News Roundup

Just popping over for a little of the old in-out, darling. [/Clockwork Orange]



which will make it a little difficult to manage the Commie louts in my preferred manner, but oh well.


I was going to rant about filthy foreigners and their horrible dietary choices, but then I remembered things like refried beans, squid ink, black pudding and White Castle sliders.


yup, keep in prodding the rattlesnake, Governor Witless.  And the media reaction:


actually, the stormtroopers would be the state police agents that the governor is using to enforce her insane lockdown policy.


so not much has changed, then.


actually, we already hate you, you Communist motherfuckers.  Trump’s just reminding us why.


and Harvard professor Bartholet uses incident as further reason for banning homeschooling.


as the BritPolice’s fearless war on victimless crime continues.


I guess it all depends on how you define “spiritual wellbeing”.

Which reminds me:  I need to stop off at Goody Goody later today for a case of Sipsmiths.

Stupid People

One of the most unattractive things that has come out of the Chinkvirus pandemic has been the social shaming of people who, in the opinions of some, are ignoring the dangers of the virus’s spread.  Brits have coined a term “covidiots” to describe these people, hence (link in pic):

Well of course they would be fearful, because — and let’s be under no illusions about this —  when it comes to viral infection, only two things matter:  dosage (the actual number of viruses inhaled or ingested) and its subset, dispersion.

Most studies on infection take place in a closed room of about 400 sq.ft. (20′ x 20′).  Now take that outside (especially on a breezy day), and the dosage will be immediately reduced to an enormous degree because the wind not only disperses the virus-laden particles, but can even blow them apart, reducing their danger exponentially.  It’s why the Nazis went to all the trouble of building gas chambers at Auschwitz, instead of just spraying Zyklon-B on the hapless Jews out in the fields.

So to return to the above hysteria:  of course a majority of people are going to be apprehensive about going back to the office — it’s a closed environment, you idiots, and viral infection is definitely a possibility.  But out in the open air?

Nada, zip, zilch — as long as people keep some distance between themselves and strangers so that the open air can work its magic.  And don’t touch railings and other surfaces that others have touched without cleaning your hands with disinfectant wipes immediately afterwards.

And as for those idiot cops who keep harassing sunbathers, surfers and the like:  the cops should be tied to lampposts and hosed down with icy water (lest they get viral infections by getting too close to the people they’re harassing), e.g.:

And those moron journalists [redundancy alert]  who perpetuate this foolishness deserve the same treatment.

Monday Funnies

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.

Saturday Music Musings

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

Dept. Of Righteous Shootings

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: