Ill have a coffee au laite and two biegnets with lotsa powder sugar please. If that old coot Lusty Andrew shows up have him sit over there so I dont have to smell im.
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firefly
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Sun 21 Apr, 2013 06:06 am
Come on thread--WAKE UP--MOVE!!!
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firefly
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Sun 21 Apr, 2013 06:14 am
Another Wake-Up BUMP--
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firefly
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Sun 21 Apr, 2013 06:20 am
BUMP...BUMP....BUMP....
It's too early in the day to have to do all this bumping....
Some more coffee, Wassau, please. And a scrambled egg and a toasted English muffin with butter and black currant jam.
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firefly
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Sun 21 Apr, 2013 07:50 am
@ossobuco,
Quote:
As it happens, in preparation for figuring out how to get my turntable to work again so I can find out if my albums died in transit and storage...
I also have my old stash of albums stored away (I even still have my Belafonte), and I am never sure what to do with them--toss them out, try to see if I can sell some of them, see if I can buy new needles or cartridges for my turntable so I can play them, etc. I even have a small collection of 78 records that I inherited that have been stored away forever and seem to be in excellent condition.
I'm not sure whether I'm hanging on to them just out of sentimental value or whether I'd really enjoy listening to them again. It's been decades since I played any of them.
It was a crazy day yesterday.
Brenda said it was the best birthday she'd every had.
Good, but it makes me a bit sad.
A giant mug of tea right away Wassau. Please and thank you very much.
I'm going to need cracked wheat toast with something after that.
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farmerman
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Sun 21 Apr, 2013 07:58 am
red over 250 ewes yesterday and I slept like a log. We had two shearers and me. I did about 35 sheep and Mrs F was there all day loading sheep into the chutes and turning them into the field (She had two Amish kids helping her).
After we finished and showered, we went to Kennett Square Pa for a sushi dinner and a real sickeningly sweet saucy with whipped cream dessert.
Whatd we learn? We seem to have finally gotten the routine of shearing day all down pat, and with all the people with parents of our library "Saturday adventure club" and kids that show up to watch, weve been asked to see whether wed like to make a small festival out of it to which we politly said "go **** yourself". We had two mothers show up smoking and my wife , bless her ,was quite firm about trying to instruct people how a barn is like a big mass of tinder and she also likes to keep her sheep free from toxicants.
We did come to the conclusion that we do need another border collie and maybe we will get a Corgi puppy as well.(I dont think I have enough energy or wit left to handle another catahoula)
SO Im a bit tired (but in a good way) weve accomplished one of the big seasonal tasks. That, plus haying and lambing and getting lambs to marjet and driving our wool to Canada makes up the bulk of the grand list of stuff we have to do and check off each season.
Everything else is not real work.
And today is a total "off"day
"Im on my off ,Im off till Tuesday when my off is all"
I have now checked out the story as told by Bob Spitz in "Dylan; A Biography and the myth is understated. Seeger was beside himself with rage. Lomax and Grossman, Dylan's manager, were fighting in the dirt.
Who can blame them? They were over with.
At the party later Dylan was having a mope about it and Maria Muldaur tried to get him to dance but he looked up at her with tears in his eyes and said "I'd dance with you, Maria, but my hands are on fire--but my hands. . . my hands are on fire."
In the ensuing row Paul Nelson wrote in Sing Out to say that Bob's set had been a moment "that freezes the blood and sparks the brain into the kind of excitement that stays forever in one's memory." And no wonder. The world has never been the same since.
"Make no mistake", Nelson said, "the audience had to make a clear-cut choice and they made it: Pete Seeger. . . . They were choosing suffocation over invention and adventure. backwards over forwards, a dead hand instead over a live one. . . . It was a sad parting of the ways for many, myself included. I choose Dylan. I choose art."
BTW--Spitz describes the Byrds version of Tambourine Man as "mousy whitewash", "whiny", and "unemotional". It's more than that--it's dreadful.
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
What can anybody say about shite like that. The rest of the song is even more embarrassing.
Quote:
Though you might hear laughin', spinnin' swingin' madly across the sun
It's not aimed at anyone, it's just escapin' on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin'
And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're
Seein' that he's chasing.
I don't know where you got your lyrics from, spendi, but only the opening verse is correct. These are the lyrics:
Little Boxes:
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same,
And there's doctors and lawyers,
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.
And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
While Pete Seeger recorded this song, he did not write it.
Quote:
"Little Boxes" is a song written by Malvina Reynolds in 1962, which became a hit for her friend Pete Seeger in 1963.
The song is a political satire about the development of suburbia and associated conformist middle-class attitudes. It refers to suburban tract housing as "little boxes" of different colors "all made out of ticky-tacky", and which "all look just the same." "Ticky-tacky" is a reference to the shoddy material used in the construction of housing of that time....
Reynolds was a folk singer-songwriter and political activist in the 1960s and 1970s. Nancy Reynolds, her daughter, explained that her mother came up with the song when she saw the housing developments around Daly City, California built in the post-war era by Henry Doelger, particularly the neighborhood of Westlake...
The profundity of the satire is attested to by a university professor quoted in Time magazine as saying, "I've been lecturing my classes about middle-class conformity for a whole semester. Here's a song that says it all in 1½ minutes." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Boxes
An example of the middle-class housing satirized in "Little Boxes": Levittown, Pennsylvania, one of the first major post-World War II housing developments in the United States.
There was/is a similar Levittown on Long Island. All cookie-cutter little houses.
As someone who often rails against conformity, I'd have thought you'd like this song, spendi.
Over with? They are still as relevant as ever. You can't understand where Dylan's coming from unless you appreciate Pete Seeger, Alan Lomax, and the Anthology of American Folk Music. The only one over with from that encounter is Albert Grossman.
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ossobuco
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Sun 21 Apr, 2013 11:53 am
@ossobuco,
And this guy, Lil Buck (Charles Riley) sounds amazing:
Just look at Cheech and Chong. Aren't they as cute as can be?
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Lola
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Sun 21 Apr, 2013 01:19 pm
@ossobuco,
Quote:
I'll add the list if it would amuse.
Please do, osso and anyone else as well.
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spendius
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Sun 21 Apr, 2013 01:40 pm
@Lola,
Like the guy who sang it most. He didn't write it.
Lomax took advantage of the development of tape recorders to go around the rural backwaters collecting songs. When he got back to the city he copyrighted them for himself and then promoted them.
How condescending is that? And he accused Dylan of selling out just because he was the vandal who took the handles off the pump so it wouldn't work. The folky's dribbling money pump.
Have you ever watched a folky sing folk songs to a roomful of folkies. It's really depressing. It's MOPING CITY in microcosm.
Quote:
Now the fifth daughter on the twelfth night
Told the first father that things weren't right
"My complexion", she said, "Is much too white"
He said, "Come over here girl, step into the light", he says,
"Hmm you're right
Let me tell the second mother this has been done"
But the second mother was with the seventh son
And they were both out on Highway 6tiwaaaaaaaaaaooooooooone.
