Something's missing

As of this writing, the federal government is partially shut down. Perhaps it's something that should be made permanent, or possibly even expanded. In any event, we have in the past two years witnessed a near-complete deadlock in the body politic, as each 'side' rejects out of hand any ideas advanced by the other.

I'm not of the opinion that government should be evaluated by the quantity of legislation produced - we're [mostly] all familiar with the comparison regarding the manufacture of sausage and laws. And, in many regards, it may be preferable not to have any new nitwittery added to the federal register. But, if that be the case, why not eliminate substantial portions - and the attendant expenses - of the dog and pony shows that play out on Capitol Hill?



In selecting the above clip, I also found this one, which - I believe - failed to chart:



Catchy, huh?

Note: I'm not sure where Alexa got her lyrics, but the second verse, per the Dylan webside, starts thusly:

Too much of nothing
Can make a man abuse a king
He can walk the streets and boast like most
But he wouldn’t know a thing

Fair Play?

It's said that fighting should be 'fair', and that you never shoot a man in the back.

While this is possibly noble and just, it's also sometimes just flat out wrong, as when the righteous Judge Roy Bean eliminated the evil Bad Bob:

 Robert, it is written that thou shalt not impugn the integrity of Miss Lily Langtry.

End of lesson.

Or when a U. S. Green Beret took the initiative to neutralize a threat before the enemy killed more friendlies or American soldiers. He has now been charged with murder.

When evil men are your enemies, you do what needs to be done.

No Clapton, Page, or Beck here

Quite the unplanned post, the result of some research following Tommy Boy's posting of Fleetwood Mac's Hypnotized, with the late Bob Welch.

It seems the Hypnotized single, considered the best cut from the Mystery To Me LP, was backed with (b/w for you old-timers) the Graham Gouldman composition For Your Love, which was originally a hit for the Eric Clapton-era Yardbirds, and released by that band on the day he left. While notable guitarists Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page would later join the Yardbirds, they were not featured on the single.



I think this version stacks up favorably against the original.

And, lest anyone forget, Carlos Santana did not write Black Magic Woman, which was, of course, composed by the founder of Fleetwood Mac himself, Peter Green:

A hoot owl's been howling outside my window

On the way to looking up something altogether different - something different - I found this:



I've seen M3 several times since 1978 - always a great show.

Earlier this year I posted a couple of songs from Murf's 1978 Lonewolf album.  Here's  another:

Wide Open Spaces

• I think this is the longest I've gone in any year in about 20+ where I have not seen It's A Wonderful Life. It's long been one of my favorite films, but in the last couple of years, I think I've begun to suspect that George Bailey - decent guy though he is - might be a socialist sympathizer.

•  I got my flu shot a couple of months ago. The nurse who came to our workplace said they felt this was a good batch, but that last year's sort of missed the mark. As I understand it, the people who concoct the vaccines make their best guesstimate of the strain of flu that's going to be prevalent in the upcoming season, and sometimes they don't get it right. In any event, I've not had the flu, but have been dogged for a few days by cold-like symptoms. Not enough to keep me from going to work - Heaven knows enough other blockheads will be calling in sick - but enough so that I retire about 9:00. I'm thinking tomorrow I should have run the gauntlet and will be back close to normal.
• Well, normal for me...
• In the past several years, reading actual books - beyond reference tomes and the like - has not been a priority for me. Sure, lots of magazines and interweb news, but few actual hardcover books. Well, in the course of four months or so, I've completed five books, and am about a third of the way through another. I'm trying to rebuild my reading muscle.
• My work colleagues are harrassing me for not having gotten a dog yet. Admittedly, it's been an extended mourning time. There've been a few canines that kind of appealed on the rescue sites, but which were either too large, disinterested, or which I simply missed out on. There was an Aussie Shepherd at last week's HSNT/FWAC event at Will Rogers, but she got snapped up before I could get down there to check her out. One co-worker in particular has been telling me: "Just get a damn dog already! You're more careful choosing a dog than you are a wife." I noted that I am pointedly taking my time to get just the right one, adding that my approach is at least halfway working, inasmuch as I've had better dogs than wives.
• For those of you who enjoy authentic country music, may I recommend Erin Enderlin's Whiskeytown Crier?  It's a lot like country music used to be, before it got conflated with pop and rock and roll.
• I must be somewhat on the mend, it's 10:00 p.m. and I'm not in bed yet.

From Every Stage

Combat Kevin's latest post referenced Robert Zimmerman.  Well, one thing led to another, and soon I was thinking about this Dylan song, performed on former paramour Joan Baez's 1975 From Every Stage live double LP (those big vinyl things, for you kiddos).  The album featured four additional Dylan compositions.



The drummer for that tour was Jim Gordon, formerly of Delaney & Bonnie and Friends, and Derek and the Dominoes. Although he is sometimes credited for writing the piano coda/outro on Layla, credible sources indicate it was actually lifted from Rita Coolidge, his then girlfriend. In 1983, beset by mental illness and perhaps substance abuse, he bludgeoned his mother to death, a crime for which he remains incarcerated/committed in Vacaville, CA.

Dying a little more each day

Heard this on Jody Dean's Saturday evening radio program earlier.  Following the death of my family this summer, it hits a tender spot.