LAURA NYRO (and LABELLE) jimmy mack

Let's listen to a great cover. Yeah! We should do that.

The Lucky Man

How did I get so lucky? Mr. Lucky, to hit the fucking jackpot, and find the one woman that I could love like crazy for forty years, raise two nice children with, a woman who would then kick me out, and then tell me to stay out in a myriad of sarcastic, hurtful ways, for years, until I finally gave up and filed for divorce. Cruel to be kind! (Pace, Nick Lowe.) Lucky, because that was exactly what I needed, probably, to be abandoned, like my parents had abandoned me before her. And quite a few friends, too. I asked for it, no doubt. My White Whale, my Moby-Dick, abandonment. I chased it! And it hit just when it would hurt the most. Perfect timing! When it's was too late to recover. Past retirement age! I married a genius. Thanks, honey. Perfect. She shoots! She scores! Touche, M.F.

But I made it easy, didn't I? What a sap. Right up to the end, when we were still together, I'd wake up and look over and think, how did I get so lucky! This fabulous woman loves me and sleeps with me every night! And what's worse, I still love you. I still dream about us. I just hope that you're happy, although I don't think that you are. Happiness isn't for everybody, don't you a agree? Your interests lie elsewhere, I think. Whatever turns you on. Bon chance, mon cheri. But thanks for everything. It was great while it lasted.

LAURA NYRO (and LABELLE) nowhere to run

Nowhere to run! We're still us, wherever we may go. We might as well surrender. 

America's Reichstag Fire Moment

Regular readers will have noticed that I have been trying to either lay off the politics all together, or just peck around the corners in an attempt to avoid the elephant in the room. Some of that was due to fatigue brought on by the daily avalanche of misdeeds, idiocy, and irredeemable malfeasance in office that pours forth from our American governments at all levels and from all political parties in our fantastic, still new and exciting 21^st Century. That fatigue may be replaced by renewed interest, however, now that America has had her Reichstag Fire Moment.

Our so-called elected officials have chosen this as the moment to pull back all of the curtains and make visible their true natures. Like the Nazis burning their own parliament building, it is as though Mr. Hyde has finally realized that there is no need to ever change back into Dr. Jekyll. The American electorate has expressed its undying willingness to vote for and channel money to Mr. Hyde in spite of the trail of rape, ruin, and destruction that he leaves in his wake. They seem to like it! God knows that it's a shame, but the American electorate is apparently much stupider than it had generally been given credit for.

One third of Americans are very enthusiastic about this destruction of their prosperity and their freedom; they are as wildly happy about the new National Conservatism as drunken teenagers at an end-of-summer beach bonfire. Another third have either not noticed, or are choosing to wait this one out and see what happens. One third, God bless them, are genuinely distressed by the coup that we just witnessed in Washington, but they are somehow unable to raise themselves off of their couches to do anything about it. The French would be setting cars on fire.

Most of the latter third are still hoping that the situation can be saved by some mechanism of good, old-fashioned democracy, like voting or something. How quaint is that? Cute, and quaint. On the one hand, they believe that it is still the early 20^th Century, when democratic norms were still in effect, and on the other hand, they are sure that some great new tool of the Internet/ Smart Phone age will turn this terrible thing around. Each of these three groups is a poor, dead thing in the hands of our new bosses. 

This is a political situation that could once again become of interest, but not in a good way. Wrapped in the flag, and carrying the cross of Calvary. Wasn't that how it was supposed to happen? Whoever said that was pretty close, actually.

Paolo Conte - Via Con Me (Lyrics)

More of the same, with a video bonus. 

Paolo Conte - Aguaplano

Another rediscovery from an old mix CD, which means it was on one of my long lost computers ten or fifteen years ago. Nice to be reacquainted. This is good stuff. 

Mr. Fred Update

So, How Goes It With Mr. Fred?

Mr. Fred still believes in giving people a chance to prove their good intentions, instead of judging them immediately to be the self-dealing criminals that they almost certainly are, and often turn out to be after it's too late. Sometimes, the price that he pays is merely emotional; sometimes, there is a loss of cash involved. Honestly, the last good jolt suffered as a result of this Pollyanna foolishness will probably close the door on this overgenerous nature. He tried, though, he really did. If a line is now drawn, it is only after a lifetime of supernatural forbearance. In the use of the term, “lifetime,” there is no exaggeration. Mr. Fred has been mistreated, abused, and let-down by people since he was a babe in those awful cloth diapers that were the norm at the time. Mr. Fred's misplaced forbearance for certain people lasted for their entire lifetimes. But hey, if humans in general are unworthy little shits, whose fault is that? It is not, I suggest to you, Mr. Fred's fault. So fuck 'em. The living and the dead. Fuck 'em all.

Mr. Fred remains, sure and steady, perched in the thick of his far-away brier batch. His health is good. He is officially old, bald, fat, and happy. He tries to keep himself as thoroughly distracted as possible with music, reading, and the Internet. He is reading more novels than had been the custom. For many years, he tended to read history and general non-fiction, but those things have lost some of their gloss as distractions. Novels, entire invented worlds, are intended to carry you away from the world that you wake up in, and they still do a wonderful job of it. He's even read some classic science fiction, including Babel-17, by Samuel R. Delany, after decades of ignoring the entire genre. If the world situation sinks even further into chaos, Mr. Fred may be forced to resort to writing a novel to avoid confronting the horror of reality.

(Best wishes to you all. May your efforts to process and deal with the exigencies of modern life bring you comfort and happiness. Keep track of the foods that may disappear from our diets, and enjoy their consumption while you may. Remember your reusable bags! Keep a shelf or two of analog books handy in case the Internet goes down permanently. Try not to worry too much, because, after all, there isn't much you can do about anything.)