Happy birthday

Landslide - Fleetwood Mac

Tuesday Tunes: Happy Birthday Del McCoury!

Del McCoury, bluegrass legend, is 72 years old today! Happy Birthday Uncle Delano!

Del McCoury Band - All Aboard



~*~

If you aren't hard-core enough for bluegrass, try some SCOTS:

Southern Culture on the Skids - My neighbor burns trash



My neighbor burns trash
In a barrel out back
On a mighty fine day
there's a toxic haze
around my house and my house and my house
A mighty fine way
to mess up a mighty nice day
My neighbor burns trash
in a barrel out back

I know exactly what they mean.

What you see is what you get

Happy birthday to me!

The following song was used over the credits of the film WATTSTAX (1973), which of course, you have seen many times and own the special-edition, re-issued DVD and everything.

Wait, you haven't?!?

Well, have a listen then. :)

This song totally expresses how I feel and always has, from the time I first heard it as a young 70s ruffian. It always reminds me of who I am, as they say. (My late friend Van always said, you either instantly identify with the song, or you don't.) I decided to use it as my official birthday tune... also, I know lots of you kidz never heard it before, and YOU MUST.

Have a good weekend, everyone!

~*~


What you see is what you get - The Dramatics (opening credits from WATTSTAX, 1973)

Happy Birthday!

How could I forget?

Elvis Presley - Heartbreak Hotel (live 1956)

Birthday jams

I think it's vaguely creepy how Blogger features birthday cake today when I log in. You're a BOT, dude!

Thanks to all my Twitter friends who wished me a happy birthday when I threatened to become hysterical! I love you!

Below: stuff that makes me feel particularly old, in no special order.

~*~

If you are drinking heavily and/or involved with bikers, this is a great break-up song. Famous guitar riffs at the end (by the late Duane Allman), sound just like a whip. WALLOW IN THAT PAIN, people!

Whipping Post - Allman Brothers Band



~*~

Speaking of Twitter, there is hashtag titled #Iwish, and I bet them whippersnappers don't even know where that came from.

Turn it up!

I Wish - Stevie Wonder



~*~

One of those songs that when you search for it on YouTube, you get every single damn amateur troubadour from here to Luckenbach, thinks he can sing it.

We received our education in the cities of the nation...

Me and Paul - Willie Nelson



~*~

Montage of early Who clips. Roger had not yet discovered his trademark flashy Elvis-on-acid outfits, and sometimes appears as if he had just emerged from bad job interview. (He shows his incipient fashion sense at approx 1:02, dons sunglasses.) John, age 21, looks about 14; Keith Moon was all of 19 years old, appears 12. Pete was working on his pseudo-alienated, "I'm too good for mere rock and roll" major artiste pose, which would serve him very well throughout his life.

Check out those 60s mods and their strange amphetamine-inspired dance moves!

I Can't Explain - The Who



~*~

Captain for Dark Mornings - Laura Nyro



Enjoy, and happy birthday to me!

"We're all birthers now": The Capricorn One faction of the GOP

While chatting with a Republican friend yesterday, I asked him jokingly if he was a birther now.

I was thinking of Dwight MacDonald's well-known quote from the 50s, often repeated: "We're all anti-communists now," which was a reaction to Stalin. It meant that one could readily admit the obvious truth, regardless of how zealously socialist one had been in one's youth (as Macdonald, former Trotskyist, had been).

My usually-reasonable friend shocked me, "I wish he [Obama] would just answer questions," he answered.

Oh dear God.

Answer questions about WHAT? My temper flared unexpectedly; I could hardly believe my well-mannered friend had been hanging out in the Area 51 of American talk-radio politics. What the hell is going on? ...John McCain, I sputtered, was born in PANAMA and nobody even mentioned it!

"John McCain isn't president now, or maybe they would," he replied, evenly.

Does anyone believe that?

Has any other president been expected to answer questions about whether they were born in the USA?

What are we going to do with these people?

The only thing that will totally satisfy them would be a Polaroid snapshot of a Hawaiian pediatric nurse holding up a baby Barack in a neonatal unit, under a sign that says "Welcome to Honolulu!" and a 1961 wall calendar.

Even then, I can imagine the birthers enlarging the Polaroid and deciding with various computer-aging technology: it isn't really him. Wrong biracial Hawaiian-born baby boy! (Lou Dobbs pointedly asks: Who is it really?)

The New York Times calls them fringe, but having once been on the (lefty) fringe, I know how fringe works. You just keep repeating the fringe-wisdom, until the people closer to the center pick up on it. Finally, the center-left or center-right latches on to it, and what is fringe is suddenly conventional wisdom and is treated seriously on "60 Minutes."

Or in the New York Times.

Well, maybe that's good, you say. A thorough investigation could put the matter to rest.

HA HA HA - are you kidding? Have you never seen Capricorn One? Do you know who the Sedevacantists are? Does anyone really believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone?

We are talking about FAITH, people, not facts. Faith transcends facts. Faith is about the need to believe.

From Jeff Zeleny of the New York Times (which is undoubtedly part of the liberal conspiracy):

There are no living family members to testify to the events of Aug. 4, 1961, at the Kapiolani Maternity and Gynecological Hospital in Honolulu. The president’s parents are both deceased, as are his grandparents, who played a significant role in raising him.

But Mr. Abercrombie, who has represented Hawaii for nearly two decades in Congress, was a close friend of Mr. Obama’s parents, who were students at the University of Hawaii in 1961. The president’s father, Barack H. Obama Sr., was from Kenya, but Mr. Abercrombie said the suggestion that the Obama baby was born in Africa is an absurd impossibility.

“He was born in Kapiolani Hospital, right down the street from where I lived,” Mr. Abercrombie said. “They had no money. I can’t imagine how they would get to Kenya. It makes no sense at all. It’s an insult to his mother.”

Questions have been swirling around about Mr. Obama’s biography — largely on the internet and on conservative radio and television broadcasts — since shortly after he announced his presidential bid in early 2007. They were researched by his Democratic and Republican opponents alike, all of whom determined there was no legitimacy to the speculation that Mr. Obama was born in Kenya.

To satisfy the doubters, the Obama campaign released a copy of his Hawaiian birth certificate during the presidential race. But the fact that it was a copy and not the original, which according to Hawaii law cannot be released publicly, did not quell the furor. So the director of the Department of Health in Hawaii, Dr. Chiyome Fukino, released a statement last fall, and again last month, attesting to the authenticity of the president’s birth.

And this hasn't mattered a whit to the birthers. They remain unconvinced. Of course they are. As I said, this is about FAITH.

Zeleny mentions the recent skirmishes on MSNBC, which have given the birthers a platform--ostensibly to make them look like conspiracy-theory-wackos. Unfortunately, any time you give fringe-folks a platform, you increase their respectability and influence.

The number of birthers increases every time they get press and media.

Orly Taitz, a California dentist and lawyer who is among the leading voices in the anti-Obama movement, made her case in a combative interview on MSNBC.

“Obama is completely illegitimate as a U.S. president for two reasons — not only because he did not provide the place of his birth, but also because both parents have to be U.S. citizens,” Ms. Taitz said. “His father was never a U.S. citizen. He was in the United States on a student visa.”

The White House, awash in several real political challenges, has largely ignored the noise. Last week, the White House press secretary, Robert Gibbs, was asked by a liberal talk radio host, Bill Press, whether there was anything the White House could do to satisfy the critics and make the issue go away.

“No, the God’s honest truth is no,” Mr. Gibbs said, calling it “made-up fictional nonsense.”

“If I had some DNA, it wouldn’t assuage those who don’t believe he was born here,” Mr. Gibbs said as anger welled in his voice. “The president was born in Honolulu, Hawaii, the 50th state of the greatest country on the face of the earth.”

I suggest the Capricorn One strategy: reduce these people to buffoons and laugh-a-minute conspiracy-theorists. Giving them a "fair hearing" has been completely wrong. Can we start talking about how the moon landing was faked, too? (And how about the Holocaust?) Will people be allowed on mainstream cable TV news-shows to discuss those views? And why not? I've heard those theories my whole life, why can't they get some exposure to the masses?

Because they are CRACKPOT BULLSHIT, is why. Leave the search for Erich von Däniken's alien ancestors to the Scientologists and the goofier cable channels, okay? There is no reason to litter up REAL NEWS STATIONS with stories of why the moon landing was faked.

Please stop fueling this. Stop the insanity!

Oh, and Happy Birthday, Mr President. Truly, you are Leo personified. Have a wonderful 48th year.

...


More on what I have decided to label the Capricorn One faction of the GOP:

Elected Birthers on the Hill (Huffington Post)

Anti-Obama 'birther' movement gathers steam (UK Guardian)

Obama Citizenship Poll: Things Get Weird In The GOP Base (The Atlantic)

How fact-free claims about Obama's citizenship gained mainstream currency (KansasCity.com)

Happy Birthday!

25 years ago--a quarter of a century!--I gave birth to a child and named her after a Syd Barrett song!!!

I shoulda known there would be some fallout from that! What was I thinking? :P

Happy Birthday, Delusional Precious! All my love to you on this very special day.

~*~

Syd (in the hat) is in this video, the original. Enjoy!

See Emily Play - Pink Floyd

Happy Birthday Elizabeth!

For those of you who worried that I would end up gaunt from my calorie restriction, never fear. Fat Tuesday to the rescue! I ate bowls (plural) of fabulous vegetarian gumbo, as well as cinnamon rolls slathered with sugar. At this rate, I won't be a fashionably-thin ascetic saint any time soon.

And you all know what day it is!!! YES, it is the birthday of Dead Air's official Goddess, Elizabeth, as we all turn towards Hollywood and bow. (((bows, blows copious kisses))) My gallery of photos from last year is still regularly Googled! I am so proud to add to the pantheon of stunning Liz images! At left, Elizabeth in Suddenly, Last Summer (1959). She looks too beautiful for mere words. I have always loved that dress. Most mental patients, as you know, have to wear ugly white hospital gowns, but not our Elizabeth! Montgomery Clift himself brings her pretty dresses while she argues her way out of a lobotomy.

For those unaware, the sister of the play's author, Tennessee Williams, was actually lobotomized in 1943. Her name was Rose, and there is a "rose" reference in virtually every one of his plays (even a play with "rose" in the title, The Rose Tattoo).

Wikipedia notes:

The "mad heroine" theme that appeared in many of his plays seemed clearly influenced by the life of Williams' sister Rose.

Characters in his plays are often seen as representations of his family members. Laura Wingfield in The Glass Menagerie was understood to be modeled on Rose. Some biographers believed that the character of Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire is also based on her, as well as Williams himself [...] Characters such as Tom Wingfield in The Glass Menagerie and Sebastian in Suddenly, Last Summer were understood to represent Williams himself. In addition, he used a lobotomy operation as a motif in Suddenly, Last Summer.

Sebastian, in addition, is known unofficially as the "gay saint"--later joked about in the gay-themed play, The Boys in the Band.

From St Sebastian as a gay icon:

Saint Sebastian's appeal to gay men seems obvious. He was young, unmarried, and martyred by the establishment. Many gay writers and artists have taken Saint Sebastian's life and suggested that he may have been gay himself.

Sebastian is portrayed as a patriotic and loyal roman despite his subversive faith. While serving as a Roman soldier he became one of the Emperors favorites. Some stories say that the Emperor Diocletian made romantic advanced upon Sebastian and was enraged when Sebastian rejected him on Christian grounds. Other stories suggest that Sebastian and Diocletian may have had a homosexual relationship.

Imagery of Saint Sebastian has pictured him young, with a strong shirtless physique. He is beautifully receptive to the arrows penetrating his body but he has a look on his face of exquisite pain. Sebastian has become a homoerotically charged image of desire symbolizing isolationism, and persecution of the establishment.

Embracing a subversive faith, he is both strong and brave. Those who have wrestled with psychological demons, issues of sexuality, or have suffered publically can identify with Saint Sebastian. As a healer and patron of plagues, he has been linked with the devastation of AIDS. Catholics derive comfort from his possible representation of their sexuality before God.

I first saw Suddenly, Last Summer as a child, and didn't understand any of it. However, I was utterly terrified by the graphic finale, which I think is still pretty hair-raising, even after all these years. The story appears to mirror Tennessee Williams' own guilt (and possibly Gore Vidal's, author of the screenplay and the one who inserted the freaky images of the boys chasing Sebastian through the unnamed Third-Worldish streets) about paying impoverished young men and boys for sexual favors.

The play is about Sebastian's mother, Violet (Katharine Hepburn), who is attempting to have her niece (Elizabeth) lobotomized by handsome (and also gay) Dr Montgomery Clift. Elizabeth traveled abroad with Sebastian and witnessed his death. Hepburn instructs Clift to "cut this hideous story out of her brain"--one of those lines Williams was famous for... I have thought of it ever since, whenever hearing of lobotomies. (What did they "cut out of their brain"?--I have always wondered.)

At left: Sebastian has purchased a stunning white bathing suit for Elizabeth to wear. In the water it becomes virtually translucent, and she therefore doesn't want to go in. As the boys watch from a fenced-area (to keep the poor locals divided from the rich tourists), Sebastian forces her to go in the water. As always, his face is never shown.

As a kid, I didn't get the sexual references, about how Elizabeth was used as bait to draw the poor local boys to Sebastian (as Violet had been used previously, before growing too old). In the movie flashbacks, Sebastian always wears a white suit, symbolizing his whiteness. And his face is never shown; he stands in for all white men.

In the final harrowing flashback sequence, as Elizabeth narrates, the poor, ragged boys of all ages gather with clanging pots and pans as primitive instruments, making a clattering, scary racket... finally surrounding Sebastian. As a child, I was mesmerized: Why were they so angry with him? What do they want?

He throws money at them.

The boys just stare, unmoved. It is horrifying.

Sebastian runs.

He careens through twisting and turning narrow roads in his immaculate white suit, up, up, up, until he is at the top of a hill and there is nowhere to go. The boys surround Sebastian, and you only see his hand--stretching upward, as if to heaven--as they are on him.

And from Elizabeth's hysterical account, the secret emerges: the boys ate Sebastian alive.

As a 10-year-old, I knew not to ask any older people what any of this weird stuff meant, or why the boys were so pissed off. I knew the adults wouldn't let me watch it again, which I did every time it was on TV, trying to figure out the mystery. And at the age of 15, I finally did. (It wasn't until I was a bit older that I understood the cannibalistic reference.)

But even as a 10-year-old, I knew one thing for sure: I loved Elizabeth!!!!!

~*~

And I wish her a Happy Birthday!

Ending with Paul Newman's tribute to Elizabeth at Turner Classic Movies. Features the famous slip from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, but unfortunately, not the amazing party dress she wears in A Place in the Sun. (I also loved the sexy-pants outfit in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, one of her Oscar-winning performances... but I can't find any photos of her dancing with George Segal anywhere. Go to approx 2:21 here to watch the scene.) (NOTE: may trigger, etc.)

Feminists will enjoy the verbal bitch-slap of snotty sexist Laurence Harvey at 3:12. (From Butterfield 8, her first Oscar!)

Behold your QUEEN!

Happy Birthday, Shakey!

Neil Young is 63 today! Decided to celebrate!

I love this song so much, words can't express it. When I stopped drinking (1982), this tune stopped being merely descriptive and passed into my personal mythology. It became a hymn.

There is ambivalence and regret embedded in every line of this song, and the singer initially sounds bereft. But by the end, he makes a decision, and he is strong. It is somehow all the more moving from such a shaky voice. He is unsure, confused and searching for his way. And in the telling, he finds it.

I didn't fully understand the song until I started telling my story, and then I found my way, too.

Just a masterpiece. I save it for days I need it, like now. :)

Happy birthday, Neil, we love you.

~*~

Neil Young - Thrasher

[via FoxyTunes / Neil Young]

For you gung-ho metal-head kidz who sneer at acoustic music, here is some electric Neil, with Crazy Horse.

Like certain other favorites of mine (notably FIRE ON THE MOUNTAIN and SUNSET BOULEVARD), Powderfinger is narrated by a dead man. HOW do they do this, you wonder? I once asked this question in Film Studies class: How could William Holden, floating face down in a pool, narrate Sunset Boulevard? I was answered: poetic license. (And I was a huge fan of poetic license forever after!)

At the end of the song, we realize the narrator is gone, and speaks for so many other young men who die before their time:

Shelter me from the powder and the finger
Cover me with the thought that pulled the trigger
Think of me as one you'd never figured
Would fade away so young
With so much left undone
Remember me to my love,
I know I'll miss her.

Neil Young and Crazy Horse - Powderfinger

[via FoxyTunes / Neil Young]

Wordless Wednesday: Proud grandma

Another Virgo had a birthday recently! This is my beautiful granddaughter, who just turned 3! (((preen)))

 

----------------
Listening to: 13th Floor Elevators - You're Gonna Miss Me
via FoxyTunes

Wordless Wednesdays: Virgos are a peaceful people!

I got this idea from Annie, who used one of these for her birthday last month.



Yes, I am older today.

Argh.

DEAD AIR'S FIRST BIRTHDAY!

Left: This lovely photo of Elizabeth Kucinich accounts for the highest number of image searches I have had on one single photo; I had over 500 in one day, and the total number now reaches into the thousands. Ohhh, to be a tall, stunning, winsome, British redhead!!! (Oh, and there's Dennis, too.)

~*~

Happy Birthday to DEAD AIR!!! It's my BLOGGIVERSARY!

Amazingly, this blog is now a whole year old. It's a terrifying thought.

A year ago, after my very first post, I actually decided blogging was a waste of time (maybe it is?) and didn't post again for three weeks. Then I slammed my car into an SUV on Laurens Road, was somewhat shaken up, and wanted to write about it. I realized: this is why people blog. Later, I saw Valerie Bertinelli on TV, complaining about being fat, and wanted to say something about that, too.

That was it, I was hooked.

Yes, it starts out small at first. (The first one's always free!) I can't say when I crossed the line into addiction, but it happened. Of course it did. It always has.

OFFICIAL BLOG STATISTICS--as of this minute:

VISITS

Total 75,558
Average Per Day 321
Average Visit Length 2:17
Last Hour 8
Today 124
This Week 2,247

PAGE VIEWS

Total 109,224
Average Per Day 436
Average Per Visit 1.4
Last Hour 11
Today 172
This Week 3,051

Plus 413 visitors before joining Site Meter on July 28, 2007

~*~

Keep in mind that I didn't count stats until July 28th, because I didn't know how. (The "413" figure was the number of profile-views I had accumulated up to that date.) The true numbers are undoubtedly higher, since I only started counting stats during my first major flame war. I knew people were reading, because they were posting. Otherwise, might not have occurred to me to count--but I was curious.

And curse those nasty stats! It's worse than the bathroom scale--AVOID, AVOID! (Victoria Marinelli has sworn it off!!) For awhile, I was filled with raging jealousy for the Big Bloggers, until I had my first astronomically-popular post (by my standards, anyway) on April 22nd of this year. My post titled "On having a black name"--went through the stratosphere (approx 25,000 hits, total, and still coming in) and was linked on Big Blogs like MetaFilter and Jezebel. And in the process, I was spooked bigtime. I received numerous strange, semi-romantic emails ("You are a very well-preserved 50-year-old, or is that an old photo?") and heard from various bizarre sub-categories of rightwingnuts. My spam filter was overloaded with winning lottery tickets from Sierra Leone and offers to buy furniture. I even heard from an ex-coworker I never liked, assuring me that my name isn't THAT black! (accompanied by at least a dozen disconcerting correspondents demanding to know just what my name really is--and not in a good way!) ...they all came out of the woodwork. Yow!

Is THIS what internet-fame is really like? Ick.

And so, I have backed off the numbers obsession. The first step is admitting you have a problem!

~*~

I first named this blog after a four-hour Grateful Dead-oriented radio show titled UNCLE DAVE'S DEAD AIR (and yes, sister and brother Deadheads, I have heard from the mysterious Uncle Dave!)--a necessary spiritually-centering exercise and crucial repetition of my week. (Note: DEAD AIR SPACE is also the name of Radiohead's official blog, which I didn't realize at the time.)

DEAD AIR technically refers to a radio broadcast that has gone "dead"--or, one could say, DEAD AIR means one is "broadcasting nothing"--which I think describes a whole lot of Blogdonia. Thus, the name reflects my low expectations for the blog. I was afraid I wouldn't have anything to say, and I would therefore ALSO be "broadcasting nothing."

In addition, at the time I was reading Robert (Uma's dad) Thurman's translation of the TIBETAN BOOK OF THE DEAD, so that cinched the deal.

I like the alliteration of Daisy's Dead Air (just like Uncle Dave), and I think an identifiable motif makes a blog more memorable. I love stealies, so that made it an easy decision. And besides that, once I got the name into my head, I simply couldn't think of any others. I don't think I could change my blog name at this stage of the game.

Thanks for visiting and reading. If you lurk (and I can SEE that some of yall DO! Don't fib to me!)--how about saying hello, just this once? (On the other hand, if you lurk primarily because you hate me, please forget I asked.)

We'll see what the next year brings. I never expected it to last this long.

Happy Birthday, Delusional Precious!

You're in my heart forever.


~*~

Radiohead - Karma Police

[via FoxyTunes / Radiohead]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELIZABETH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Happy Birthday!

To the King!





Several of my readers recently expressed massive approval when exposed to even a teensy bit of Ann-Margret, so I hereby give you BOTH, yes, BOTH of them, in a clip from VIVA LAS VEGAS. You can't hardly stand it.

According to the fascinating book ELVIS AND ME (by Priscilla), it was when Priscilla Presley discovered Ann-Margret's phone number in a matchbook in Elvis' pocket, that she finally figured it out. And it was a fight to the finish, as Ann tried to edge Priscilla out, announcing to the press that she and Elvis would be married. Priscilla, already comfortably dug in with the family at Graceland, knew she had the upper hand. Our beautiful Ann lost that round, but it was a close one!

And so I present the King, and the woman who might have been Queen. Enjoy!


~*~

Elvis Presley ... Ann Margret

[via FoxyTunes / Elvis and Ann-Margaret]

Ashes to ashes, funk to funky, we know Major Tom's a junkie...

Perhaps it's because I turned 50, but it's certainly been an interesting week. Thanks to my friends S. and B., my life has had a dreamlike quality these past few days, filled with surprises, gifts and tarot readings... As a result, I've been thinking of this song and video.

The song lives deep inside me, and has for nearly three decades; the accompanying phantasmagorical images a reminder that magic is real, and lives in the imagination.

~*~

Ashes to Ashes - David Bowie

You say it's your birthday

It's my half-century mark! Whoever thought I would live so long? I'm just as surprised as everyone else!


“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek--and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”-- Jalal ad-Din Rumi