Blood, Sweat and Tears

I recently realized I had never posted any songs by BS&T (as they used to be called, and everyone knew the acronym too). These are two songs you won't hear on the oldies radio stations.

I never noticed there are (gasp) VIOLINS in this song. Sung and co-written by Al Kooper, who would soon depart the band, I just adored this record and listened to it every single day when I was about 13 years old. Which is probably why I never noticed the violins. The melody is lovely!

I Can't Quit Her - Blood, Sweat and Tears



And this is the Blood, Sweat and Tears most of you will remember; BEAUTIFUL BIG BRASS NOISE, headed up by singer David Clayton-Thomas.

Go Down Gamblin - Blood, Sweat and Tears

Tom Laughlin 1931-2013

I once showed the film BILLY JACK (1971) to my daughter, and she rolled her eyes most of the way through. I was so crestfallen that she didn't get it. Or rather, I saw that she easily got it, since it all seemed so obvious to her.

I realized: much of what we once fought for had become passe. These truths are now just a given.

And that's a good thing, isn't it? In one way, of course. But it also means the young people do not understand how it was for us. They do not understand that what they now take for granted, was risky and dangerous for us--something as simple as standing at a bus stop, wearing patched jeans and scruffy hair. Or whites and non-whites entering an ice cream shop together.

That's when I knew the magic Billy Jack moment had passed forever, and doesn't even really translate well to the next generation.

Thus, the passing of Tom Laughlin is even more sad than expected.

From the New York Times:

Mr. Laughlin wrote, directed and starred in all four of the Billy Jack films, earnest tales of a tightly wound, half-Cherokee Vietnam veteran named Billy Jack who protects Indians, wild horses and progressive ideals against attacks.

...

By most accounts, the single-minded, loner-idealist tough guy at the center of the Billy Jack franchise was based on an amalgam of cowboy archetypes, Asian martial-arts film archetypes and Mr. Laughlin’s image of himself. Colleagues and family members described him as driven, stubborn, uncompromising and intensely attracted to quixotic endeavors.

After a succession of small film and television roles during his first decade in Hollywood, he and his wife, Delores Taylor — who later co-starred in the Billy Jack films — opened a Montessori school to keep their children out of what they considered the mediocre public schools of Southern California.

A half-dozen years later Mr. Laughlin decided to return to the movie business, but on his own terms. He wrote his script and raised money for the motorcycle movie “Born Losers” (1967), the first to feature Billy Jack. He later became an outspoken environmentalist and antinuclear activist and sought the Democratic nomination for president on several state primary ballots in 1992, 2004 and 2008.

At age 13 or 14, I wanted to go out west and go to the Freedom School run by Billy Jack's almost-girlfriend (and real-life wife) Jean. When my mother told me the school was all make-believe, I cried over it.

No, no, NO... the school is REAL. Billy Jack is REAL.

Just like Santa.

~*~

My deepest condolences go out to Laughlin's partner, Delores Taylor, who embodied the lovely, strong-willed Jean. The first lead actress in a Western movie who didn't seem to have on any makeup and didn't seem to care. Film critic Pauline Kael said Taylor's performance marked the first time she had ever seen a woman discuss her own rape in a movie, and what it meant to her life. "The film pauses for these moments, which were perhaps improvised by Delores Taylor," she wrote, amazed. Yes, and so did we. In the 70s-theater I was in, you could have heard a pin drop, as Delores Taylor relates the incident. Not a single woman was breathing, we hung on her every word. My mother said it was the greatest thing in the movie. (Later that day, she would finally tell me of her own experience.)

And see? We can turn on Law and Order SVU at any time of the day or night and see this scene over and over (with not nearly the gravitas) ... but once upon a time, it was odd enough that a New Yorker critic saw fit to mention it as almost-miraculous.

~*~

In Billy Jack, during a scene at the Freedom School, some kids are re-enacting the life of Jesus Christ. A black kid plays Jesus (which apparently is still pretty radical stuff!--but I digress).

One of the kids asks him, when you return, how do we know its you? Give us a sign! And he gives the black power salute, his fist in the air.

The kids, of all races, stand and silently return the salute.

And so, at about 2:04 in the video below, you see the significance as Billy Jack is taken away by the law. The kids, once again, give 'the sign'--the black power salute. And right in the shadow of a cross. (Sobbing at 2:39, in the purple shirt, is Laughlin's daughter, Teresa.) Whatever you think of Tom Laughlin's Jesus-complex, this was some bang-up B-movie film-making, folks.

Billy Jack finally controls his violent temper, for the greater good of the whole group. He sacrifices his own freedom to keep the Freedom School open. As one who often fights to control my own temper, do I have to tell you?

It always makes me cry.

~*~

Rest in Peace, Tom Laughlin. I would love to have known you.

One Tin Soldier - Coven (theme of Billy Jack)

When Irish Eyes are Smiling

At left: Katie and David Cassidy. Photo credit: Celebrity Photos.







Mr Daisy was watching "Arrow" DVDs, and the actress playing Laurel seemed so familiar to me. It was driving me crazy. I KNEW I'd seen her.

Her eyes. Very distinctive. I knew I had seen them before.

I can usually spot actors in various roles, even if they are wildly different. It's something I enjoy doing--trying to remember where I've seen them; which movie or TV show they were in previously. I especially enjoy solving the puzzle if many years have passed and they look recognizably older. (i.e. Did you realize that's 17-year-old Laurence Fishburne, primarily known to the younger generation as Morpheus, playing 'Clean' in Apocalypse Now?)

But I couldn't remember seeing this person AT ALL. I was confused. Why do her eyes look so familiar?



And so, finally hollering uncle and officially giving up, I went to the indispensable Internet Movie Database, that great settler of marital disputes.

She is David Cassidy's DAUGHTER. Ahh, so that's it! She assuredly has his eyes; Irish Eyes are Smiling.

Mr Daisy offered the observation that I had stared at David Cassidy's eyes on my bedroom wall for YEARS as a teenager, along with The Monkees, The Who, David Bowie, Iggy Pop, Lou Reed, Michael Jackson, and so many others.

And he's right. David Cassidy's eyes were lodged in my memory. They must have made quite an impression, to make his daughter appear so familiar to me.

~*~

When I visited my father in Indiana as a kid (usually a traumatic experience), I would try to stay away from his house as long as possible by hanging out with my cousins. I liked them a lot, and they thought I was cool for being from a "big city"... yes, you are now wondering why anyone would think Columbus, Ohio, is a "big city"--but in comparison to my father's hometown, it certainly was.

While we would be eating ice cream in front of what was then called the local Five and Dime, somebody would walk by, stop dead in their tracks and then do a double-take and ask me if I was _____'s daughter. In small towns, everyone knows everyone else.

It was galling, intrusive, but strangely validating. I hardly knew my father; years would go by when I didn't see him. Then he would inexplicably get a sudden attack of parental responsibility and drive across state lines to collect me for the summer. In Indiana, everyone would oooh and ahhh at our striking resemblance, which even extended to how we laughed, how we gestured, and our general 'theatrical' nature. It kinda blew my mind, since I had always believed you had to be raised by someone to "be like" them (not just LOOK like them) and it seemed that somehow, that had turned out NOT to be true at all. My mother raised me, not my father, and yet somehow, I was so much like him.

And so it is with young Katie. I knew I'd seen her before, knew she reminded me of someone I had watched before, very closely. It isn't just her eyes, of course. She is similarly LIKE him, as I was "like" my father. "Resemblances" are such an odd phenomenon; it isn't only a physical thing.

The cars stop, the people turn around on the sidewalk and ask Who's Your Daddy?

Lou Reed 1942-2013

After hearing the news today, I find I am still not able to rationally discuss the impact of Lou Reed on my life.

I remember someone once remarked that the Velvet Underground only had about 200 fans, "but every one of them, started a band." And so, the legend was born; Lou was a legend to other legends. It is hard to describe the impact his work had on those of us who felt marginalized, those of us on the outside.

In so many ways, you had to be there.

I got a tattoo inspired by Lou. Early in recovery, I decided I did not want to be that heartless junkie in the middle-section of Street Hassle, who declares he won't wear his heart on his sleeve, will not become emotional when faced with the death of a stranger.

I knew that I did want to be that person, and that desire, that hope, is what prompted me to save my own life, to search for something better.

I do want to wear my heart on my sleeve. And so I got tattoo of a heart there, to remind me.

Goodbye dear friend. It hurts so much to lose you.

~*~



Some people got no choice
and they can never find a voice
To talk with, that they can even call their own
So the first thing that they see
That allows them the right to be
Well, they follow it.

You know, its called
Bad luck.



(from Street Hassle by Lou Reed)

~*~

We will be discussing Lou Reed's life and work on the radio show tomorrow.

And I hope to play this:

Rock and Roll - Velvet Underground



You know her life was saved by rock and roll.

~*~

Edit and Correction, from the New York Times, it was Brian Eno who said it, and here is their direct quote:

The composer Brian Eno, in an often-quoted interview from 1982, suggested that if the [The Velvet Underground]’s first record sold only 30,000 records during its first five years — a figure probably lower than the reality — “everyone who bought one of those 30,000 copies started a band.”

~*~

EDIT AGAIN 10/28/2013: I was really surprised to find this on YouTube, because, well, it just defies description. It's an 8-minute (spoken) story, and ... to say more is to ruin it. (Just one thing: if you start listening, please continue to the end.)

However, I don't mind telling you, I know the whole thing by heart and can recite it verbatim from memory: "Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit..."

I have never before admitted that out loud. But there it is.

The Gift - Velvet Underground



PS: Happy Halloween! ;)

Taxes, Death and Trouble

Daisy's latest pesky earworms and other assorted music for your Thursday. Turn it up!

Only You Know And I Know - Delaney and Bonnie with Eric Clapton



Live from their British tour in 1969, also features George Harrison. YOWZA! Listen to them purty gee-tars! Excellent visuals, also.

~*~

That song reminded me of this one, since Delaney and Bonnie play/sing back-up... we also heard the Jerry Garcia Band's version on the indispensable DEAD AIR (namesake of this blog) last night.

Lonesome and a Long Way From Home - Eric Clapton



Rest in Peace, Delaney Bramlett. A true son of the south, you rocked the house with aplomb and style.

~*~

Got bluegrass?

Nice capsule history of this tune is provided before they break out the shit-kickin music. As I have written here before, my stepfather played bluegrass professionally, and he loved this song.

I always find it somewhat jarring to see bluegrass played by people wearing SUITS, ha.

Rocky Top - Osborne Brothers



~*~

They got a name for the winners in the world
I want a name when I lose....

Deacon Blues - Steely Dan



~*~

Super Motown finale!

This song was the theme to the movie of the same name. (The movie's protagonist is named Mr T, and I've always assumed that is where the famous Mr T got his name.)

Smooooooooth and nice as gravy on rice. Unbelievable talent.

Biographical aside: I used to listen to this song every day before I went off to slog through the 10th grade... for several months. It made me feel like an otherworldly being! Especially when combined with other things, but we won't go there...

I just love love love it, and I was somewhat surprised to discover, in a check of this blog... that I have never posted it before. (Must correct this situation posthaste!)

Trouble Man - Marvin Gaye



And yes, it's where we get today's blog post title. Rest in Peace, Marvin.

Terri Leigh McKee 1958-2012

The Queen of Cups, from the Art Nouveau Tarot by Matt Myers.




Advice: When people ask you to stay in touch, stay in touch. Don't tell yourself "one of these days"--because you might Google them one day and find their obituary.

She came to my grandmother's funeral, whom she had loved. I promised her I would mail her copies of photos I had recently discovered, of our childhood... one of us standing next to an old Packard, another of us trying to make Kool-Aid, and still another, in front of a gaudy, awful, silver Christmas tree.

I never remembered to send them.

We grew apart... I became a crazy radical, and she remained devout and conservative. We had little in common as adults, and it was somewhat uncomfortable. You know how that is.

I still remember us singing together, "In the Year 2525" and laughing about the lyrics. We also sang it into the telephone for crank calls, which of course, you can't make any more. (The kids have no idea what they're missing.)

I had been thinking about her all week, possibly due to the death of Davy Jones. But it suddenly became pressing and important, as if I should see if I could try to find her. (She wasn't on Facebook or any of the other social media sites.) So, I did, and found this:

McKEE Terri L. McKee, age 53, passed away Monday, March 5, 2012. She was a member of St. Cecilia Catholic Church and a graduate of Westland High School, Class of '77'. Preceded in death by great-grandparents Charles and Sarah Bentz, grandparents Frank and Thelma Bragg and Adryenne and Arnold McKee, aunt Marilyn Isaac, and cousin Robert Riley. Survived by parents, John and Julia McKee; fiancee, Michael Woolfe; sister, Vicki (Mike) Davis; nephews, Nicholas Davis and Benjamin (Sara) Davis; great-nephew, Thomas Davis; along with aunts, uncles, cousins, loving relatives, and friends. Family will receive friends Sunday from 2-5 p.m. at THE TIDD FUNERAL HOME, 5265 Norwich St., Hilliard, OH 43026. A funeral service will be held 11 a.m. Monday at CONCORDIA LUTHERAN CHURCH, 225 Schoolhouse Lane, Columbus, OH 43228. Interment Sunset Cemetery.

All attempts at taking photos of photos have failed, so you will have to settle for my physical description: light light parakeet-blonde hair (100% natural) and extremely disarming pale blue eyes. Very feminine, small, thin, petite.

Aspasia offers the consoling thought that I thought of Terri because her soul was reaching out to me, to say goodbye. It is a comfort to think so.

And you folks reading: please don't forget my advice. Contact those old friends now. Don't put it off.

~*~

In the year 2525 - Zager and Evans



We got on a roller coaster once, at the Ohio State Fair, while this song was playing, full-blast. We screamed and sang along, all at once. One of those wonderful, great moments of childhood... perhaps she thought of it in her last moments, as I surely will.

Pleasant Valley Sunday - The Monkees



Mr Green, he's so serene, he's got a TV in every room... we decided we liked Mr Green and wanted TVs in every room when we grew up, too.

Goodbye, old friend.

We should be on by now

Time - David Bowie



The terribly-infectious li-li-li's at the end of this song, have gotten me through lots of heavy traffic, blood donations and similar unpleasant events. They shall undoubtedly follow me as I am lowered into the grave. :)

Davy Jones 1945-2012

Daisy's very first imaginary boyfriend has passed on:

No doubt you're humming Daydream Believer or Last Train to Clarksville as you read this.

The lead singer of The Monkees, Davy Jones, has died.

His rep tells TMZ that he died after suffering a heart attack this morning in Florida. Jones was 66.

TMZ confirmed Jones' death with an official from the medical examiner's office for Martin County, Fla.

Jones is survived by his wife Jessica and four daughters from previous marriages.

Jones joined The Monkees in 1965, with Micky Dolenz, Michael Nesmith and Peter Tork.

I wrote about the Monkees here.

Goodbye old friend. (((sobs)))

Monday Music: And the cat just finished off the bread

LIVE FROM NEW YORK, 40 years ago... this contains excellent, rare old photos of the band, as well as some blistering guitar solos to wake you up this Monday.

One Way Out - Allman Brothers Band (Live 1971)



~*~

Playing this to commemorate 9/11. Of course, it's significantly dated now, since we have no longer have any Berlin wall. Do the kids understand? (Could they ever?)

"Please don't be waiting for me."

Holidays in the Sun - Sex Pistols (1977)



~*~

"When I see you comin, I just have to run"... he was so funny! Debating if I should use a BDSM tag or not. (Nah.)

Vicious - Lou Reed (1972)



~*~

Who else thinks, "I am a passenger, I stay under glass" is the greatest line ever?

(PS: And now, you will also be earwormed to death with LA LA LA LA LALALA LAAAAAH! for the rest of your day.)

The Passenger - Iggy Pop (1977)



~*~

And this is the song that gives us today's blog post title.

Pinball - Brian Protheroe (1974)

Tuesday Tunes - Happy solstice edition

Some of you may remember this delightful masterpiece as the theme song of the cult film Harold and Maude. Thanks to Jodda Mitchell for reminding me. (Of the message, too.)

If you want to sing out - Cat Stevens

Elizabeth Taylor 1932-2011

The most beautiful woman in the history of the world (and the subject of Daisy's major lifelong celebrity crush!) has passed on... I simply can't talk about it. :(

Below, some of my favorite photos of Elizabeth, from an older post.

Old Hollywood is officially over. Goodbye, dearest Elizabeth.

PS: You know you're getting old when your icons start dropping like flies...

~*~

Happy Birthday!

How could I forget?

Elvis Presley - Heartbreak Hotel (live 1956)

You make the best of what's still around

Not enough bass on any of these songs. Turn up the BASS!

...

Dirt - The Stooges



Is Iggy saying "when you touch me" or "when you fuck me"? (Decades-old controversy!) He actually seems to be going back and forth, using both words; also "when you cut me"--which is what I always thought it was.

~*~

When the world is running down - The Police



Tell me where would I go?
I ain't been out in years...

~*~


Black Cow - Steely Dan



I'm the one
who must make everything right
talk it out
till daylight...

Faces shine, real low mind

Here's what I am listening to today. Join in, if you're of a mind to!

Hopefully, these will last. But YouTube is so busy removing videos, they could possibly be extinct by later in the week. If they are, I apologize in advance.

...

Okay, who among you knew that the Hill Street Blues TV-theme was written by Larry Carlton, the session musician who delivers the killer-guitar work in Don't Take Me Alive? (What did we ever do without Wikipedia?) And despite what you hear, it is "Bookkeeper's son," not "Poolkeeper's son." (Decades of arguments, once again, finally settled by the internet!)

I looooove this song, decided I would play it since it's about blowing people up and therefore sorta fits in with the whole morbidity/responsibility theme of this past week.

Here in this darkness
I know what I've done
I know all at once who I am


Don't Take Me Alive - Steely Dan



~*~

This incredible song has multiple chord/tempo/melody changes, zoom de zoom, zippity do dah, all in ... two minutes. Two. Minutes.

How the hell did they do this in two minutes?

This is, one presumes, how they got to be The Beatles.

Wait - The Beatles



~*~

This might be the greatest thing I ever heard, and 40 years later, let's hear the band that can sound this good!

Iggy 4-ever, as I used to write on the cover of my loose-leaf binders... my heart still jumps at the sound of the first few bars, and those bizarre noises he is making. :) (RIP Ron Asheton)

Down on the Street - The Stooges (w/Iggy Pop)



~*~

I discovered through my endless snooping that my 2nd husband is on his parish's prayer list. I confess, I would like to know why. Am I worried? Well, yes, no, maybe. You know the tangle of emotions you have when you discover something online about an ex, and up bubbles all that guilt, anger, remorse, all those juicy feelings.

Do I hope he's okay? Well, no.

Do I want him to suffer? Well, no.

You can see the dilemma, then.

(Not sure what I think of the video; first time I've ever seen it. Does beating a black man at billiards automatically make George "bad"--or is it the attitude?)

Bad to the Bone - George Thorogood and the Destroyers



~*~

Classic country time--with even more astounding Wikipedia revelations: Jessi Colter was married to Duane Eddy before she was married to Waylon Jennings! I had NO IDEA!

A shot of Waylon gets deposited at the end of this video, although I always thought his eyes were brown. Aren't they? (So, who exactly was she looking for?)

I have guilt over not including Jessi in my Diva round-up in June.

I'm Looking for Blue Eyes - Jessi Colter



~*~

And so, I now include Jessi's husbands out of respect. (I should have included Duane in my Instrumental Oldies post, but will try to catch him on part 2.)

Detour - Duane Eddy



~*~

Jessi heard Waylon's golden pipes and just went OOOOOOOooooooOOOOOHHHHHHHhhhh....at least I assume it was like that.

Blue eyes ain't nothing on a voice like this. :)

Dreaming my Dreams - Waylon Jennings

Sidney Poitier receives Medal of Freedom

Sidney Poitier and his Oscar in 1963, photo from Aliya S. King.




One of the most awesome men in the entire world, one of the regular cast of Daisy's feverish young adolescent dreams, has just received the MEDAL OF FREEDOM!!!! I am so thrilled!



Sir Sidney!!!

Yes, lots of other people got medals today, but I admittedly fixate on Sir Sidney:

At his first Medal of Freedom conferral, President Obama ran a tight ship of a ceremony, which began slightly after 3 p.m. and clocked in at about 40 minutes' worth of speechifying and medal-bestowing in the glittering East Room, the largest room in the White House. This year, actor Sidney Poitier, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Broadway star Chita Rivera, Sen. Ted Kennedy (D-Mass.) and former Irish president Mary Robinson were among the 16 who received the nation's highest civilian honor.

Although the president spoke to the recipients and their enthused crowd of guests for about 20 minutes before breaking out the medals, his comments betrayed very little about his personal feelings toward (or relationships with) any of the honorees he'd selected. The silence signaled humility, and, of course, diplomacy: Robinson, for example, was the object of enmity outside the building, as supporters of Israel had deemed her undeserving after a particular rough career moment when a human-rights conference she helmed in 2001 was dominated by attacks on Jews and Israel.

In the afternoon ceremony, Obama praised Robinson as "a crusader for women and those without a voice in Ireland," saying she "shone a light on human suffering" during her work on human rights and hunger. A military aide read her citation, which praised her for "urging citizens and nations to make common cause for justice."

The president did get personal on a few occasions, his own subtly conveyed intimacy never upstaging, say, the exuberance of tennis star Billie Jean King, who entered the East Room with a victorious pump of her fist and a mouthed "Yessssss!" In the president's estimation, King gave "everyone, regardless of gender and sexual orientation, including my two daughters, a chance to compete both on the court and in life." Upon receiving her medal, she gave it a kiss and flashed the audience a grin.

The president's introductory remarks (smoothly delivered, apparently without written notes) continued in this manner, bowing more to the medal recipients' achievements than to his own experiences with them. After pronouncements were pronounced, Obama clasped medals around 16 necks, engaging in a great deal of hugging, cheek-kissing, whispering and back-patting -- a prolonged bout of physical affection that the recipients happily returned.

Without written notes, she emphasized. (Isn't it so nice to have a literate president?)

Certainly, Sir Sidney deserves it, and more, and everything else, too. Tomorrow, Turner Classic Movies will feature A WHOLE DAY OF SIR SIDNEY! And it's my day off, too! (Can we STAND IT?!) The day begins with The Long Ships (1964) at 6am and ends with Brother John (1971) at 4am the next day--with some utterly fabulous movies in between.

If you have a few minutes, flip over during the day, and watch the master.

You knew I would use this as an excuse to play this dopey song, dincha?



To Sir With Love (1967) will be on TCM at 6pm, right after Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (also 1967) at 4pm. (You can never watch them enough!)

Michael Jackson inspires Blogdonia

In lieu of a proper obituary for Michael Jackson (surely you've read/viewed enough of them by now), I have collected some of the Best of Blogdonia, holding forth on the King of Pop.

Just when you think everything has already been said, someone adds something especially thoughtful; Michael Jackson's colorful life inspires still another writer or activist to go off in a different direction.

RIP, Michael.

~*~

Open Thread: Remembering Michael Jackson at Racialicious, has some excellent comments and trackbacks.

By way of Isabel the Spy, I found Would Michael Jackson have been such a sensation if he couldn't dance?:

Michael Jackson did dance, he could hold an audience's attention by just dancing and not singing. He didn't have to stoop to pseudo sexual acts for shock appeal. And he made a lot of men, black, white, brown and yellow, want to dance just like him. Perhaps his dancing more than his music was what truly made him an international star.

TigerBeatdown comments on Michael Jackson, Celebrity, Empathy, and the Culture of Silence. Read the comments, too, which include one by your humble narrator.

Ballardian weighs in on Michael Jackson's Facelift from the purely surgical standpoint:

Scarring was hypertrophic at the points where tension was greatest: that is, in the temple and the region behind the ear, but fortunately these were covered by the King of Pop’s hair. The small fine sutures which were not responsible for tension were removed at 4 days, and the strong sutures removed at the tenth day. The patient was then allowed to have a shampoo to remove the blood from his hair. All scarlines are expected to fade, and by the end of three weeks the patient was back in social circulation.

And for even more cold, hard reality, you can always count on Socialist Unity:

The sheer extent of [Jackson's] fame meant that for him anything even approaching normality was as much a fantasy as standing on stage performing and being worshipped by tens of thousands of people was for his millions of fans. Unable to deal with the distorting and cloying reality of the pressure that was placed on him to be more than human, Michael Jackson did his utmost to escape into an imaginary world of childlike innocence and fairytale. His Neverland Ranch was symptomatic of a man who’d rejected a world in which he was surrounded by the demands of fans, managers, promoters, recording executives, and a legion of sycophants, for one in which he was surrounded by children and the innocence they represent.

Stories began to emerge of his relationship with a monkey, of him sleeping in an oxygen tent, and then later of his inappropriate relations with some of the children he took to taking with him around the world, which progressed into charges being brought against him of sexual molestation.

The physical manifestations of Michael Jackson’s personal collapse were all too obvious in the plastic surgery which turned him into a living, breathing monument to self loathing and mutilation. Increasingly, whenever he appeared in public, it was like looking at a man slowly turning himself into one of the characters from his Thriller video, perhaps in a conscious attempt to hide from a world grown ever more intrusive and unsympathetic.

Ultimately, the ridicule which dogged Michael Jackson while he was alive, ridicule driven by an unforgiving media and international press, was in inverse proportion to the deluge of tributes and fawning idolatry that has dominated the coverage of his death.

From Confessions of a Cryokid, here is A letter to Prince Michael, Paris, and "Blanket" Jackson:

By now you have probably heard all the major media outlets advertising that your dad is not your biological father, and that your mom is not your biological mother. I can only imagine how hard this must be, just days after your dad tragically died.

I am so sorry that you had to find out the truth this way, it's a cruel thing to do to a child - hide the truth about your identity and let strangers reveal it maliciously to you. Parents sometimes make these decisions (to keep a secret) thinking they are protecting their children. However, usually it backfires. Unfortunately, because of who your daddy was, this backfire has been made public and the entire world is watching you. It's not fair, but make the best out of a bad situation.

But don't feel alone. There are thousands (maybe millions) of kids out there just like you - conceived artificially and denied the right to EVER know who their biological parents are. You three can change this!! Stories are flying around that your dad's dermatologist is your biological father. If this is true, you deserve to know, to know him - as your father. Ask questions, demand answers! Not only can you find answers for yourself, you can help thousands of other kids and adults out there who were conceived the same way!

Your daddy will always be your daddy, nobody can take that away - and it will take time to mourn his passing. But you also have a biological father out there, and you carry half his genes. His is part of you - he even looks like you! While nothing can mask the loss of your daddy, I hope that your biological father will step up and give you guidance and love, and support through this rough time and as you grow up. You deserve that as children and as human beings.

You also deserve to know your biological mother, and I hope for your sake that she stands up and acknowledges herself to you and provides love and support. A child needs both a mom and a dad, and to have only one and lose him is tragic but to be denied the ability to know both biological parents is horrific.

If you ever come across this, in a few weeks, a few months, even a few years - please know that you're not alone and that there are many others out there pleading for these same rights...and that one day we will prevail.

Dead Air is devastated

As I said in this post, I actually took a physical blow for him once (not that I planned on that!)... Hopefully, I will be able to collect myself later, to write a better post.

For now, please listen to one of my favorites. Just magic.

We were less than a year apart in age...so imagine a very young Daisy listening to a very young Michael.

Of course, I had Jackson 5ive posters on my wall, right next to David Cassidy, David Bowie, Iggy, The Who...

And when he sings, "there's so many things we haven't tried"-- (((cries)))

I wanna be where you are - Michael Jackson

Burn down the mission

This was my favorite song when I was 14 or something. I heard it on my way home from work and got all mushy and squishy, thinking nostalgically about what we used to call "junior high school" (not middle school).

In this live version, Elton was still young and cute, just like I was. Now, we're both old and not so cute... so this goes out to the kids who have never understood how he got so famous, especially since (like Rod Stewart) he has morphed into a lounge lizard. Check that kick-ass piano jam at the end! That should explain everything.

And you old folks will just get nostalgic and cry.

Lyrics by Bernie Taupin; in this live version, Elton omits the last verse:

You tell me there's an angel in your tree
Did he say he'd come to call on me
For things are getting desperate in our home
Living in the parish of the restless folks I know

Everybody now bring your family down to the riverside
Look to the east to see where the fat stock hide
Behind four walls of stone the rich man sleeps
Its time we put the flame torch to their keep

Burn down the mission
If were gonna stay alive
Watch the black smoke fly to heaven
See the red flame light the sky

Burn down the mission
Burn it down to stay alive
It's our only chance of living
Take all you need to live inside

Deep in the woods the squirrels are out today
My wife cried when they came to take me away
But what more could I do just to keep her warm
Than burn burn burn burn down the mission walls

~*~

Elton John - Burn Down the Mission

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!

Odds and Sods - Funhouse edition

I've added a whole parcel of wonderful wimmin to my blogroll, for no other reason than I wanted their links handy so I could find them very quickly.

Some of my newcomers: Unapologetically Female, Snowstorm, The Pursuit of Harpyness, Transgriot, snow piled up in a silver bowl, Female Impersonator, What Tami Said, Katha Politt, three rivers fog, Future Feminist Librarian-Activist, Aunt Jemima's Revenge, Fourth Wave Feminism, Look left of the pleiades, Everyday Stranger, Elderwomanblog, Uncooler Than Thou, Kikipotamus the Hobo, Marge Twain, Pink Scare, Shapely Prose, and the most fabulously-named blog ever, Kittywampus!

Welcome to Dead Air, yall!

~*~

Guess who's back? Kyle Payne, self-styled "male feminist" who was convicted of being a sexual predator and nonetheless continues to present himself as a dedicated freedom fighter for us ladeez.

(Do you BELIEVE this guy?!?)

Renegade Evolution and Natalia Antonova share their incredulity with us, that Kyle won't just go away.

Sometimes, all you can say is: GOOD LORD!

~*~

Mista Jaycee writes about Los Angeles Sparks forward Candace Parker's pregnancy.. The WHOLE CONCEPT of a visibly-pregnant professional basketball player is probably the most wonderfully feminist news I've heard in awhile! GO CANDACE!

~*~

Callin from the funhouse...

I had not heard that Stooges guitarist Ron Asheton passed away from a heart attack at age 60 until reading a two-month-old Rolling Stone obituary. (Yeesh, I am so OUT OF IT!)

This is particularly sad to hear...Ron was most assuredly one of the great unsung heroes of the genre. Lots and lots of modern rock guitarists were deeply influenced by Ron and don't even realize the immense musical debt they owe him.

Goodbye dear friend. (And thanks for enabling Iggy all those years--somebody had to do it!)

~*~

Private email lists are currently under fire, since Politico's Michael Calderone just outed Ezra Klein's little (large, actually) private club, named JournoList (JList for short). All the cool kids like Paul Krugman and Eric Alterman are on it. With so many bigshot liberal/radical bloggers on the email list, doesn't this make it something of a left-wing echo chamber?

Well, duh! Ya think???? (Ezra responded in a flip, rather fuck-you fashion.)

Many people are weighing in, and I personally vented on a thread at Lean Left:

[KTK posted] And there is a kind of exclusivist quality to them that can be troubling, especially if they become a kind of quasi-official, but walled-off, function of a larger group. Many list members recognize that, and there are ways to deal with it.

[I replied] If they want to. Do they?

The “gang pile” syndrome is one unfortunate facet of these lists; and yes, I’ve been on them too. People who lack nerve require posses, that herd of independent minds, all covering/saying the same thing. Rather than develop individually, lots of these people are carbon-copies of each other and all report/pile on the same things, the same week. And now we know why–it’s coordinated and it’s an echo chamber. The same thing happens in Blogdonia, where certain controversial posts/threads are red-flagged, email lists pass the word, and there is a sudden unbelievable swarm of comments and fevered linkage. (Sometimes, if you are hip to who is on a list, you can tell who first thought up the talking points.) This can and does turn into simple bullying.

In addition, the I-brought-my-posse effect breeds stupidity and cowardice. Learn to defend yourself without being in a horde. Learn to find your own issues, not just follow the frat house gang/mob to the next Big Thing.

Also, there is the matter of blacklisting. If XYZ, your buddy and email droog, says “Daisy’s a real bitch” on your beloved email list, are you going to tell me that you won’t be prejudiced by that, even before you know me, or my comments/behavior on your blog? Because you know, that is thoroughly unfair and just generally poisons the waters. Example: I might be purposely antagonistic on a blog in which I think the blogger has, say, made fun of vegetarians. If you haven’t, that has nothing to do with you. But because this person doesn’t like my political message, they call me a bitch and without MY knowing why, you–third party to this feud–will be hostile to me immediately. Or at least, you will be unlikely to give me a fair hearing. (And yes, I do think that is how human beings are. We are easily prejudiced by those we respect and admire, our peers.) I’ve seen this phenomenon happen from both sides–as the victim AND as the person on the list, watching it happen.

It is tantamount to blacklisting; it freezes people out who have particularly radical or unpopular opinions.

THOSE are a FEW of the problem with these lists.

And with this revelation, we see that much of Leftist/Feminist/Progressive Blogdonia continues its march towards replicating middle-class high school cliques and attendant juvenile idiocy.

As one of my favorite modern philosophers once said: Meet the New Boss, Same as the Old Boss.

~*~

EDITED TO ADD:

Speaking of being out of it, I forgot to add a tribute to Ron!

Gimme Danger - Iggy Pop & The Stooges