Chinese Lives are Funny - Cab Calloway and “Chop Chop Charlie Chan from China”

With all the looting, rioting and moping, you’d get the idea that all over the world Blacks are persecuted, and not given a break because, er, uh, why exactly? The color of their skin? As if red skin or yellow skin or brown skin is so fabulous? Or because blacks have flatter noses? As opposed to, what, Asians who have those weird eyes? And why doesn’t anyone care that Jews have been persecuted all over the world for 2000 years, not just in the Southern-Idiot part of the South where an entire Civil War was fought on behalf of black freedom?

The truth, of course, is that we’re all HUMAN, and most minorities are going to be disliked unless they make themselves useful. Like the Jews being comedians, lawyers and accountants (or all three at the same time). Like Asians doing the laundry and giving great take-out food. Like the Pakistani or Indian driving the cab. Find a way to ingratiate yourself with the majority, and you’re fine. Be lazy and obnoxious, and expect everything on a platter even when you’re offered an education and all kinds of breaks…and no, you’ll have to go further. You might create ISIS and demand that everybody believe in what you believe or they DIE. You get a machine gun and destroy a magazine office, or a disco. You might be one of the Arabs who thinks they get goats to fuck in heaven if they destroy a famous building in New York City. Maybe you put on idiot face-paint or carry an idiot-sign, and then go to the Capital and beat up police and pose with souvenirs like Nancy Pelosi’s property, all because an asshole President told you to, and an elected jerk named Hawley provoked you by strutting into the building waving his fist in the air. Maybe your for or anti-“FA” (I think that’s a brand of soap) and go nuts in hippie-dippie Oregon.

In today’s “cancel culture,” people get banned for saying something or doing something, but it’s quite selective. Another FUN thing, is to thumb through the history book, and get bonkers over what some person did 100 or 200 years ago, back when people still thought angels sat in the clouds and you’d go blind from masturbation. One of the ridiculous things about the various movements and slogans, is that they imply that the minority NEVER did anything bad, was ALWAYS the victim, and if in power, would NEVER abuse it.

Jesus Christ. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. Do the “Black Lives Matter” folks ever point in the direction of Nigeria, where Boko Harum, or Procol Haram or whoever they are, rape and kidnap teenagers? Same color, folks. Anyone who sulks about the Civil War want to point out how often one African nation fought their neighbor and spilled blood for land and bullshit? Was Genghis Khan white? Sikhs? Didn’t anyone study history and realize that greed, war, bloodshed and power are obsessions of all races? No, today we hire “professors” who spread ethnic lies and retain their tenure. No “cancel culture” for THEM.

At one time, there were a lot of 78 rpm records that had some laughs over accents. Italian accents. Jewish accents. Dutch and German accents. Black dialect. Most of it was not hateful, just a comical tweak at odd new immigrants. The immigrants may have been a little pissed off at some of it, but they learned...to assimilate. They took the best of their culture, and added it to the melting pot. They kept their ethnic foods. Some kept their ethnic clothing. But they learned to speak in a non-stereotypical way, and were accepted. So was Chico Marx's idiotic Italian accent a bad thing? Or Fred Allen's alley, where you;d hear Southern, Jewish, New England and Irish dialect comedians get laughs?

Well, down below, just for the FUN of it, is a black guy laughing at the Chinese. Call it what it is. A novelty song. A bit of human nature. Cab didn’t mean much by it, he was just singing a song.

But...check out his mock-Chinese nonsense babbling at 2:23. Uh-oh. Will some radical Asian do-gooder declare him A RACIST?? Today, for antics like that, Cab's legacy of ALL his music could be banned from Spotify, and oh, my, that would mean his record label would have to do without his royalty check of $21.94. Oh, it’s all pretty complex and complicated. Some felt that Cab was “too ethnic” with his brand of hide-the-ho (or whatever that catch-phrase was). One generation spurns Fats Waller, and the next puts him on Broadway in “Ain’t Misbehavin’.” Moms Mabley and Mantan Moreland were cheered in the 60’s and scorned in the 70’s. Too often, the real problems in life as ignored because people go on about petty bullshit and scream about somebody who should not be on American currency, like Abraham Lincoln (?). Revisionist history, “fake news,” slanted reporting…”and so it goes.” PS, we’re NOT supposed to like Charlie Chan movies? They’re quite entertaining, and this thing from Cab ain’t so bad either.

Cab Calloway chuckles over CHOP CHOP CHARLIE CHAN FROM CHINA

DUMB BLONDES - DEAD OR ALIVE “SHELL AND THE CRUSH”

    Dumb blondes: sexy, alternately giddy and morose, seemingly incapable of pronouncing certain words of the English language, thoroughly capable of blowjobs IF they’ve had a nice dinner or good seats at a show…they are eternally fascinating. 

    Not to imply that Shell who once fronted “Shell and the Crush” was dumb. Perhaps she just played it that way, like Goldie Hawn. I've met Goldie, and she's genuinely cheerful, but far from dumb!

    Back around the time Cyndi Lauper’s anthem “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” arrived, record labels were scurrying to find equally trashy, flighty, idiotic and erotic punk chicks to promote. Warners had an e.p. on “Shell and the Crush,” featuring the babe wearing a typical easy trash-and-vaudeville outfit. The opening girls-just-wanna-have-fun song? “Popular Girl.”

    Why it didn’t become a hit, I have no idea. One dopey flash-in-the-pants cheap-twat song from Lauper was enough? Really? Who can EVER get enough?? 

    Shell (that’s short for Michelle) had the sultry-snotty delivery down perfectly, her dialect typical of what you’d hear in any East Village used clothing store where chicks spend hours and hours holding skirts up to themselves while their boyfriends try to refrain from saying, "You look best wearing nothing at all." 

    As shell sings it, “Girl” is pronounced “Gehl” (rhymes with smell.) Like any pogo punk who would hop up and down because she has no idea how to dance, when she sings “go crazy” she has to pitch that itchy last word higher than what you’d get if you kicked Joe Besser in the balls: “Cray-ZEE!” 

    Another adorable quirk: she somehow can’t rhyme “with the crowd.” and “On the town.” Town is pronounced tyeeOWn. Oh, she was ahead of her time. Now idiot Millennial bitches say "Thank you" by pronouncing it "think yow."  Gotta love it, that self-absorbed self-entitled girly-girl behavior.   

    Is it any wonder I kept this gem all these decades after Warners' publicity department mailed it to me? So what happened to SHELL after her rock dreams of stardom got CRUSHED?

    The attractive singer got work as an actress and made a fortune via lingerie sales. Then she died of kidney failure before she reached fifty. 

    Ohio-born Michelle Kepler (October 5, 1958-February 1, 2008) first broke into show business in Chattanooga, Tennessee, her teen beauty getting her roles in “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie” (hey, did she play the part that required topless nudity?) and “The Sound of Music” (no topless nudity). 

    After her Warners ep, she apparently divided her time between marriage and divorce (first husband, 1985-1991, second husband, 1993-2000) and building up her clothing business, promoted via the Home Shopping Network.  She claimed that her “Lacy Afternoon” line of robes, shoes, blouses and jewelry and perfume netted her 20 million dollars. Or grossed. Well, I really don’t know how gross the perfume may have been. This was one of her mildly spiced items:

    Her fame as an entrepeneur was matched, at least for a while, by television fame. Shell played nurse Amy Vining on the long-running soap opera “General Hospital,” concluding her work there in 2002. She seemed to concentrate on her business career after that, living her last six years in Portland, Oregon. 

    Shell's gone (unless you believe in "The Ghost in the Shell) but there’s probably a lot of bedroom action still going on involving “Lacy Afternoon” bedwear. Hopefully, some of the foreplay includes a play of “POPULAR GIRL.” 

"POPULAR GIRL" - no premium account weaselry, no password, no Paypal donation request, no dodgy website full of malware and porn 

DUMB BLONDES DEAD OR ALIVE - Nina Gordon “NOW I CAN DIE”

Skipping a generation from Michelle Kepler, here’s Nina Rachel Gordon Shapiro (November 14, 1967)  who was toddling at the same time another Jewish blonde with an adorable dumb streak, Goldie Hawn, was becoming a star on “Laugh-In.” Nina got her first taste of fame in 1992, long after “Shell and the Crush” was (minor) history, and after Julie Brown’s parody song “‘Cause I’m a Blonde” and Ellen Foley’s cover of “Stupid Girl.” 

Nina and a friend put together Veruca Salt, an alt-rock band that got some buzz with Nina’s self-penned single “Seether.” Six years later, the band split up, and in 2000, Nina released her first solo album. 

Unlike Cyndi Lauper, who splashed with an effervescent novelty single before drowning in the soda-gone-flat ballad ’True Colors,” Nina did the reverse. Her first single was a ballad, the smoothly over-produced “"Tonight and the Rest of My Life.” Demonstrating a restraint Whitney Houston would never know, Nina tempered the car-alarm ah-ee-ah, and made some serious cash when the song turned up on soundtracks of femme-favorite films “The Notebook” and “Chocolat.” 

Everyone knows, if you don’t follow up your hit with another hit, you’re suddenly a has-been. Nina’s choice for her next single was the brilliantly stupid “Now I Can Die.” In the video, she starts out ON HER KNEES in front of our (unseen, male P.O.V. like porn) hero. She spends the rest of the vid grinning like an imbecile, pulling her pants back on, and wandering around caca-California like the ultimate girly-girl on a sugar high.  

Unlike brunettes or redheads, the allure of the blonde is almost always tied to her gullibility. If she isn’t a total idiot, she’s easily duped. Think about Marilyn Monroe not realizing Tony Curtis was a man in drag. Jayne Mansfield was even more of a boob. Following in the tradition, and singing this song as if she actually meant it and it’s not a parody, Nina raves about a rich crossdresser who is so cool he has his own ringtone on his phone. This is impressive? To a blonde, yes.

For being with this guy for probably no longer than a hamster's lifespan, she's raving about knowing the meaning of life...and being ready to DIE.  How…dumb…IS SHE?

Let’s just say that Elvis Costello probably was not talking about a blonde when he penned the immortal couplet: “"I said I'm so happy that I could die / She said drop dead and left with another guy.”  Here, not thinking this cad would probably be leaving her for next year's model, Nina confides:

He takes me everywhere
He goes and he goes everywhere
He likes to try on all my clothes
But not my underwear….
He gives me everything
He's got and he's got everything
He calls me on the phone a lot
He's got a special ring

As another stung man, Joe Jackson once sang, “Is she really going out with HIM? But that’s the dumb blonde for you. 

While misshapen fools like Elvis Costello and Joe Jackson are heartbroken, the dumb blonde goes out with some total asshole because he’s rich, because he’s one I.Q. point higher than the chick, or for other pointless and superficial reasons like having a cool car, enjoying travel, or showing a bogus “feminine side.” Whatever. Lah dee dah.  

Nina, who was as old as Jesus when this song came out (33) sings it like a moonstruck 17 year-old. (Oh, make it 18. We have to be PC here.) Burbling like she's totally gaga, she chirps:  

Yeah he really loves me
Sweethearts and turtledoves me

Turtledoves? In the 21st century? It gets sillier. Her ultimate epiphany: “I am the girl. And he is the guy.”  

That’s right, all you women of the 70’s and 80’s who fought for equality. At the start of the 21st century, chicks are proving Darwin was wrong. Our Nina ain’t a MS, and she’s not in misery; she’s happy to be the GIRL. That’s another aspect we love about dumb blondes (or any stupid girl); the willingness to NOT be a woman, but to remain a GIRL.

You might remember the dumb blonde in the musical version of “Little Shop of Horrors.” Unlike the charming brunette in the original film, the dumb blonde gets repeatedly slapped and abused by her sadistic dentist-boyfriend. “I’m sorry doctor, sorry doctor, sorry doctor- OWWWW!” Nina isn’t quite so dumb, but her idea of a catch is a guy who simply isn't overtly misogynistic toward her:

And he never hates me
Just wants to levitate me

Gosh, who wouldn't love a guy who doesn't openly hate you? Low self-esteem, anyone?

Just how this guy “levitates” Nina, we aren’t told, but who knows, he might like to take her on roller coaster rides. He might buy her platform shoes. He might allow her to get on top which she thinks is a sign of letting her have control but HE knows is just a ploy so he doesn’t have to do any work.

The kicker for this fantastic song (I know I'm giving it a LOT of space here!) is Nina’s naive notion that this asshole is the be-all and end-all. He’s shown her is special ring phone, he’s worn her clothes, he’s shown off his fancy car:

He opened up my eyes
I understand everything
And now I can die

Now it’s time for her to get serious and confidential. Seriously. S’riously. Rilly. She actually punctuates her nitwicity with a hooting owlet cry of “WOOOO." Um, like, she just said she's ready to die but, er, uh...

I'm not trying to say
That I don't want to live
'cause I do...
But if tomorrow my number should be called
I won't be sad
I won't feel bad at all
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
    
This song would not be nearly so entertaining if Nina wasn't being so gum-chewing chick-let sincere. There was a vague element of humor in Cyndi's idiot "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," (especially when you know the song was written by a man), but THIS thing is intended to appeal to POV-loving porn-loving males fantasizing about a JAP that Frank Zappa would've liked to screw. It was also supposed to be a chatty Cathy confession to pillow-fighting bubble-headed school girls of every possible hair color. WOOOOOO!

This song never fails to make me smile when I play it. I even got a smile off the name of her publishing company: Celestial Snail.  Is that a chick or what? She names her publishing company after one of the lowliest forms of life, but one that somehow (with the right GUY snail) can be CELESTIAL. Ever know a hippie chick who couldn’t complete a sentence without the word “cosmic” being in it? Things haven’t changed. Not really. Only the slang. Ahhh, celestial! How awesome!

While “Tonight and the Rest of My Life” was a modest hit and got picked up for inclusion in sappy movies, Nina’s album didn’t reach the all-important Billboard Top 100. It ONLY sold about a quarter million copies, which had Warner Bros. feeling edgy about how edgy or how soft and squishy she was. She kept busy with club dates and songwriting, but the follow-up album got delayed for one reason or another, and the YEARS went by. A YEAR in the record business is more like a DECADE. You can imagine how many record producers were hired and fired, and how many radio stations and record stores closed up in the time between her 2000 album and her 2006 follow-up, “Bleeding Heart Graffiti.”

It’s possible some might rue the reverse-Lauper strategy of having a morose romantic hit song and THEN coming up with a teenage party tune, but in THIS ill world, we salute her for following her instincts, and essentially putting out a second tune, rolling the dice, and realizing, “and now my career can die.” PS, she’s still married to the same guy for quite a long time now, and surely, he gives her everything.

You know the websites where you can transform a YouTube video's soundtrack into an mp3 file, so I haven't done it for you. (Call me Grinch.)

Lorne Greene and the Jewish "RINGO" called...SHLOMO - Happy Rosh Hashanah

Jewish holidays always shift around. When's Rosh Hashanah this year? Yom Kippur? Chanukah? And are we sure we've spelled them correctly?

Rosh Hashanah starts today at sundown. And I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody, outside of a small circle of Jews.  The biblical term isn't "Rosh Hashanah" it's "Yom Teruah," which translates as "day of shouting." As in shouting HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

It sure wouldn't interest Patti Smith, Peter Gabriel or Roger Waters. Those are three antiSemites who support BDS against Israel, and only Israel. Syria is fine. North Korea is fine. Russia is fine. Red China is Fine. Turkey is fine. Nigeria is fine. There are people fighting about land, doing ethnic cleansing, and conducting violent religious psycho-wars all over the place but SOME people ONLY look at Israel. Gee, why would that be?

The argument is "This isn't antiSemitism, it's against Israel." And what is Israel? "The Jewish State." It's the one little sliver in the world where Jews can't be told "Get Thee Out" or have their tombstones desecrated, their synagogues spray-painted or see a rabbi smacked to the pavement for wearing religious garb. But let's lighten up...

...and going with our C&W theme of posts this time, here's SHLOMO, the Jewish version of Lorne Greene's novelty classic "Ringo." 

Lorne Greene (Lyon Himan Green) was Jewish. So was Michael Landon (Eugene Orowitz). Yep, half the Ponderosa were Jews! What a "Bonanza." 

"Shlomo" is by Country Yossi. Yossi Toiv debuted on radio in 1986, and this sample of his fine work is from the vinyl version found on "Country Yossi and the Shteeble Hoppers Strike Again." Most of his early albums include Jewish versions of classic pop (Sedaka, Beach Boys, etc.) and country (Johnny Cash). 

"Shlomo" has that galloping beat that you find with so many cowboy songs. It was also appropriated by another Jew, William Shatner, for "Has Been." In that song, he takes on his critics who are "riding on their arm chairs...while they have not done shit." But I digress. 

If you want to follow Yossi, he's on Twitter (https://twitter.com/countryyossi) but the 70 year-old radio star and comedian hasn't posted since 2015. His CountryYossi website seems likewise dormant.

Country Yossi's stuff is pretty orthodox…if you just light Chanukah candles and eat bagels and lox, you might not get all the references. If you keep the Sabbath, know the last words that differentiate a prayer for bread and a prayer for wine, and can at least sing "Adon Olum" from memory, you shouldn't have much trouble. And if you are an observant Jew, you will notice the link is below. (Unobservant Gentiles can see this, too!) 

SHLOMO - instant download or listen online - no Pay-to-Hear Rapidgator crap, no webstie full of malware or porn ads

The Johnny Cash "FOLSOM PRISON" PARODY - conception co.

Here's a reply to request from FOUR PRISONERS who escaped from jail the other day. The got out because they were no match for TWO FEMALE guards. 

They contacted the blog and wrote, "How about posting a funny prison song?" 

You got it, guys. 

Below is a laugh-a-minute parody of "Folsom Prison Blues." Guys, you can download it or hear it online on whatever laptop you stole. Where are you, making your way East to fuck Joyce Mitchell?

When these guys are captured, they'll probably be charged with VIOLATING THE #METOO movement. You guys deliberately overpowered two FEMALE guards, and that's very sexist of you. 

Since women can do ANY job as well as a man, including guarding MALE PRISONERS, you four will have to be charged with a hate crime against women. You misogynists. You acted like common criminals. 

This obscure parody of "Folsom Prison Blues" was done in 1972 by the Conception Corporation.  They, along with Credibility Gap and Congress of Wonders, tried to be broader, bolder versions of the hallucinogenic Firesign Theater.

The Corporation open with a nudge-nudge in-joke reference to Lenny Bruce, inventor of "Yaddi-yadda" via his prison bit "Father Flotski's Triumph." Maybe the funniest thing about the parody is the crowd sound effects...how easily an audience can be manipulated into cheers or boos. 

The original "Folsom Prison Blues" could've gotten Johnny Cash locked up for plagiarism. (This was back in the day when plagiarism and piracy were actually considered criminal activity). See, the melody for the tune is actually "Crescent City Blues." Johnny may have thought it was just an old folk song when he grafted the new lyrics onto it. Legend has it that he offered to switch the tune around but Sam Phillips, owner of Sun Records, said it wasn't worth fussing with. When the song became a hit, the original composer sued and won a settlement.

The lyrics are a tad funny. All Johnny did was get arrested for vagrancy. Here, he's a mean cuss who claimed to have shot a man in Reno just to watch him die. That's worth a chuckle. I myself was in Nevada once, and I shot some craps in Reno just to watch them die.

FOLSOM PRISON PARODY - listen online or download - no creepy porn ads, no dodgy website and no ego password

UPDATE SEP 30. That didn't take long, did it! The fab four are back in jail....

REMEMBER WHEN THOSE "COO COO" BEATLES FIRST ARRIVED?

Abbey Road's turned 50. The Beatles are older. (Ringo is 79, remember). 

Let's go back to Beatlemania when every record label was trying to scoop up stuff Capitol rejected. Right. Singles released on Vee-Jay and Tollie and "She Loves  You" was on Philadelphia's Swan label. ALSO on Swan, was the attempted cash-in comedy album by Fisher & Marks.



Back then, Beatlemania was a hot seller, but so was topical comedy on records. "The First Family" was a sketch comedy album that sold a million copies for the tiny Cadence label. Indie labels drooled over the chance to have big sales like that. 

This was back when there were only a few TV channels, and almost nobody was doing sketch comedy or topical humor. There was no "Carol Burnett Show" to do a send-up of JFK and Jackie in the White House OR do a musical parody on The Beatles.
 
When Elizabeth Taylor began fooling around with Richard Burton, there was Will Jordan's indie "All About Cleopatra" album. When "Man from UNCLE" was a huge hit, up came "The Man from TANTE" from Brill & Foster. Beatlemania led to "Coo Coo Beatles World." 

And who were Fisher and Marks? Just a pair of local Philly comics, no threat to Marty Allen and Steve Rossi (who were having hit albums for ABC-Paramount with their "Hello Dere" catchphrase. No threat to even Gaylord and Holiday (who were not having hit albums, and owned the un-PC gay mockery catch-phrase 'Hi, Simply Hi.") 

Al Fisher was born Albert Fichera and Marks' last name was Franco (which would explain the duo's other album, Italian comedy parodies ala Allan Sherman titled "Rome on the Range). They began working together in 1948, with Al doing stand-up and pudgy little Lou heckling him from the audience. Lou would then mount the stage for schtick a little less wild than Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis. The team wowed 'em in Philly, and later appeared in a few movies, 'Mister Rock and Roll" and "Country Music Holiday," both headed by country singer Ferlin Husky. 

Most fans agree that the team was a riot in live performance, and that the movies and record albums do not do them justice. Well, "Coo Coo" doesn't do The Beatles justice, either, and a good parody would have to wait many many years till The Rutles arrived. 

Much of the album is padded with non-Beatles items including impressions of Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi, and a track called "The Real Fisher and Marks." 

Since this is a music blog anyway, you get the few musical Beatles parody numbers, including "We Love Rock and Roll" (lyrics stuck atop "Barcarolle" of all things…and what the point of the bad Cockney-accented riddles are, who knows) and "Paul George John and Ringo : All The Way to the Bank," (public domain music "On Top of Old Smokey"). 

 Ladies and Gentlemen, the comedy stylings of Al Fisher and Lou Marks, back when it was a Coo-Coo Beatles World. 

FISHER AND MARKS "Coo Coo" BEATLES SONGS

TUX AVERY sings MY BLUE HEAVEN as THE GOONS

You may have noticed a gap between this set of postings on the 9th and the last set in February.

This was due to a meeting with the Board of Directors, deciding on which way the blog should go. The prevailing sentiment was “Go…away.” This was voiced by several people wearing Brexit buttons. Or, to put it more correctly, Brex-ill buttons. 

Another group suggested the status quo, but no matter how good Andy Bown’s solo material might be, who would want a blog offering nothing but Status Quo downloads? What next, Slade? 

A problem with continuing the blog as before is a) most deserving oddballs and ill folks have been covered, and b) bandwidth is expensive. The idea of using free outfits that have gruesome ads and tricky spyware on their sites, is not appealing. Neither is having to re-up files because these sites knocked them off after 7 days or a month. 

An alternative: since Google owns both Blogspot and YouTube and LOVES to provide easy links to YouTube, why not go for streaming music/videos, which will always be available to see or hear? What a great idea. Well, be careful what you wish for. Take a look at...TUX AVERY!

Sapristi! VISUALS on the Illfolks blog. And it's...TUX AVERY?? What an auspicious debut. 

The beloved Tux, who always dresses up in his shabby apartment, has done a fair job of mating his histrionic expressions to his a cappella singing. An unusual purist, he not only refuses to sing with a band or even a guitar, but he insists on performing his song silently, and THEN dubbing the music by using recording equipment in his kitchen. Yes, everything including the kitchen sync.

A busker until he was banned from ever being on a bus, Tux Avery headlined and mainlined from Selby to Goole and from St. Erth to St. Ives. From Armley Moor to Dogdyke and Tumby Woodside, this singer has been consistently pelted with nuts and sultanas, fried eggs and bananas. Now restricted in any travel via public transportation, and monitored to make sure he doesn't set up an amp and a begging hat in any public place, Tux Avery has retreated to his shabby apartment and to YouTube and this blog for Internet immortality.  

 Here, the versatile, infantile and futile singer varies his a capella by impersonating several denizens of The Goon Show, most specifically, The Famous Eccles, and Major Bloodnok, although sharp ears may catch Bluebottle or some other species of insect in his throat. In other words, put the ear plugs in, folks! Or better yet, just turn the sound down, and enjoy the faces. This IS the blog of less renown!

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #48 - EXPERIENCE THE THRILL OF BLUE TITS

    As we head toward December, it’s entirely possible that on a cold day, a woman foolishly walking outside without a jacket might find herself with blue tits. She might even emit a squeal but it won't likely be melodious! 

    Spike Milligan recalled on a winter’s day, the sight of “a blue tit who pecked open the cap of a milk carton left at the doorstep. It was a cold day, and the milk was frozen, and the blue tit skated around and around on the milk!” (OK, it was one of those moments where the audience was a little confused by Spike's sense of whimsy.) 

    He didn’t mention if the tit sang a song. Back in the old days, BC, (Before Clarinets), primitive people considered the sounds of nature to be their music. They slept to the sound of crickets and woke to the alarm clock noise of the cicadas. They especially enjoyed how horny birds put on concerts for each other. People heard larks. They quoted ravens. They laughed with the kookaburras.

    Does the average dolt today know the different bird calls? Or care? "Bird Call" and "Sounds of Nature" CDs don't sell too well, and nobody even offers them free in forums. No, it’s more important to go to a blog shoutbox and bleat, “Anybody got a discography of Whitesnake??” Frankly, any noise a bird makes beats anything by Ted Nugent. I'd rather listen to a woodpecker than a peckerwood.

    Below, a brief example of the Blue Tit. It’s a reminder that the best things in life are free, not because you can steal them with a download, but because you’re in the real world and paying attention.

THE BLUE TIT (The RED TWAT is Ed Sheeran. None of his shit HERE) Download or listen online

SWEET DREAMS are made of A CAPPELLA?

Once in a while, you can still listen to "Sweet Dreams," with its sci-fi synths and spooky Annie Lennox vocals, and imagine some pretty kinky fantasies. 

Then there's a capella. What exactly was the college glee club SLAC trying to do here? Give a listen. It's free. 

"Din din din din din din din!" No, it’s not some brats asking for supper. And it's not exactly an homage to grandpa's Doo-Wop collection to hear: "Digga digga down! Da da daaaa!"

Darwin was wrong. After the genius of Stradivarius making a violin, and craftsmen inventing the kalimba and then the piano and organ, and Sax making a saxophone...SOME twisted and backward people (not ISIS) think musical instruments are a BAD THING.

Usually, a cappella is a bad thing. Like Sinead O'Connor singing some dreary four minute dirge by herself. (OH, wait a minute, did she join the twisted and backward people of ISIS?) 

Rarely is a cappella actually pleasant or stimulating. How long can anyone listen to a barbershop quartet? The Persuasions were an exception...but not really for more than a song or two. The Mills Brothers' "Tiger Rag" was a novelty, and so were some of those dopey Doo Wop street corner things...most of which did include at least a guitar and bass. 

Fortunately, just as people like Vegemite, once the acquired taste leads to addiction, SOME people, slightly embarrassed, sneak a King's Singers album through the checkout, or, in dark glasses, buy a ticket to a show. 

Just why so many colleges have an a cappella group may be a tradition that goes back to "The Whiffenpoof Song." The women in these groups are whiffens, and the men are poofs. Below, cut yourself some SLAC....one cut from one of MANY CD-R releases from SLAC. 

SWEET DREAMS done in A CAPPELLA - instant download or listen online. No passwords, Paypal tip whines or shitty DL servers in Putinville

KATE SMITH - the THANK YOU song (you're SO welcome)

     Every now and then you need a lecturing reminder of how GRATEFUL you should be for what you have. This could be "You Have No Right to Be Sad," by PhD (on this blog somewhere) or even "Count Your Blessings (instead of sheep)" by Eddie Fisher (not on this blog anywhere.) 

      Be thankful, for example, that you didn't buy "Songs of the Now Generation" by Kate Smith. 

    When sappy big band songs went out of favor, Kate’s label suggested she simply sing sappy pop songs. You know, shit like “Little Green Apples.” Seriously. Little green apples WILL give you the shits. Why sing about them? And don't add "Honey."

    She put out a few albums that dragged Beatles songs and others into the middle of the road.  She didn’t get much of a “thank you” for this. Her old fans were not ‘In the Mood’ and young fans actually LIKED the Beatles and didn’t need grandma enunciating the lyrics. Maybe Mrs. Miller fracturing them, but not Kate doin’ it straight. 

    While Kate's game takes on Jimmy Webb ("Didn't We" and "By the Time I Get to Phoenix") might get gales of laughter at some gay party where the laughing gas goes in one end and out the other, they really aren't worth posting to normal people.  Out of curiosity, a Beatles track did appear on the blog last month. However...in actually re-listening to Kate's album, no question, “The Thank You Song” is a curio worth a listen. 

    It sounds like a kiddie record, not something that belongs between Bacharach and The Beatles. Music scholars might nestle this nugget between such horrors as "The Children's Marching Song" (aka "Nick Nack Paddy Whack" or "This Old Man") and the worst of show tune advice songs ("Whistle A Happy Tune"). The latter would be the right track. "The Thank You Song" was performed in "Maggie Flynn," a short-lived musical that starred Shirley Jones and Jack Cassidy. The book and lyrics were from Hugo and Luigi (Hugo Peretti and Luigi Creatore) and George Weiss (yes, the same team credited with souping up "Wimoweh" into "The Lion Sleeps Tonight.")

     Yes, there IS a good reason why this blog’s links do NOT have “ENJOY!” or “DIG IT!” on the link. Maybe "BEWARE" would be more like it. "The Thank You Song" is something you have to experience, like licorice chewing gum. 

You don't have to leave a nice comment over THE THANK YOU SONG

"La Hora Del Crepusculo" - THE PLATTERS SING IN SPANISH!

Hola, amigos! 

What...you DON'T speak SPANISH? Lo siento! You can't be AMERICANS, then. In America, the official language is SPANISH. Si? No? Entonces...no hay nada oficial. As Senator Hayakawa found out years ago, there is no official law saying English is the official language of Los Estados Unidos! 

In most big cities you can't pick up the phone and dial a train station, dental office or a department store without getting a recorded message asking if you want to continue in English or Spanish. You can't watch a sports event without being alerted that a Spanish translation is available on the SAP channel, you sap. You can't get voting or tax information without ending up juggling an unwieldy pamphlet with 40 pages in English and the next 40 en ESPANOL. 

Happily for the dead Platters, and the dead Gene Pitney, and the dead Lesley Gore among others, record labels began to get the idea on Latino procreation and immigration early on. They also knew a big market...that was NOT about to learn English. And so they sent their artists back into the studio to sing along to the original backing tracks and offer phonetic translations of hit songs or...entire albums. It meant a few extra pesos back then, but a lot more NOW. Same with the Spanish language version of "Dracula" (1931) included on most DVD sets to get Latino buyers, or even the Spanish language version of Laurel & Hardy shorts, with the boys reading their lines phonetically. Moe, Larry and Curly, "Los Tres Chiflados"are selling well, dubbed in Spanish. 

Surely, "The Platters Sing Latino" will have a whole new life as the 30% Latin population continues to rise...and refuse to speak English. When I was a wee muchacho, I was glad to take Spanish in school. Like George Carlin, who lived in a Puerto Rican neighborhood, I thought Spanish was a beautiful language. At least, it sounded beautiful when Zorro spoke it. It also sounded nice when Abbe Lane (Jewish, actually) sang it. My enthusiasm waned when I noticed that Puerto Ricans, Mexicans and Cubans were making no effort to honor their new country and learn the lingo. People in the country for years, of not decades, still weren't speaking English. They claimed learning Ingles was mas dificil? Come on, even Polish people learned English! 

Too late now. And really, listening to The Platters, no es malo. "La Hora Del Crepuscolo" ("Twilight Time" to you...) sounds very pretty en Espanol. Learning a foreign language is broadening. If you know Spanish and "La Hora del Crepuscolo," then you'll know what Richard Attenborough means when he tells you a vampire bat is "crepuscular." It means it comes out in twilight. Es verdad!

So, escuche, Majareta. Mentecato. Zoquete. Cochino bandito. Pazguato cateto. Fea bruja. Ronoso depravado. Soon you will be inspired to learn Spanish, and utter phrases that will help you get along with your neighbors: "Portate como un ser  humano" (act like a human being) and "Apartese gordinflon" (Move, fatso) or "Digales a esos mocosos que pisen sus pies, no los mios" ("Tell your horrible brats to piss on your feet not mine) or  "Cuando te dejaron salir de la jaula?" (when did they let you out of your cage?). Ahhh..."Vamos a robar discos" (let's steal records!") 

TWILIGHT TIME sung in SPANISH - listen or download, no stupid password forcing you to type in some egocentric asshole's name

Larry Vincent - What Rhymes with SHIT? "Sweet Violets"

    A cousin to the famous Benny Bell song “Shaving Cream,” here’s Larry Vincent singing “Sweet Violets.” A gag that never seems to get old, you still smile when, instead of the expected dirty-word rhyme...you get a chiding chorus oh-so-innocently offering a sweet, incongruous refrain.

 Among people who care about novelty songs…almost nobody really gives a pile of SWEET VIOLETS or SHAVING CREAM over whether Larry stole from Benny Bell, or the reverse. Most likely Benny Bell was the original, but the idea of an innocent word substituting for a nasty one goes back a lot earlier. Benny's "Shaving Cream" arrived in 1946, Larry's "Sweet Violets" in 1949.  
 
Born in San Jose, California (January 13, 1901) Vincent began touring in the 1920's. During a stay in Chicago he recorded his lone early single, “She’s a Great, Great Girl.” Singing straight material, he tried his hand at songwriting, coming up with “If I Had My Life to Live Over,” a co-write with the more established Jewish songwriters Moe Jaffe and Henry Tobias. Larry recorded it himself on the “20th Century Records” label, credit to “Larry Vincent and [the] Feilden Foursome.” The flip, a co-write with Haven Gillespie, is “Stay as Long as You Like.”

 If you don't want to know more about Moe Jaffe and Henry Tobias, skip this paragraph. Tobias, a cousin of Eddie Cantor’s, wrote the melody for “And Away We Go” recorded by Jackie Gleason. Henry wrote a book, “Music In My Heart and Borscht in my Blood.” He worked with several different people, including his brothers. Among his hits were “Miss You,” recorded by Jaye P. Morgan, Bing Crosby and others, “Cooking Breakfast For the One I Love” (Fanny Brice), “Easter Sunday With You’ (Perry Como) and “May I Have the Next Dream with You” (Jerry Vale). Moe Jaffe co-wrote “I Don’t Know from Nuthin’” with Henry Tobias, but worked with many others as well. Moe’s co-writes include “The Gypsy in My Soul” (with Clay Boland) “Oh You Sweet One” (with Paul Kapp), and “Bell Bottom Trousers,” which was a bawdy ballad he cleaned up (sort of the way Cy Coben cleaned up "Sweet Violets") “Collegiate” (a co-write with the oddly-named Nat Bonx) was recorded by quite a few people including Fred Waring, and turns up via Chico Marx in The Marx Brothers’ college comedy “Horse Feathers.” The versatile Moe could even knock off gospel titles, such as “Get Together with the Lord,” a co-write with Bickley Reichner that was recorded by Andy Kirk’s Orchestra.
 
Larry Vincent kicked around various peculiarly named nightclubs, from Benny the Bum’s in Philadelphia to The Lookout House in Covington, Kentucky, where he stayed for many years. Not quite as obscure as it might seem, Covington wasn’t too far from Cincinnati, Ohio. Go check a map. It was in the unlikely town of Covington that Larry and Moe Jaffe formed the Pearl Records label. Like Benny Bell recording for Bell Records, Vincent hired himself to record everything on his label.  He tried “legit” novelty songs (“I Grow Gooey Over Chop Suey”)  but ended up pandering to the “party song” crowd.
 
Larry’s popular numbers, including “Sweet Violets,” “Yas Yas Yas,” “The Smell Song (Fish Fish Fish),” “Sarah Sittin’ in a Shoe Shine Shop” and “I Used to Work in Chicago” were usually credited to  “Larry Vincent and the Pearl Boys,” or “The Pearl Boys,” “The Pearl Trio” or “The Pearl Five” etc. etc. With a nod to his hangout at The Lookout House, a number of his 78’s were also credited to “Larry Vincent and his Lookout Boys.” He had a certain wiseguy-charm that made his risque tunes more amusing than annoying, more light-hearted than smarmy. Most of his 78’s were released between 1946 and 1949, the date for "Sweet Violets."
 
As the long-play era started in the 50's Larry compiled some of his old tunes, including  “She Had to Lose It as the Astor,” “The Kanaka Song,” “Buster Astor,” “Get Off the Table Mabel” and various “butt” pun songs like “I Kissed Her But I Never Will Again” and “She Has Freckles On her But She is Nice,” (aka The Freckle Song). The albums include “Listen and Laugh” and “Laugh Provoking Ditties for the Party.”   

Still hoping for a legit hit, in the mid-50’s Larry recorded “The Whole Town’s Batty About Cincinnati” and lastly, the 1954 single “Let’s Bowl (The Bowling Song”) b/w “I Cried For You.”
 
Larry's risque rival Benny Bell didn't stay in the risque novelty genre in the late 50's or 60's. By then, silly double entendre stuff was passe, and instead of discs by those guys, or contemporaries Dwight Fiske and Ruth Wallis,  Lenny Bruce records were hot. Benny's "hot" tunes had also turned up the heat on him, as many Jews in his Brooklyn neighborhood frowned on such frivolity. Benny sang many straight novelty numbers in Yiddish and authored "freilachs" (dance instrumentals) that were played at weddings. The Jewish stores that sold this kind of thing (along with menorahs, prayer shawls and Molly Picon 78's) threatened not to carry Benny's material if he didn't clean up his act.

Benny did clean up his act, and when he composed novelty songs, they were aimed (not too successfully) in the direction of past (Mickey Katz) and current (Allan Sherman) Jewish novelty singers. For example, he hoped for a knock-off on Chubby Checker via "The Kosher Twist." Benny was pleasantly surprised when people old enough to be his grandson discovered and delighted in his old risque tunes. ‘Shaving Cream” was re-issued and became a surprise hit, landing in the Billboard Top 40 in 1975. Larry? He passed on, January 5, 1977.

Larry Vincent  
Sweet Violets   Instant download or listen on line. 

A salute to Arabs and Gays and...FLORENCE OF ARABIA

Yes, the past few weeks have been very strange in England. The news has been all about Gays and Muslims, two fine, fine groups. Let's underline that, and repeat, these are two fine, fine groups. They just can't seem to keep out of the fucking headlines, unlike, oh, Infantilists and Hindus. S&M freaks and Druids. Laurel and Hardy. Maybe the world would be better if people just sat back and watched some Laurel and Hardy, and had a laugh and didn't take their fucking sex lives and religions so seriously. 

Compared to Climate Change, this shit is pretty petty. Hey, Gays and Muslims, this planet is not likely to survive another 50 years. You don't really have to spend it fussing and fighting. Stop blowing people up, and if you're gay, blow people behind closed doors. Nobody gives a damn anymore. You can even get married and make it legal. 

In the spirit of getting along, and this IS the blog of togetherness, below is FLORENCE OF ARABIA, a song about a Gay Muslim. 

The past few weeks have seen vans smacking into people, and bombs exploding, all because a few Allah-kazams think that their imaginary friend needs some help in getting rid of non-believers. 

And last week, also in Great Britain, was the Blackpool Gay Pride Parade. Instead of radical Muslims skulking about in cloak-sheets and glowering, here were stereotypical gays marching through the streets, crossdressed and grinning. The point? Same as the Muslims, really. It involves, quoting the guru in "Gunga Din," what is called "the sin of false pride." 

Both groups are saying to everyone, "we're not equal, we're better." Our Allah is better than your Jesus or Buddha or Moses. "We're here and we're queer," so put up with our antics in public, while blind people stagger, homeless starve, and wheelchair people stay at home and rot. Let me put it this way, Gays and Muslims, you not only aren't the only people suffering in this world, you have it better than most, especially in England.

So you can tone down the violence and the preening, and join the rest of the human race in trying to keep climate change at bay, keep the economy strong, practice birth control, and protest the corrupt and fuckheaded leaders who could turn the lights out permanently with one push of a button. 

Is it that important to actually reinforce stereotypes, by having Arabs scowling in their winding sheets, or men in dresses and women in Simon Cowell t-shirts literally parading about? Isn't it slightly insulting to dignified men who don't lisp and wear conservative clothes, run ads for a parade with a silly one-percenter on the cover? Isn't it more important to reinforce the point that most gays (like most Arabs) don't look or act that much different from anyone else?

Celebrate what we have in common. It would seem that assimilation and tolerance is what's needed. Equality begins by acting equal; to the point where you don't feel compelled to bring your bedroom attire into shopping malls for all to see, and you don't need to wear funny outfits to let people know what your religion is. Nobody really gives a shit; unless YOU are trying to show how different you are and superior you are. Common sense: is it really against anyone's religion to stop pretending that The Bible and the Koran have fashion drawings in them? The idea that the Creature in the Sky needs to identify you by a silly hat or a ludicrous outfit is...ridiculous. Let's lighten up and admit that religion and sexuality shouldn't be subjects of awe. The whole notion of "sacrilege" is idiotic. Why can't a person make fun of religion? One's faith in a God should be able to withstand a cartoon.
  Gays are doing pretty well. Compare them to others who have made their sexuality the most important factor of their lives. England aired a documentary on “15 Stone Babies” considering them to be oddballs and outcasts. These infantilists sure as hell wouldn't march in their nappies to show their pride in not being able to handle adulthood. S-M is still such a taboo that pudgy idiotic E.L. James made a fortune writing about what nobody would ever march about in a parade: spanking, handcuffs and bondage.

You think that illiterate bitch would’ve made a dime off a book about Mr. Grey fucking Mr. White? No, that’s not a forbidden thrill. S-M still is. Dressing up in diapers instead of being a transvestite is. Wanting to watch two women piss is considered much more peculiar than being gay (which is why Trump denies ever paying to see it). If Trump said he paid to see two lesbians have sex, nobody would laugh or care. So, there are a lot more oppressed sexual minorities than gays.  

As for the Muslims, there's no reason they can't be accepted, and until ISIS arrived, they were. People from India came over and learned the customs. The Asians did, too. So take a tip from the Hindus, the Druids, the Amish and every other religion, and try a little humility. Don't be so concerned about what others believe in. Be grateful others are tolerant enough to allow you to emigrate. Try to assimilate just a bit and stop being so rigid. The Jews broke off into Conservative and Reformed divisions and didn't all stay Orthodox with the silly side-curls. Listen to William Shatner's "I Can't Get Behind That," when he says "What about the men who say 'Do as I do. Believe in what I say, for your own good, or I'll kill you!' I can't get behind that!" 

Mr. Shatner also pointed out a few things more important than a guy fretting if he can't dress in a dress in public, or if a Muslim can't walk around cloaked from head to toe. Quoth Mr. Shatner: "The rising oceans, the warming temperatures!The dying polar bears--no, tigers--in fifty years! Rising poison in the air and water!" 

Try marching about THAT shit. Try thinking about others. Try giving other people some dignity, tolerance and understanding. Why, that's what this blog is all about: GIVING. And that includes "Florence of Arabia," which was on an obscure 60's album called "The Queen is in the Closet." 

That album which offered nudge-nudge wink-wink humor to gays and for gays, although some of the “here and queer” songs are so stereotypical it’s possible straights listened and laughed at the lispers more than with them. Happily, now being a gay singer is accepted, and George Michael and Sir Elton and Sam Smith aren't "under the counter" with their albums, as this album was 50 years ago. Progress indeed. Likewise, Zayn Malik is a big star, and he's of Arabic descent. He assimilated boy band rock, all right, and mastered it. As well as mastering Gigi Hadid, who isn't afraid to be Muslim and doesn't (to put it mildly) feel a need to wear a burqa.

“FLORENCE OF ARABIA" of course references “Lawrence of Arabia” who was gay, and adored being whipped and butt fucked by Arabs. In fact, he was too busy with that stuff to march in a parade. He and his Arab friends blew things, but didn't blow things up. What a wonderful world it was. It could be again. Music and laughter, friends...

FLORENCE
OF ARABIA    Instant download or listen on line. No malware or spyware anywhere.
 

Linda Lavin does Stephen Sondheim's Gay Astrud Gilberto Parody

Yes, that's Linda Lavin, upper left, with MacIntyre Dixon, Paul Sand, Richard Libertini and Jo Anne Worley. Some, obviously, went on to much greater fame on TV or in movies. You might recall the eccentric Libertini (who was teamed with Dixon for several years in stand-up and improv) in full beard as the nutty guru in the Steve Martin and Lily Tomlin classic "All of Me," or as the equally nutty dictator in the Peter Falk and Alan Arkin classic, "The In-Laws." But, already, I have digressed.

While it probably was a lot of effort for Lavin to memorize all those lines as "Alice" on the sitcom of the same name, it had to have been quite a learning experience to deal with Stephen Sondheim's dense satire of "The Girl from Ipanema," which she did for the off-Broadway revue "The Mad Show." No, the show was not "Mad" enough to interest readers of Mad Magazine (who were mostly teenagers). It was aimed more for their parents. The humor was much more, er, sophisticated.

Sondheim was apparently called in when the show came up one song short, or needed one more topical song. Astrud Gilberto, the soft-voiced Brazilian, had scored an unexpected hit with her jazz samba, and now it was ripe for parody. Yes, Homer & Jethro did one ("The Girl from Possum Holler") but the sophisticates preferred Sondheim. Where's that boy from? Not Ipanema, someplace far more obscure. You know how those Latino guys have, like, a first name, a last name, and another nine names inbetween? Maybe that's because they come from towns with almost as many names. Ha! 

An interesting twist is that Sondheim, who would of course come out gay years later, was writing a lyric about a woman who doesn't have good Gaydar, and isn't sure why this sexy Latino boy isn't interested in her...and why his friends call him LILLIAN: 

Tall and slender, like an Apollo, he goes walking by and I have to follow:
Him, the boy from Tacarembo la Tumbe del fuego Santa Malipas Zacatecas La Junta Del Sol y Cruz!  

When we meet, I feel I'm on fire. And I'm breathless every time I inquire, 
"How are things in Tacarembo la Tumbe del fuego Santa Malipas Zacatecas La Junta Del Sol y Cruz!"

Why, when I speak does he vanish? Why is he acting so clannish? I wish I understood Spanish. 
WHen I tell him I think he's the end, he giggles a lot with his FRIEND.

Tall and slender, moves like a dancer
But I never seem to get any answer 
From the boy from Tacarembo la Tumbe del fuego Santa Malipas Zacatecas La Junta Del Sol y Cruz!
I got the blooooz!

Why are his trousers vermilion? His trousers are vermilion. Why does he claim he's Catilian? (He thays that he'th Cathtilian!)

Why do his friends call him LILLIAN? And I hear at the end of the week he's leaving to start a boutique.....

THE BOY FROM (parody of “The Girl from Ipanema”)
Linda Lavin    Instant download or listen on line. No Zinfart egocentric passwords. No malware or spyware anywhere.

"August 29th - The Beatles Last Ticketed Concert" STFU

Well well well. Oh, well. Well well well...

I'm quoting, of course, a song on John's first solo album. The one that bluntly told fans, "I DON'T BELIEVE IN BEATLES."

And yet, for quite some time, Believers have been using the "50th Anniversary" excuse to drum up their continued love for Ringo, Paul and the late George and John. It's gotten to be a bit much, no? Yes?

It's a triumph that everything The Beatles did 50 years ago is still relevant (to people over 50, at least). But it's also a bit depressing to be reminded of how...long...ago...it was. Especially when it involves some fairly SO WHAT bits of trivia.

Today?

50 Years ago TODAY, The Beatles performed what turned out to be their LAST ticketed show. It was the last time you could buy a ticket and go to a venue and see them. (They would perform a spontaneous live rooftop concert for the "Let it Be" documentary film). The show, ending their USA tour, took place in the Giants' baseball stadium Candlestick Park in San Francisco, California. That's 3,000 miles from their first remarkable triumph, the Mets' Shea Stadium (which no longer exists), Queens, New York.

Great. Another excuse for the mainstream media to dust off some old Beatles photos and give older people a chance to read about music that doesn't involve Kanye or Beyonce.

But what do we make of this? Is this 50th anniversary sparking the release of a fabulous live album of that show? A great DVD of it?

At what point in the day will Ringo or Paul give a TWEET about this?

I think we know that if John was around, he'd say, "Be more concerned with what's going on NOW."

He was suggesting this with every solo record he made.

When he began his solo career, he punctuated it with blunt interviews in in two issues of Rolling Stone (later collected in book form as "Lennon Remembers").

Tony Hendra's brutal parody "Magical Misery Tour" (from National Lampoon's "Radio Dinner") used mostly Lennon's own words from that interview against him. If comedy is tragedy + time, then parody might be anger turned inside out. Lennon's rage was turned into a ludicrous tantrum.

Hendra was so close in voice and attitude that the signature line "Genius is Pain" could almost have been lifted directly from a track on John's first solo album. Hendra recalls, "Lennon was the ultimate sacred cow...I have never been so nervous as the night we recorded this cut. It was, to put it mildly, a high-profile assault, and I'd never had the slightest talent for impersonation...I had no idea why I was doing it, only that it was right and new, another of those leaps in the dark. It was frightening even just to attempt it. Lennon might have been sacred, but I was scared."

John was a huge fan of iconoclasts, but there's no report on whether he was a fan of this devastating satire. Fortunately most fans who read John's interview agreed that their hero had a bit too much "self-obsession" (as Hendra called it) and considered the parody pretty valid, and the music very solid (piano by Melissa Manchester, who turns up at the end as an unconvincing Yoko Ono).

Hendra had some electronic help to get the right nasality and pitch (ironically, John would often demand his producer use echo or other tricks to "fuck up me voice" with studio enhancements). A few lines may be beyond the average Beatles fan. Not everyone might know that the "Eastman" mentioned, is Linda McCartney's father, who was suggested by Paul as the right attorney to handle the mess that Apple had become. Some may or may not recall Lennon's tart "Turn Left at Iceland" news conference remark.

Mostly, the lyrics are pretty straightforward, and some taken direct from the interviews:

"I RESENT performing for you fuckers, tell me, what do you know? A lot of faggot middle-class kids wearing long hair and trendy clothes. Look, I'm not your fucking parents and I'm sick of uptight hippies coming knocking at me door with a fucking peace symbol, get this, fuck that, I don't owe you fuckers anything and all I got to say is FUCK YOU. The sky is blue.

"And Mick Jagger, I think that Mick's a joke with all his stupid faggot dancing. I always did. Wiggling his ass you know, it's just a lot of bullshit. And where does he come off saying all those tarty things about The Beatles when every fucking thing we ever did Mick tried to copy and you know we even wrote his second fucking record for him, no, The Stones aren't the same in class as The Beatles either music wise, or power wise, and never ever were. Pardon me, sir!"

"Paul said he hated Yoko, tell me, why should Yoko have to take that kind of shit? Shit from those fucking sons of bitches? George said she gave off evil vibes. I should have beat the fucking shit right out of him. Him with his fucking Hare Krishna.

"Me auntie, she tore up me fucking poems. She just threw the bastards out. I can't forgive her, 'cause she didn't treat me like a fucking genius. Look, you bastards, I'm a genius, like Shakespeare and Beethoven and Van Gogh! Don't you dare criticize my work! "Don't Worry Kyoko" was one of the fucking best rock and roll records ever made! I'm a fucking artist! I'm sensitive as shit! I throw up before I go onstage! I can make a guitar speak! If I could be a fisherman I would, but I can't, because I'm a fucking genius!!

"I was the Walrus! PAUL wasn't the Walrus! I was just saying that to be nice, but I was actually the Walrus! Him and that rubbish he's been singing! Eastman was an animal! A fucking stupid middle-class pig. I won't let fucking animals like that near me! Yoko is a supreme intellectual! I'll tell you why nobody likes her music — because she's a woman and she's Oriental, that's why!

"Where are you Mother! They're trying to crucify me! Genius is Pain...Genius is Pain...(primal screams) Turn left at Iceland...(more screams)"

And speaking of screams...fer cryin' out loud, ENOUGH with the fucking "50th Anniversary of..." Beatles references.

SACRILEGE: John Lennon satire. Instant download or listen on line.

An UN-PC bootleg rarity: Michael Flanders in Jamaica-Face

It's sort of sad that everyone is uptight over ethnic humor. This is especially true of homicidal members of radical Islam. Or, as we might call them, Idiotic Moronic Fanatics.

The IMF forces have done the impossible, succeeding in their mission to intimidate just about everyone everywhere. As in: don't you dare make a drawing of Moe the Hammed. Laughter as a weapon will get a bomb in your office!

Anyone who MIGHT be a Muslim is given a wide berth these days because the person could be a purveyor of a gory death. You just never know who is carrying a sword or a bomb or past-expiration date hummus.

Put it this way, what TV station would be daring enough to run "The Party" or "The Millionaress" with Peter Sellers doing his Indian routine? Even if the Indian is not even Muslim, it's too risky. As for his partner in crime, Spike Milligan, you won't find audio of him sing-songing the old comic poem, "I am a little Hindoo. I do that I kindoo. And where my shirt and pants don't meet, I make my little skindoo."

At one time, "colorful" humor in Great Britain included gleeful impersonations of Pakistani, Indian and Jamaican people. No doubt Spike and Peter simply enjoyed the amusing quality of Indian and Pakistani accents, even as they applied Marmite to their faces. Yes, we get it, it IS, in a way, as awful as Al Jolson blacking up to sing "Mammy" and "Old Black Joe." He meant well, and you can hear the emotion in his voice as he sings as a lonely, sad slave. BUT...it's more than a gray area when it involves brown or black skin. It's a lot easier to still laugh at Irish, Italian or Jewish accents, or make fun of the Scots for needing subtitles.

One reason for ethnic comedy is that it is a way of coping with fear. Fear of foreigners. In America, comedians circa 1916 made fun of the immigrants and the assimilating Southern blacks. Blackface even turned up in the British music halls. Immigrants didn't seem to scary if there were jokes involved. To some degree, people were also fascinated by accents, and it made the "odd" immigrants seem harmless. Many jokes in Irish or Jewish dialect were just funny jokes, and inter-changeable. A classic "Irish" joke could be found in a Jewish or Scots jokebook, with just a change in name and dialect.

Done with affection, the comedians using ethnic humor could become superstars. A white team in blackface, "Mack and Moran" sold tons of 78 rpm records, and "Amos and Andy" of course would be the superstars of radio not long after. Chico Marx was just the tip of the ethnic spaghetti pile, and in the 40's and 50's all kinds of accents could be heard on radio and on records: The Mad Russian, Ajax Cassidy, Mrs. Nussbaum, etc.

While part of the humor was, as most humor is, an escape valve and a joyful ridicule, a lot of it was sympathetic, and a lot of it was intended to push for assimilation. The children or grand children of immigrants were proud NOT to sound like Yogi Yorgesson, Stepin Fetchit, Harry Lauder or Mickey Katz. There's a gray line between being proud and ashamed of ethnicity.

One of Flanders & Swann's most beloved little nose-tweaks was called "A Transport of Delight." As most Brits would agree, even at its best, taking a bus (or omnibus) could be a trying experience. Today, it can excruciating.

But even back in Michael and Donald's time, there was another change going on, aside from the increasingly dodgy service. The workers were no longer white. Immigrants were now working the low-wage jobs. And as you'll hear in the rarity below, Flanders took to mimicking this type of worker, in an accent that sort of wavers a bit between Jamaican and Pakistani. It's quite a surprise, because he and his partner rarely touched on ethnic humor. At best, Donald Swann would do some horrid, eccentric song in Greek or Russian, but that was it.

No question, Michael is NOT being racist, he's being a realist. He is also enjoying the comical aspect of the accent he's using.

Note the pun that references then-Prime Minister Hume, and most certainly, the accent Michael uses as the long-dead duo return to life for you, affirming that ethnics are all over and bus service in the 21st Century, like the preceding century, is shite.

Michael and Donald Transport of Delight

Here's Hoping - Paul and Artie One Last Time??

The news over the summer on Paul Simon? That his last album could be his last. The guy's been too great to hint that his last several albums have all sounded alike, with the ethnic rhythms and obscure lyrics. He's also too much of a legend to note that these days, standing in front of a silly menagerie of Afro-Cuban rhythm boys and an egocentric show-off cellist and singing songs in a piping small voice while making peculiar hand gestures in the air has gotten very old. 74 years old, to be exact.

But should he go? NO, because when Muslims attack, when the city streets are flooded, and when some new plague from South America or Africa threatens to wipe us out, WHO the FUCK is going to stand on a stage and sing "Bridge Over Troubled Water" if not PAUL SIMON?

"Showbiz doesn't hold any interest for me," Simon declared a few months ago. "None. It's an act of courage to let go. I am going to see what happens if I let go. Then I'm going to see, who am I? Or am I just this person that was defined by what I did?"

He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd be content to just hang around the house, getting into humiliating domestic arguments that require the police. Naturally his fans have the answer: go back to your Art. That's with a capital A. Can't we have ONE last re-union of Simon & Garfunkel??

"Here's hoping," they say.

Over here, the response is the amusing parody song "Here's Hoping," done years ago. Inspired by one of the infrequent reunions of the "old friends," it explores the frayed nerves and one-upmanship that the concerts seemed to generate. No matter how wonderful the show might be (such as the legendary Concert in Central Park) there was always the hint that at any moment, a snide remark would lead one or the other to walk off stage.

The threat of violence was always there. You've got a tall, unarmed man slapping his thigh restlessly, and a short guy carrying a chunk of wood.

"Hello darkness, my old friend."

A message left by Art Garfunkel on Paul Simon's answering machine? The prelude to one final "do it for the big money" set of select tours where StubHub tickets magically jump to a thousand bucks? The final "we can't let our hair down" tour where Paul is threadbare above, and Artie confirms that he's permanently tossed the tawny-curly wig and reveals himself to look a bit like Ed Koch?

For those who continue to continue to pretend that friendships never end, and that flowers never bend with the rainfall, I suggest you NOT download this celebration of Simon hating Garfunkel and vice versa.

"Here's Hoping" is by England's "Not the 9 O'Clock News" troupe, recorded over 25 years ago, if not 30. It was apparently performed in concert, not on the show itself. At the time, Paul and Artie were tolerating each other for a tour, which wasn't helped by a British TV interviewer asking Garfunkel about all those great songs he wrote. That's probably why this satire has Paul very prominently declaring HE wrote all the material.

And "Here's Hoping" that nobody steals the Photoshop job above and pretends it's real.

Simon and Garfunkel created some great songs together. Their solo work can be enjoyed at home or while exercising in trendy Paul-Artie's classes. Get the pun, and also understand the joke is on those who still don't get it; people grow, mature, and sometimes start disliking and avoiding each other. Call it a'pauling, or art-istic, but it happens, and here's some fun over the feud...

NOT S&G "Here's Hoping "

Kid Stuff from Connie Francis

When last we convened, I mentioned the varied career of Connie Francis. Give her credit; she appealed to everyone. If you liked folk music or movie theme songs, if you were Italian or Jewish, if you wanted a pop song sung in a foreign language, if you liked teen pop like “Stupid Cupid” or oldies like “Among My Souvenirs,” a record store owner could direct you to the big Connie Francis rack. Not that she had a big rack. But she was nice looking, wasn’t she?

Probably the most dire examples of Connie's flexibility, are her children's albums. In deference to Connie’s views on piracy, and the blog’s own views on ethical sharing there's only one sample from each lp. Let's allow record dealers and re-issue labels to make a living. Enough with the rationalizations, or acting like Fascistic babies and thinking FREE music is an entitlement and that it does no harm.

“Connie Francis and the Kids Next Door” was an awfully cheap trick. Recorded on MGM’s cheap “Leo the Lion” label, Connie doesn’t even sing on all the tracks. If you were thinking of spending $10 or $20 or whatever JUST to hear Connie Francis try a Jewish accent on “Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah,” fuggedaboutit. That song is sung exclusively by the brats, er, kids. And no, it’s not funny and no threat to the Allan Sherman original.

One must remember (or try to forget) that back in the day, there were horrible singles such as Mitch Miller's "The Children's Marching Song (Nick Nack Paddy Wack) featuring the annoying and brash vocals of pre-pubescent pests.

Connie does guide the little monsters through some other silly pop tunes of the day, including "Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport" and "Henry VII." Adults and kids singing together is usually a “novelty” at best. Like a pitted olive with an almond stuck in it, an adult-and-kids novelty may be oddly amusing ONCE, but you’d really prefer something else. And you don't want a second helping. Tom Glazer’s “On Top of Spaghetti” comes to mind, or "Consider Yourself" from the Broadway show "Oliver," or anything from “The Sound of Music.” Did you know that Phil Ochs recorded an entire album of kid favorites with “The Campers?” No, he didn’t put his name on that one!

The album notes gamely try to make something more about this brat-worst than it is. It’s not just some contractually obligated experiment Connie Francis was roped into doing; it’s some kind of educational breakthrough. Imagine if YOU were in a record store, pondering whether to buy this thing. The notes might put you over the edge:

“Have you ever heard songs sung in childrenese?

“Childrenese, devised and recently popularized by Dr. Haim Ginott, is a new and understanding way of talking to and with kids.

“Why not the same approach to get through to them musically…that the most understanding and receptive way of singing to children is to sing with them.

“Connie Francis knows this, and a better kid-terpretor of tunes you’ll not find. Having wowed an audience at her own singing debut at the age of four, she is more kid-conscious, musically, than any pop artist around…with six youngsters [4 of them 11 years old, 2 of them 14] adding their sing-along sparkle to Connie’s irresistible talents, the result mirrors the magnetism of the legendary Pied Piper of Hamelin, for you find you’re quickly drawn into the act yourself. A spin or two and you’ll also be do-re-me-ing, hellomuddah-ing and itsybitsyteenieweenieyellowpolkadotbikini-ing!”

Haim Ginott was a highly respected therapist and author at the time, not quite as prone to turning up on TV as often as Dr. Joyce Brothers, but his self-help books were (and probably still are) quite useful....much more than a bunch of kids singing "England Swings" or "Do Re Mi" or "A Spoonful of Sugar" in dodgy stereo.

At one time, it seemed that Top 40 radio’s demographics were geared not only to teenagers, but to the pre-pubescent. How else do you explain The Chipmunks or Herman’s Hermits? Or doo-wop? A budget album back then called “Pops for Tots” collected all the novelty songs that not only amused teenagers, but their kid brothers and sisters, too, things like “The Witch Doctor” and “Western Movies.” One shudders to think that today's 11 year-olds are happily listening to violent rap and chuckling.

Good-hearted Connie went along with all kind of ideas from her record label, including a kiddie concept album about cute animals, like “Pinky the Penguin.” Really, even if the album was officially declared public domain and MGM insisted it would NEVER be released on CD or as an iTunes download, you might not want to hear more than one track. “Pinky the Penguin” is plenty.

Some popular vocalists got some attention late in life (Johnny Cash, for example) and others didn’t (Patti Page). Some 50’s singers are still in high demand (Tony Bennett, for example) and then there’s Connie Francis. It would be nice if the Grammy Awards or Kennedy Center Honors gave Connie a salute. A mention on a blog, plus a download of “Pinky the Penguin” and a Herman’s Hermits cover isn’t quite enough, is it?

Connie and the Kids Mrs. Brown You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter

Connie Francis Pinky the Penguin

DOODLES WEAVER - Give a Horse a Man He Can Ride!

Unlike his brother Pat (president of NBC and father to Sigourney Weaver), Winstead Weaver looked like a "doodlebug" (his own mother's opinion!). He acted like one, being a cornball comic/singer all his life.

The dude gained fame with a manic "William Tell Overture" horse race routine on a Spike Jones novelty single. A sequel, music based on "Dance of the Hours" offered a car race. Doodles also loved spoonerisms, mispronouncing song lyrics in frantic gibberish till he'd clear his mind with a bellowing "OOOOH!" That, along with deliberately awful jokes, made a hit out of "Man on the Flying Trapeze," also while a member of the Spike Jones band. On that single you can hear Spike ask "Are you in voice, Winstead?" at the beginning.

After many years with Spike Jones, Doodles was fired for a lethal combo of alcoholism and natural nutsiness. He had bit parts in movies, notably the 1940 version of "Li'l Abner," and in 1951 prevailed upon brother Pat to help him land a summer TV show on NBC. He turned up on an episode of Groucho Marx's "You Bet Your Life" (photo above, right). After Doodles admitted his profession was a comedian, and that he was looking for work, Groucho sympathetically wished him luck. In 1965 Weaver briefly starred in the goofy "Day with Doodles" each episode just six minutes long, ready to be slotted anywhere in a daytime line-up, or used to give a bathroom break to some local kiddie show host.

Throughout the 60's The Dood took minor roles in sitcoms, from "Dick Van Dyke Show" to "The Monkees" to "Batman" (as "Crier Tuck). His curly hair, tubular head and large eyes helped the comic ambience of any scene, even if his lines were few.

The older he got, the more bitter and disillusioned he became. Friends and fans knew that he was unhappy with his health, and despite of or because of alcohol and pills, be simply couldn't stand to live more than a few weeks into 1983.

Not too many years before his suicide, Doodles went into the studio one last time to make a solo disc. He offered some updated Spooner routines (Dr. Demento enjoyed the somewhat appalling version of "Eleanor Rigby") and he even tried to work his dentures through his classic Feetlebaum routine...which was now more of a trotter than a horse race.

Here's a double dose of Doodles, rare radio transcriptions, including, of course, his Spoonerized "Man on the Flying Trapeze."

All Weaver wanted was to get some laughs, and even if you're not a corn-comedy buff, you'll listen to these things and admit, he Dood it.

TWO RADIO DOODLES!

HARVEY KORMAN - 25 MINUTES TO GO (temporarily live)

Your typical “miserable” comedian, Harvey Korman tended to fret and complain. While he was brilliantly funny to audiences on “The Carol Burnett Show,” he wasn’t exactly hilarious to her. At one point, she confronted him about it. She said something like, “If you’re not having a good time, maybe you should leave.”

That snapped Harvey out of it. At least, he knew to keep his misgivings and insecurities to himself. Perhaps the closest character to the true Harvey Korman that he played, was Bud Abbott in the ill-fated made-for-tv movie that co-starred Buddy Hackett. He portrayed Abbott as the worrier, the one who carried grim realities with him, which included his own physical failings (epilepsy). While Costello was freewheeling on stage, getting the laughs, Abbott had the responsibility of keeping his partner from ad-libbing too much and milking the laughs.

In TV sketches and also in films, Korman kept an edge of reality to his work, and let Mel Brooks, Tim Conway or other top bananas make the faces and get the big laughs. He got chuckles from his chagrin and his frowns and his inability to make sense of the idiotic world around him. One of the biggest laughs on the Burnett show was when Carol descended a staircase wearing a curtain for a gown, complete with rod. Korman, as Rhett Butler got some laughs by remaining dead serious, and failing to see how ludicrous this outfit was.

I mentioned to him once that I thought he was a fine dramatic actor. At the time, the movie “Shine” was in theaters, and as I watched Armin Mueller-Stahl I kept thinking, “This would’ve been perfect for Korman.”

Harvey often teamed up with Tim Conway for live performance tours, and did find some reasons to be cheerful, sometimes. But he remained a realist. When Viagra became available, Harvey was not that thrilled. As he put it, "It's like putting a new flagpole on a condemned building."

One thing Harvey didn’t do much of, was sing. For some reason, one night the Burnett show cast performed a kind of tribute/parody to C&W and "The Grand Ol' Opry." Each cast member got a solo. Just why they chose the grim Shel Silverstein song “25 Minutes To Go” for Harvey to sing, I have no idea. It was a hit for Johnny Cash, but it doesn't really suit Harvey's style. He doesn't have the outrageous personality that makes such a chilling song wild and over the top. Silverstein's original version of it is hoarse and manic. Cash drawls many a colorful line. But Harvey is a bit more like Hedley in "Blazing Saddles," viewing the proceedings with a certain understandable distaste. Note that the song is chopped from 25 minutes to 15 (and leaves out the anti-social stuff about hating the warden, the sheriff and the governor). It’s quite a curio, though, and was never released as a single.

25 minutes to Go