TINY TIM - Santa Claus Has Got THE AIDS

"Tiny Tim" was the crippled child in Charles Dickens' classic "A Christmas Carol." The name was later used by an emotional cripple named Herbert who transformed himself from misfit to novelty singing superstar. For a golden year, he was big on TV and a hit on radio with his gender-bending version of "Tip-Toe Through the Tulips," which somehow suited a time when 20's and 30's music was aped on the radio ("Winchester Cathedral") and "Bonnie and Clyde" was a hit movie. The flip side of the psychedelic era and gloomy progrock was a simultaneous fascination with nostalgia (W.C. Fields, Laurel & Hardy) and any survivors of that era (like Mae West to sing Beatles and Doors numbers). The edge of anti-war protests and drug use was blunted by a goofy show called "Laugh-In," and on Johnny Carson's "Tonight Show' the nerdish Tiny Tim married his love Miss Vicki to huge ratings.

Then John Lennon said, "OK, so flower power didn't work. We'll try something else." Flower-child and novelty performer Tiny Tim tried…but ended up as a nostalgic act spiraling down from top nightclubs to the seedy traveling "Vaudeville Revue" run by shady (and eventually murdered) Roy Radin. Tiny Tim became one of the menagerie of ex-stars who, in the phrase of Tennessee Williams, often lived off the "kindness of strangers." He was a nice guy, and open and friendly to anyone who might get him work or invite him out for a free meal.

I met Tiny Tim socially once, but didn't exchange phone numbers. I didn't think there was anything I could do for the guy, having met more than enough one-hit-wonders and former stars of cult films or a lone TV series. For some reason I wasn't all that interested in spending evenings discussing any mutual fondness for old music with him, maybe because he just seemed as sad as any of the geeks pawing through the 78's at memorabilia shows and record stores. That he was once "a contender," or that he was far more erudite than the average vinyl-hoarding cretin just wasn't enough. I did let him know that I was a fan of his work, and proved it by naming "Bring Back Those Rockabye Baby Days" as my favorite record of his…not "Tulips," and let it go at that.

Over the years, as he scrounged for gigs in small clubs, he tried for another big novelty hit. Too bad for Tiny, radio was slowly narrowing its playlists to exclude such items as "Tiptoe To the Gas Pumps." So when he did manage to get somebody to press a single...it sold only a few hundred copies. Like many a down and out folkie he had lots of unrecorded songs which he might perform, with some wistfulness (if not bitterness) to a half-filled audience or some halfwit hanger-on with a tape recorder. Thus we have: "Santa Claus Got the AIDS This Year," a calamitous meeting of the original Christmas "Tiny Tim" and the heavy set has-been.

Just what the hell Tiny was trying to do here, as he ran through this song in some room somewhere, I have no idea. He seemed to think AIDS was curable, and no worse than the clap: "The nurses all look sad, 'cause Santa's got it bad. 12 months to wait and then, he'll soon be round again." Around the time he came up with this ditty, AIDS was wiping people out very quickly. A few friends of mine perished within months of diagnosis, while a few others trembled and hoped that their ARC (as HIV was known at the time) would not become AIDS, and that if it did, somebody would have a vaccine for it. Today, AIDS is still fatal, but those with HIV can live fairly normal lives for decades thanks to new medications.

Well, as long as Tiny Tim was thinking of AIDS as no worse than the clap, then it's possible to avoid cringing at this song. Besides, the main source of humor here, is in making fun of Santa Claus, and this time of year, most anyone over the age of 12 has a deep disgust for the fat old bastard. We're all tired of TV commercials trading in on St. Nick, and those stupid Coca Cola signs with his jolly face on it asking that we all become obese diabetics. 'Tis the time of year we should pay careful attention to the question Professor Irwin Corey posed about this obnoxious Yuletide creature: "Santa comes but once a year? Down a chimney? In MY sock?"

Tiny Tim sez... Santa Claus Has got The AIDS This Year

Homer and Jethro - Cool Crazy Xmas

All right, all right…here's an entire album that will never be re-issued. And YOU don't have a turntable anymore anyway. And if this album miraculously DID get re-issued, YOU wouldn't think it was worth $9.99 on iTunes or half that at eMusic.

So here, free...the always under-appreciated Homer and Jethro. Homer (or Jethro) once said, "We were too corny for sophisticated people, and too sophisticated for corny people." Quite so.

But even so, the duo averaged two albums a year for a decade, and actually had a hit single (a forgettable parody of "Battle of New Orleans"). During the great Hillbilly Sitcom Scare of the early 60's ("Beverly Hillbillies," "Green Acres," "Andy Griffith Show," "Petticoat Junction") they made some good money doing singing commercials for a brand of corn flakes. They even issued a few albums alluding to this success, with Jethro dressed up as "Cornfucius."

In the late 60's, CBS, citing "demographics," began to kill off their rural comedies. Sure, these shows were popular, but CBS didn't want to be known as the old fogey network catering to Middle America. They wanted a cool, urban image, and to get ads aimed at 20-somethings. CBS was even aiming their guns at "Gunsmoke" while greasing the floor under Jack Benny, Red Skelton and the hillbilly sitcoms. Columbia Records and other labels were likewise cleaning house, and ridding themselves of the Patti Page-type artists who were clogging the middle of the road and needing to give way to the fast lane of rock music.

Around this time, and only 55, Homer Haynes dropped dead of a heart attack. Thus, H&J were spared the ignominy of being dropped from their label. The audience for country was narrowing (and already crossover-country was becoming popular) and in the duo's case, trends in music made it more difficult to have hits with song parodies. There weren't that many songs everybody knew, or cared to hear corn-ified. Could Homer and Jethro do versions of "I am the Walrus" and "Stairway to Heaven?" Hmmm….

Jethro Burns gave up after a new partner and "The New Homer and Jethro" failed to interest anyone. A highly respected mandolin player, he later guested on various bluegrass albums and even made his own straight solo discs. He didn't live to see the name of "Homer and Jethro" become revered and respected, with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. He didn't live to see a boxed set collecting all their tracks with a bonus DVD and a big 12x12 annotated booklet. If he was alive today…he STILL wouldn't have seen any of that! The duo remains, like deep-fried Oreos, an acquired taste. The duo remains a favorite only among the musically ill. And for that, my poor heart is as heavy as a bucket of liver.

Homer and Jethro Crazy Xmas Album

GOOD KING WENCESLAS! + Jane Seymour & Worst Xmas Tunes

Sapristi!

How are you holding up?

Muttering, are you, about Christmas hype and all the greed, hypocrites, brainwashing, religious fanaticism and "jolly Saint Nick" bullshit? Has the season made you more painfully cynical about there ever being "peace on earth?"

Music makes it worse: you're assaulted by commercials re-writing "Jingle Bells" and "Deck the Halls" to sell everything from toilet paper to the Daily Mail. Narcolepsy-inducing soft Christmas ballads alternate with brain-exploding novelty numbers to keep you permanently in a bad mood.

The number of rotten Christmas songs outnumber the tolerable by 15 to 1. One good one, like "Good King Wenceslas," is easily dwarfed by 15 horrible ones:

1. Jingle Bells. STUFF THEM UP YOUR ASS. The most over-used and irritatingly cheerful holiday song of all.

2. All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth. Sing it again, brat, and you'll need dentures. (Runner-up "Nuttin' Fer Christmas")

3. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. Insincere, obnoxious, condescending, and as icky as figgy pudding.

4. We Wish You A Merry Christmas. SHUT THE FUCK UP.

5. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. DIE. And take "Frosty the Snowman" with you.

6. Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer. It wasn't even funny the first time.

7. Here Comes Santa Claus. The aural equivalent to bukkake.

8. Santa Claus is Coming to Town. It makes me re-think my opposition to someone owning an AK-47. GET HIM!

9. Sleigh-Ride. Close to "Jingle Bells" as one of the most irritating melodies ever written. It's always sung breathlessly: "it's-lovely-weather-for-a-sleigh-ride-together..." Makes you think "slay." Ring-ting-alingly terrible.

10. White Christmas. FUCK YOU, BING. And everyone else who sings this, except a black vocalist, because that makes it funny.

11. Feliz Navidad (lo siento, pero chinga tu madre).

12. 12 Days of Christmas - just sadistic and monotonous. And please, to all reporters who think it's clever to write up "how much these gifts would cost," please STOP. Nobody's actually going to buy geese a'laying or hire pipers to pipe...so just go on a 12 day drunk and lie in the gutter till Christmas blows over.

13. Deck the Halls - used in too many radio and TV commercials. Go "Fa-la-la yourself."

14. Let It Snow - redundant lyrics, preeningly sung. It also has crappy rhymes that are "frightful" not "Delightful"

15. The Little Drummer Boy. (bang, POW, to the MOON, you little shit.)

Another 50 aggravating Christmas tunes could be listed here.

On the other side? "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen," "Joy to the World," "Hark the Herald Angels Sing," and "Silent Night." Despite it's rude title, "Come All Ye Faithful" is a good one as well.

So why choose "Good King Wenceslas?" Because, like "Jerusalem," it was a song I heard all my life and never really paid much attention to. Unlike "Jerusalem," when I finally did sit down and try and make sense of the lyrics…I found that they were good. To put it simply, Good King Wenceslas was good! The guy was not only concerned with the poor, he even made sure his "noble page" didn't do all the work for him! The King was a true leader, walking in the snow, clearing a path for his page to follow. Damn nice, this Senor Wences. Dee-feecult for most leaders, but easy for him! Cut him an extra order of slaw.

Below?

A HALF-DOZEN versions of GOOD KING WENCESLAS, covering a wide range of styles…from traditional folk (Irish Rovers), to faux-Beatles, to Stan Kenton, The Muppet Brass, and the traditional Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Oh yes, and the lovely Ms. McKennitt.

And now a word about the lovely Jane Seymour, who is half-Jewish (on her father's side). Her book "Good King Wenceslas" (with illustrations by Omar Rayyan) gives you an annotated version of the story, and she reads the lyrics on the bonus DVD which includes the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. When I met Jane some months ago, I assumed she was promoting an autobiography, or maybe a new film. I was surprised and delighted that she, like me, was a fan of The 'Slas. I mentioned that I had collected about 30 versions of the song, and would send her a CD of the mp3 files. She signed a promo poster of the book cover for me, in gold ink.

At its best, a Christmas song can reinforce the spirit of caring…and of real sharing. Sadly, if the Good King was around today, his website would be hacked, anarchists and religious fanatics would be plotting his assassination, and a paparazzi camera would be hidden hoping to get a nude picture of the Queen. He'd probably be shocked to find out there are "Christian" bloggers who routinely give away dozens and dozens of in-print and easily buyable Christmas albums. He'd wonder how "Christians" could be Scrooges who coldly steal Christmas music and don't care how miserable the holiday is for thousands of people formerly in the music biz and now out of work, and thousands more having to take low-wage jobs they hate because "music must be free" assholes took away the work they loved.

Jane Seymour's combo book/DVD would make a nice gift; it's beautiful, with great illustrations, and that beats a cold Kindle any day. The six downloads of the song should help you get to know The King, and are brought to you by a blogger who, as December 25th approaches, identifies more and more as neither Christian or Jew, but 100% tree-loving Druid. In other words, don't go hacking a living pine or fir in the forest, you stupid prick. I'm axing you nicely!

Six Versions of GOOD KING WENCESLAS, from traditional to a nice faux-Beatles rendition

DEAR MRS. ROOSEVELT : Dylan covers Guthrie's FDR Tribute

Franklin Roosevelt is the subject of a new movie starring Bill Murray. Unlike the new movie about Lincoln, this one is more of a comedy, and focuses on the sex life of a man who was pretty lively for a polio victim, and someone who had the weight of the world on his shoulders with the Great Depression and then World War II. The movie will probably turn up on PirateBay or KickAss any day now, which hacktivists would tell you is the ultimate "freedom."

They don't know FDR's speech on "The Four Freedoms."

They're too busy invading the freedom of others by thefts and pranks to actually school themselves in economics, politics, social responsibility or The Golden Rule. By warping the concept of "Freedom" these little Hitlers are doing what Adoph did during Roosevelt's era: using greed to trump morality. He took from the Jews and gave to the haters. And the haters cheered. Yes, took Jewish stores and Jewish money and ultimately, Jewish lives. And most of Germany applauded this. Just like so many reasonable people see nothing wrong with insane piracy (not a blog being educational but a torrent throwing every new album and movie and book out there and making a profit for its owners).

Hitler nearly took over the world just by scapegoating and using the Jews. Now take a look at Herr Schmidt of Google, for example, who openly cheated the British out of millions in taxes. Don't bother to Google it, here's a quote from the London Daily Mail the other day: "“The boss of Google last night said he was ‘very proud’ of the elaborate structure that helped the search giant slash more than £200million from its UK tax bill last year."

Let's not forget the German who changed his name to 'Kim Dotcom' and became one of the richest men when he emigrated Down Under...taking his Megaupload millions with him. Money that went into his pocket and not to the artists he stole from...money that he even swindled from premium account payers, who should've gotten the service free since the bastard was making millions on ads alone. Greed can be blinding.

People wonder how the Germans could allow the Jews to be exterminated? Same way dress-up "pirates" and Kim Dotcom-types scapegoat artists and their reps for their own profit. Kill the Jews and that's the "final solution." Get "free music" and books and movies, and that's Nirvana, and you exterminate EVIL record stores, movie rental outlets and book shops! Pretend Sony is a big monopoly...but not Burger King or Tesco, because to get something "free" at Burger King or Tesco you'd have to leave Mommy's basement, and you just might get your ass thrown in jail. So just play on the Internet where it's easy to be goose-stepping over copyright, shouting "we're freedom fighters…music should be free…books…magazines…newspapers…porn…" with the same lack of conscience the SS had in physically stomping the Jews, the gays, Poles, Serbs, Soviets and any others they decided had no rights.

Assange would tell you that he's a freedom fighter, and wants transparency…when it comes to your records, what's on your computer, or what your social security number is. He and the four Swedes from Pirate Bay, and various bratty Hacktivists, all set themselves up to dictate what should be free and and if you don't agree you get victimized. Sounds like these "freedom fighters" are just a new breed of dictators and bully boys. That's because it takes a great man to be in power and not be totally corrupt. A man like Roosevelt. Or Washington, who refused to become King of America and instead helped create a nation based on a "Bill of Rights" and "freedom," where people are free to pursue happiness as long as their happiness doesn't involve hurting someone else or taking away someone else's rights with disdain and derision for the damage done.

On January 6, 1941, amid war caused by insane tyrants and dictators, Franklin Roosevelt delivered his "Four Freedoms" speech. He said:

"We look forward to a world founded upon four essential human freedoms. The first is freedom of speech and expression -- everywhere in the world.

The second is freedom of every person to worship God in his own way -- everywhere in the world.

The third is freedom from want….which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants -- everywhere in the world.

The fourth is freedom from fear which….means a world-wide reduction of armaments (so) that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor-- anywhere in the world.

That is no vision of a distant millennium. It is a definite basis for a kind of world attainable in our own time and generation. That kind of world is the very antithesis of the so-called new order of tyranny which the dictators seek to create with the crash of a bomb.

To that new order we oppose the greater conception -- the moral order...without the concentration camp or the quick-lime in the ditch. The world order which we seek is the cooperation of free countries, working together in a friendly, civilized society.

….Freedom means the supremacy of human rights everywhere."

70 years after Roosevelt gave his speech, we are faced with more tyrants than ever. Wannabe's like Saddam, Moammar and Osama didn't think they'd end up dead in the dirt like Hitler or hanging from a rope like Mussolini. Self-entitled egotists always think they're special, just as Assange doesn't want you to look closely at how he makes money or how he gets his sexual pleasures. No, YOU and your bank and your government should let him take all the information he wants. Because he's the great dictator Assange. No different from Putin or the latest lunatic in North Korea or Iran.

Added to these tyrants, we have the Internet bully boys. Whether uploading an entire Beach Boys discography, or re-upping a fresh blog, or tormenting a schoolmate or "getting even" with Gene Simmons for not looking the other way at idiots stealing his music, or hacking a police site and posting a foppish Vendetta mask and taking credit for being an anonymous coward, the message to the victims is: YOU have NO FREEDOM. YOU have no rights. Do as we say OR ELSE." No difference between radical Islam and some bratty Brit in Mommy's basement...it's all intolerance and no respect for the rights of others.

If YOU are in a business that makes money from something that can be downloaded free on the Internet, YOU aren't free to make your living without interference. You, like some shopkeeper giving payoffs to the Mafia, are supposed to live in fear of reprisals...when Roosevelt said we should have nothing to fear but fear itself! YOU are supposed to become the unwilling partner of a Kim Dotcom (of which there are many) who are clever enough to use Hitler or Mussolini tactics and paint themselves as Robin Hoods and "freedom" fighters while pocketing a fortune.

Roosevelt had other ideas of freedom…and "a moral order." His golden rule involved "human rights" everywhere in the world. Including cyberspace. "Human rights" means the right to your property and your privacy, and that what is yours isn't "free" to be "shared" without your permission. It's a tyrant who gives you "Chilling effects" when you ask that your rights be respected. It's the power-made, arrogant bullies, like the Pirate Bay bunch, who laugh at you and spit in your eye when you tell them that what you own shouldn't be "shared" without your permission. Do they care that you're about to go bankrupt, that you are depressed and helpless, or that you want to be paid for your work? They care as much as the Nazis cared about the Jews.

Bob Dylan once said that all the truth in the world adds up to one big lie. It sure does if it's told by somebody like Assange. Or Putin. Or some jerk behind a silly looking effeminate Vendetta mask. Or a "pirate." Dylan's heroes didn't hide in Mommy's basement behind a computer, taking away the rights of others and using the word "freedom" as an excuse to steal. And below, Bob sings "Dear Mrs. Roosevelt," which was written by Woody Guthrie in tribute to the late great Franklin Delano Roosevelt, who fought Hitler and said "Freedom means the supremacy of human rights everywhere." Including the Internet.

Dylan sings Dear Mrs. Roosevelt

ADAM SANDLER TWO "CHANUKAH SONG" SEQUELS + HALLELUJAH SANDY SCREW YA

What do the girls above all have in common?? Guess...

"So many Jews are in show biz. Bruce Springsteen isn't Jewish, but my mother thinks he is."

So sings Adam Sandler, who has written what is arguably the most famous song for the Jewish "Festival of Lights." What else is there? "Dreidel Dreidel Dreidel, I made it out of clay?"

One of the great pastimes of both Jews and Gentiles, is outing Jews…either for pride or pogrom. Either way, there is no question that the small minority has contributed a disproportionate share of great people to the world, including Einstein, Freud, Carl Sagan, Bob Dylan, Stanley Kubrick, Steven Spielberg, Marc Chagall, Modigliani, and some guy named Jesus.

But when the antisemites point to the noses on Mel Brooks or Woody Allen or Groucho Marx, or the gruesome look of Barbra Streisand or the tiny size of Dustin Hoffman…that's when the "well, you know who ELSE is Jewish" game begins, and it includes normal-nosed and downright attractive folks such as Kirk Douglas, Michael Landon, William Shatner, Peter Falk, Rod Serling, Tina Louise, Lauren Bacall, Lisa Kudrow, Winona Ryder, Mayim Bialik, Mila Kunis, Tori Spelling, Paula Abdul, Amanda Peet, Gwyneth Paltrow, Alicia Silverstone and Natalie Portman. And Gina Gershon. Among others. Look at the photos ill-ustrating this entry, and tell me if they fit your stereotype of what a Jewish girl looks like. Stereotypes can be wrong, huh! And when people snicker that Jews are weaklings, well, just point to a sliver of land called Israel, defended by some of the fiercest fighters the world has ever known…which goes back to the heritage of Judah Maccabee (not Scottish).

Enter Adam Sandler, with his annoyingly catchy melody and, as you can find below, his ever-increasing sequels to the "who's Jewish" list. Which, naturally enough, includes people who are half-Jewish, like Lenny Kravitz and Courtney Love who, put together sings Sandler, would be "one bad-ass Jew." And so, even if he doesn't swing like Stan Getz or Herb Alpert, or write melodies like Gershwin, or have the rhythm of Max Weinberg, or sing with the power of Jolson (or even Steve Lawrence, or even Eydie Gorme), here's Adam Sandler, doing what he does best…being heard and not seen.

Adam's Chanukah Song Update #2

Adam's Chanukah Song Update #3

UPDATE:

On 12/12/2012 Adam provided one of the highlights of the "Hurricane Sandy" benefit show with his new lyrics for Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah."

Sandler, doing a kind of Springsteen growl of surliness, actually was better than "The Boss," since this wasn't the umpteenth singing of "Born to Run," there was no fist-pumping, no strumming the guitar like you're slapping wet underwear against a washboard, no stupid-looking soul patch, no bullshit working man's shirt and pants, and no spit-sharing with Little Steven rag-head fatface.

Not to get off on a rant, but Sandler was funnier than Bobby Moynihan and his bomb of a "Drunk Uncle" routine. He was wittier than pompous NBC news-schmuck Brian Williams who is so slimy and self-important and thinks he's so hip with his condescending quips...except this is the asshole who sarcastically told the under-40's in the audience that they had just seen "Uncle Keith Moon" when Pete Townshend had finished performing!

Sandler was also less of a cliche than Bon Jovi or the wearisome self-important Roger Walters. Adam also could handle a solo turn with bare piano backing a lot more interestingly than the fabulous Alicia Keys, who didn't show much charisma, talent, or even beauty during her set. Her voice was weak and thin as she pounded the piano, just some bad cross of Diana Ross and Whitney Houston. We've seen it before, so why the hell is everyone so locked into Keys? She might be good if compared to pompous Kanye West, who was boring with his dumbass nursery-rhyme rapping and absolutely incompetent when he tried to sing. He pranced and sweated all over the stage and made a fool of himself. Time to realize that most rappers and rap songs are pretentious, childish, ignorant and a kick in the balls to Charles Darwin's theory.

Who got the job done that night? Billy Joel, unafraid to show himself in public in his current fat-and-bald state, Paul McCartney still singing pretty well and thankfully shelving "Hey Jude" for the odd choice of "Helter Skelter," and Mick Jagger who wisely sang two numbers and quit (to make sure people wanting more PAID for his concert to be broadcast only a few nights later).

Some outside of New York might not get all the references to the annoying "Squeegee men" (homeless morons who ambush cars at stop lights to demand money for washing the window with filthy water and a greasy rag) or Mayor Bloomberg's legislation that intended to remind people that 32 oz sodas are fattening, unhealthy, and if you can't waddle back to the counter after a 16 oz drink to buy another you are REALLY FUCKED UP. Or Jets quarterback Mark Sanchez who not only fumbled an intended pass, but ended up falling forward into the backside of one of his players.

Adam's HALLELUJAH - SANDY SCREW YA download or listen on line.

SPEEDOO DIES : EARL CARROLL of THE CADILLACS & COASTERS

"Don't quit your day job," is a cynical remark you often hear in show business.

For Earl Carroll (November 2, 1937 – November 25, 2012) let's adapt a Bob Dylan line instead: "20 years of show biz and they put you on the mop shift."

Yes, the lead singer who was in two of the most popular doo-wop groups of all time, became a janitor in the 1980's, working in a public school (P.S. 87).

Ironically, Carroll began making music in another Manhattan public school; P.S. 139. There he entertained classmates as a member of The Carnations in 1953. They began recording the next year, but since there was already a group by that name, Earl and his friends became The Cadillacs. "Gloria" was their song to gain attention.

They were rehearsing for a show when disk jockey Alan Freed came by to watch. He urged their manager to record a new tune called "Speedoo" and issue it as a single. It became their biggest hit, and Earl's signature tune. That was the power of radio and disc jockeys. Today bands throw songs on YouTube free, and get no response beyond a friend or relative saying "Don't quit your day job."

"Well, they often call me Speedo but my real name is Mr. Earl…"

Back then, the underlying theme of black doo-wop was the search for identity. Even in the most frivolous settings, the singer and listener shared this need for respect. The song actually came from Carroll reminding someone that "Speedoo"was just a nickname. Likewise the self-proclaimed "Duke of Earl" re-invented himself as a somebody "no one can stop." The Drifters described their poverty but held onto the dream of being "On Broadway." The Coasters moaned the comic refrain, "What About Us?"

And so Earl Carroll rose above his sarcastic nickname: "I always liked to take my time, do things at my own pace," Carroll explained. "The other guys would be telling me, Come on, hurry up Speedy."

The Cadillacs changed personnel before they became popular, and even more conflicts with group members after. Their manager added to the confusion by sending out several versions of the band, with an original member fronting a group of hired hands. In one city Earl Carroll and the Cadillacs" might play, while in another "Jesse Powell and The Caddys" and in another, "The Cadillacs," with J.R. (Jimmy) Bailey. Finally in 1959 Bailey emerged as the official lead vocalist.

The Cadillacs' best years were behind them. Earl Carroll speeded along as a member of The Coasters, who became the greatest at rockin' novelty songs. When the hits stopped, the oldies circuit was a decent alternative, especially for a group with a dozen recognizable hits, not just two. But after twenty years of Coasting, the oldies concert market was not so viable, and Earl started his day job in 1982.

Earl was known at P.S. 87….for keeping the place clean. A local kiddie-book author wrote a book about him called "That's Our Custodian." He became a minor celebrity. "You really felt good about keeping the school clean, and then the teeny-weenies, they love you so much,” he told an interviewer in1988. "When they found out I was a rock ’n’ roller – I was on the 50th anniversary of the Apollo with Bill Cosby – the kids couldn’t believe it."

In the 50's and early 60's, before the civil rights movement began to rumble, The Cadillacs and the rest faced segregation indignities in touring the South, and the usual "small print" in record contracts and unfair "deals" from record labels. Where was the freedom? The rights? Things changed in the late 60's, but into the 21st Century, Mr. Earl saw the scales of justice tip and go back down. Copyright's become jeered as "copywrong," and if a man wants to get paid for writing or performing songs, he's told "music should be free." Go get a day job. The big power is not an "evil" record label, but a monopoly such as Google, with their "chilling effects" dealt to anyone trying to prevent their work from being stolen, and "Anonymous" groups who deny rights to the individual by declaring, in essence, "believe what we believe, do things our way, or we'll attack and destroy you." Not exactly the message of Martin Luther King Jr.

Earl Carroll put in his time at the public school, and retired in 2005. He'd gotten The Cadillacs back together for occasional oldies shows during his tenure at the school, but after a long work-week, he and the group could only get bookings on weekends, and in the summer, and often an oldies show only wanted The Cadillacs for "Gloria" and "Speedoo," and then other acts took the stage. Carroll sometimes paid out of his own pocket for transportation, meals and hotel. But that's how the arc went in his lifetime: from doing shows to spark record sales to doing shows because there were no record sales.

He ended up in a public nursing home, suffering from diabetes and finally a stroke. He died a few days ago at the age of 75, a shell of "Speedoo," but hopefully still known and respected as "Mr. Earl." Your download is both "Speedoo" and the inevitable attempt at a spin-off, "Speedoo is Back."

SAPRISTI! SPEEDOO Mr. Earl Carroll Speedoo is Back

FRANK ALAMO - BITCH, MY BITCH! And Lou Gherig's Disease, too

Having passed on without much ink, the death of Jean-Francois Grandin, aka Frank (or "Franck") Alamo, is hereby noted, a month late. He died October 11th of Lou Gherig's disease (ALS, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis) which does show the influence of American baseball around the world. Or how diseased we are all becoming. He just missed making it to his birthday (October 12th, 1941).

Alamo wasn't known in England or America because he was an importer. He took English language songs and covered them for the French market. "Leader of the Pack" became "Le Chef De La Bande." While nonsense words were universal, "Da Doo Ron Ron" did require some Franco-filing to become a hit in Paris. Otherwise, Frenchies might've thought the song had something to do with kitten feces ("Ronron" is the name of a cat food in France, and Da Doo is, well, da doo).

It's possible Frank could've made more than francs if he chose to sing an English translation of his biggest French hit, "Biche ma Biche" (aka "Biche oh ma Biche"). Especially if the translation was "Bitch, Oh My Bitch."

The original lines:

"Biche, ô ma biche. Lorsque tu soulignes. Au crayon noir tes jolis yeux.

"Biche ô ma Biche. Moi je m'imagine. Que ce sont deux papillons bleus."

The illfolks translation:

"Bitch, oh, my bitch. Your soul is lost. I've got a black crayon to bring joy to you.

"Bitch, oh my bitch, in my imagination, you could give a butterfly the blues."

Something like that.

OK, the actual translation of the song's title is "Sweets for my Sweet." To which we say "Merde!"

Alamo's peak years were the early 60's. It was a fairly recent John Wayne movie of the day, that led his record label's president to re-name him "Alamo." But by the late 60's, at the same time John Wayne was losing fans with his pro-Vietnam rhetoric, the singer lost interest in music. He owned a car company and focused most of his energy on business ventures. In the 90's, nostalgia for Frank's "ye ye" music (and his Beatles yeah-yeah covers) led him to try and revive his career. Fortunately, unlike Lou Gherig who was struck down while still playing baseball, or Catfish Hunter, who died at 53, Alamo did get back to singing and have his second chance, before the problems associated with his motor neurone disease became too severe. When that happened, well, life can be "biche," ie, sweet, and sometimes, living can be a bitch.

Remembering ALAMO…

FRANK ALAMO Biche oh ma Biche

RAY DAVIES: VESTA VICTORIA IS MY QUEEN

Dear Ray…

Hope you and the Village Green Preservation Society are doing well. Well, we know the Village Green will become part of the Ocean Blue soon! We are too far along with climate change for anyone to think that children born today will survive adulthood without scuba gear.

We won't be around to see that. As sons of Miniver Cheevy, we were always looking happily backward anyway, not only pining for the good old days remembered from youth, but even for ages we never knew. Like the Victorian era of the British Music Hall. That's even better. People our age can tell us, "come on, things were NOT better when we were kids," but nobody's around to scold us for not wanting to live back in 1910.

We can pretend that living when "I'm Henry the 8th" was sung by Harry Champion and not Herman's Hermits, was indeed a golden age. Meanwhile, we can look at picture books from long ago, buy antiques, play old records on vintage equipment or, at least, listen to un-restored recordings on our new-fangled digital players. Thus we can momentarily go back in time (as long as the cell phone is on mute, or the neighbors aren't blaring rap). While this blog has previously paid homage to world-weary Greta Keller, the sophisticated chanteuse from Germany, there's no question: when it comes to old-time singers, Victoria is my Queen. Ray, as a proud Brit, I'm sure you know her full name: Vesta Victoria. She was born on November 26, 1874. She died April 7, 1951, before I was born.

"She was comedy's heroine of woe, whether singing songs as a child who can not get her father to buy her a dog, or as a woman who can not land a husband. One of the greats of both British music halls and American vaudeville, Vesta Victoria warbled in a husky voice that often strayed with delightful guilelessness in and around the tune's key." So says "Comedy Stars on 78 RPM," which mentions that Vesta was making "an astonishing $3,000 a week in 1907" for a United States tour. That's when Variety noted "she remains the magnetic, pretty, buxom character songstress, the idol of the New York public, unexcelled and impossible of imitation." Actually, she was imitated by Ada Jones, who covered several of her tunes for American record companies.

Her classics were recorded over 100 years ago, but in 1931, she was persuaded to record a 78 featuring two medleys of her most famous songs, and that's what you get in the download below. She sounds even more comic and woeful than ever, in dealing with her cast of nasty boyfriends and/or their mothers. "Waiting at the Church" is almost masochistic, isn't it? She sings about lost money and lost love, and the punchline is a bitter jeer at her foolish naivete. And yet, we sympathize and we love her, and we even laugh. "Poor John" isn't much better. Here, she has a potential boyfriend who brings her home to see his mother. And his mother's reaction is the humiliating two words that title the song.

One of the most annoying things on earth is the spoiled child…and yet another of Vesta's biggest hits, "Daddy Wouldn't Buy me a Bow Wow," invites us to laugh at a girl's pouty complaint and embrace her rather than spank her.

Ray, we all know that from the "gay 90's" to the "roaring 20's," people weren't exactly prudish. So nestled in with the spinster songs and kid numbers is another favorite: "It's All Right in the Summertime." It's about her turn as a nude model! Yes, once again, she's sort of the "butt" of the joke. She has no choice but to help her old man by posing for his pictures…even in winter: "with a little red nose and very little clothes," and the stormy wind does blow!

That's about it, Ray. I don't want to go on and on. I hope you like the download, and that others who have never heard of Vesta Victoria get something out of it. There's not much of Vesta Victoria available. Not even enough to fill one re-issue CD. Check a book called "The British Music Hall Discography" and you'll see she made lots of cylinders and 78's, but most of them are dust now. Still, we can whip up dusty memories into almost corporeal reality, and it's a comfort to see a picture of Queen Victoria and think for a moment she's still on the throne, and listen to Vesta Victoria and think she's still on the boards. It's a sherry-type high in these days of Coca-Cola. C-O-L-A, cola.

VESTA'S Last Music Hall Medley

THE SEAGULLS - "DEATH OF A CLOWN"

Most casual visitors to this blog know about Bobby Cole by now…and may share the view here that "Mister Bojangles" was the best single to be released on Columbia's short-lived subsidiary label, Date Records.

While Date didn't last long, it did try to get some attention for a lot of obscure people. The label didn't issue a whole lot of singles between 1966 and 1969 but most of what they issued involved acts most disc jockeys had never heard of before: J.J. Lancaster, Van Trevor, Plant Life, Pretty Prudie, Derek Savage Foundation, The Will-o-Bees, Richard Fudoli, The Music Bachs, Robert Tamkin, Silky and Sage, Free Ferry and Don Meehan.

OK, they also had Peaches and Herb, Argent, and a little something called "Time of the Season" by The Zombies. But those hits weren't enough to keep the label alive. Bobby Cole did pretty well for them with his Top 40 "Mister Bojangles." And "Death of a Clown" by The Seagulls got some airplay, too, though the big push (even ads in the trade mags) was for their debut single "Don't Go Out into the Rain." By the time of "Death of a Clown," Date Records was beginning to show mortality.

The Seagulls were Kenny Young, Kenny Soenberg (aka Kenny Sonn), and June Winter. Was Dave Davies impressed with the cover? Not sure. But Twiggy seemed to enjoy another single of theirs: "Twiggs." They performed it for her, and she even consented to pose with the group. Which didn't help much.

The Seagulls was neither the beginning nor the end for its leader Kenny Young. Before he formed the group, he was a Brill Building songwriter, half of the team behind "Under the Boardwalk," The Drifters hit. Slightly less well known: "Gentlemen Joe's Sidewalk Cafe" recorded by The Status Quo, "Oozi-Oozi-Ooh" and "Please Don't Kiss Me Again," both recorded by The Charmettes, "Kinky Kathy Abernathy" recorded by The Searchers," "Looky Looky My Cookie's Gone" by the Raspberry Pirates, and "Hold The Night" recorded by the San Francisco Earthquake.

He also wrote and recorded under his own name: "Shaga Zooma" for Atco, "Mrs. Green's Ugly Daughter" for Diamond, and "Don't Waste Your Arrows" for MGM.

Young went on to record a few albums for Warner Brothers, and aside from The Seagulls, formed several other groups using animal names: Fox, Squirrels and Yellow Dog. He also has a lot of credits as a producer which includes three albums with Clodagh Rodgers and the superstar-filled albums "Earthrise" and "Spirit of the Forest." His most recent productions are two "Rhythms del Mundo" albums. It's always great to note a talent who hasn't stayed rooted to oldies shows, or left the music business rather than found a way to stay involved and creative within it.

For fans wanting to go back in time for more of this group, The Seagulls did manage three singles (several songs originals written by Kenny Young)…which is one more than Bobby Cole, who recorded his two in 1968. The discs are: "Don't Go Out into the Rain" bw "Hitting the Moon with a Sling Shot" (1966), "Twiggs" bw "Charlie No More" (1967) and "Death of a Clown" bw "Annabel" (1967).

THE SEAGULLS Death of a Clown (cover)

ELSA LANCHESTER and "THE OLD BABY FARMER

Here in mid November, we're right between the birth (October 28, 1902) and death (December 26, 1986) of Elsa Lanchester. She was last heard from on this blog in October of 2007, celebrated for her risque comedy albums. Now it's time to give a nod to her for all the British Music Hall songs she performed, which kept alive the spirit of Vesta Victoria, Marie Lloyd and other charmers she no doubt saw live on stage. When Elsa was on Broadway with her one-woman show, she performed, among many others, "Mrs. Dyer, the Baby Farmer." It appears on her album "Cockney London" (released on vinyl by Verve circa 1958, now a gray area bootleg on CD by Windyridge in the UK).

In a style somewhat in homage of Vesta, Elsa often sang with wavery pitch. Her performance here is almost "campy," probably because the sophisticates in her audience relished decadence and prided themselves on being urbane and shockproof. Prolific murderess Amelia Dyer, the greatest monster of the English-speaking world, gets a coy tribute from the woman who once played opposite Boris Karloff. Her vocal might remind some of the time Roseanne Barr, unintentionally singing "Star Spangled Banner" out of her range, decided the only way out of her embarrassment would be to go for laughs and accentuate her ineptness. Elsa no doubt was aware of the limitations of her voice, and used her acting skills to color the lyrics to best advantage.

From the rather awful piano work of Ray Henderson, to her own wobbling between disgust and amusement over the dire doings of Dyer, Elsa sometimes hits both the bone of pathos and the funny bone on voice alone. When it was penned, and sold to crowds gathered at her hanging, the lyrics were intended to fire up outrage at Dyer's crimes, and to make people happy she was going to die. Over the years, the serious world of England a century ago has often been revised and parodied. From Peter Sellers' comical torture of "My Old Dutch" to Lionel Bart's lovable Fagin and musical comedy version of "Oliver Twist," the idea has been to lighten up the dark. And so "Mrs. Dyer, the Baby Farmer" becomes a black comedy of sorts for Elsa Lanchester. The former Bride of Frankenstein wants to have you in stitches.

ELSA: Mrs. Dyer the Baby Farmer

"MY LIFE" - The Return of IRIS DEMENT

Most of us hipsters scorn America's "Heartland," and cringe with fear and loathing at the term, which brings up images of Norman Rockwell and Grant Wood paintings, corny sayings stitched on pillows, plastic statues of Jesus and posters of Santa, and a pantry full of white bread to be served to redneck racists. But in the right hands, written and sung by the right voice, elements of "family values" and homespun wisdom become a source of pride and purpose. And we remember that the Heartland is also Lincoln and Sandburg, and Davy Crockett and Walt Disney, and Jimmy Stewart and Red Skelton, and honest people doing a day's work, and good dreams of modesty (a chicken in every pot) and of ambition (a man on the moon). Yes, as Paul Simon sang, "I wonder what went wrong." But there's also Iris Dement, singing about what's right.

Listen via the download below to Iris Dement, and "My Life," a song that seems ages old, but was written in 1994, not 1894. The lyrics have a purity and a clarity and a truth that's just hard to find these days (and wasn't so prevalent in early ages, either). Her voice? It's plain and yet it's beautiful; if some sound engineer added a few clicks and pops, you might swear her recordings were from the Woody Guthrie era of the 30's, when the corn and wheat were covered in dust and the nation was in a Depression…but never lost its spirit.

Iris Dement's early recordings on a small indie folk-oriented label, didn't exactly set the woods on fire, but critics were kind, she was nominated for a Grammy, and old fashioned "word of mouth" helped her become popular on tour. That was most important to her, and still is. She sees herself as a comforting singer…and she didn't even bother to sit own and write more songs and put out "new product" for over a decade. This post is keyed to that new album, "Sing the Delta." It's a good one. In singing about the Delta, and about rural life, and life in general, Iris has managed to reach all kinds of people. Just check her touring schedule. Unlike so many acts in her category of folk, country or "rural" music, she isn't merely performing in the South, or the Bible Belt. Her new tour takes her from Charleston, West Virginia to Berkeley California, to Orlando Florida, to the venerable venue of Town Hall in Manhattan, and to Cambridge, Massachusetts.

That's quite an achievement for someone with one semi "hit" in "My Life," almost a generation ago. That was when she got to be on TV for a while. She brought "My Life" to several programs. She always performed it sitting at a piano, looking very much like an awkward schoolgirl at a recital, hitting the notes with practiced determination and singing in a clear voice. Conan O'Brien was one of those who, having witnessed what he might've thought was just another "singer for the last five minutes of the show," actually came over from his desk and respectfully and sincerely thanked her for her moving performance.

You may have heard another song of hers play in the closing credits of a popular movie. "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms" was used by the Coen Brothers for "True Grit." Another rather pithy song of hers, may be known to you not by her version but by the one done by David Byrne and Natalie Merchant: "Let the Mystery Be." And let's have a closing word about her from Merle Haggard: "She's the best singer I've ever heard."

"My Life," your download below, comes from a 1998 Australian radio broadcast. Her new album, freely available on the Internet wherever fine albums are stole'd, is also available for sale on iTunes and at her Iris Dement dot.com website.

IRIS DEMENT sings… MY LIFE on Australian Radio 1998

CHRISTINE JORGENSEN: SEX CHANGE AND SPEEDED-UP VOCALS

One of the many wisecracks about the first man to have a successful sex change operation, was "if you can't get a raise, take a cut." After George Jorgensen became Christine…the question of making a living became more important than making water while squatting. Would she just disappear into private life and some low-paying job? Why not use the new-found celebrity to turn her artificial vagina into a real money-maker?

Christine would indeed make a living as an actress and lecturer, and being something of a novelty herself…issued a novelty single. "Crazy Little Men" arrived around the time speeded-up vocals were more popular than sheered-off testicles. Now, there are thousands of sex change operations every month but rarely one novelty song reaching the Top 100.

Over 50 years ago, people guffawed over the "Purple People Eater," the Chipmunks, the Nutty Squirrels, Maymie and Robert's "Ha Ha Hee Hee Ho Ho Hum Hum," and Jesse Lee Turner's "The Little Space Girl," which gave its heroine a chipmunk voice. So why not have a speeded-up space alien greet a transsexual on her trip to the moon?

"Crazy Little Men" was the wackiest song issued by a tranny until Amanda Lear covered "They're Coming to Take Me Away." Alas, neither song slid many coins into the singers' drawers.

Christine's item just didn't sell many copies. As for Amanda, in this age piracy circumcises half the take, and cheap streaming downloads means most listeners hardly spend a penny. Any pre-op trannies out there should realize that you won't be able to pay for a sex change with the spare change given out as music royalties. Save up as both Christine and Amanda did. Get a real job to pay for your operation, because in the music world, you'll be cut off without a cent. In other words, don't expect to Twatify on the money you get from Spotify.

Sapristi! Mooning Men? Christine did it!

Origin of: SETTIN' THE WOODS ON FIRE - HOMER AND JETHRO

Did you know that one of the most popular Hank Williams tunes of all time…was about shitting?

Merle Haggard tells the story:

"Hank was on the road, and they stopped at this Mexican joint. There wasn't a rest stop for miles so Hank went in the woods and took a shit. He said, 'I'm setting the fucking woods on fire!' That was the hottest godamn chili I've ever seen!' Before they'd driven another few miles, Hank had a song."

And when Hank spied the lady above, he wrote "The Log Train." Although you never know, it might've been "Hey, good lookin' watcha got cookin'?" No? "Your Cheatin' Fart?"

Since Hank is amply available all over the place, let's go with a parody version, which better suits a Photoshop photo anyway (no, Google censors, in the original the girl was just bent over, and nowhere near a campfire). Submitted for a shit-eating grin, the sadly neglected Homer and Jethro, who've gotten one decent compilation from an American company (Razor and Tie) and only one from Germany (Bear Family). It's about time for a full box set on these dead guys. Not that it will do them any good, but, to quote a revised line in this parody: "poor ol' Victor needs the money!"

Oh, speaking of needing the money, poor ol' Google has taken to hot-linking certain words. If you foolishly scroll over one of them, a pop-up ad appears. I will do my best to re-write my copy if I see one of these distracting blemishes. Google, of course, does not share the profits with me. They also dictate on YouTube how many pennies they might give for a highly viewed post and don't even start the count if there have been less than 50,000 hits. But let's pretend they're the good guys and the record labels, book companies and movie studios are the only ones cheating the talent and fudging royalty statements and using their power to take the whole pie and leave behind only a few crumbs.

Sapristi! H&J are SETTIN' THE WOODS ON FIRE

George McGovern Dies - Nixon (Frye) Sings Folsom Prison Blues

The headlines today could have been about ex-president George McGovern. But the Marine bomber who became the anti-war candidate in 1972 didn't win the election. The press in 1972 were busy laughing over the impending landslide that would re-elect Richard Nixon, and only two guys, Woodward and Bernstein, seemed serious about pursuing any of the rumors of dirty deeds that "Tricky Dick" was up to.

It would be two years after McGovern lost to Nixon that the Watergate scandal broke, and the President of the United States, sweaty and shaken, scowled his resignation on national television, and not long after, gave his sick smile as he waved a farewell, taking a helicopter to obscurity.

George McGovern's loss to Nixon was a disaster unequaled in American politics. He won only one state, and it wasn't his home state of South Dakota, it was Massachusetts. (The popular vote was a somewhat less humiliating 47 million to 29 million.) Young people and free thinkers wanted to recover from the hell of the Democratic Convention in Chicago in 1968 and the running of Hubert Humphrey against Nixon. Humphrey, you may recall, was the status quo candidate chosen after Robert F. Kennedy was murdered. McCarthy didn't get the nod, nor did "Pigasus," the live pig that the Yippies brought to the convention for a laugh. They were rewarded with tear gas. Phil Ochs was so distraught that he used 1968 as the date of his death on his tombstone for his "Rehearsals for Retirement" album cover.

But for many who grew up with The Beatles, and progressed along with Lennon to political issues and revolution, 1972 was the first time they could vote in a presidential election, and having McGovern running against Nixon and the war seemed to signal one more chance for sanity, good will, and morality. Instead, the war continued, and conservative, backward thinking prevailed. Until Watergate finally drove Nixon out. But a year or so after that, Lennon was admitting on stage, "OK, flower power didn't work...we'll try something else." And for Phil Ochs, there was nothing left to try except making a noose out of a rope.

You can read up on George McGovern, dead at the age of 90, via many sites on the Internet. You can even read books by McGovern himself, including an unusual take on Abraham Lincoln, a tome on world hunger (his cause since 1981 when he left the Senate) and a greatly praised, candid and moving book on the fate of his alcoholic daughter. Here at the Illfolks blog, it's with sadness that his passing is noted, especially the final fade, which included the inevitable "hospice care." When a loved one goes into "hospice care," you accept a certain reality, and the finality, and it's a strange twilight-zone kind of time of mourning, acceptance, and as long as the patient is able, being able to hold on for what is in essence, the long goodbye.

Being a music blog, your download is David Frye's "Folsom Prison Blues," sung as Nixon. On his blistering album, "Richard Nixon: A Fantasy," Frye imagined the long, hellish roasting of Nixon, from conviction to jailing, to even an execution. From having a landslide victory to being buried in scandal and disgrace...that was Richard Nixon, who died years ago pretty much as Mr. McGovern has now...after failing health, and a period of being "unresponsive," as family gathered to await the final breath.

A few extra reporters, a few breaks...it could've been President McGovern in 1972. He lost, but for 40 years after, his run remains a legend for its nobility of purpose. He is mourned as a man of courage and principle. His name is remembered with respect.

David Frye sings: Richard Nixon FOLSOM PRISON BLUES

WALGREENS IS STILL A HEARTBREAK. Homer & Jethro and Ruby Wright

Back in 1964, Ruby Wright (daughter of Johnny Wright and Kitty Wells) had some success with novelty singles. Her biggest was "Dern Ya," the answer to Roger Miller's "Dang Me." The same year, she offered "Billy Broke My Heart at Walgreens," via Nashville's RIC (Record Industries Corp) label. Her brief popularity with country novelty tunes set her apart from the other Ruby Wright...the big band vocalist who only five years earlier, had Top 40 hits on the mainstream charts with "Let's Light the Christmas Tree" and the Holly, Vallens & Bopper tribute "Three Stars."

Written by Hank Mills, and featuring an alarming "talking guitar" (not by Alvino Rey, but expert country session man Pete Drake), it could almost be taken seriously. There were probably a few fatties in trailer parks drinking some Jim Beam and stuffing Slim Jims in their pusses, (that's not a typo, that's puss, as in face), recalling some similar catastrophe of love gone wrong.

Without having to re-write too much of it, Homer & Jethro harmonized on their own version, raising the level of comic pathos to new heights of pathetic humorousness. (Feel free to click the picture and look at the bigger version. H&J and Ruby are so photogenic...and the photoshop job adding Sears and Walgreens looks so real...)

It ain't too funny that so many of our beloved chain stores have disappeared since Ruby Wright and Homer & Jethro sang about Walgreens. Gone or soon to be forgotten: Woolworths, Montgomery Ward, E.J. Korvette, King Kullen...Macy's can no longer tell Gimbel's anything…the latter went under long ago, along with Lamstons and Filenes and Daffy's and Abraham and Straus. How about the chains that still survive, but maybe pulled out of a neighborhood near you…a Baskin-Robbins, White Castle or Jack in the Box replaced by a Starbucks or Applebees or just a "for rent" sign.

Best Buy is teetering toward the same edge as Circuit City, because people go in there to handle the camcorders and see the computers…then rush back to Amazon to get the item for ten bucks cheaper and free shipping. Sears? Are they a factor anymore? Were most of them taken over by Wal-Mart? As for Walgreens they've been partnering up with other drug chains notably Duane Reade (an outfit that's emerged from Chapter 11 bankruptcy), and will probably stay around because our dependence on drugs for headache, stomach pain, and all the new ailments brought by stress and the environment is only going to increase.

Will anyone break your heart at Walgreens in the near future? No, you'll have your heart broken on Skype. Or you'll discover your sexy Facebook friend's latest sexting texts have other names on 'em and were sent in error to you. Or your heart will break when you discover your sexy Internet friend can't meet you in person because you'd discover that the person is actually 30 years older than you, and of the same sex! Vividly miserable at Walgreens is being replaced with being momentarily pissed off about the e-mail sex partner who now sends you nothing but spam about needing money and how you should deposit money in a Nigerian bank via Western Union. You might shed some tears but...

On the Internet, nobody hears you cry.

Sapristi! RUBY WRIGHT'S Billy Broke My Heart at Walgreens….

Sapristi! Homer & Jethro's She Broke My Heart at Walgreens….

OBNOXIOUSLY CENSORED "Rajah of Astrakhan" - Mighty Absalom

What the fuck?

Anyone buying a dirty record is not going to be offended by dirty language! That's the point of getting the god damned fucking record! Jesus Shit!

My guess is just before "The Mighty Absalom Sings Bathroom Ballads" was released, some frightened bunny at the record label thought, "It's got obscene words on it. A record store owner could be arrested. WE could be arrested!" The songs could've been re-recorded (perhaps in the style of Rambling Syd Rampo, who used nonsense verbs like "wurdling"). Instead, a sound engineer inserted loud BEEEEEEPS over every bad word.

Sung to the tune of "When Johnny Comes Marching Home," the choice sample from the album is "Rajah of Astrakhan." It's just a typical "bawdy" song but instead of hearing something about titties, you might get tinnitis. Weirdly, over in the U.S., Ed McCurdy and Oscar Brand released many similar albums, sans censorship.

Fortunately for Mighty Absalom, after breaking in the easy way, via smut, he was able to work his way upward. At this point he considers this 1965 effort, done when he was 25, a forgettable debut, and his website discography declares, "you don't want this one!"

In 1968, now billed simply as Mike Absalom, he released the quirky album "Save The Last Gherkin for Me." He started and ended the 70's with more oddities, including "Hector & Other Peccadillos" and "The Great Grombolian Connection." He recalls, "I played the Royal Albert Hall, appeared on "The Old Grey Whistle Test"…the 1970s were an all night party that spilled over into the days. Afterwards I spent a lot of time on mountaintops ironing out the hangover. I passed the next quarter of a century in Canada. In tune with the solid decorum of that country, I calmed down and became a pillar of the local community. During those years, I made my living as broadcaster, children’s entertainer, puppeteer, harpist, fiddler and Celtic bandleader. I also wrote newspaper articles, did performance poetry and toured North and South America as the male member of an all girl harp group. For a while, I resided in Paraguay where I studied harp and got up to no good, which, after Canada, was certainly worth it. I was dysfunctional and quite happy with the world and myself…I crossed back home over the Atlantic…Now I paint."

For much more, check out the MikeAbsalom dot.com. To hear the evils of censorship, rather than the delights of the flesh...

Sapristi! Download the Mighty Absalom's heavily censored... RAJAH OF ASTRAKHAN

DEATH OF THE CD - BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME

"Albums don't have the same significance they did 10 years ago," says Elvis Costello. "You can't even find a record shop. My last album was in a coffee shop." Yep. Carly Simon, Bob Dylan, Elvis…a lot of artists have turned up in Starbucks where the last of the affluent Yuppies toss an extra $12.95 at the counter because it's not much more than they spent for a latte. But Starbucks has cut back on the number of titles they sell. Costello's last didn't even make the cut.

Rolling Stone, back on March 1st: "Many cities have no record store, not even a Best Buy or a Target (which don't stock many CDs). You've got to order from Amazon…." And does anyone? Not when Amazon pushes mp3 downloads: "With streaming services like Spotify rising and iTunes entrenched as the world's biggest music retailer, digital sales in 2011 outstripped physical sales for the first time ever…" People under 50 overwhelmingly buy digital: "In the first week of February, Leonard Cohen's OLD IDEAS sold roughly 79% percent of its 41,000 copies on CD. Lana Del Rey's BORN TO DIE sold just 26 percent of its 77,0000 copies that way according to Billboard."

More bad news. Because of piracy, digital music sales are nowhere near the sales figures when CD or vinyl was popular.

Rolling Stone's answer to its own headline, "Is the CD Finally Dead?" is YES. "Within three years," the magazine predicts.

Charging less for a CD isn't the answer. The discount-pricing strategy might have slowed the demise of CDs "but sources say it also pushed profits on CDs down." So says Rolling Stone.

The Village Voice: "CDs came out in the 80s and, by the late 90s, you could make your own at home. Then, when the digital download came out...even companies are saying, 'Why are we making CDs if people can just download the whole album?'" Around Christmas some fogeys might buy a re-issue box set on The Beatles or Neil Young, and some ancients will buy Susan Boyle, but that's not enough to sustain CD manufacture.

Sony shut down its CD manufacturing plant in New Jersey laying off 160 workers…and now has only one plant in America making CDs!

Am I ranting? No, it's just facts. Technology does this. Pro Tools has killed off a lot of recording studios. It's progress. It's part of why our economy is so bad, but it's been going on ever since Henry Ford built his first assembly line. Woody Allen said his father lost his job to progress: "a machine does what he did, but ten times better. And my mother bought one!"

In a generation or two, we went from vinyl, to tape, to CD to mp3. We went from making a tape copy to perfect digital duplication. Now, copying is so common, blogs are disappearing. You can find most of what bloggers used to post all over torrents, lockers, YouTube, and more. The "usual suspects" still doing blogs are mostly half dead zombies who monotonously re-post the entire Beach Boys catalog over and over. Or they croak "not to be missed" about a once-rare psych album all over the Net and one they re-posted a dozen times. Or they steal a download, re-up with their dopey name as the password, and get some senile kick out of the same "nice comments" left in the shout box, all about "thanks" and "we are not worthy," and "you are God." Even if the number of these comments has shriveled smaller than the uploader's dick.

Meanwhile the death of CD and the proliferation of mp3 means file lockers like Rapidshare have lowered their price for an account. Too much competition, including the huge torrent sites that make money with fake dating service ads or click-throughs to game sites full of spyware.

Joni Mitchell didn't know clouds at all. Heh heh. Now she does. Clouds and new sharing via Kindle devices and iPhones mean the percentage who buy music (movies, books, magazines) is shrinking every day, like the polar ice. Hell, there's so much free entertainment, even free entertainment isn't a lure, so TV shows are sinking in the ratings…and even low-budget reality shows cut down on staff. Sports stars are likely to see less money too, thanks to free streams of "pay per view" events. Buy entertainment? "Zero paid" is the goal. At best, a new album comes out and sells 40,000 units instead of 400,000 or a million.

Well, Brother, a lot of people are begging for a dime now. Three companies have emerged to become like Germany, Italy and Japan in World War II (that would be Google, Amazon and Apple) but those giants do NOT employ all that many people.

Remember when "sharers" had an answer to piracy? It was "find a new paradigm." Like, sell t-shirts. Or tour till you drop dead and never mind if the club is tiny and your hotel bill cuts your profits. Or sell music so low that a million would buy for a dollar. None of it worked.

Unemployment, like climate change, is not going to ever get better. Those who are out of work, or forced to accept a soul-killing job that barely pays the rent, can soothe themselves in the evening with free YouTube or torrent downloads, or cheap home-made meth (good weed, like any good crop, is tougher to get at any price).

Kids can adapt. They don't give a damn about paying attention to music and holding a CD in their hands. If the doctor's waiting room doesn't have a copy of Newsweek, so fucking what, a zillion mags are on KickAss torrents to be put into their kindle. Who gives a damn about the news anyway? All they care about is what Lindsay Lohan and Kim Kardashian are up to. Anything else and there's always Huffington Post and Google News which give you all you need to know for free. "Fair use," you know.

Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood.

This isn't a rant about thoughtless, greed-headed pirate assholes like Kim Dotcom or some retarded bloggers going overboard, or whether it's moral to avoid buying HBO, Showtime or over-priced PPV sports events by getting it free . It's not a complaint about stupid punks who think that "free speech" and "fair use" and "no censorship" is an excuse to steal.

This post is just a statement of fact: there are no new paradigms, and brother, it's hard to make a dime. That's all. Even "totally fuzzy" music "sharers" have come around to admit that not paying for music is a bad thing. Capitalism thrives on buy and sell. But it's all over now, Baby Blue. Just like it's all over for the blue whale, and fresh-caught salmon. Like it's all over for record and bookstores. Like it's almost all over for movie houses, or the post offices. Might as well play an old Ray Davies song mourning that we don't have Queen Victoria anymore. So? We got Queen Latifah and Lady Gaga and Queen touring without Freddie Mercury.

Back in the 30's, when "Brother Can You Spare a Dime" became a popular song, things were different. There was a work ethic. Immigrants came to a new country to work, not demand benefits, refuse to speak the language, and plot to blow up buildings. Second, most any skill you had could be applied to a new job opportunity. Cylinder records went obsolete? OK, the factory makes 78's. 78's went obsolete? Manufacture 45's and 33's. Vinyl goes? Manufacture CDs. But now…the manufacturing plants stand empty, ready for the wrecking ball. Music, movies, books...you're supposed to give it away on Google's Blogger, YouTube, cloud systems or watch it get stolen via Google's copyright-raping search engine and their digitizing of every book and their pointing toward every blog or YouTube free version. Google's "monetization" of your YouTube account ain't the answer, neither is their pledge to toss a few pennies to publishers. And Spotify is not giving songwriters the living wage that radio once did.

Among the books nobody's buying is one called "Free Ride" by Robert Levine. In it, Levine writes: "At what point did free music become a social cause? If artists want to give away their music, that's great. They just shouldn't have to do it when they don't want to."

Perhaps a better quote comes from Kurt Vonnegut, who no longer needs royalties: "And so it goes." Right down the drain.

Rolling Stone, the anorexic magazine that could drop dead any day and go to digital only, is actually trying to get more people to check their website for exclusive site-only features. They know you can download every new issue from some torrent or other. So while I still have a subscription, I know one day there won't be a magazine in the mail box anymore. And that Rolling Stone will have a staff of only a few people, and not enough for well-researched exposes, and they'll just have puff pieces on Justin Bieber, and reviewers who take hip-hop seriously.

So be happy CDs are dying and a few external hard-drives store everything. Hope that the 1% who can afford to pay for downloads do so, and it's enough to keep some artists and production companies and publishers in business. Move into a smaller low-rent place and save your money for food, since crop erosion, spoiled oceans and fetid slaughter houses will make the price for a healthy meal go up while your pay check shrinks down. The answer my friend, is that music, movies, and book downloads are just blowin' in the wind. And some incinerated dust that was once human, will be blowin' along with it.

"I've seen the future…and it's murder." Oh, that was Leonard Cohen. Let's go back in time to find more optimism. to the 30's, when a bum asked for a dime and got it, instead of a cackle and a sneer of "get a new paradigm."

"Brother Can You Spare a Dime," a zip file of obscure versions as well as star turns. Vintage: Charlie Palloy, and ("Hey, don't you remember, they called me Al") Jolson. Recent: Mandy Patinkin's half-campy brawl on Letterman's show and a slow, slow funky meditation from Dr. John and Odetta. Brother Can You Spare a Dime Four Times

EROTIC MURDER-SUICIDE - DEBORAH GALLI

Girls just wanna have fun…but what happens if the guy is having fun with somebody else?

As the drums throb and the keyboards slink along the minor keys, the shadowy Deborah Galli emerges to confront her now very definitely EX boyfriend. Singing in a Cyndi Lauperesque accent that is pungent with the dumps of Brooklyn and the sewage of New Jersey, our Deb declaims with lethal bitterness:

"I saw you with your woman. My God you make a beautiful peyy-uhh. I heard her call you 'Honey.' I saw the way she ruffled your heyy-uhhh." (That's a rhyme of "pair" and "hair" folks).

The couple once made love to innocent tunes on the radio ("Underneath the Boardwalk…Be my little baby") but their hot-blooded affair curdled into a witch's brew of conflicting emotions: "Sometimes we were a play by Chekhov. Sometimes a rock and roll cartoon."

Check off Chekhov and cue the Poe, because Deb quotes "Dream within a dream." Pretty spooky, huh? Too bad other cuts on the album were aiming more for the "have fun" crowd, and something for Lauper-types to dance to at the disco.

Record labels seemed desperate to have their own Cyndi, and no doubt Galli was encouraged to fill her debut lp with up-tempo numbers and frivolity. Her label's choice for a 12-inch single was not this song, but a generic disco-pop number called "I Go To Zero," which didn't go to the Top Ten.

Ironically the dopey "girls just want to have fun" faded fairly quickly, along with girls wearing garbage bags (Total Coelo) along with garish wigs. Cyndi's next hit was the mournful "True Colors." The one time I did meet up with Cyndi she looked anything but happy. And I don't take the blame for it, as she was morose before we were introduced. And this was when "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" was making her rich and famous. I met her up at Black Rock (the nickname we tiresome insiders use for the CBS building on 52nd Street). She was sitting around looking like a school kid in detention. She was probably called up to the Epic office to do interviews, and maybe sign some promo lps to send to disc jockeys. So when we were introduced (I was there to interview somebody else, and grab some new releases) she forced a glum hello and then continued staring off into space.

Not long after, I'm opening up promo packages, and I find yet another debut album by yet another label's Lauper wanna-be, with hair dye and punkish makeup. Only she looks a tad moody (the gun in the photo is Photoshopped). I dutifully audition some tracks, and love her self-penned "French Kisses." Why wasn't this the single? Would she be available for an interview? Was this a posthumous release? I had to keep wondering. Because...

Not everyone on a record label gets any kind of push. Sometimes even a direct call to a publicist yields, "Huh? You sure we have that artist on our label?" Or, "Have no idea about interview availability. But Cheap Trick can do a phoner…"

Ironically in 1985, a year after Galli's album came out, the movie "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" briefly hit movie houses. It starred embryonic starlets Sarah Jessica Parker, Helen Hunt and Shannen Doherty. The producers didn't use Lauper's version of the song. Instead, the piece was performed by the trio of Tami Holbrook, Meredith Marshall and Deborah Galli.

What's become of Deborah Galli since 1985? Hopefully she's not in any "sticky situation" (a grim phrase in the song related to clotted gore). Meanwhile, enjoy this immortally mortal, chillingly weird, New Yawk-tinged goth number that fell through the cracks like a Raid-sprayed black widow spider. Girls just wanna have fun, but women bleed. And they just might take you with 'em when they do.

FRENCH KISSES - Deborah Galli

Dead Insect Eater Edward Archbold should've done THE COCKROACH STOMP

Edward Archbold could've gotten some exercise dancing to "The Cockroach Stomp."

Instead, he crammed giants roaches down his throat. A fatal mistake.

Hope it doesn't tarnish the enthusiasm we have for "Competitive Eating" competitions! After all, nothing is more entertaining than watching somebody gorge on hot dogs on the Fourth of July, or gulp down hard boiled eggs for the glory of a "World Record," which we can watch on a 50 inch plasma TV, unlike starving people who have no TV and would be grateful for a handful of rice.

At the Ben Siegel Reptile Store (Deerfield Beach, near Miami) the prize was…a python. And who wouldn't want one? Why have a cat, for example, when you can call attention to yourself with a python? Although perhaps a shrubbery would be just as peculiar to be proud of. Or a herring.

At Siegel's "Midnight madness" event, Friday night, October 5th, contestants had just four minutes to consume as many bugs as possible. Lucky Edward Archibold was declared the winner. Then he threw up. Then he fell down. And by the time he was hauled to the hospital, he wasn't doing anything, not even breathing. Last report, he's getting a free autopsy at the Broward Medical Examiner's Office.

Roach eating contests. Food eating contests. Recreational eating and snacking. Why, in the good old days, people were told to respect nature, guys such as Jack LaLanne believed in eating natural foods, fruits and vegetables and nothing processed and man-made, and it was a sin to waste food and…there were cute novelty songs like "The Cockroach Stomp." Eat roaches? No, stomp on 'em! Which was, come to think of it, pretty good exercise, too. People also did The Twist. Now pudgy fingers can barely unscrew a twist-top can, and angry slobs like Chris Christie and Rosie O'Donnell and Jennifer Livingston growl like grizzly bears when anyone suggests they be like Al Roker, Oprah Winfrey, or Ricki Lake and shut the cake hole for a while and then eat smaller portions, healthier foods and…get some exercise besides holding a knife and fork.

Anything wrong with over-eating for the fun of it? Just ask John Candy. Chris Farley. Or Edward Archbold, who, it must be admitted, died a winner! At least, this final act may have been an improvement on his last brush with fame…a 2004 arrest (and conviction) for indecent exposure.

The dead roach-eater could end up in a wood box six feet under…and be part of a contest for hungry maggots. They'll consume him in record time and not throw up a single morsel. Some creatures were made to eat dead meat. Maggots. Parasites. Oh yes, and people who enter eating contests and happily visit Applebees, Burger King and the fast food chain that Morrissey likes to call "Kentucky Fried Shit."

Jack Blanchard and Misty Morgan The Cockroach Stomp

ANOTHER SIDE OF LARRY CUNNINGHAM : DECEASED

Fans of eye catching album covers or head scratching music might've overlooked "The Two Sides of Larry," but there was something about that face. That was one side of Larry, and for a buck, I was willing to find out more. I'm referring to the British import, which made things all the more exotic.

The title, as it turns out, referred to Larry Cunningham's love of both traditional Irish music (he was from County Longford) and C&W crooning (as made popular by Jim Reeves).

A kid singer and actor (on the TV show "Christmas Pantomime") as well as a violinist and accordion player, the versatile, if oddly headed long-nosed and jug-eared entertainer got his big break in 1963 by actually replacing Jim Reeves on stage in Donegal. Reeves was a huge star in Ireland, and (with perhaps a little bit of a strong-arm from the Irish Federation of Musicians) included local Irish show bands in his performances. But all did not go as smoothly as his crooning, and at one notorious performance, he could no longer deal with a piano that wasn't up to his standards, and he walked off. The show went on without him: Larry and his "Might Avons," well-schooled in C&W, gave the audience all they could want.

Reeves, attempting to pilot his small plane through a thunderstorm, crashed and died on the afternoon of July 31, 1964. Larry Cunningham recorded "Tribute to Jim Reeves," and became the first Irishman to have a hit record on the British Top Ten charts. Then, to show his "two sides," in 1965 he rode "Lovely Leitrim," a more traditional Irish ballad, to #1, and with that, he flew right over Great Britain to Carnegie Hall, making a successful American debut. Larry left the Mighty Avons in 1969 to lead his own group, but his marriage (in 1972) and his four children had him thinking of a more stable life, which involved less touring, and more time at home where he owned a supermarket. He had three Top Ten hits in Ireland in the 70's ("Goodbye Comes Hard To Me" in 1973, "This Time of the Year" in 1974 and "My Kathleen" in 1975) and one Top 20 in the 80's ("The Story of My Life" in 1983). His last single to get significant airplay was "Walk On By" in 1984.

Larry's cunning plan to Cunningham the charts made him a figure of some respect in the 70's and 80's, but we'll go back to his glorious debut in the mid 60's in order to sample his two sides. Actually, three. His version of "My Heart's In the Heart of Killarney" is not only Irish, it's South American…he's got a kind of Desi Arnaz rhumba arrangement to it, which will throw off anybody trying to clog dance with their hands cemented to their thighs. This is followed by the appropriately named Jim Reeves hit "I've Enjoyed As Much of This as I Can Stand."

Sadly, "face up" but six feet under is the current side of Larry Cunningham, but as long as there's vinyl, there's immortality for the traditional Irish and C&W-loving singer with the smooth voice and distinctive face.

CUNNING LARRY: My Heart's In the Heart of Killarney…I've Enjoyed As Much of THIS as I Can Stand.

HALF A DOZEN TAINTED HALLOWEEN CLAMS - SIX HAUNTED CHICKS!

One of the tedious traditions of October is for bloggers to toss "Monster Mash" all over the Internet. Or "I Put a Spell On You." Or "Don't Fear the Reaper." Or maybe Bach's "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor" with some simpleton reminder that it's famously used in horror movies. Yeah, yeah, Forry, we all know the Phantom of the Opera played it to take his mind off his face.

Most any Halloween playlist is rottenly ripe with overly familiar novelty tripe. Or crappy death metal cookie-monster garbage, or long instrumentals that are very dated and uninteresting but happen to be titled "Frankenstein" and played by Edgar Allan Winter or somebody or other. Here?

Your holiday Anhedonia won't be brightened that much by the six women who sing about death, or being haunted, but at least you're not being asked to suffer through the theme from "Ghostbusters." I know your thanks will take the form of razor blades in the apples I'll get on October 31st.

DREAM WITHIN A DREAM - Jennifer Hope. You've been Hope-less up till now, and don't worry, you'll stay that way. Jen's a wretched wren, a sincere, dreamy, druggy Goth chick. In her musical hobble through the misty mid-regions of her weird haunted home studio, she moans a question of whether life is but a dream within a dream. No, Jen, it's often as grim and depressing as a Sarah McLachlan animal abuse TV commercial. Like the sister of Roderick Usher, lurching through a gloomy mansion, Jen meanders through the melody but never quite finds it. If you can find some laudanum to imbibe, you'll hallucinate that her untrained voice has snagged the key to a high note like Renfield grabbed for a spider.

GLOOMY SUNDAY - Ketty Lester. Probably you've heard this one via Billie Holiday. What's nice about hep kitten Ketty's cover is that she keeps it down around the two minute mark, and slashes the cop-out refrain, "Dreaming…I was only dreaming." The American lyrics via Sam Lewis (for the music by Rezső Seress, who did kill himself three decades after he penned the song) are the ones that almost every singer has used. Two women recorded the more stark (and gloomy) set of grim grumbles as penned by British wordsmith Desmond Carter: Greta Keller and Diamanda Galas.

FLASH FROM THE BLUE - Karen Chandler. This coy 50's pop tune mentions something about a "fiery witch making love to the moon and the moon taking off like a bat." Which could be eerie and erotic if Chandler didn't sing in the bombastic style of Betty Hutton, driving the melody down Broadway with the car doors open (as opposed to her top down). It's here for a trivial reason: the lyrics are by Jerry Stevens…who wrote material for Donn Arden's Vegas showgirls to sing in revues in the late 50's. In 1960 under his real name, Joseph Stefano, he adapted Robert Bloch's "Psycho" into a hit movie, adding some key elements of dialogue and subplot. His next step beyond was the "Outer Limits" TV Show.

HAUNTED - Carole Bennett. Another single that, like Chandler's number, could've been done by Abbe Lane or Juliet Prowse on the Sullivan show, with bumps, grinds, and her jazz-hands ruffling into her mane of tousled hair. A doofus male back-up chorus does the woo-wops while Carole vamps about being a "Hawn-TED Luv-UHH." Not too spooky but if you're a cool ghoul you might play along on the bongo drum you made out of human skin. Another reason why it's on the blog: it was written by the Pockriss-Vance team, who also wrote "Ape on my Fire Escape." Don't remember that one? Alrighty then: "Leader of the Laundromat" and "Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini." There. Now drink your soup before it clots.

DEAD - Carolyn Sullivan. Unlike Carole Bennett, this soulful lady is seriously depressed, and there's not enough oil in anyone's joint to crank her back to life. Her clam shell has shut like a coffin. She wants to be alone…six feet under. I think her record label, Phillips, did what they could to bury her and her song, but the title ("DEAD") makes it hard not to give her an airing around this time of year. What's that smell? Carolyn issued this notorious single in 1967. The following year Dana Gillespie covered it.

I DON'T WANT TO BE A ZOMBIE - Girl Scouts. The Girl Scouts included the infamous (as opposed to famous) Barbara Markay, who also self-pressed an album called 'Hot Box" with liner notes suggesting she was the next Lenny Bruce. She did curse a little, that's about it. It was neither funny nor shocking. You might charitably say she was the precurser to Julie Brown, who would be much more successful in recording sassy novelty songs with a charming lack of taste. But the tastelessness was usually more violent than sexual ("Homecoming Queen's Got a Gun.") Julie mocked the notion that all a girl had to do was be blond, act as stupid as a zombie, or show off her figure. The Girl Scouts seemed to think all they had to do was show off and claim not to be zombies. And what do they have to show for it? A mention on the Illfolks blog. As Ross Perot used to say, "that's just sad."

SIX HAUNTED CHICKS A Half Dozen Tainted Clams -