HOMER & JETHRO Contemplate AGING & DEATH

In the late 60's, Homer and Jethro were slowing down. The aging "thinking man's hillbillies" had mellowed. Times had changed, too. "The Beverly Hillbillies," "Green Acres," "Gomer Pyle" and other rural TV shows began dropping out of the Top 20.

The Top 20 Billboard charts had "crossover" stars such as Bobbie Gentry and Glen Campbell moving toward the middle of the road. The aging duo that once poked manic fun at The Beatles, and got some jeers for it, weren't sure how far to go in making fun of "hippies." The old standby of cackling parodies involving ugly women…well, with women's lib, that kind of cornography was OUT.

Just as George Jones moved from high-pitched twangy things like "Why Baby Why" to baritone ballads and "He Stopped Loving Her Today," Homer and Jethro eased up and began making albums that were more "songs that have some humor to them" rather than outright novelty tracks. They also chose material that was "age appropriate." In other words...they started singing about aging. And death.

Back when they were 30 or 40, they made fun of old people as they did ugly women. A frisky parody of Hank Williams' "Settin' the Woods on Fire" chortled at someone "too old to cut the mustard." The comedy version of George Jones' "The Race is On" is sung fast and lively, even the line: ""My mind was making appointments my body just couldn't keep!"

By the end of the 60's? The end was in sight. "Old Grand Dad" points up some sad truths, and the "boys" are singing like older men. "Sow Sow Sow Your Oats" and "Laugh and Scratch" are more philosophical and upbeat about what to do until the reaper comes. Bill Clinton, on Letterman's show last week, said "every day's a gift." He said it after Letterman mentioned that they both had recovered from bypass heart surgery. Homer and Jethro's view on the gift of being alive another day? Drink whiskey! And remember: "Who's to say what's right and what's wrong? Keep laughin' and scratchin' we're not here for long."

Homer Haynes died of a heart attack in 1971. He was 55 years old.

OLD GRAND DAD Homer and Jethro

SOW SOW SOW YOUR OATS / LAUGH AND SCRATCH Homer and Jethro

FLANDERS & SWANN and THE DEATH OF STEREO

Was it that long ago that people took pride in having a great stereo system? In owning records? In knowing about "Mobile Fidelity" pressings, and "Living Stereo" from RCA or "Living Presence" from Mercury? Was it that long ago? Yes. It was. Several generations have come along since those vinyl days, and they are perfectly happy with mp3 files.

Here's a column confirming that not only is music so devalued that it's hardly worth buying, most are content hearing it squirted through small computer speakers, or equalized through headphones. BUY a stereo system? That makes no sense, dude!

When was the last time you tried to buy a turntable...needle...cartridge...replacement stereo receiver? Wasn't easy, was it? Not as many choices. What, YOU have RECORDS? What a fogey!

Oh ye generation of Miley Cyrus and Kanye West! Does the quality of the sound matter with today's music? It's thumping beats with either thuggish morons shouting or pitchy bitches mewling. It's for people who think Burger King and Applebees is good eating. For those who pour Coca Cola like it's vintage wine...and don't know Elvis Costello from Lou Costello. Us? We wanted to hear even "bad" voices like Elvis Costello, Bob Dylan and Neil Young with the best stereo sound possible. You sure as hell wanted the best headphones to get the nuances of classical, jazz or progressive rock.

Times change. Today's "Beliebers" care more about what they can see, not what they hear. They also don't have time to really listen. They've got Grand Theft Auto to play with. Facebook. 3D movies. All songs are, now, is background music for texting or twerking. Do mp3 files give you lyrics? Who cares? Cee-lo is saying "Fuck you!" And it's "Fuck you" to anyone who treasures their stereo system and shelves or records and CDs. Now, as CNN notes, a computer or a tablet is all that's needed.

"Big Bang Theory" boys and girls rule. Go find a VHS-DVD combo player, Fogey, and watch your "Dick Van Dyke Show" and "Monty Python" tapes and discs on a TV while you can! Maybe you'll try and keep up...but it'll be tough. "The Twilight Zone" turns up in a streaming version, and your grand kids show you how to save it via Internet storage? You'll probably have a heart attack shouting haplessly at the hackers, "Hey! You! Get offa my CLOUD!"

Yep, old-timers, them "big box" stores don't have much variety in mid-price receivers or turntables, and there are few "audiophile" stores for the rich and finnicky. Stereo equipment is becoming OBSOLETE. Like you. Listeners today aren't finnicky and don't notice auto-tune or fake drums or synthesized orchestration. Most don't buy compact discs, even if some artistes are stubborn enough to not only go into a real studio and take time for a recording, but issue their music via SACD [a shout out to Eleanor McEvoy!]. No, it's an mp3 world, and getting smaller by the nano second.

This is not a rant. It's just reality. Today's 18 to 40 demographic aren't that discerning about the quality of the music, and those over 40? Well, a lot of them don't have the time to listen to records, and many have hearing loss that make it hard to differentiate vinyl from CD or 320 bit-rate mp3.

The good news: all the broken receivers and turntables, added to the obsolete VHS players and the rest...will make for chunky landfill, which just might help keep the beaches from eroding during the next climate-change hurricane or monsoon. Or...no...all it'll mean is that some old fogey might be killed by a flying Zenith radio rather than drowned.

Now for happier notes. On the right, my signed copy of a Flanders & Swann record. Flanders was the one in the wheel chair, but it's Swann's signature that is less bold and forceful.

"A Song of Reproduction" by Flanders and Swann, chronicles the rise of recorded music from a simple curiosity you played on a hand-cranked turntable to something grand and artistic for that newly evolved homo sapien, the "audiophile." Some of the satire is on the type of person who is in love with the technology more than the music: "I've an opera here, which you shan't escape…on miles and miles of recording tape." Well, today you can't find 4 track stereo tape recorders. Anyone trying to collect reel-to-reel is probably on the verge of hanging himself with his obsolete mylar. Ironically enough the song isn't hurt very much by hearing it in mp3 version rather than the original vinyl or CD reissue.

The song is from the "At the Drop of a Hat" revue, which Flanders and Swann recorded twice. The first record was released in mono (1957). When it was such a smash hit that it was going to come to Broadway, the duo recorded their final London performance in stereo. That 1959 recording would end up being the "original cast album" when it was released in America via Capitol.

Flanders and Swann Song of Reproduction (Mono)

Flanders and Swann Song of Reproduction (Stereo)

Death: JANE CONNELL & the RACE OF THE LEXINGTON AVENUE EXPRESS

Jane Connell missed her 84th birthday by a month (October 27, 1925-September 23, 2013). I know...you missed her entirely. Jane who? She was a Broadway actress who, early in her career, appeared in nightclubs and cabaret shows. Back in the late 50's, comic artistes such as Bea Lillie, Noel Coward and Hermoine Gingold, to name three ladies, thrived via sophisticated and often silly songs. Phyllis Diller actually started with a similar act, waving a cigarette in a long holder and singing chi-chi arch tunes including "I'd Rather Cha Cha Than Eat," which is on her obscure first album for Mirrosonic.

The sophisticates who came to Julius Monk's "Upstairs at the Downstairs" revue expected to hear new wry and witty songs from the cast members, and like "Saturday Night Live," new talent would turn up every year as the older performers moved on to Broadway or films. Jane and her pianist husband Gordon reached their peak with one year's show, "Demi-Dozen." A highlight was Jane's solo on "The Race of the Lexington Express."

You can almost imagine, from her improbable whooping (a visual variation on Bea Lillie's wild hula-hooping of her pearl necklace) and expressive singing (this was the era of Mary Martin) how vividly this song went over live on stage. And a stage was all that was needed, as long as the talent was given good music and lyrics and a pianist doing more than playing chord changes.

The song still sounds pretty fresh. You don't need much background. The IRT was an older subway line running up and down Lexington Avenue, with much more rickety trains than the BMT (or the IND, which actually runs parallel to the Lexington Avenue line as it reaches its end in the Bronx).

There are some references to particular subway stops. The "race" begins at Union Square (14th Street, an arbitrary choice). The IRT express actually begins many stops further down, past Chinatown and closer to City Hall. As it hurtles uptown to the Bronx, there's 59th Street (the stop where chi-chi folk would get off to shop at Bloomingdale's), express stops at 86th and 125th and ultimately fresh air and sunlight at 161st in the Bronx where the IRT is now on elevated track. At one time, people waiting for the downtown train at the 161st Street elevated platform had an unobstructed view from center field on into Yankee Stadium. And so "from the Stadium for Yankees," the train hurtles "to the park called Moshulu." That's Moshulu Parkway, the stop where upper-class Bronx golfers could enjoy a full 18 course game at the nearby course. And yes, the last stop on the IRT is what she says it is.

The song was written by Tom Jones and Harvey Schmidt, alias Schmidt and Jones, who would go on to write "The Fantastiks," off-Broadway's biggest hit of all time, featuring that dreary classic, "Try to Remember." As Schmidt and Jones moved on to write shows, Jane Connell left Julius Monk with a prestigious credit, good reviews...and offers both here and in the U.K. In London she took the lead in "Once Upon a Mattress," which starred Carol Burnett in the original Broadway production. In 1966 she was Agnes Gooch in "Mame," and reprised her role in the movie version replacing Madeline Kahn, who was canned by star Lucille Ball. Jane also played Gooch in the Broadway revival of "Mame" starring Angela Lansbury in 1983. Another important role for Jane in the 80's was her Tony-nominated turn in "Me and My Girl," and in the 90's she co-starred with Carol Burnett in "Moon Over Buffalo."

Connell was simply one of those performers who loved the theater and had the good luck to keep getting stage work. It didn't seem to bother her that she didn't have the fame-name she might've gotten from more television or film work. It also didn't mean that she was free of ego. My father met her once, and told her how much he liked her performance of "Lexington Avenue." My parents had indeed seen it live, and had the original cast album at home. Mentioning this obscure song was quite a compliment, right? It was at least 20 years since she recorded it. But after 20 years, my father made a little memory mistake and called the train engineer "Merwyn." Madame Connell pointedly glared and corrected, "MERRRVIN! "

I nearly met Connell. After 9/11, when Mayor Giuliani was urging people to support the city and go shopping or see a Broadway show, I attended, among others, the musical version of "The Full Monty." There in the Playbill was Jane Connell. But only in the Playbill. She was already elderly at the time, and her understudy would usually handle a few of the shows each week. Better safe than sorry; Jane had replaced the great Kathleen Freeman, who died during the show's run! I would've liked to get an autograph on my Playbill and tell her how much I enjoyed her work in "The Full Morty." Just to hear her icily entone, "THE FULL MONNNNNTY!"

All is forgiven, Jane. And may you never be forgotten…as long as there's a Lexington Avenue Express…

JANE CONNNELL Race of the Lexington Avenue Express

Greek rapper KILLAH P was KILLED by Neo-Nazi

Things are bad all over.

Yesterday, Pavlos Fissas was murdered. He was a rapper, using the name Killah P.

Submitted for your disapproval, the news that not only are there rappers bellowing in Greek, they are being killed for it! By Nazis. There you are, rappers and Nazis in what was, so many centuries ago, the cradle of civilization.

The economic chaos in Greece is as beyond comprehension as, well, listening to Greek rap. Around here, you say that phrase and people think, "Oh, with Feta, Olives, some lettuce..." no, not a Greek Wrap...

But seriously...in America, rappers kill EACH OTHER. So things have to be worse in Greece. And they are.

And not helping matters much is the adorably named "Golden Dawn," who as you'd expect, gain their strength by bitching about the economy and blaming the Jews. Or the Egyptians. Or anyone else who isn't like them. They are a right-wing hate group and like the ones in the USA and UK, they have no shortage of willing members who are frightened, angry, and find scapegoating to be the "logical" way out. If ONLY there weren't so many foreigners...

Or...rappers. Guys like KILLAH P, who have a lot to talk about, including a rage against Fascist and neo-Nazi ideology.

Members of the neo-Nazi Golden Dawn were casting their murderous gaze toward the stage...waiting for the right time to strike at Pavlos Fissas. Meanwhile,they were busy prowling the streets performing thuggish acts on other people and groups they hate.

A week ago, they clashed with competing loonies, the KKE, the Greek Communist Party. Oh, when these two zany groups get together! Last week 30 KKK members attempted to put up posters for their cause...and 50 masked men with Golden Dawn insignia literally beat them back with nail-studded wooden clubs, creating bloody carnage.

And KILLAH P? This was an assassination.

In its way, it's violence against violence. Rap is a violent form of music. It mirrors our times. Rappers are so angry they can't even bother to sing. They have to growl, shout, go into agonized fits of almost psychotic monotony as they describe everything that is wrong with their world. They usually do it over primitive beats. Any normal person listening to it for more than a few minutes is bound to become violent...or violently irritated if it can't be turned off. Whatever KILLAH P was saying violently turned off members of Golden Dawn. They, along with the lunatics in Iran, Iraq and Putinland (where most of Pussy Riot remains in jail) don't like don't like anti-Fascist rap or rock and will go to their usual extremes to silence it.

Some of them DO like punk rock, though. The increasingly powerful Golden Dawn was able to get their man Artemis Matthaiopoulos elected as MP for the town of Serres. Artie likedto sing in his band "Pogrom," and in case you wondered who the group wanted mass-exterminated they sang a little ditty called "Auschwitz" with a line that translates as: "fuck Anne Frank." Still, Artie had plenty of fans, and so does Golden Dawn. Why? It's not just that they preach hate. They GIVE AWAY THINGS FOR FREEEEEEEE.

Yes, you can be a Fascist, a Nazi, someone who doesn't believe in equal rights (whether it's copyright or human life) and if you GIVE AWAY THINGS FOR FREEEEEEE, you can't be all bad. John Gotti knew it when he'd put on free fireworks shows in Little Italy. And Golden Dawn knows it when they distribute food to "the poor." As long as they are Greek. On May 2nd of this year, at Syntagma Square, Golden Dawn turned away immigrants in their "charity" event to give FREEEEEE food to the deserving poor. The mayor wasn't going to tolerate this, and eventually the police had to come in. They were the bad guys, them and their tear gas, ruining the fun. Later that day, thugs from Golden Dawn planned their revenge on the mayor. As he was handing out Easter candles to ALL deserving poor, a neo-Nazi came after him with fists flying. Only he missed the mayor and struck a 12 year-old girl. Which was a shame, because it was a Greek 12 year-old girl. Not a Jewish one of the "fuck Anne Frank" songbook of Artie Matthaiopoulos.

Punching a 12 year-old girl. Knifing a musician. That's Golden Dawn, who were cheering Rudolph Hess as a martyr 50 years ago and have only become more outrageous since.

Read the details on the death of KILLAH P:

Whew. Anything like this happen in America? Can you imagine, oh, the police in Chicago trying to beat up Phil Ochs for singing folk songs at the Democratic convention?

Oh. Bad example. How about Victor Jara...murdered for singing folk songs in Chile? Hmmm...

It's the 21st Century. Or is it? Do we continue to up the ante with ugly music and mass murder, or is there some way of stopping the madness? Supposedly neutral and peaceful countries such as Norway suddenly have neo-Nazi maniacs performing mass-murder. And here's Plato's Greece with a goon squad of "Golden Dawn" madmen on the loose and too strong of a "political party" to be outright banned. America's got plenty of Nazi scum protected by "Freedom of Speech." And there's no shortage of fundamentalist Muslim psychos "hijacking a fine religion" and making people yearn for the good old days of the thugs of India, the cauliflowers (excuse me, the Kali followers) who just outright said,"kill for the love of killing."

If there's any good news coming out of the death of Pavlos Fissas, it's that it brought protests in the streets. Outraged citizens didn't just wear a "Free Pussy Riot" t-shirt on their way to the bar, they joined together and raised their voices and fists. And, naturally, this brought in the tear gas and the police.

Things are bad all over.

And now, to quench your curiosity, here's what Greek rap sounds like.

THE LATE PAVLOS FISSAS...KILLAH P To ανεγκιχτο βασιλειο‬

‪ ‪

FAR OUT FRED KATZ is GONE, GONE, GONE

Fred Katz produced some pretty swingin' music…especially when it came to cult artists and cult films. The Fred Katz Group backed word-jazz hipster Ken Nordine on the creepy-cool novelty single "My Baby." Dig who the baby he's growlin' about really is, and flip your lobes laughing. Maybe. Maybe not. Katz also composed the jumpy soundtrack music for the Roger Corman classic "Little Shop of Horrors," and many more.

The dynamite Brooklynite (February 25, 1919-September 7, 2013) started out in squaresville…but an impressive part of that town….playing cello in symphony orchestras. He had studied his craft with the great Pablo Casals his own self. Even so, Katz was more of a meow on the piano, and that's where he got his better paying gigs, tinkling for Lena Horne and pounding the elephant tusks for Frankie Laine. He was both a dry pianist and seminal cellist with the Chico Hamilton quintet. You can see the quintet in the movie "Sweet Smell of Success." Katz's expertise in classical music gave him an edge when it came to composing, conducting and arranging, and while his film score "Sweet Swell of Success" wasn't used in the film, he found a willing customer in director Roger Corman. Aside from "Little Shop of Horrors," Katz scored "Bucket of Blood," "Wasp Woman" and "Creature from the Haunted Sea." Matching wits with the frugal Corman, his soundtracks tended to sound alike. Fred's appraisal of Corman's films is that they were all alike: "“I hated every picture that Corman did."

Among Fred's other bend-your-head creds…is Carmen McRae's classic 1958 album "Carmen For Cool Ones." He supplied all the arrangements. The following year, he issued his own legendary album, "Folk Songs for Far Out Folk." Among his other albums, there's "Soul-o Cello," which includes a wide variety of oddness, ranging from jazzy versions of light classics ("English Garden") and folk ("Poor Wayfaring Stranger") to his own "The Vidiot." The latter, overlayed with a dialogue between a groovy interviewer and a square boob-tube lover, was on Ken Nordine's 'Word Jazz" album, but below, you get Fred's music sans words.

Fred was all music all his life…and more. As the concerned "don't quit your day job" conservatives would tell you, making it as a full-time player in a jazz band, or waiting for movie score work, or arranging charts for pop singers, is very, very hard. As is being a novelist, actor or painter. So…Fred put in 30 years teaching at Cal State (both Fullerton and Northridge campussies, cats) handling some unusual courses, including "Shamanic Magic and Religion." One of his students was John Densmore, or "Dinsdale" as he's sometimes known…who is best remembered as a member of Jim Morrison's back-up group. But if you really want to enter a door of perception, check out some of dead Fred. You know (now) he even performed his "Folk Songs for Far Out Folk" when he was far into his later years...yes, he was far from forgotten by real music devotees.

While some of Fred's albums are fairly common, including "Eastern Exposure," and a few are even on mp3 now at bargain prices ("Soul-o Cello" and "Fred Katz and his Jammers") old-school jazz fans and new-wave weirdos alike crave and pay high for the Pacific Jazz release with Paul Horn and Chico Hamilton, "Zen: The Music of Fred Katz," and of course the Warner Bros. classic "Folk Songs for Far Out Folk." Quite the tribute, Rhino even made an "original soundtrack album" out of a 35mm print of "The Little Shop of Horrors." Oh yes…the opening credits theme is also hear to sauce your cauliflowers....

Little Shop of Horrors

MY BABY

The Vidiot

$63 Single: "INTERVIEW OF THE FAB FOUR" by HARV MOORE

Who'd pay $63 for a novelty single? Some kind of moron?

Maybe a Moore-on, a fan of legendary Washington D.C. disk jockey Harv Moore.

As remarkable as it seems in this age of mp3 downloads, there still can be two or three vinyl fanatics fighting each other on eBay to get that rarity still untouched by Spotify or the Unholy Three of iTunes eMusic and Amazon. There are some "old school" folks out there who love the ritual of playing a single on a "victrola." There are also just some "old fools" out there who have nothing better to do than get excited over eBay auctions and boot sales.

In this case, the added allure might be that this was (eeh, ah, oh, ooooh!) a white label pressing. Yes, in the world of the true vinyl collector, it's not uncommon to spend big bucks on something you already have, because THIS is the foreign pressing, the promo copy, or the senile bidder forgot which storage box contained the one he already bought. But oh, the joy of having had enough disposable income to beat out some other disposable old bidder!

I keed, I keed. I know the feeling...triumphing (that's a pun, Smigel fans) over somebody on eBay. Why, sometimes I've triumphed over nobody but myself. NOBODY ELSE wanted that super rare 45 rpm? Hey, that doesn't make me an idiot, just a fucking connoisseur! And do I "share" with others? Indeed...that item might end up right here, for NOBODY ELSE to download!

No, I KEED again...and predict there will be plenty to download THIS rarity. Which is?

A "break in." This is one of the strangest categories in novelty singles; it's even more peculiar than a fondness for collecting vocals by The Chipmunks, Nutty Squirrels and other faux-fuzzy creatures, as well as speeded up vocalists pretending to be space aliens and bugs. Pioneered by Dickie Goodman back in 1956, the idea, never really changing, is for an interviewer to do a news report and ask questions of people...who turn out to be famous pop stars or vocal groups who answer via a snatch of their current hit song. When I was a kid, I found this very clever. The smiles came from "recognition humor." In the case of Dickie Goodman, he also had a moronic voice which added to the corny fun.

By the time the Beatles invaded, Goodman was STILL churning out successful break-ins, as were a few copycats.

Harv Moore was a disc jockey at WPGC (Washington, D.C. from 1963 to 1975). He witnessed first-hand the Liverpool invasion, and The Beatles doing a local concert. He recalled that doing a Beatles knock-off was the idea of Bobby Poe, the Sun Records rockabilly star ("Bobby Poe and The Poe Kats"). Poe had moved on to manage The Chartbusters and also concentrate on songwriting: "I met Bobby in the Spring of '64. He had a hit with The Chartbusters' "She's The One." Bobby and I wrote the script to 'Interview', and we recorded it at Edgewood Studios in DC…."

Leave it to Mr. Poe to finish the tale of woe: "We sold the master to the American Arts Recording Company, which at the time was the record label of British invasion superstars Chad & Jeremy. It was a Dickie Goodman-style track where Harv pretended to interview The Beatles and their responses would be little snippets from their songs….it was very funny, it took off like a rocket…" Within two weeks, the record company was prepared to press a half-million copies, judging that they were going to have a national hit. But, Bobby explains, "Brian Epstein immediately killed the single by threatening to sue. In a way, American Arts was fortunate that they did not have to pay for the 500,000 copies since they had not been pressed yet. In a rush to release the record, the label hadn't secured the rights to use any of the various bits of Beatles' songs that were included on the single. Another hit down the tubes!"

While there would be no more Moore break-in singles, Dickie Goodman kept going with them for another two decades. Unlike Harv's single, Dickie never issued one that featured only clips of one artist. Goodman, inventing new names for his self-pressed indie record companies (Luniverse, Rainy Wednesday, Goodname, Comic, Wacko, Mark X etc.) kept on dodging irked record labels and artists, trying for topical comedy hits.

Happily you don't HAVE to spend big for his singles. They've been collected on CD's and are even on Spotify. Not that they sell too well, mostly because the Demento-obsessed nerds who should support this generally small-press niche market are too unsightly to go to record stores. They tend to either be obese, or scrawny near-midgets. Many of these sexually forlorn childlike misfits have found their way on line...where they adopt "wild and crazy" names to use in forums. These usually involve farts or any word that they think sounds hilarious with "Doctor" or "Captain" in front of it...along with maybe an animated gif of the bouncing boobies they never see in real life. These people are so unemployable, therefore cheap, they have to swap copies with each other. But back in the days before the Internet killed comedy records and novelty singles, Goodman was still hoping to get a dollar for the Nixon yocker "Watergrate" (1973), and various movie parodies Mr. Jaws (1975), Star Warts (1977) and Hey, T.T. (1982). He issued "Safe Sex Report" in 1987, a year before he killed himself.

As for Harv Moore, when his radio station was bought by a new owner who wasn't a fan, he wisely studied other options. His ex-boss now owned WPHD in Buffalo, so Harv moved up to New York to do a morning show co-hosted with Robert W. Taylor, which lasted through 1989. As one might expect from a morning disc jockey with a prank sense of humor, he told jokes about "The Land of Fa," and the king who ruled it. Yep, the Fa King...a variation on the old joke-name the Fakawi Indians. Johnny Carson had used that one till the censors got wise. The name was sanitized into "Hekawi" for the sitcom "F-Troop" (the punchline as a rival tribe tries to locate them: "Where the Hekawi?") In 1989 the station changed its call letters to WUFX and made a lot of other changes…including the removal of Moore and Taylor. Moore freelanced in and out of the radio world and then from 1998 until his retirement in 2007 worked for Buffalo's WHTT station doing an oldies show. Wonder if he ever dusted off the grooves on the grammatically questionable "Interview of [not with?] the Fab Four." Maybe Epstein's cease from 1965 still had him desisting. OK, Brian, COME AND GET ME! Here's the download of a VG pressing (same grade as the one on eBay) of a banned near-hit.

HARV MOORE INTERVIEW OF THE FAB FOUR

Hard Luck Singer JOAN REGAN, DEAD

Some folks' lives roll easy…but Joan Regan had some violent ups and downs. It seemed that her high moments were swiftly mirrored by low ones, and the yin and yang extends to her fame; she's unknown in America, but most Brits over 50 would remember her as a variation on Vera Lynn…the so-called "Girl Next Door" (to quote the title of her Decca debut album of 1955).

Born in Romford, Essex (January 19 1928-September 12 2013) her first hill and valley was her marriage to Dick Howell in 1946. She was only 18, and by the time she was 23, a divorcee. The single singer with two children to raise needed her luck to change. Fortunately she benefitted from an era when managers and agents actively sought out talent. Bernard Delfont felt she had star potential, and it seemed like the curtain was going to rise swiftly on the pretty blonde. But at her first big performance, the curtain came down prematurely, conking her on the head and knocking her out.

The violent start to her career was soon forgotten (and her memory for lyrics unimpaired). At 25, she scored her first Top Ten hit via "Ricochet," with The Squadronaires. Any version would have to be more tolerable than the original by Teresa Brewer. Doris Day was a more likely singer for Joan to cover, and her label sent her to the studio to turn Day's "If I Give You My Heart" and "Someone Else's Roses" into Top Ten hits as well.

In 1955 Joan sang before the Queen for a Royal Command Performance. In fact, everyone did. The Queen didn't sing at all that night. Joan played The Palladium, was featured in various Christmas pantomime shows, and was the star of her own cozy-named TV series "Be My Guest." She was getting offers for top venues in Europe, and also came to America, sharing the stage with Eddie Fisher, Perry Como and Johnnie Ray among others. But, as they say around the Old Folks Home, in America her discs "did not chart."

Joan's producers continued to eye American artists for a possible hit. She covered "This Old House" (Rosemary Clooney), "Cleo and Me-O" (Jill Corey) and "Till They've All Gone Home'" (Giselle McKenzie). But once again, her personal life interfered with her career. Her wholesome Doris Day-like image was hurt in 1957 by a Daily Herald article that insinuated she had to get married (to Palladium box office manager Harry Claff) because she was two months pregnant. What a difference the two months made…when the newspaper lost the court case! They'd predicted she'd drop her daughter in February, but Regan held out till April, proving that she was not marrying because of sexual indiscretion, but (sigh) because of love.

Joan signed with HMV in 1958, and her fourth and last Top 10 of the decade in the U.K. came in 1959 covering "May You Always." The saccharine anthem was popularized by The McGuire Sisters. It's easier to take with only one voice…and it's yours in the download below. Around that time, movie fans got a chance to see Joan in the movie "Hello London."

It was "Hello Courtroom," for Joan when she had to endure the trial of her husband Harry. The Palladium manager was convicted of fraud and sent off to the slammer. Regan ended up with a nervous breakdown. She managed to get out of this deepest of valleys…and out of England entirely. She married Dr. Martin Cowan in 1968 and settled in Florida. She didn't have to worry about her career, or being a knockout in the U.S.A., but she was; in 1984 she knocked herself out due to a fall in her shower. It was serious enough to cause a brain hemorrhage, and that led to paralysis. For a time she was in a wheelchair and unable to speak, but she through intense therapy, she was able to speak and even sing again. She came back to England with her husband, and encouraged by Russ Conway, performed at a variety of "oldies" shows backed by the Glenn Miller Orchestra. She even issued a new single, "You Needed Me." She's survived by the two sons from her first marriage, and the daughter from her second. Now take a few seconds for…"May You Always."

JOAN REGAN May You Always

John Lennon's TOOTH, and a CLONE IN LOVE...Reggie Knighton

A recent headline imagined the cloning of John Lennon's tooth, the only bit of matter that has survived of the cremated Beatle. The creepy publicity-mad dentist who owns it even has a website for it, with all kinds of nonsense about the cloning process (which, fortunately, is not yet perfected). The old fashioned way of replicating somebody works fairly well doesn't it? I mean, that first Julian Lennon album wasn't so bad, was it?

Why, there are people not even related to John Lennon who've done work worthy of him. I still have my promo press release on Reggie Knighton, where Columbia happily quotes L.A. Times writer Robert Hilburn: "There are traces in his work of Paul McCartney's simple melodic charm, John Lennon's primal urgency and John Fogerty's delta rhythms."

There's also more than a bit of 10cc in the selection below, "A Clone in Love," which isn't too surprising. Reggie's band opened for 10cc in support of the album that includes that track, which you'll find in the download link below, the standout on Reggie's eclectic, but sadly final album as a Columbia artist.

Despite the bulkiness of vinyl, and keeping promo copies and press releases, I've held on to Knighton's albums all these years, mostly because I liked the "Clone" song and Reggie's out-of-the-blue cover of the theme to the old TV show "Highway Patrol." And so it was a simple matter to convert "Clone" to mp3, and better to ponder it than the future of Lennon's tooth.

As for the future of Mr Knighton…well, he's one of many restless 60-somethings who'd like to get back into the game in some way or other. He was in The Grass Roots in the mid 70's, worked on John Sebastian's "Welcome Back" album in 1976, and finished out the 70's with his two albums on Columbia. When they dropped him, he began to consider a day job…and eventually disappeared into the burgeoning world of technology, if not cloning: "I was involved in the development of a graphical user interface for a checkbook size personal computer back in the mid 80's. and in the early 90's I helped design a traditional recording console's on screen graphical representation as part of a (at the time) state of the art automation system for a Neve console."

Knighton may yet return to what Record Review Magazine admiringly noted as more than just good rock music: "It's the lyrics and their ironic absurdity with underlying meaning that give real strength…" to his work. Meaning, he might be able to come up with something quite startling in a new song, and not have to just clone "A Clone in Love."

REGGIE KNIGHTON A CLONE IN LOVE

YES...sucks! "ALL GOOD PEOPLE" via the VASSAR DEVILS

There's a good reason YES albums are in the dollar pile at thrift shops, or at those "boot sales" where mindless "collectors" wander around with nothing better to do.

YES albums are lousy. In fact, most progrock from that era is lousy, especially the synth stuff.

"Oooh, what a lucky man" you are…if you can still find a sucker to buy an Emerson Lake & Palmer off you!

At this point, now that the drugs have worn off, it's time to admit that the music was never very good. Mostly, it was obnoxious: some clown at the keyboard playing fast-fast-fast like a rabid chimp screaming for bananas…a lead guitar idiot savant choking the neck of the guitar and issuing one strangled high note at the wrong pitch for 30 seconds…the grubby drummer just waiting for his sweaty solo; sounding like a rhino being thrown downstairs.

Back then, most any simpleton set of lyrics would do. Dorm dimwits solemnly sat around mouthing the moronic words like they were giving a prayer for wine...not stuffing junk food down the munchie-hole. But check the words! So often, it was just an inane collection of Alice in Wonderland bullshit, all full of mushrooms and hogweed, or platitudes that thick-as-a-brick bozos were all supposed to live by.

"I've seen all good people turn their heads each day so satisfied I'm on my way!" Gad. And how many times did they REPEAT that damn line? "Take a straight and stronger course to the corner of your life. Make the white queen run so fast she hasn't got time to make you a wife. 'Cause it's time is time in time with your time and its news is captured...for the queen to use!"

Profound, huh, Mr. Natural?

You need more? Here's "All Good People," a cappella from the appropriately named VASSAR DEVILS. These babes made some sort of deal in Hell: no wayward synth. No dimwit drums. No loopy lead guitar…just the lyrics carefully chanted with almost enough magic force to "surround yourself with yourself….'Cause it's time is time in time with your time and its news is captured...for the queen to use! Diddit diddit diddit diddit diddit diddit diddit didda…""

A Capella ALL GOOD PEOPLE…by those bad, bad VASSAR DEVILS

DAVID FROST - A DECK OF CARDS

One thing about a deck of cards…you never know when you'll turn up the Ace of Spades. For Sir David Frost, the death card arrived while aboard a cruise ship. The instant "claim to fame" in all the obits, was that he'd sparred with Richard Nixon in a series of TV interviews. Frost's blend of tenacious badgering and wide-eyed adulation and coaxing charm got the ex-President to finally admit, "I let the American people down." Which wasn't that much of a victory considering Nixon had already resigned, which was the most important thing. I must admit, the mention of Frost's death had me thinking of Nixon's demise as well. But more on that aspect in a few paragraphs.

Apparently a close second as a claim to fame was Frost's celebrity as a "lothario" who dated a string of beautiful women, including Carol Lynley, Diahann Carroll (a minor scandal at the time) and the ex-wife of Peter Sellers. In the body of the obit came his talk show credits, and a note that at 74, he was still working (albeit for the Al Jazeera satellite network). Over here, the first thing that came to mind about Frost was his beginnings as a comedian and host of satirical shows. At merely 23, he assembled "That Was the Week That Was," an alternative to the very staid variety shows of the day. He opened with a monologue and it was followed by sketches and from his assembled cast. Topical songs came from the ebullient Millicent Martin (Nancy Ames for the American version). The similar "Frost Report" gave work to some hot new writers who would eventually be part of Monty Python's Flying Circus (including John Cleese, now a regular in front of the cameras). Frost united Ronnie Corbett and Ronnie Barker, who would soon get their own series.

Frost's successful American talk show from 1969 to 1979 led him to constantly fly back and forth across the Atlantic so he could tape five shows a week in New York...while doing yet another set for British television. A viable combo of Carson and Cavett, Frost tried to offer a varied 90 minutes that might include both the simple and the intellectual. He could ask warm and fuzzy questions ("What is your definition of love") or book a guest in the news...including Phil Ochs. Phil's only appearance on a major talk show was because Frost heard about the bizarre "gold suit" concert at Carnegie Hall, which was considered an abject failure. Frost wanted to know what was behind it, even if the general public in America could've cared less.

Frost was not a singer, but did issue a single: "Deck of Cards." It's a track on "The Frost Report," his album co-featuring John Cleese. What you get below is the entire bit, including the introduction. Typically, Frost puts his points across with scathing wit and a lecturer's precision, and then offers his parody of the then-current Wink Martindale hit using the condescending delivery style he liked to employ for goading targets that he felt were incredibly stupid.

I have all of Frost's various comedy albums, domestic and imported. I didn't find myself instantly rushing to play them, although I easily remembered some of the bits. One joke came to mind, indelible thanks to its use in commercials promoting his TV show. It was a clip of David declaring in his most comically officious tone, "WHY is it...that SWISS cheese has the holes...when it's GORGONZOLA that needs the ventillation??"

Aside from recalling that cheesy joke, David's death and the Nixon references instantly brought a flashback to the time I "witnessed" the ex-President's demise. Over the years, Nixon seemed to live in comfortable, smiling retirement in New Jersey, signing autographs, waving to people, and being treated with some sort of respect. As his heath failed him, the animosity toward him faded. Ultimately, a news report declared he was in seriously bad shape, being transported barely conscious to hospital.

"A strange force," to quote a line from the song "Strange Things Happen," drew me to be part of the vigil. I don't know why I had to be there, but I did. I joined with various reporters and photographers standing outside the hospital, simply waiting for the official word of his last breath...to physically be there for the final moments in the life of one of the strangest, most divisive, most frightening and yet most pathetic figures in modern American politics.

There wasn't much to see. Nobody knew for sure which floor he was on. But as I looked up at the huge building, I almost expected to see the familiar outline of Nixon's over-sized head on a window shade ten or twelve flights up. That ski-nose. Those jowls. The sloping forehead with the hair combed flat but turning woolly-headed toward the back. I almost expected that "Tricky Dick" would defiantly pull back the curtains of his hospital room, and stand there with his arms up in the air, shoulders hunched, giving the familiar V for Victory symbol with both hands, scowling and grimacing just like David Frye. But, no, Nixon was beyond all that, behind a hospital door with his family and friends, and we were on the sidewalk just to mark the official time of his death...which was certainly important for the TV reporters who had their cameras and were hoping it would happen before the end of the 11pm news.

It wasn't much of a dramatic ending for Richard Nixon. Perhaps David Frost's heart attack aboard the cruise ship was a lot more dramatic and vivid. Certainly Nixon didn't utter any final words, nor re-iterate the catch-phrase David Frye had given him: "I AM the President!" David Frye had put out four albums on Nixon. Laughing at Nixon hadn't taken him down. Perhaps David Frost realized this limit to the power of comedy...and wisely chose chat shows and political interviews for his future. And so it was that his obits concentrated on the legacy of his serious interviews with presidents and prime ministers.

Over here, we say that there's nothing much we can do about how politicians and dictators and kings behave. Much of it is not funny in the least. And so we need, desperately, the John Cleese, The Two Ronnies, or someone like David Frost in the 60's to organize some satirists for a broadcast. Frost's early shows disturbed the powers that be via ridicule and laughter, and to my mind, what he did to politicians back then is every bit as valuable and valid as interviewing them seriously in the later decades. And here, minor though it is, is David Frost slapping at Wink Martindale's religious pretentiousness...finding religion not really in a deck of cards, but...a cricket bag....

DAVID FROST DECK OF CARDS

EYDIE GORME : SOFTLY AS SHE LEAVES US

So much of the music world is gormless these days. YOU fill in the pun punch line.

The big surprise of August 10, 2013 was that anyone actually cared and remembered Eydie Gorme. Must've been a slow news day. Miley must've been tongue in cheek.

From my previous post on Patti Page, it might be supposed that Eydie Gorme (August 16, 1928-August 10, 2013) was a great favorite, and that I've got all her vinyl. Well, no. I'm fond of two singles. "Blame it on the Bossa Nova" remains a cute novelty, but "Yes My Darling Daughter" with the weird siren ending, is my favorite. Both 45's are a bit played out, but aren't we all.

Though I have no big cache of Gorme albums I respect the middle of the road. It'll save your ass when the lights suddenly change.

For most of her fans, listening to Eydie Gorme, and her hubby, was just a time to relax and not have to go anywhere in any direction. Just look straight ahead and listen.

Eydie, who began her recording career with big bands in 1951, had retired in 2009. No cause of death was announced, so blame it just on bein' olda. Her Jewish parents were from Italy and from Turkey...and just to make things more exotic, she was fluent in Spanish...which made her a big favorite in Latin countries. Most obits headlined her for her "Bossa Nova" hit from 1963, which left 50 more years unaccounted for. What did she do in all that time? Nothing much...she and husband Steve Lawrence toured, put out mild albums (there was a very cute one, "It's Us Again" custom-done as a promo for a shampoo company...my dollar bin intro to them when I was a kid), and gave ordinary middle-aged people like themselves something to listen to.

This obviously didn't include ME in the 60's, but I could appreciate a good tune well sung, and "It's Us Again" had a few of those. Not enough for me to choose them over The Beatles when I had the money to buy a new album! Once in a while I'd see her, him, or both on TV, and think, "Well, they're singing a nice version of..." some Broadway show tune. Nice, not definitive; Steve and Eydie never laid down a great cover on any American standard...nothing to rival an Ella or Sinatra...but they were comfy for their suburban audiences at venues such as Westbury Music Fair, or for the tourists coming to Vegas.

It was always easy to dismiss both Steve and Eydie because they sang so many annoying "get happy" songs that were corny at the time and are moldy now…crap like "Wouldn't it Be Loverly," "Without You I'm Nothing," "Ain't Love," "Would You Like to Take a Walk," and the ultra-irritating "Wherever We Go (Together)." They didn't present themselves as swingin' cool cats, which gave Louis Prima and Keely Smith more creds.

Eydie's solo albums were jarringly full of lame show tunes including "Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of my Hair" or God-awful oldies like "Button Up Your Overcoat." It wasn't until the late 60's that she (and Steve) settled down and began to cover the newer songwriters. Certainly, guys like Jimmy Webb and even McKuen had MOR-type pieces for them that had a little more taste than "Toot Toot Tootsie." For a while in the 60's Billboard had a chart for "Easy Listening," the "elevator music" not yet banished from office buildings. Gorme scored a Top 10 hit there in 1967 with "If He Walked Into My Life" and "Tonight I'll Say a Prayer" in 1969. But in the 70's and 80's, the music-buying public was younger, and that was that...a whole bunch of middle-aged singers were adrift from their record labels and simply working on stage.

Steve and Eydie didn't mind. Their audiences supported them. They, like Dean and Frank, knew they were too old to try for hit singles, and gave up trying. Give 'em credit for being themselves. Back in 1962-1963 when Steve scored a legit Top 10 with "Go Away Little Girl" and Eydie followed with "Bossa Nova," middle-aged listeners were still buying 45's as much as teenagers. Back then Acker Bilk, Louis Armstrong and Percy Faith could be in the Top 10 shoving Elvis around. But by the end of the 60's the demographics had changed. Eydie's song was written by Mann and Weil, and Steve's by Goffin and King...and both these writing couples knew to focus on writing for teens, not an older married couple.

Eydie (and Steve) had deceptively strong talent, both in singing and in acting. As a duo, they arguably (go ahead, see if I care) created the template for Sonny and Cher, and other husband and wife duos...coming out with a smile but giving little zinging wisecracks to each other in between songs. It broke up the monotony of going from "Moon River" to "Fly Me to the Moon." Both were pretty funny doing sketches on the old "Carol Burnett Show." Both got little credit for having very strong pipes. Gorme, it should be noted, was Streisand before Streisand was.

This girl from the Bronx could belt...and for many listeners, loud was synonymous with passionate. Gorme's audience probably was mostly people accustomed to shouting conversation above the din of a subway car, and sleeping through the sound of police sirens, so voices like hers and Barbra's were considered normal volume. Put on a Julie London album? Can't hear that whispering shiksa! It's possible you hadda have a "New Yawk" state of mind to have a fondness for Eydie and Steve...and fortunately for them, they thrived via New York venues, New York-based TV (Steve and Eydie met when they were regulars on Steve Allen's "Tonight Show") and Broadway. In the UK, average-looking Gracie Fields was "Our Gracie." For average middle-income middle-aged types, Steve and Eydie were "our neighbors," considered friends. Family.

You'll hear a prime example of Gorme the Belter on a live television version of "As Long as He Needs Me," the showstopper from the Broadway musical "Oliver."

For balance, your other download is "Softly as I Leave You," which shows more of her talent. Gorme almost never had a serious music critic write about a new album. One reason was yes, the album was likely to be nothing but covers, and she was an ordinary looking married woman who sang in two predictable styles: perky or overly dramatic (with a lotta vibrato). Given the right song and arranger, she could compete with most any of her contemporaries. That's the case with "Softly as I Leave You," from her "Don't Go To Strangers" album. She sings here with sensitivity as well as her trademark panache.

GORME As Long As He Needs Me (live television)

GORME Softly as I Leave You (from her "Don't Go to Strangers" album)

Gaudy Covers: MANFRED MANN does Harriet Schock's "Hollywood Town"

On a cold night, when the temperature and your bank account are a bit too low, you are very thankful for...COVERS.

Does it matter the garish color in the dark? No.

Most every songwriter can point to a pretty bad or strange version of their song...that brought in the big bucks and some publicity to the author. Sometimes a version that seems outrageous turns out to be definitive (think of the Jimi Hendrix take on Dylan's "All Along the Watchtower.")

The Manfred Mann version of "Hollywood Town" is...different, that's for sure. Maybe it's "Hollywood Town" as intended for the "Day of the Locusts" soundtrack. How about that pimply synth! The sudden moany country guitar riff at one break point and then the heavy metal one at another? Wait for the clip clop beat that suggests Jed Clampett's clan have come to town on a donkey cart and found Beverly Hills. The lyrics disappear during a tense synth break that suggests the spotlight is about to reveal Peter Gabriel dressed as the misplaced lamb who lost his way from Broadway to Tinsel Town.

Let's just say I'm used to the classy, elegant original from Harriet Schock's album of the same name. But I'll bet the royalty check from the publisher was much bigger for the Mann usage than on her own disc.

"Hollywood Town" should've been the breakout album for her. For one thing, it was the only one of her three albums to have a stylishly done cover with a truly flattering and also compelling picture of her. Critics are still shaking their heads over how 20th Century Records rose and fell so quickly, taking along their two most promising artists, Schock and awesome Patti Dahlstrom.

Aside from being on a weak label, at the time there was way too much competition in the singer-songwriter field. For Harriet, she was up against expert and established stage acts such as Helen Reddy and Joni Mitchell. Reddy covered Harriet's "No Way to Treat a Lady" and Joni was first choice among college co-eds when it came to studying lyric sheets. Too bad, because any fan of poetry or literate lyrics had a lot to like with Ms. Schock. Take a look at the opening of "Hollywood Town" with those polished internal rhymes and near rhymes (like the flowing use of hide and high, go and those):

Down, down in Hollywood town,
The lost and found come to find their way,
Walking outside, feelings they hide,
Putting their pride through well known paces,
Stepping on stars and shining on cars,
Passing by, their heads are high,
But their hearts are low down, dragging as they go,
Reaching out to those other faces....

There's a lot going on in there, double meanings, things you might pick up months or years later. A lot more subtle than Ray Davies, was Ms. Schock, especially in referencing the stars on the sidewalk of the Hollywood Hall of Fame. Any songwriter interested in the art of the lyric would do well to get a copy of her book "Becoming Remarkable." It not only references her own hits, but analyzes the work of others, various techniques for creating a good song, and what has and hasn't worked for the many pupils she's had as a teacher and coach.

To give you an idea of just how enduring Schock's songs are, let's add that "Hollywood Town" turned up on Mann's "Angel Station" album some seven years after it was first recorded by her. A song has to be considered pretty classic or special to be covered after years have passed. The only other cover on that album was "You Angel You" by Bob Dylan. Pretty good company for Harriet Schock.

Harriet Schock HOLLYWOOD TOWN

Manfred Mann HOLLYWOOD TOWN

Thelma Houston sings Patti Dahlstrom

One of the first artists to recognize the genius of Patti Dahlstrom as a songwriter was Thelma Houston.

Thelma knew that as good as a singer might be (and Thelma was always good), the song has to be good, too. Her first album, 1969's "Sunshower," was a Jimmy Webb production. A few years later, Dahlstrom's first album came out...and two tracks on it from the Texas beauty...came to Houston.

Below, Thelma's takes on "I'm Letting Go" and "And I Never Did."

Thelma does a good job on both of them, although to my twisted lobes Patti's much more "hawt," with that strange Texas accent and the earthy burr in her voice. (Thelma was born in Mississippi and raised in California).

It wasn't until 1977 that Houston became a star via "Don't Leave Me This Way", which won a Grammy. By that time, sadly, Ms. Dahlstrom and the ill-fated 20th Century Records label were not a hot topic in the music industry. Patti was burned out as a performer, but still wrote songs that got covered now and then. She also worked as a teacher. For more on her, check other entries on the blog, or buy her "Best Of" CD and read the liner notes. She currently lives in England.

Thelma? Motown went into a sort of panic when she couldn't follow her smash with another Top Ten hit, but she kept trying. She released four albums in the late 70's plus two more featuring Jerry Butler. Without a major single, she started the 80's at RCA for a two-record deal, then moved to MCA for two more, "Thelma Houston" in 1983 and "Qualifying Heat" in 1984. Six years later, 1990, she got a one-album deal from Reprise. And the industry collapsing as it did, it's no surprise that there was an even longer wait for the next one: "A Woman's Touch" in 2007.

When you add it up, though, Thelma's released two dozen albums, been in the business 44 years, and "is a legendary Pop / Motown / Disco and R&B music icon." She says so herself on her dotcom, which also mentions that her latest single is "Last Dance." And even if it's on iTunes for pennies in royalties, you can bet it's not the last dance for her.

Patti and Thelma from the original vinyl...download or listen on line. No quirky links taking you to dodgy sites, no Kim Dotcom asking you to pay for a premium account, no Paypal donation requests.

THELMA I'm Letting Go

PATTI I'm Letting Go

THELMA And I Never Did

PATTI And I Never Did

IPODMEISTER : CD's Worthless. MERV GRIFFIN: SHIT! NO HITS

Merv Griffin pressed a private, rude little ditty about the doldrums of the music biz. It was full of inside references (to music publishers mostly) and even included a "bad" word. Briefly quoting….

"They're not writing the songs as good this year. Ain't got a hit. Whether Robbins or Chappell or Larry Spier. Ain't got a hit…and the Big Brains of A&R just wait and sit, so mad they could spit…They're under an awful spell. The Brill Building's starting to smell. It's not legit. Nothing but shit. Ain't got a hit."

What would Merv make of the situation today? Shit-singers like Lady Gaga and Katy Perry are putting out forgettable singles...and bitching because they "leaked" on the Internet and (they're shocked, SHOCKED) the rich bitches aren't getting every dime coming to them.

When was the last time you sang along to a new single on the radio? Was it when CeeLo sang FUCK YOU? Maybe you were walking in the rain and chimed in with Rihanna and sang "ella...ella...ella." Or maybe the last song you think you can sing along to actually is one by Ella Fitzgerald?? That would be Merv, maybe. (We give you a pass...you can say The Beatles.) OK, we all know the chorus to an Amy Winehouse song. Don't we? NO NO NO!

The current paradigm, which is part of both the songwriter and the listener's current threnody, or jeremiad, is, to put it plainly...SHIT.

Merv thought it was bad in the days of 45's? In the mp3 era, the songs aren't worth hearing (Jake Bugg is supposed to be the next Dylan) and for most tasteless morons out there...the songs that they DO listen to...they don't wanna pay for!

"AIN'T GOT A HIT" is the truth. First, because we've heard the best in every genre, and the latest rock, disco, rap or pop song is the same-old-song. Second, piracy. Who buys when they can, uh, SHARE? And third, and also important, is that music is no longer that important in our lives. We get so much free entertainment, we don't need to sit on the floor staring at a 45 rpm on the turntable, and don't even have the time or interest in following along with the lyrics while listening to a 33 1/3 with headphones on. Worse...music has NO VALUE ANYMORE.

"NO VALUE ANYMORE" meaning, an mp3 file is a blip. It's nothing. And people are happy about it. They'd rather store a zillion songs on a brick-sized external hard drive than have a proud set of shelves full of rare vinyl and great CD's. Eh. Meh. Foo. Ugh. Who wants that JUNK taking up space?? Proof that it's junk...most of it goes cheap at a thrift shop. Most of it goes untouched by anyone except some senile "collector" who goes to boot sales because his dick's no longer working.

Some years ago, a thriving website was run by IPODMEISTER. What a deal...CD's were valuable! If you got a whole lot of 'em as gifts, had some duplicates, got tired of some...you could put them in a PRE-PAID box, and IPODMEISTER would trade you for, yes, an IPOD. Or an external drive. The irony of this, is that they were offering you the new technology that would kill their own business and help trivialize the world of music.

Some thought IPODMEISTER was some Internet rip-off. No. It was the real deal. Nice people. Fast service. You had extra CDs and didn't feel like being an eBay seller, use IPODMEISTER. Maybe you were at a church fund-raiser where they had some boxes of donated CDs they were selling so cheap you could do very well buying 'em all and doing an IPODMEISTER trade-in. That was then. NOT NOW!

Check the illustration for this entry.It's pretty insane the number of CDs you must trade in NOW to get an iPod or iPad. The amount you must send has not only doubled, you also have to send REALLY GOOD stuff because everybody already has Phil Collins, Billy Joel, and old Blink and N Sync. IPODMEISTER used to give good trade value on any CD but NOT NOW. Not when Amazon and eBay sellers can't move most of 'em for a dollar.

You'll need to box up 300 very good (Beatles, Sony Classical, the latest Bumford and Sons) CDs to get an iPod Nano. Actually, you better box up 400, because the folks at IPODMEISTER may disallow a lot of what you give them. THey check the bar codes on CDs against Amazon/Ebay prices and spot the moment the new Dylan is the old Dylan and everybody who was gonna buy it at Starbucks did so.

IPODMEISTER has expanded their gift ideas. You can help trivialize and destroy the book industry with Bozo Bezos of Amazon's beloved Kindle...or maybe a Nook from the failing Barnes & Noble chain who still try and sell real books to real people. For an iPad, all you have to do is collect over a THOUSAND CDs (or DVDs…another endangered species)

At this point you're thinking, "why don't I just throw the fucking CD's out…after digitizing them on my computer." IPODMEISTER has an alternative; their sister company CDSWEEP. CDSWEEP will send you a free Fedex mailing label so you can slap it on a box and send them your unwanted music. They in turn, sell it (to third-world countries that still have people who have boom boxes and CD players) and you'll get a tax donation. CDSWEEP is a charity involving autism.

The bottom line is that the music business will remain shit, and the proof is the Billboard Top 10 for the past few years...full of forgotten junk that you could barely sing along to if you had a karaoke machine and the lyrics a foot high on a screen. These songs "ain't hits" and only sell to stupid rappers, rednecks or teenage twits.

It seems quaint that Merv Griffin sang about a lack of interesting music in the early 50's. That changed as people discovered new types of music...R&B, doo-wop, rock and roll, ROCK, progressive rock...and there was still a market for people to buy classical, country and movie soundtracks, too. Jeez, remember buying a novelty 45 and slapping it on the turntable and having a laugh? Well worth the dollar, that tune. Now? When was the last time you heard a funny song? Not funny! You don't get a lot of laughs trawling Spotify. And forget grimacing Kanye. He is SHIT.

Sing it Merv…

Merv Griffin says SHIT! because the radio Ain't Got a Hit

Birthday for T-T-T-T-T TUESDAY WELD!

"She went by the name of Thalia Menninger on the Dobie Gillis show. Remember?"

Walter Egan sure does. He sang those lines back in the 70's. Remember?

He offered up a few extra clues for you all:

"Lord Love a Duck and the Cincinnati Kid.

These were a few of the movies she did."

She was also in 70's films 'Play it As it Lays," "Looking for Mr. Goodbar" and "Who'll Stop the Rain." In the 80's, how about "Author! Author!" "Thief," "Once Upon A Time in America," "Winter of Our Discontent" and "Heartbreak Hotel?" She made only two films in the 1990's, "Falling Down" and "Feeling Minnesota," and her last screen roles were in 2001.

But Tuesday Weld…is legend. Like an American Brigitte Bardot, she had a certain look that made her a favorite for fan magazines. People didn't have to go see her films to get a real kick out of her. Seeing a photo was enough! If you did tune in and see her on some TV show, you instantly got it: she exuded an attitude, a spirit…a new breed of "wild child." She had a natural sex appeal...a sweetly omnivorous desire to experience joy. On an episode of "77 Sunset Strip" called "Condor's Child," you see her as both the baby-faced innocent and the femme fatale. She played uninhibited types, as Bardot did, and sometimes the spirit, and her flesh, was good enough to save a bad script.

Here, we celebrate her upcoming birthday (August 27, 1943).

Her first name was Susan, which one of her cousins pronounced Tu-Tu. It eventually, and legally, became Tuesday…and she rocked. Literally. She was in "Rock Rock Rock" in 1956 although her singing voice was dubbed. Trivia fans will note that she played a singer on an episode of "Bus Stop" in 1961, and was messin' with Fabian in the movie "High Time" (1960) and in a typical wild-child role on "The Dick Powell Show" called 'Run Till It's Dark" in 1962. She was also involved with Elvis Presley, who co-starred with her in the 1961 film "Wild in the Country."

Tuesday's lovers were not confined to greasy kid singers. She had a May-December fling with crusty old actor John Ireland, and her last two husbands were Dudley Moore and the violinist Pinchas Zuckerman. So many fans "dream of her still," and would love a chance to just meet the quirky, erotic, tragic, contradictory, unusual, erratic and always fascinating Ms. Weld. Probably the best "fanboy" song of all time, Walter Egan's "Tuesday Weld" has a great closing line. If I ever had the chance to interview the guy, I would not ask him to elaborate on it! It's too perfect the way it stands.

Walter Egan's tribute to….to…..to….t.t.t.t…. TUESDAY WELD

BERNIE'S WHORES…ELTON JOHN DIVING BOARD OR BORED

Whores like money. But they also like jewelry...and there IS the "BERNIE TAUPIN COLLECTION." But...first, the news that there's going to be a new addition to the Elton John Collection. No, not another disgusting dollop for Pumpkin Head & David to coo over...

We're supposed to get through the last hot, humid, melting, bitching dog days of August by looking forward to the Fall music releases...especially the new one from Elton! Think it'll be...as much of a work of genius as the last one from McCartney?

Sad, huh. What do we get out of the latest from guys like these? It's sort of like going to a class reunion, isn't it? You're just relieved the person you remember fondest, and who is still alive, is not going to show up in a wheelchair, or with a face bloated or wrinkled, or unrecognizable in some other way. You do recognize, on each forgettable album, some trace of the person you don't want to forget.

Being honest about it, very few of our heroes…Jagger, Neil Young, Cohen…have put out a new release that hasn't had to come with some kind of apology. "Not bad…considering his age…his voice…the chord changes are so familiar….that he hasn't anything to say…" Like the guy with the toupee at the reunion, the artist doesn't acknowledge his failing. He isn't the man in Randy Newman's brilliant song "I'm Dead But I Don't Know It." And Randy can still hit the target now and then….as can Costello, Dylan etc. Not for a whole album maybe, but a lot more songs than McCartney or Elton John.

"When will I end this bitter game? When will I end this cruel charade? Everything I write all sounds the same. Each record that I'm making is like a record that I've made — Just not as good."

Elton's hyping this one. After years of terrible dirges, and a minor duet album with weird Leon Russell, he says "The Diving Board" is his big risk. He's got to have a HIT, and go back to his roots. He's gotta find some kind of Tumbleweed connection, revive Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy, and put out YOUR SONG again. One you can relate to, not as nostalgia. Well, I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, but…the reality check is that it's probably not going to happen. Let's say that Elton has not been rocking for a long time, and his interminable ballads all sound the same as what he did in the 70's, but "not as good."

Mostly, we've been suffering through the sight of a pasty-faced heavy-set gay guy on stage (self-emphasis on gay, as if that's his actual profession). Off stage he's babbling about his baby and his husband, and even his feud with Madonna was boring. So is anyone really looking to Elton John for anything? Maybe some silly tune for a Disney cartoon or a bad Broadway show for the kiddies? There are plenty of hacks who can do that. Randy Newman throws familiar idiot tunes onto movie soundtracks all the time, but at least he can still write a real song with good lyrics once in a while.

Which, at last, brings us to Bernie Taupin. We're told that a big difference here, is that the new album re-unites Elton with the same guy who gave him those 60's hits. But hasn't been able to provide him with hit lyrics in a long, long time. As if Taupin in 1970 was so profound: "If I was a sculptor, but then again, no." Think he's got anything brilliant to say in 2013?

Years ago, I was hanging out in Daryl Hall's apartment, and John Oates was there as well, and we talked about disposable music. And who would know better than those two? The subject got around to Elton John, and one of them said that one reason Elton's music was so disposable, and getting more so with every release, was that it was just some facile melodies. Well, yes, Elton went through a period of knocking out albums that all sounded pleasantly alike, and maybe had, at best, a catchy chorus phrase like "I'm Still Standing." The trouble? "He's not singing anything that matters to him. We don't know what he's thinking."

Taupin's rarely tried to write FOR Elton John. The last time he did, and was at all successful artistically, was "Made in England." Bernie wrote the autobiographical lyrics his friend couldn't put on paper. Including: "I had a quit-me father had a love-me mother...I had Little Richard and that black piano,…that sweet georgia peach and the Boy from Tupelo...well here's my middle finger. I had forty years of pain and nothing to cling to…you can still say homo and everybody laughs…"

Through most of his output for Elton in the 80's and beyond, Bernie's lyrics have been adequate on most tracks, catchy now and then. 1983: "I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues" a good one on "Too Low for Zero." "Sad Songs Say So Much" sort of good on 1984's "Breaking Hearts," "Wrap Her Up," a serviceable track on 1985's "Ice on Fire." Give him credit for being prolific, having enough stuff to hand Elton to turn into sound-alike ear candy. Let's also not forget that even in Elton's golden late 60's and early 70's, there was a lot of foolishness among the gems. "Rocket Man" is kind of peculiar if you really read the lyrics. How about "Take Me To the Pilot," which sounds fantastic and makes no sense at all? What about "Jamaica Jerk-Off?" A funnier example is "Prestige a Gammon," deliberate nonsense that seems like a foreign language, just to prove that nobody's paying much attention. And really, it's been a long, long time since "Tumbleweed Connection" and "Madman Across the Water." There wasn't anything too memorable on 2004's "Peachtree Road," or 2006's "Captain and the Kid," both advertised as comeback albums. It was after the latter, that Taupin took a long hiatus from his pumpkinheaded friend and contributed words for an album by somebody called Deirdre Hughes.

As we move toward the big release date for this latest John-Taupin comeback, Bernie has so far remained his elusive self. It's been Elton flamboyantly pointing out the obviousness of his metaphor… being on The Diving Board, ready to make a splash, to sink or swim. As if anyone cares. If the album's not too good, so what. His last few weren't much. He has enough fans who will buy the next one anyway.

Taupin? As a commercial artist on his own, he experimented. He tried. He stopped.

In 1971 Bernie issued a spoken word album, with music in the background, called "Taupin." Fine. Now we know what the poet sounds like, but few care to hear poetry recited. Nine years later, he let the world know that he could sing adequately. "He Who Rides the Tiger" was issued in 1980 with music by Dennis Tufano on all 9 tracks. Taupin would not record again until 1987, with "Tribe," music by Martin Page, cameos by Elton John and Martha Davis, each singing on a track. And that was that. At least, under his own name. If you're a devoted fan, you know that he also put out albums in 1996 and 1998 fronting "The Farm Dogs," to explore his fascination with acoustic western roots music.

Out of some odd sense of nostalgia, here's 1980 Bernie singing to a meandering melody, "The Whores of Paris."

Whores are always a fine subject for a song, and Bernie previously wrote the sentimental "Sweet Painted Lady" with its profound couplet, "Getting paid/for being laid." Years later, scented by a Paris locale, Bernie gives us a little more darkness, a few flashes of decent poetry…the whole thing coming across like Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris" actually…in which a wide-eyed wanna-be comes in contact with images sensual and intellectual and the inspiration sharpens his own senses...somewhat.

From a view of a particular whore (ugh, had to call her "Gigi" huh) Bernie describes various other hookers; his quill quivering wildly in all directions, ink sometimes black and sometimes a little too purple. Sample lines:

With fat commuters full of cheap champagne
Belching tourists feel no pain
When Gigi takes their wallets
Spends their bodies, keeps the change

For sentiment don't touch the Whores of Paris
Just the years and lines of age
That buries them in unmarked graves
Old and spent and never saved….

They use their caution like a whip
We sensed it as they filed their nails, crimson
As the paint upon their lips
Tough enough to rust in jail
Farmers' daughters plucked like corn
From the Camargue to Marseilles
Ideals of the ideal life
Expectant mothers discarded wives
With re-sewn wrists and tear stained eyes
They soon find the shoe fits easy
The francs flow in and the tricks say "please me"
Another lovely thigh says "squeeze me"
Mon cherie, my bed's so busy
Take a Pernod, life's so sleazy

It's not coffee in the air
Just the smell of foreign fingers greasing palms
On the Seine it's Sunday morning
To her it's always evening
Shifting gear to put some German in her arms
Washed in sterile porcelain
She fakes it for the good of his morale
He's tired and worn but she moves on
To rope another stud from her corral
Christmas in the poor house
Unbeknownst to others, Madelaina takes her life
She tipped the scales at forty five
Never saw a decent day
Never made it to the upper echelons of night

Now 63, Taupin mostly stays out of the spotlight, as most lyricists do, and for that the world is thankful. Although the sight of Bernie hauling around some tart half his age, or even looking like a Mafia-pug and having some high priced call girl on a leash would be preferable to the antics of the Elton-and-David show. (The woman in the picture with Bernie, is Peggy Moffitt, in case you care. She's not for sale, though she might look rather like a sweet painted lady.) What Bernie does with his time, mostly, is to study the history of his beloved American West (which we all love more than Kanye West), listen to Marty Robbins albums, and hang out on his California ranch with his horses. In 2010 he pulled a Dylan and started hosting a radio show devoted to "American Roots" music…Willie Dixon, Louvin Brothers…the stuff that Elton fans would loathe. Maybe you can find it on Satellite Radio and learn for yourself how the guy pronounces his last name.

It's also worth mentioning that while Elton's had hits with other lyricists, Bernie's got a few credits without Elton, include an insane asylum concept album with Alice Cooper, "A Love That Will Never Grow Old" (used in "Brokeback Mountain"), "Mendocino County Line" (a co-write with Willie Nelson), "These Dreams," recorded by Heart, and "We Built this City" recorded by…well, let's stop right there. Let's briefly note that while whores prefer money, an added little gift, should you hire one, MIGHT be Jewelry from Bernie Taupin. Not too expensive. Looking a little better than shrubbery. Maybe even up to the standards of Joan Rivers. The samples you see in the photo above...are for sale on Bernie's official website. Copies of his three albums? Nope.

TAUPIN Whores of Paris

"SIXTEEN TONS" parody by Sammy Shore worth $45 BUCKS?

Some fool paid $45 for a not too hilarious parody of Tennessee Ernie Ford's "Sixteen Tons." What's funny is there were two other bidders coming in with offers over $40 for it.

What's really funny, funnier than Shore's song, is that at the same time these stooges were bidding, the item was (and probably still is) available for a FOURTH of the price, in the same condition! But some clowns only know one way to get a record: EBAY. That way, they can over-pay. And hey hey, it makes a seller's day.

It's rare when there's a big pay day on any 45 single. Almost all the "good stuff" has been re-issued on CD, and is all over iTunes (not to mention YouTube and blogs). It's even rarer when that pay day involves a comedy or novelty single, because denizens of that genre are known to be cheap fucks. And why pay a lot for a curiosity "novelty" item they might only play two thousand times alone in the basement? Spending a fortune on something stupid gives them no bragging rights, and they don't have that audiophile excuse that they're spending the money because the vinyl quality on that Dickie Goodman break-in is so superior to what's on Spotify.

At best, you'll spot the "Demento" head hunched over the cardboard box of bilious boot-sale banalities, cursing to himself over anything stickered with more than a "1" on it. Obese and sweaty with a backpack Charles Laughton would've used to impersonate Quasimodo, the misshapen fool will pass by anything high-priced. So will the other typical "Demento" stereotype, the over-medicated, smirking jackass who is convinced he's a WILD AND CRAZY GUY for buying crap that none of his friends want to hear. PS, he has no friends. Just some on-line orangutans who might swap mp3s and want-lists and tolerate his shitty jokes so he'll tolerate theirs. They've never outgrown a cackling fondness for any reference to fish heads or farts.

$45 for a VG (not mint) copy of vinyl? The same record, in the same designated VG condition, is sitting on one of the many well known record collector sites for a fraction of the eBay price, and no BIDDING is required:

This is just another ordinary parody single, despite two or three maniacs bidding wildly for it. According to Sammy Shore, "Sixteen Tons" was still on the charts when somebody decided he might be the best choice to cut a comedy version. Shore was not a very well-known stand-up at the time, but this was the era where unknowns could, with luck and Payola, become overnight sensations. He claims that the disc sold over 100,000 copies. If that were true, it would have charted, and the single would be on eBay most every week. A little more common, but also not exactly hits, are the parody versions from Mickey Katz and Homer & Jethro. Shore later developed his "Brother Sammy" character and put out a full-length album for Liberty in the 60's (which didn't sell 100,000 copies either). He continued to work the clubs, mostly ones that also had a fondness for a Shecky or Dreesen. Today he's unfortunately best known as either the ex-husband of "Comedy Store" founder Mitzi Shore, or the father of the very annoying Pauly Shore. With those options, being known for a minor parody of "Sixteen Tons" isn't so bad.

Some fans out there still love Sammy. And no, that's not a Photoshop job, that's art:

SAMMY SHORE drops jokes like they were SEVENTEEN TONS Instant download or listen on line.

VENTURES "WILD THING" (Don Wilson mimcry of PETER LORRE)

Peter Lorre's wonderful voice. Sinister. Even blood curdling, huh? It's possible that Cagney, Bogart, Karloff, Lugosi, Nicholson or Schwarzenegger are done more often, but the little spook has a distinction over all of them. Peter Lorre was the first movie star to be parodied on a hit record.

Celebrity impressions go back to the very early days of recorded sound. Scotland's Cissie Loftus put out a bunch of them for Berliner in 1898! People who happened to see a great star on stage, could buy a Cissie single: "Imitation of Phylis Ranken," "Imitation of Yvette Guilbert," "Imitation of Eugene Stratton" etc. etc. But parroting British Music Hall stars or actresses didn't produce Top Ten hits for Loftus. There wasn't a lot of radio play either in those days.

"My Old Flame," the Spike Jones single featuring Paul Frees as Peter Lorre, was a certifiable (and insane) hit. In fact it was so popular, Peter Lorre himself made an appearance on Spike's radio show, and did a dueling-Lorre with Frees on "My Old Flame" to the delight of the live audience.

You might have to fast-forward a generation to Bobby "Boris" Pickett, to name another hit novelty single based on a celebrity impression. And after that? A "Senator Bobby" Kennedy version of "Wild Thing" stunned radio listeners for a while, along with another version of the song using the the deep, oozy-voice of Senator Everett Dirksen of Illinois.

Not successful, but pretty darn amusing, is the download below, a third celebrity version of "Wild Thing" via The Ventures. The rest of the album is instrumentals. Founding member Don Wilson is the uncredited voice of Peter Lorre here. Don's not Paul Frees (Paul's Petered version of "Hey Jude" is elsewhere on the blog for you to sample) but he's very good. Don may not have the nuances (Lorre would often throw a "huh" or a little giggle at the end of a sentence to help steal a scene) but his accent is in the right Austria-Hungarian region and he doesn't overdo the nasality or the comical temper tantrum in going from suave evil to sputtery madman. It's wild, thing.

WiLD THING The Peter Lorre Version Instant download or listen on line. No capcha codes. No Paypal donation "tip cup," no links to dangerous websites. Nothing to do with Kim Dotcom or sociopaths like him.

I LOST ON JEOPARDY - too bad, THOMAS HURLEY III

When it comes to appalling self-important little preppie snots, nobody can rival Thomas Hurley III. Except his obnoxious inbred father, Thomas Hurley II.

The Hurley Turds get the worm for what they did last week. They clogged up the already trivia-obsessed print media and celeb-sucking TV news broadcasts with their whining over being "cheated" on the quiz show "Jeopardy." I guess the rich scumbags hired a publicist to squash their sour grapes for them and whine all over the place about such an injustice to an entitled family of such breeding.

In other words, rich self-absorbed shits like the Hurley Turds think that rules aren't meant for them. Everyone knows that on "Jeopardy" you must pronounce your answer exactly or, in the final round, spell it properly. Turd the Third didn't spell properly and his answer was not accepted. Very routine. The show is one of the few that is in any way intellectual, intelligent, or encourages polite sportsmanship; it was expected that Turd the Third would accept his consolation prize like everyone else, accept that he played a game and didn't win, and also understand that even if he was credited with the right answer, he would've finished SECOND.

Instead, affluent Daddy and brat got their revenge by bad-mouthing "Jeopardy" with libelous charges of having been "cheated." As if the other contestants weren't treated the same, and the winner wasn't also a well-fed white boy. But reporters dutifully interviewed Daddy and Brat to get every huffy, crybaby, self-important detail of this important story from a family in Newtown, Connecticut.

Yeah. NEWTOWN, CONNECTICUT. Remember that place, and the school shooting there? Isn't it outrageous that Thomas Hurley III's girly-bitch about losing on "Jeopardy" got almost as much attention last week as the school shooting last Christmas? A little pisher can't spell...and we all hear about it, just as we heard about the kids shot down in cold blood? Shot down, I add, because a stupid millionaire PARENT was too busy spoiling her brat into a pampered little monster to supervise the guns in the house.

So we got the Hurley Turds shooting their mouths off. "I was cheated" said the son. The father huffed, "The thing that bothered me most was the way Alex Trebek and the producers treated my son. They were kind of smug."

SMUG? You will hear the evidence in the download below. You be the judge of who has the attitude, Alex Trebek or Thomas Hurley II. You'll hear about 30 seconds of the actual soundtrack....the first and second contestants giving their wrong answers. (The third contestant, who got it right, has been omitted.)

Alex Trebek has always been a class act. He's always soft-spoken and sympathetic even to the most bone-headed contestant. He has great humility and is probably the most respected quiz show host on television. You can hear his disappointment in not being able to credit little Thomas Hurley III because of the error, and explain the "unfortunate" problem with the kid's answer. ("Jeopardy" for those out of the country, sometimes has a special "week" where instead of normal adult contestants, they promote education and sportsmanship by inviting students to compete).

What if the kid wrote "Emancipation Document?" What if the answer was "Abraham Lincoln" and he wrote "Linkin?" Thomas Hurley II whined that his son should've been given credit because "Everyone knew what he meant." Yeah, we know what he meant, and he could've written "A Man So Patient Proclamation" too, but EXACT spelling is the only way you EVER win on "Jeopardy."

Instead, by way of reminder, Hurley Turd losers, here's "I LOST ON JEOPARDY," with the amusing spoken part from the great Don Pardo. Don was the original announcer on the show (which no longer has someone recite all the dubious consolation prizes). Now about 95, he just finished another historic year as the announcer for 'Saturday Night Live.'

Hurley III, be grateful you have the money for a good education, a good home, a good school…and be grateful to be alive, because there are some kids in affluent Newtown younger than you who will never grow up. Because they are dead. And Hurley II, remember a certain affluent Connecticut doctor who lost his wife, and his daughters to fire and rape. He was nearly killed too, by a pair of home invasion thugs. So put all the "I Was Cheated on Jeopardy" clippings and video in a big paper bag and toss it in the trash and try to get some perspective. Be grateful for what YOU have, and maybe spend your time and money on something other than teaching your son how to be self-centered, argumentative and libelous, an attitude-filled pussy who thinks he's so special he should win when the rules say he LOSES.

Here's Thomas Hurley III, Alex Trebek, Don Pardo, and WEIRD AL…all combining for….

I LOST ON JEOPARDY Thomas Hurley III is a LOSER

Instant download or listen on line. No capcha codes, wait time, payment going to a Nazi like Kim Dotcom…and no whines about paying for a premium account and no "tip jar" for Paypal donations.