguments, Los Angeles County Superior Court Judge Larry Paul Fidler chose 2028. As the judge told Spector that he would have to serve at least 19 years in prison -- at which time he would be 88 -- he remained stoic.

Spector declined an opportunity to address the court and moments later, surrounded by court officers, he shuffled out a side door.

It was a quiet end to a legal proceeding that has intrigued the public since Feb. 3, 2003, when actress Lana Clarkson was shot to death in the foyer of Spector's Alhambra mansion.

A jury convicted him of Clarkson's murder last month, a year and a half after another panel had deadlocked.

The New York Times reports that texting may be "taking a toll on teenagers":

The rise in texting is too recent to have produced any conclusive data on health effects. But Sherry Turkle, a psychologist who is director of the Initiative on Technology and Self at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and who has studied texting among teenagers in the Boston area for three years, said it might be causing a shift in the way adolescents develop.

“Among the jobs of adolescence are to separate from your parents, and to find the peace and quiet to become the person you decide you want to be,” she said. “Texting hits directly at both those jobs.”

Psychologists expect to see teenagers break free from their parents as they grow into autonomous adults, Professor Turkle went on, “but if technology makes something like staying in touch very, very easy, that’s harder to do; now you have adolescents who are texting their mothers 15 times a day, asking things like, ‘Should I get the red shoes or the blue shoes?’ ”

As for peace and quiet, she said, “if something next to you is vibrating every couple of minutes, it makes it very difficult to be in that state of mind.

“If you’re being deluged by constant communication, the pressure to answer immediately is quite high,” she added. “So if you’re in the middle of a thought, forget it.”

Michael Hausauer, a psychotherapist in Oakland, Calif., said teenagers had a “terrific interest in knowing what’s going on in the lives of their peers, coupled with a terrific anxiety about being out of the loop.” For that reason, he said, the rapid rise in texting has potential for great benefit and great harm.

“Texting can be an enormous tool,” he said. “It offers companionship and the promise of connectedness. At the same time, texting can make a youngster feel frightened and overly exposed.”

I am more concerned about the fact that the world is going by, and these kids are too busy texting to notice and interact with it.

(OTOH, I often feel this way about adults who can't put the phone down, not just the kids.)

And finally, for your dose of DEAD FROM CUTENESS, Yellowdog Granny provides us with 25 seconds of the most adorable baby-jabber anywhere on Planet Internetz. Be careful! You WILL die from the cute!

~*~

Before you trash the following teenybopper anthem, just remember, it influenced the Ramones. So HAH!

(Decades later, vindicated at last!)

Check out the fascinating disembodied eyeball on the set, above/behind the band. (The 70s were decidedly weird, people.)

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT - Bay City Rollers



Have a great Saturday, yall!

Why can't we not be sober?

There is a scene in David Cronenberg's VIDEODROME, wherein Bianca O'Blivion removes the umm, mutated-videotape from James Woods' insides, where it has become embedded. (This is David Cronenberg, okay?) She jerks it out forcefully, saying something about how it's always hard to remove the video, then intones Death to Videodrome, long live the New Flesh! IMHO, The New Flesh is computers. (However, this is a pre-computer movie, so they don't get that far.)

But yes, it was as difficult for me as it was for James Woods. Trying to detox from blogging was tough; it was hard to remove that pesky video from my insides...I felt like I was constantly in need of online succor; a veritable Baptism-by-immersion in pixels. I was in major withdrawal, and I found myself listening to Tool's SOBER, unable to answer their existential question, Why Can't We Not Be Sober? (Honestly, I have no idea.)

By the weekend, I had forgotten the blog. Mission accomplished. I think it is now safe to go back in the water.

My initial plan was to return on Earth Day (leave on a Christian holiday, return on a secular one)-- but I could not allow the death of my favorite writer to go unremarked upon. I decided to go ahead and jump in and update.

Which brings me to the changes I am making here at DEAD AIR: I'll be updating more often, and some of my posts will be very short. That seems to be the overarching trend in Blogdonia, particularly at some of my favorite blogs, Feministe, Tiny Cat Pants, Renegade Evolution, Alas, and many others. I initially got in the blogging-habit of always doing relatively long posts, and for some odd, idiosyncratic and utterly neurotic reason, I felt like they all should be a certain length. At times, I had almost a Disneyland approach--I would collect a bunch of stuff and write about it all at once, hoping at least one item interested someone. And now, my crowd-pleasin ways are on the wane. ;)

I will also be focusing more on my own radical history. I find there is a dearth of radical history on the net; political demonstrations I recall as enormous and eventful are not mentioned ANYWHERE, AT ALL. This is horrifying. History, as we know, is written by the victors, and the fact that large-scale, near-constant computer-interaction basically came of age during the Bush era, has been an unmitigated disaster for lefty history. I will take a few small steps in rectifying this, but I would encourage all baby-boomer lefties to get involved in history-recovery.

~*~

On Easter Sunday, I heard from no less than THREE PEOPLE about how my blog has moved them, and how much they appreciated what I wrote. In all three cases, these were obituaries. WHY do I write so well about dead people? Obviously, this is a subject for another in-depth post. Short answer: From what we greatly fear, often comes good, and my abject fear of death focuses my mind wonderfully. When people die, I try to focus on their legacy and the memory they leave behind; the way they shape survivors. I am told I describe people perfectly, that I have captured their essence. This is the greatest compliment I could ever receive. My obituary for Kathy was read at her memorial service (that I was unable to attend); again, a great blessing and kindness from her children, who I think always regarded me as something of a pest... the sweetest compliments have come from them. I was so happy to be able to contribute something lasting, heartfelt and genuine to this turning point in their lives.

One of the folks who contacted me on Easter told me in no uncertain terms, that I should add a payment link to my site. And so, continuing my Deadhead theme, I have added the properly-named PANHANDLING ZONE: Got any spare change, Mister? I have always believed that was not a cool thing to do, but the person who contacted me was adamant (hint, hint!), so I did it. (And after writing an obscene check to the Infernal Revenue, I didn't need as much prodding as usual.) My weird, almost knee-jerk redneck pride about not doing such things or asking for contributions, appears to have been misplaced. So, contribute away, affluent (and other) readers!

And for others who have asked, I charge a measly five dollars for tarot readings; yes, I've done quite a lot by email. In person, I enjoy tips of various herbs and spices (giggle) as well as personally-constructed items; I have been compensated with beautiful handmade scarves, jewelry, cakes, vegan casseroles galore, and other lovely personalized gifts. Also accepted: t-shirts, books, CDs, DVDs, and so forth. (If you have something cool like that, contact me and perhaps we can arrange a trade.)

"Pin the tail on the Possum" sounds far better than "Pin the tail on the Opossum"--now don't you agree? But I guess they have to teach the kids the correct spelling, and all that. As my regular readers know, I would never sacrifice a good alliteration for the sake of propriety! (from the Wildlife-Rehab benefit, more photos below)

During my blog-break, our apartment was invaded by honeybees, like something from a (haha) B movie, reinforcing me and Mr Daisy's plans to move to a condo where there is no Walmart parking lot anywhere for miles.

Phil Spector, subject of much fulminating on this blog last year, was at last found GUILTY in his retrial! HAPPY DANCE! JUSTICE at last for Lana Clarkson.

Apparently, Phil Lesh tried to sing during the Dead's recent appearance on THE VIEW, and as usual, this was not a good idea. Several different folks asked me if I saw it, and when I said no, I was told DON'T WATCH. Okay, I'll take yall's word for it.

One of the people telling me DON'T WATCH, is below, Mr Deke (at the mike) and his band, Unbroken Chain. Enjoy photos from the Wildlife-Rehab benefit over the weekend! The attentive little squirrel (in the first photo) was nearly as tame as a kitten; Molly the flying squirrel (second photo) liked to burrow and hide in the wildlife-lady's shirt. Both were simply too adorable!!!!

(And hey yall, I'm baaaaaack!)



More photos here.

Earl Palmer 1924-2008

Earl Palmer, by Ken Hively of the Los Angeles Times.

~*~

I have just learned that Rock and Roll Hall of Fame drummer and extraordinary talent of the 20th century, Earl Palmer, passed away on September 19th.

Some of the songs he played on--

Fats Domino: I’m Walkin, The Fat Man, Walkin to New Orleans
Little Richard: Tutti Frutti, Long Tall Sally
Lloyd Price: Lawdy Miss Clawdy
Ritchie Valens: La Bamba, Donna
Amos Milburn: Chicken Shack Boogie
Sam Cooke: You Send Me
Smiley Lewis: I Hear You Knockin, Shame Shame Shame
Jan and Dean: Dead Man's Curve, Little Old Lady from Pasadena

Palmer was also employed by Phil Spector for the bombastic Wall of Sound in the 1960s. He played on several of the Spector-era hits such as You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin by the Righteous Brothers.

Claire Noland writes in the LA Times:

Born in New Orleans on Oct. 25, 1924, Earl Cyril Palmer was tap-dancing by age 5 on the black vaudeville circuit, touring with his mother, a singer, in Ida Cox's jazz and blues revue. He didn't learn to play drums until after serving in Europe with the Army in World War II. He returned to New Orleans and attended the Gruenwald School of Music on the GI Bill. He studied piano and percussion and learned to read, compose and arrange music.

But his childhood experiences served him well, Palmer said years later.

"I had the advantage of knowing music before I played it," he told jazz writer Zan Stewart in 1993. "Being a dancer gave me an understanding of rhythmic 'time,' and you can't teach that."

After the war, Palmer also began playing drums with the Dave Bartholomew Band and the house band at Cosimo Matassa's J&M studio in New Orleans. Jazz, blues, R&B and country music were fusing into a new, distinct genre of music, with Fats Domino, Little Richard, Lloyd Price and Smiley Lewis the frontmen laying down tracks in the early 1950s for what would become known as the beginnings of rock 'n' roll.

"What we were playing on those early records was funky in relation to jazz," Palmer told The Times in 2000. "What we were playing already had that natural New Orleans flavor about the music. I played the bass drum how they played bass drum in funeral parade bands."

In 1957 Palmer moved to Los Angeles to work for Aladdin Records but quickly became a first-call session drummer.

Besides providing the driving backbeat on many rock 'n' roll tunes, Palmer can also be heard on recordings by jazz and pop stars Frank Sinatra, Sarah Vaughan and Doris Day, as well as on the TV theme songs for "Mission: Impossible," "Green Acres" and "The Odd Couple," among others.

Also: Tribute to Earl Palmer.

Resquiat In Pace.

~*~

Earl Palmer - Walkin

To know know know him, is to love love love him

Hung jury. Mistrial. Five months down the toilet. A woman's life doesn't mean shit, if you can successfully trash her reputation and present her as a depressed, poverty-stricken floozy.

If you have millions, you can buy justice in the USA, if there was ever any doubt.

I guess I already knew that, but I had a few hopes left. No more. Those hopes are gone.



I hope Lana Clarkson's family takes the rest of Phil's money in the civil suit.

That is all.

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

Yes, after a week went by, I knew. I grit my teeth; I cursed. I bayed at the moon. But I knew. And today, we found out for sure. The jury in the Phil Spector murder trial is at an impasse:

Jurors deadlocked in Phil Spector murder trial

LOS ANGELES (AFP) — Jurors in the murder trial of legendary music producer Phil Spector said Tuesday they were deadlocked, raising the possibility of a mistrial after a five-month-long court-room battle.

In a dramatic development at a packed Los Angeles Superior Court, jurors mulling murder charges against Spector said that after four ballots they were split 7-5, with no prospect of a breakthrough.

"At this time we don't believe that anything else will change the positions of the jurors based on the facts of the case," the jury foreman told Judge Larry Paul Fidler on the seventh day of deliberations.

Fidler later dismissed the jury for the day. They will return on Wednesday at 10:00 am after three members of the nine-man three-woman panel requested further instructions.

One woman juror said she wanted clarification on the difference between "doubt" and "reasonable doubt," although Fidler said later he doubted further instruction would help.

In a surprise development, Fidler said jurors may be asked to consider convicting Spector on involuntary manslaughter charges. He had earlier ruled that jurors would only be able to consider a second degree murder charge.

Fidler also dismissed a defense motion for the case to be declared a mistrial.

Spector, 67, who pioneered the "Wall of Sound" recording technique during the 1960s and is regarded as one of the most influential figures in rock-pop music history, is accused of gunning down B-movie actress Lana Clarkson at his castle-like home in February 2003.

Prosecutors allege that the reclusive Spector shot Clarkson in the head as she attempted to leave his home after meeting him for the first time only a few hours before in the Hollywood nightclub where she worked.

District attorney Alan Jackson said during the trial Spector had a "rich history of violence" against women, often flying into drunken, gun-toting rages whenever they tried to leave his company.

No fewer than five women acquaintances of Spector testified that the genius behind 1960s hits such as "Da Doo Ron Ron" and "You've Lost That Loving Feeling" threatened them with guns in incidents dating back to the 1970s.

Spector's former chauffeur also provided damaging evidence, telling jurors that on the night of the shooting his employer had emerged from a doorway clutching a pistol in a bloodied hand to say: "I think I killed somebody."

Defense lawyers argued however that Clarkson, famous for her role in Roger Corman's 1985 cult classic "The Barbarian Queen" but whose career had stalled at the time of her death, killed herself.

Kim at The Darwin Exception asks:

Well, we were kind of expecting this at this point, weren’t we?

Yes, I suppose so, but I am nonetheless sick over it.

Kim continues:

The judge says that he has been reviewing case law, and despite both sides agreement that this is an all or nothing case, he has found case law to support the fact that the judge has a sua sponte responsibility to instruct on manslaughter. He gives the attorneys the specific case cite “People Vs. Lee” 20 Cal 4th 47,and says that if the attorneys can’t convince him that he doesn’t have this sua sponte responsibility, then he will re-open arguments and instruct the jury on this charge.

The Lee case is a case wherein a husband shot his wife, and forensic examination showed it was a contact wound to the head, but no one witnessed the shooting. This case held that brandishing the weapon was an included and lesser offense, and that the judge had a sua sponte responsibility to instruct on the lesser.

The judge says that he wants both sides to look at this case and argue to him why or why not the judge should have a responsibility to re-open the case for argument wherein each side will argue the manslaughter charge to the jury. Voluntary manslaughter is “in the heat of the moment” or “in the heat of passion:” - that doesn’t fit this case at all. Involuntary manslaughter is killing without intent or malice - which, while both sides agreed that this didn’t apply, the judge is now reconsidering. Involuntary Manslaughter in California carries anywhere from a 3 -6 year sentence, and then there is the gun enhancement in this case, which would be additional time.

And then we get to the heart of so many jury problems these days:

[Juror] #9 says that it would be nice to know the difference between reasonable doubt and just doubt.

I am tempted to say: it is the difference between being an idiot, or not.

Is it really true, then, that in America, justice can be bought? Or at least postponed.

Mood: glum.

I met him on a Monday and my heart stood still...

Left: Phil Spector and his attorney, Linda Kenney Baden. Photo from Reuters.

Some wit over on Darwin Exception quoted Robert Duvall in APOCALYPSE NOW: You know, some day this trial is gonna end.

Since Wednesday, I've been listening to streaming videos of the closing arguments because I started flipping out every time COURT TV cut to a commercial: Don't interrupt Alan Jackson! (((shrieks!)))

And that's how you know you're an addict: GIVE ME MY CLOSING ARGUMENTS, NOW!!!!! (roller-derby blocking-elbow to anyone who tries to take the remote from me)

I start shaking and getting weak when I don't get my closing arguments.

Anyway, here is our hero Alan Jackson, courtesy of the redoubtable Kim, at the aforementioned Darwin Exception; she wonderfully titled her post He had me at "Don't Go!":

"Five months ago, you didn’t know the real Phil Spector - but things have changed. Now that you know who he is and what he is and what he does, and his violent history with women and guns, now that you know all this, let’s go back, outside of this courtroom, let’s move out to the parking lot, the parking lot adjacent to the House of Blues, the one you’ve seen so many photographs of, this parking lot. It’s February 3, 2003, it’s late at night, actually it’s early in the morning, it’s dark out.. The lot’s beginning to empty. Go with me to that location, mentally take yourselves with me to that location. The lot’s not full, the valets are starting to clean up for the night. And you see over towards the side a big shiny black Mercedes, and as you look to your left standing in that parking lot, you see Philip Spector emerge from the House of Blues, he’s wearing all black except for a big white jacket, it’s oversized, a little too big for him, too big on the shoulders, too long, sleeves too baggy, and he steps out of the House of Blues accompanied by a tall beautiful blonde with blonde ringlets. She’s taller than he is and she’s wearing an above the knee slip dress, a black jacket and she has a leopard skin purse slung over her right shoulder. As you stand in that parking lot think about where you are and what you’re seeing. As you stand in the parking lot you begin to hear them talk and you overhear their conversation, you can hear as Phil Spector begins to insist that Lana Clarkson come back to his castle. He tries to coax her back to the location. And you listen as she constantly says “no, thank you, no, I can’t go, I’ve got to work tomorrow, no thank you, but I can’t join you Mr. Spector” And you listen as he continues to try to lure her back to his castle. Back to the Alhambra castle. “Come back to my castle and see my castle.” And then, just then, you think you hear in her voice a little crack - she may begin to relent, she may actually accept his offer. You’re standing in that parking lot and you’re watching this conversation. Let me ask you a question. If you could say but one thing to Lana Clarkson right then, standing at the back of that Mercedes, in that parking lot, just one thing, you can say but one thing to her, one sentence, one phrase, even two little words, even if you had to whisper it, what would you say? Had I asked you that question 5 months ago, when you first walked into this courtroom, you couldn’t answer it, you’d shrug, and you’d say “I don’t know what I’d say to her”. But now that you know the real Phil Spector, now that you know who he is, and what he is, and what he does, what would you say? Even if you had to whisper it so he couldn’t hear, all of you, all 17 of you are thinking the same thing, you’d lean over and you’d whisper “don’t go”. Don’t go. You’d simply say “Lana, Don’t Go.” And the reason every one in this jury box thought the same thing, maybe the words a little bit different, but the thought was the same. The reason that you would say that is because you know something she didn’t know. You know the real Phil Spector. And if you thought to yourself “I’d tell her not to go” it’s because you know in your heart of hearts, after hearing all of this evidence, you know in your heart of hearts, he’s responsible for her death. He killed her."

And with that powerful little scenario we begin closing arguments.

Frankly, I think Alan Jackson could have sat down after that little speech. He had them at “Don’t Go.” Or at least he had me. I swear to God I got cold chills up and down my spine and my eyes welled up with tears when Jackson leaned over the jury box, put his hands up against his mouth and whispered “Don’t Go” - even though I was shouting at him the same two words two sentences before he got there.

Sure, there was more powerful argument later - the big red “X’s” he squeakily put through each item in the chart of “10 Reasons Science will Prove Lana Was Holding The Gun” Linda Kenney Baden had outlined in her opening statement, the picture flashed on the ELMO of Phil Spector standing pointing his finger like a gun with the words imposed in red underneath “I Think I Killed Somebody” (which Jackson opined could have been more frankly spoken as “I think I FINALLY killed somebody”), and the slap in the face to the entire defense team when he ended with the montage from “Lana Unleashed” of the Steely Dan song “Peg” playing “So won’t you smile for the camera, you know I love you better….” as Lana in her different costumes, roles and skits from the reel flashed on the screen, all with her brilliant smile and bright sparkling eyes. “That” Jackson told the jurors, “That was the real Lana Clarkson”. As opposed to what Jackson called the “Defense of Desperation” we had seen for the last four months, and the second murder of Lana Clarkson.

Lana's mother cried during the closing arguments. :(

I will NOT be quoting Linda Kenney-Baden's defense closing on behalf of Phil Spector. You will have to go to misogynist, evil, pro-Phil blogs for that. Or you can check out Kim's account, always readable, accurate, detailed, and thoroughly fun.

And now, we wait, with fingers crossed.

You know, someday this trial's gonna end.

Oh, how I miss Kato Kaelin...

Left: Punkin Irene Elizabeth Laughlin, aka Punkin Pie, from The Darwin Exception.

The Phil Spector murder trial is winding down, and I am meditating on the value of friendship. What do we do with "friends" who come out of the woodwork, during these bizarre Hollywood trials? Where do these people come from????

I am fascinated by the demolition of Punkin Pie, Lana Clarkson's supposedly "best" friend (again, remind me not to make friends like this, okay?), yesterday on the witness stand, during rebuttal.

I once endured a three-hour cross-examination, and held up remarkably well (let's hear it for ST JUDE!) and for this reason, I sometimes cringe when I watch COURT TV. I know how it feels to be sneered at by a lawyer, while they add to your words: IN YOUR OPINION!!! IN YOUR OPINION!!!! And what flits through your mind is odds and ends and wise-ass replies that must be suppressed at all cost. For example, when the attorney kept saying IN YOUR OPINION, Cheech Marin's voice kept bubbling up in my consciousness, asking Do you see anybody else up here, dude??

I didn't say it out loud, but the fact that it was right there behind my palate, ready to come out, has become part of my retelling of events. I often wonder if witnesses are blurting things out, like my Cheech and Chong remark, or if they are remembering similar funny things. Sometimes, you can see that they are concentrating on self-restraint, and I'd love to know what they are really thinking.

But with Pie, well, you just stare in amazement.

For those unaware, Pie is a traitor to her friend, and testified for the defense in the Phil Spector trial. She says Lana was seriously bummed and depressed, highlighting Lana's supposedly dejected and very negative mental state in her testimony. This account therefore bolsters the defense's proposition, that Lana Clarkson went to Phil Spector's house to shoot herself with Phil Spector's gun (which she didn't even know was there). This explains, of course, why she put her purse over her shoulder, since we know everyone puts a purse over their shoulder and sits in a stranger's foyer to commit suicide. (((sarcasm)))

Will the jury buy it?

Well, maybe. They have a battery of mercenaries, oops, I mean "experts", extremely well-paid by Spector the billionaire. And then, there is Pie.

After yesterday, I dunno, though. It was a beauty to behold. On a great blog titled The Darwin Exception ("because it's not always survival of the fittest, sometimes the idiots get through") there is blow-by-blow trial coverage, and slices of Pie (you knew I could not resist that metaphor!) are served up piping hot:

[Defense attorney Roger] Rosen then asks the Pie about the Christmas letter. He quotes her the line that was read to the jury by Nili Hudson that says “My Lana, my best friend, my right hand and my inseparable sister, was violently and abruptly taken from me at the hands of Phil Spector.” Rosen asks Pie what she meant by this statement.

Pie then comes out with one of the most insensible, rambling, lamest ass excuses I’ve ever heard in my life - and I had three kids who were forever giving me lame ass excuses. None of them came close to this pile of shit - and this bitch is an adult who should fucking know better.

Pie says that she included this line because she has friends “all over the world from all different walks of life” and she was explaining to them why they hadn’t heard from her, or gotten their cards and letters that she was normally so good at sending. Which you know, would explain why she would say “Well, Lana, my best friend and my soul sister and my right hand and my inseparable sidekick - DIED or PASSED AWAY or KICKED THE BUCKET” - that doesn’t explain why she would include the editorialization of “At the hands of Phil Spector!” I mean, does it? Does that explain it? No - I don’t think so.

Then she tells us “I wanted to BROADLY explain why they hadn’t heard from me…:” BROADLY??? Who the fuck does this bitch think she’s fooling? Broadly would be “my friend died” - that’s broadly. NAMING THE PERP is not BROADLY.

I can’t even believe Rosen is believing this pile of shit. Even he has to realize this is NOT an explanation for what she said - it makes no fucking sense.

She continues (believe it or not), and says “The reason I put it that way was because I was trying not to describe it one way or another as to what happened - because no one knows what happened” (Ummmm….Pie, Phil Spector knows, now doesn’t he?), and some people would know about it and some had no idea. I was trying to be politically correct by not saying too much - I was trying to keep it simple.”

Which is completely and utterly diametrically opposed to what she put it in her Christmas letter - she wasn’t “simple”, she wasn’t “not describing it one way or another” she says Lana died at the hands of another - that’s not “not describing it one way or another.” I think that’s making a pretty clear fucking stand on what you think happened, right?

Who the fuck prepared this witness and agreed to let her get on the stand and say this shit? It makes her look like a fucking moron. And it’s insulting to the jury that she thinks this is a reasonable explanation. If *I* was her - I would have said something halfway fucking credible like “Oh, at this point I was still going through the stages of grief, and when I wrote this letter I was up to “blame” and I was blaming Phil Spector, and wrote this. Of course, as I moved through the stages I realized that this was just my grief speaking, and he wasn’t the only one I blamed during that period - I blamed myself, I blamed her mother, I blamed her other friends - it was just where I was at emotionally, at that time. I no longer blame him and realize that Lana had her own demons and that as hard as it is to accept, that she took her own life, and Mr. Spector had nothing to do with it. But that was then and this is now…”

Anything other than this incredible unbelievable poo she’s slinging from the stand. “Oh I said “Lana died at violently and abruptly at the hands of Phil Spector” - because I was just trying to keep it broad and vague out of respect for the family, because they were recipients of the letter, too. You know, not saying anything one way or the other, mind you. Just keeping it all ginger like and conscious of the family and our mutual friends.” What the fuck?

I swear to God, if any of my friends ever commits suicide, I’m going to send out a Christmas letter, and just out of respect for the family, and to keep it really BROAD and not inject my opinion into it anywhere, I’m just going to say in my letter “My friend was violently and abruptly taken from me at the hands of Tom Hanks.” I mean, you can’t really read anything into that, right - it doesn’t really MEAN anything, just that I’m being vague - since no one knows what happened.

She’s a fucking maroon if I’ve ever seen one.

Dixon gets up to cross examine and he points out that one of the dates in Pie’s date book says that Lana was with her on 1/17/2002 at the Cat Club - just three weeks after her injury to her wrists. He asks if Lana went out partying with that medical apparatus thing on her injuries - the “halo” appliance, and Pie seems to think “Sure! Not a problem”.

He also points out that Pie has no actual recollection of any of these events - can’t remember the venues or the dates or the events other than from reading her notes in her date book. She can’t remember where, exactly, the Bad Company concert was, for instance, just that it was “somewhere in Orange County”.

Dixon then asks when she sent out these Christmas letters, and how many people received them, and she says that she assumes they were sent sometime in December, but that sometimes she didn’t get around to it until January or even March, and that because of everything going on, she was late that year getting the letters out, but it was probably sometime around the New Year. She says that she sends them to like 100 of her closest friends.

Dixon then gets specifically to the last line of the letter, and says “OK - you described this as you being political correct?” Yes. “As not describing one way or another how you felt?” Yes. “as not giving an opinion?” Yes. “But you say that Lana was violently and abruptly taken from you at the hands of Phil Spector! Isn’t that a distinct opinion?”

“No, that was just my way of saying what the situation was.”

“But you could have said that she simply passed away - or even that she passed away at his house…:”

“Yeah, I could have…”:

“Yet you say that she was abruptly taken away at the hands of Phil Spector - that’s an opinion, isn’t it?”

“That was my way of describing the situation.”

“You denied seeing Rick Brody at Ann Marie’s wedding and telling him that you hoped that they would “fry the bastard” when talking about Phil Spector - you said that that was something you would never say, because you didn’t believe it, but isn’t that basically what you said here - that in your opinion, she died at the hands of Phil Spector - and isn’t that what you told to 100 of your closest friends and acquaintances in your Christmas letter?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, isn’t that what you believed in December of 2003, that your best friend died at the hands of Phil Spector?”

“No, I didn’t believe that.”

“And when you talked to Officer Tomlin, the day that she died, you said that she was never suicidal and never depressed you told him the truth, didn’t you?”

“Because someone told me to say that.”

“Well, who told you to say this in the letter?’

“I didn’t want to hurt people”.

“Who? Was Phil Spector on your mailing list?”

I laughed really hard at that, by the way.

Rosen gets up to redirect and really, he can’t do anything to make anything Pie says sound any more believable, because no one is buying the shit she is trying to sell. It’s just not a saleable product. And all the “Oh, you were trying to encompass the whole situation weren’t you?” “You were trying to be sensitive to the family, right?” that Rosen tries to polish the turd with just makes it sound all the more fucking stupid.

She is finally excused. But she isn’t excused from making me have to listen to her lame ass excuse. My kids really were coming up with better ones than that when they were 10.

Tee hee!

Well, it's nice to see her finally get it, but is it enough to convince the jury that she is not to be believed?

Stay tuned, sports fans!

Feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, one day late

Left: Coptic Icon, Feast of the Assumption St Menas Church, Old Cairo. (artists and dates unknown)

Well, I meant to go to Mass on my Holy Day of Obligation, I really did. But I got home from work, kicked back, diddled around, smoked a bit, watched old movies, fumed over the new HARPERS article attacking Andrea Dworkin, looked in on the blog and talked about the Mormons on other planets... and...well... I am a BAD CATHOLIC.

Aside: Of course, there is a blog titled Bad Catholic. :)

So, I wanted to apologize to Our Lady, who has done so much for me. I owe her bigtime. You know what they say: you have to sit in waiting rooms for God, but Our Lady will see you now!

I hope she doesn't mind that I missed her Feast day. I love her so much, I think she will give me a pass, but you know how that goes. You shouldn't take your mother for granted! I figured I would post on her, to make up for it! HI MOM, WE LOVE YOU!

~*~*~*~

I am now debating whether to take on the Harpers' piece, but there is no link for it yet. If anybody can find one (I know yall have magic powers!), post it here! I'd definitely call it a hit-piece.

Meanwhile, watching the Phil Spector murder trial like a damn junkie, and later today, going to a product training from a company called Lumina Health. I'm not sure what this company is about, so I will let you know!

The Whore Defense

Apparently, a Hollywood Madam named Baby Doll Gibson is testifying for the defense in the Phil Spector murder trial. Why? Well, she is going to testify that the victim, actress Lana Clarkson, once worked for her.

Umm, so?

Is this supposed to justify the murder?

What possible importance could it have?

Ah, they are going to say this means she was of course suicidal, and therefore decided to go to Spector's house with him and shoot herself at 5am.

Right.

Obviously, they believe this fact will smear the victim and make her somehow less human. No big deal if a famous record producer shoots a common whore, now is it? We're all guys here, we'd been drinking, she wouldn't put out, and well--you know how it goes.

The Botoxing of America's Older Women

Watching Laura Linney in BREACH the other night, I wondered how someone could become so suspicious and agitated, while never actually frowning or even appearing particularly pensive. Then it occurred to me: this is yet another example of the rampant mass-botoxing of America's older women. The utter lack of facial expression due to botox injections. This is not the freaked-out Laura Linney of MOTHMAN PROPHECIES or the angry-lawyer Laura Linney of PRIMAL FEAR. This is neutralized Laura Linney, middle-aged botox recipient.

Another middle-aged woman, rendered placid and blank. She can join the army of older women lawyer-commentators on COURT TV, as well as Holly Hunter, looking all wide-eyed and unemotional in the advertisements for her new TV show.

This chemically-induced placid expression on the faces of middle-aged women is now all over TV and movies. Older women can no longer frown in skepticism, suspicion, disapproval, or even in deep thought. And it is at precisely this stage of our lives that we are finally unafraid of registering these emotions, and feel we have earned the right to analyze and to draw our own conclusions. But those wrinkles, those frown lines, those lines that signal THINKING, are being paralyzed with botulism toxin, an actual poison.

Women's intellectual process and deep thinking, as well as any contrary emotions are simply unacceptable, particularly from older women who have been around long enough to know the score. Any sign of this must be exterminated, at least in our common culture.

At present, I am watching the Phil Spector murder trial on COURT TV, as Linda Kenney Baden, botoxed Hollywood defense lawyer, cross-examines middle-aged, un-botoxed civil servant Dr. Lynne Herold, criminalist. Baden looks unruffled and cool, her unlined and blank face like a department-store mannequin's, while Herold unavoidably looks aggravated (in comparison), as she furrows her menopausal brow, trying to think, remember and correctly answer a barrage of scientific questions. Will the jury think the prettier person with the unlined and unemotional face is the one to trust? Obviously, this is the intention of the Spector-defense team.

Middle-aged women who show emotion are being systematically censored from our public media-consciousness, just as we reach that age in which we are finally able to show our emotions without fear of censure.