Over at C.W.’s place, he drools over the Studebaker Avanti:
I, on the other hand, think that the Avanti remains the only car ever built where the back was actually better-looking than the front:
And speaking of rear ends, he also posted this:
My comment: “Keep the Volvo, burn down the house.”
I love C.W. like a brother, but occasionally he worries me.
Coronavirus captivity self-isolation, Day 956, and all the government edicts are starting to have an effect:
While some people are being “allowed” to go back to work:
…not everyone can do so:
Others are starting to feel the strain:
Still others are tackling weighty isolation issues:
…some people are just getting more and more depressed.
A few people are unaffected by the pandemic:
And some have even benefited from the thing:
But some themes are just eternal:
So to help you forget all this morbid stuff, some things that don’t suck. Here’s a one-time skyscraper hotel building, redesigned into social-distance accommodation:
Social distancing, country style:
And maybe there’s some light at the end of the tunnel:
Until that time, here’s a little trip down Mammary Lane. First, Bernadette Peters:
…Jamie Lee Curtis:
…Susan Sarandon:
…and finally, Dolly:
…who wins, by several cup sizes.
Stumbling along the digital highways and byways (a.k.a Teh Intarwebz) the other day, I was reminded of what I call “little-known greatness” in modern music. Typically, this involves a musician or band which are not as well-known as the gods (e.g. Beatles, Genesis, Freddie Mercury, Robert Plant), but who are of astonishing brilliance. Here’s one such example.
In my long-distant yoot, I heard a ballad played at a party which stopped me in my tracks — I actually stopped chatting up a girl to listen to it — and when I asked the DJ the name of the song or the band, he said,, “I dunno who the band is — it’s off a tape I got from a buddy — but I think the song is called Ten Little Indians.”
So the next day I went over to Ye Olde Recorde Barre and looked all over for Ten Little Indians, without any success. Even Neville, the guy behind the counter — a complete encyclopedia of all things pop music — had never heard of it, so I went away frustrated. (Remember, children: in those days there was not only neither Google nor Internet; Sergei Brin hadn’t even been born yet.)
Time passed, and I forgot about Ten Little Indians, as one does. Then about a year later I went to another party, only this party featured a DJ spinning discs instead of playing tapes. (Note to children: ask your grandparents to explain “discs” to you.) And mirabile dictu, that song got played.
Of course, its title wasn’t Ten Little Indians, it was Only One Woman, performed by a spotty-faced teenage Brit duo called The Marbles. The lead singer was a guy named Graham Bonnet (“bonn-ay”) and he was (and is) one of the Little-Known Greats. Here he is as I first heard him back in 1968, and here he is many years later, as the lead singer of Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow, performing Since You’ve Been Gone.
As an aside, Ritchie Blackmore can best be summarized as “Guitarist: god; human being: complete asshole”, if for no other reason than he fired Bonnet as his vocalist because Bonnet didn’t have long hair, and Blackmore wanted a rock band that looked like a rock band. Needless to say, the band never sounded as good after that. (Ronnie Dio fans can shut up, at this point.)
But it doesn’t end there. Still wandering along the Internet tributaries and branch lines, I happened upon the selfsame Since You’ve Been Gone, only this time performed by Queen’s Brian May and a fantastic backing band.
Who knew that Brian May could sing like that?
We all know that Brian May = guitar god — duh — but as a singer, he can truly be called a Little-Known Great. And to top it all, I think his guitar solo in the above song is better than Blackmore’s, and the backing singers are… phwoarrrr.
And still on the topic of Guitar Gods Who Can Sing, how about Eric Clapton doing Stormy Monday ? (B.B. King apparently called it the best version of the song he’d ever heard.) And of course, Clapton’s guitar solos are a wonder of blues improvisation. Which leads me to my next meandering point.
One of the knocks on classical musicians is that while they are wonderful performers of music, their expertise is limited to written music — i.e. they can’t improvise on the fly. Even Bach’s Goldberg Variations are scripted, so to speak.
Step forward, Victor Borge — whom we all know as a wonderful comedian as well as a brilliant classical pianist. Here he is, playing along with maestro violinist Anton Kontra, providing accompaniment to a song he had never heard before. But it doesn’t end there: not only does Borge improvise the backing, but as the piece progresses, the devilish Kontra tries to trip him up with sudden key-, rhythm- and melody changes; and Borge not only keeps up, but returns the favor. (As one of the commenters puts it: when the lead violinist is sweating at the end…)
Finally, before I wander off the point and into a pit, let’s consider Rowan Atkinson as the Devil (a.k.a “Toby”). Go ahead and enjoy it first before going below the fold. Read more
Executive Summary: Choirboy tries to break into Old Fart’s house; Old Fart shoots choirboy dead; choirboy’s family is upset.
“He could have used a warning,” Lakesha Thompson, Pipkins’ sister-in-law, said. “He could have let him know that he did have a gun on his property and he would use it in self-defense.”
And your brother-in-law could have chosen a life that didn’t include a lengthy criminal record and incarceration. Sorry, sister: a life of crime in north Texas will always carry the risk of sudden death. Tell your friends, pass it around.
For the rest of us law-abiding folks, it’s one less asshole to have to worry about, therefore:
Over at Instapundit, Gail Heriot has posted a decent summary of the England-Scotland alliance. But then there’s this:
In 1979, an effort to establish (or re-establish) a separate Scottish legislature via referendum failed. It did so, however, only because the Act authorizing the referendum required that at least 40% of the entire Scottish electorate vote in favor. While the referendum got more yes than no votes, turnout was poor. In 1997, another such referendum was held. This time it passed, a Scottish Parliament was established, and the process of “devolution” was begun.
In 2014, when an independence referendum was held, it came a lot closer to passing than union supporters would have preferred. Ultimately, Scottish voters went 55.3% to 44.7% in favor of sticking it out with England.
What interests me, and many others, is the fact that only the Scots voted on whether to leave or stay in the Union, which begs the question: why did not all interested parties — including the English and Welsh — vote on separation?
Had the population living south of the River Tweed voted, you bet there’s have been considerable support behind a “Toss the Jocks” movement — Mr Free Market and The Englishman claim that at least two-thirds of English voters would support expelling the porridge-monkeys in a heartbeat, had they been allowed to do so.
Such ravings should be taken with a grain of salt — especially when expressions like “Can we then finish what we started at Culloden?” and “Rebuild Hadrian’s Wall” are thrown into the mix. Nevertheless, we Murkins should not underestimate the depth of enmity that still exists between the Picts and the Angles even after all this time. It’s most openly expressed by the Scots, such as when supporting anyone playing England in sporting competitions, but the anti-Jock sentiments in England, while less overt, still run pretty deep.
We can talk about the Welsh and Irish situations on another occasion; but in the meantime, think of the situation as a (very) civilized Balkans, and you’ll get the idea.
A couple days ago, I made this statement:
Peter’s thoughts about maintaining your battle rifle are also why I prefer the AK-47 over the AR-15: throw an AK in the mud, drop it off the back of a truck, and it’ll still shoot. Good luck doing that with your AR-15, with all its electronic doodads and plastic furniture.
…prompting this response from Reader Amos:
“I have no real world experience, but Karl’s and Ian’s mud tests at InRangeTV dispute that AR/AK assessment.”
Purely coincidentally, a few days before that Longtime Friend & Reader JohnC had sent me this pic:
Frankly, I don’t believe the pic, myself — but even if an exaggeration, it’s probably not too far from the truth [/Dan Rather]. I’ve seen AKs in absolutely shocking condition that were still perfectly operable, and I bet that many Vietnam- and Sandbox vets would probably back me up. Feel free to disagree with my original statement, however.