What-a-Babe

While I think TommyBoy may be selling himself short regarding a potential WaB career, there's no question that this lovely young lady wears it better than he ever could.

Oh, what a sight!

It was late November, back in '63...

Bluesman L. H. Oswald was appearing at the Carousel Club in Dallas, with sidemen J. R. Leavelle and Jacob Rubenstein.

The times, as they say, were-a-changing. Rock-and-roll was knock-knock-knocking on the door, and the pop-folk era, with songs about meadows and oak trees and the like, was about to wither under the willows.

Thanks to recent breakthroughs in image restoration tools, we're able to take a peek into that bygone time. In this photo, singer Oswald attempts to dispel the rumours of the 'grassy knoll' folk genre, by singing a raw and raucous, bluesy rock-and-roll number, "I'm Your Sole Man".

It would be his last known performance.

The Bard rocketh

A news article today, trying to take a different tack reporting on the circus encamped on Capitol Hill, explained the hearing shenanigans using quotes from ol' Billy Shakespeare.

As one might expect from this blog's title, I kinda dig the playwright and poet from Stratford-upon-Avon. Though I probably have multiple collections (compendia?) of his works, I'm far from a scholar. Nonetheless, I have a good, passing knowledge of many of them, and can glibly throw out a quote here and there to give the appearance of erudition.

In high school, Mr. George Parks required my freshman class - think Dead Poets Society, and you'll be in the general ballpark - to memorize Hotspur's soliloquy to King Henry IV. Not just bland recitation, but replete with breathing exercises in the gym, and correct intonation and projection. John D. got so stressed when it came his turn to present in front of the class, that he hyperventilated and fainted. At the time, it was just something we laughed about as part of our prep-school experiences, and later recounted at class reunions. But the theme of the soliloquy, that is to say, defending some intemperate words or unwise actions, to a boss/colleague/friend after the fact, has become kind of a ribbon running through my life. I've probably done the "Yeah, um, what I really meant was..." speech a hundred times since high school. In the modern parlance, what Hotspur was really doing in that monologue, was spinning the truth.

Although it wasn't required memorization, one of my other favorite scenes from that play was when Prince Hal and others waylaid Falstaff's band of highwaymen, only to hear a very different version of events, with much mirth, back at the Boar's Head Tavern. Jussie Smollett should've studied this play.

Back to the news article.

The quote that really caught my fancy in describing the impeachment charade comes from Coriolanus, Act II, Scene 1 (a work with which I'm frankly not familiar), and goes thus, "More of your conversation would infect my brain.” 

What a perfect description! And, I must admit, I struggled this afternoon at work to refrain from using it with a co-worker/subordinate.

How to deal with nitwits...

Gov. Abbott, here is how to deal with stinkin' liberal campus administrators:



If I owned a mansion, I would have a media room continuously running clips of The Gipper's speeches.

What would Alfred Hurley do?

So it's now well-recognized that the University of North Texas has capitulated to political correctness and group-think by accepting (after perhaps requesting) the resignation of an assistant legal counsel. The staffer, participating in a campus forum on hate speech, was giving examples of offensive speech, and delineating what is or is not protected under the U.S. First Amendment.

In what was clearly an example, not of 'good' speech, but of distasteful rhetoric that would nonetheless fall under First Amendment protection, she used the n-word, uncensored.

Oh my stars!

Despite the clear caveat that it was being used as an example, and that the word is pervasive in the film and audio media that the target student audience ravenously consumes, there was immediate outrage in the lecture hall. The legal staffer apologized to the attendees whose tender sensibilities and psyches were traumatized. Not long after, the woman resigned - possibly forced - despite the strong likelihood that, as a 2010 Baylor Law School graduate (Texas Tech undergrad), and practitioner in the legal field for a state university system, she probably was more involved in diversity issues than any of her audience.

But, credentials and abilities notwithstanding, apparently she wasn't 'woke' enough for the current UNT student body, and its nitwit Administration.

Having cleared most of my English/Literature credits by AP testing, and classes at a prior university, I only had to take one English class at NTSU for my degree plan. Professor Baird was a very good instructor who welcomed wide ranging discussion on works of Ralph Ellison, Bob Dylan, Ray Charles, and Albert Camus.

In the interest of political correctness and inclusiom, would the University today rewrite Steinbeck to Of Mice and Mxn?

What did I know?

She used to jog with this playing on the Walkman. Though one of Henley's top songs, it's not really been one of my favorites - until I heard this 'contemplative' presentation tonight.

Until we meet again

Earlier this year, I lost someone who for many years was very dear to me. This past week, I learned that another who was once close, had also passed recently. Life isn't for the faint of heart.



I suppose if I were a bit older, Dylan would be the standard bearer for my generation, and certainly there are many turns-of-phrase that he made emblematic of the era. But in my life, it's more frequently been Messrs. Browne and Henley (and sometimes Waters/Gilmour) who've written the lyrics that have resonated most.