107
   

WA2K Radio is now on the air

 
 
yitwail
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 10:57 am
this turtle likes to maintain an air of mystery about his person, but as atonement for his reticence, dedicates this ditty to the listeners :wink:

The Turtles
"Happy Together"

Imagine me and you, I do
I think about you day and night, it's only right
To think about the girl you love and hold her tight
So happy together

If I should call you up, invest a dime
And you say you belong to me and ease my mind
Imagine how the world could be, so very fine
So happy together

I can't see me lovin' nobody but you
For all my life
When you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue
For all my life

Me and you and you and me
No matter how they toss the dice, it has to be
The only one for me is you, and you for me
So happy together

I can't see me lovin' nobody but you
For all my life
When you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue
For all my life

Me and you and you and me
No matter how they toss the dice, it has to be
The only one for me is you, and you for me
So happy together

Ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba
Ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba

Me and you and you and me
No matter how they toss the dice, it has to be
The only one for me is you, and you for me
So happy together

So happy together
How is the weather
So happy together
We're happy together
So happy together
Happy together
So happy together
So happy together (ba-ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba)
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 11:29 am
Bob, I'm glad you posted those actual comments after the Neil Diamond song. Took a little edge off the "oscopy".

copy that listeners? Razz

Ah, yit. What a story that tells, my friend. Just as scintillating as the tingle of the bells.


DIANA KRALL LYRICS

"When I Look In Your Eyes"

When I look in your eyes, I see the wisdom of the world in your eyes
I see the sadness of a thousand goodbyes
When I look in your eyes

And it is no surprise, to see the softness of the moon in your eyes
The gentle sparkle of the stars in your eyes
When I look in your eyes

In your eyes, I see the deepness of the sea
I see the deepness of the love
The love I feel you feel for me

Autumn comes, summer dies
I see the passing of the years in your eyes
And when we part there will be no tears no goodbyes
I'll just look into your eyes

Those eyes, so wise
So warm, so real
How I love the world, your eyes reveal


Thought for the day:

"there is nothing hid that shall not be revealed."
0 Replies
 
bobsmythhawk
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 11:35 am
Fasten your seatbelts. Bob's running amuck again. BTW, what's a muck?

Eve you wicked woman, you done put your curse on me
Why didn't you just leave that apple hangin' in the tree
You make us hate our husbands, our lovers and our boss
Why I can't even count the good friends I've already lost
Cause of... PMS blues, PMS blues!!
I don't even like myself, but it's something I can't help
I got those God almighty, slap somebody PMS blues
Most times I'm easy going, some say I'm good as gold
But when I'm PMS I tell ya, I turn mean and cold you
Those not afflicted with it are affected just the same
Poor old men didn't have to grin and say "I feel your pain"
PMS blues... PMS blues...
You know you must forgive us for we care not what we do
I got those can't stop crying, dishes flying PMS blues

But you know we can't help it We don't even know the cause
But as soon as this part's over, then comes the menopause
Oh, Lord... Oh, Lord...
We're going to always be a heap of fun Like the devil
Taking over my body, suffering, suffering, suffering
Everybody's suffering, huh?

But a woman had to write this song, a man would be scared to
Lest he be called a chauvenist or just fall victim to
Those.... PMS blues!!!
You know we'd kill for less than that PMS blues!!!!
You don't want to cross my path Cause a pitbull
Ain't no match For these teeth a clenchin',Fluid
Retention Head a swellin', can't stop yellin' Got no
Patience, I'm so hateful PMS blues, premenstrual syndrome
Got those moods a swingin', tears a slingin'
Nothin' fits me when it hits me
Rantin', ravin', misbehavin' PMS blues!!!!

It's the only time in my life I ever think about wishing
I'd been a man But you know that only means one thing
If I'd have been a man, I'd be somewhere right this very minute
With some old cranky, naggin', raggin' hateful woman
With those old... PMS blues... PMS blues

I don't want to talk about it, we both could do without it
Got those treat your kids bad, don't you talk back
Gone ballistic, unrealistic Awful lowdown,
bitch to be around... PMS blues!!!
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 11:56 am
:DBob was, of course, talking about PM privileges, listeners.

Well, my goodness. Has Europe retreated? Hmmmm. How can we get them back, folks?

Goethe?
Burns?
Rimbaud?

and surely, Norway isn't off in a plane with a novice aviator.

And where is our French Canadian? Rene Chopin, perhaps may lead her back.
0 Replies
 
Francis
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 12:04 pm
Letty wrote:
Thought for the day:

"there is nothing hid that shall not be revealed."


I hope not. Things must be kept unveiled as in Salammbô...
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 12:22 pm
Well, There's Francis. I never understood that, I'm afraid, but there are so many things that Letty doesn't understand.

"kept unveiled"? Therein lies either a paradox or an oxymoron or perhaps a L'enfant terrible. Speaking of which, listeners, did you know there is actually a Brat Camp for unruly kids? <smile>
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 01:23 pm
and, as promised, Francis:




It is a green hollow where a stream gurgles,
Crazily catching silver rags of itself on the grasses ;
Where the sun shines from the proud mountain :
It is a little valley bubbling over with light.

A young soldier, open-mouthed, bare-headed,
With the nape of his neck bathed in cool blue cresses,
Sleeps ; he is stretched out on the grass, under the sky,
Pale on his green bed where the light falls like rain.

His feet in the yellow flags, he lies sleeping. Smiling as
A sick child might smile, he is having a nap :
Cradle him warmly, Nature : he is cold.

No odour makes his nostrils quiver ;
He sleeps in the sun, his hand on his breast
At peace. There are two red holes in his right side.


October 1870.

Translated by Oliver Bernard : Arthur Rimbaud, Collected Poems (1962)



Le Dormeur du Val

So lovely and so moving.
0 Replies
 
Francis
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 01:28 pm
Thanks, Miss Letty.
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 01:39 pm
I am glad that you liked it, Francis. Even in saddness, there is a redemptive quality.

Well, listeners. I suppose I must resort to Goethe to lure back our German friend, but I must find something first.

In the interim:

PENSACOLA, Fla. - A teenage boy was bitten and critically injured Monday in the second shark attack in three days along the Florida Panhandle.



The boy, whose age and name were not released, was taken to Bay Medical Center in Panama City. The nature of his injuries was not immediately released.

And for those of you out there who do not know Dickey, a companion piece:



James Dickey
"The Shark's Parlor"


Memory: I can take my head and strike it on a wall on Cumberland Island
Where the night tide came crawling under the stairs came up the first
Two or three steps and the cottage stood on poles all night
With the sea sprawled under it as we dreamed of the great fin circling
Under the bedroom floor. In daylight there was my first brassy taste of beer
And Payton Ford and I came back from the Glynn County slaughterhouse
With a bucket of entrails and blood. We tied one end of a hawser
To a spindling porch-pillar and rowed straight out of the house
Three hundred yards into the vast front yard of windless blue water
The rope out slithering its coil the two-gallon jug stoppered and sealed
With wax and a ten-foot chain leader a drop-forged shark-hook nestling.
We cast our blood on the waters the land blood easily passing
For sea blood and we sat in it for a moment with the stain spreading
Out from the boat sat in a new radiance in the pond of blood in the sea
Waiting for fins waiting to spill our guts also in the glowing water.
We dumped the bucket, and baited the hook with a run-over collie pup. The jug
Bobbed, trying to shake off the sun as a dog would shake off the sea.
We rowed to the house feeling the same water lift the boat a new way,
All the time seeing where we lived rise and dip with the oars.
We tied up and sat down in rocking chairs, one eye on the other responding
To the blue-eye wink of the jug. Payton got us a beer and we sat
All morning sat there with blood on our minds the red mark out
In the harbor slowly failing us then the house groaned the rope
Sprang out of the water splinters flew we leapt from our chairs
And grabbed the rope hauled did nothing the house coming subtly
Apart all around us underfoot boards beginning to sparkle like sand
Pulling out the tarred poles we slept propped-up on leaning to sea
As in land-wind crabs scuttling from under the floor as we took runs about
Two more porch-pillars and looked out and saw something a fish-flash
An almighty fin in trouble a moiling of secret forces a false start
Of water a round wave growing in the whole of Cumberland Sound the one ripple.
Payton took off without a word I could not hold him either

But clung to the rope anyway it was the whole house bending
Its nails that held whatever it was coming in a little and like a fool
I took up the slack on my wrist. The rope drew gently jerked I lifted
Clean off the porch and hit the water the same water it was in
I felt in blue blazing terror at the bottom of the stairs and scrambled
Back up looking desperately into the human house as deeply as I could
Stopping my gaze before it went out the wire screen of the back door
Stopped it on the thistled rattan the rugs I lay on and read
On my mother's sewing basket with next winter's socks spilling from it
The flimsy vacation furniture a bucktoothed picture of myself.
Payton came back with three men from a filling station and glanced at me
Dripping water inexplicable then we all grabbed hold like a tug-of-war.

We were gaining a little from us a cry went up from everywhere
People came running. Behind us the house filled with men and boys.
On the third step from the sea I took my place looking down the rope
Going into the ocean, humming and shaking off drops. A houseful
Of people put their backs into it going up the steps from me
Into the living room through the kitchen down the back stairs
Up and over a hill of sand across a dust road and onto a raised field
Of dunes we were gaining the rope in my hands began to be wet
With deeper water all other haulers retreated through the house
But Payton and I on the stairs drawing hand over hand on our blood
Drawing into existence by the nose a huge body becoming
A hammerhead rolling in beery shallows and I began to let up
But the rope strained behind me the town had gone
Pulling-mad in our house far away in a field of sand they struggled
They had turned their backs on the sea bent double some on their knees
The rope over their shoulders like a bag of gold they strove for the ideal
Esso station across the scorched meadow with the distant fish coming up
The front stairs the sagging boards still coming in up taking
Another step toward the empty house where the rope stood straining
By itself through the rooms in the middle of the air. "Pass the word,"
Payton said, and I screamed it "Let up, good God, let up!" to no one there.
The shark flopped on the porch, grating with salt-sand driving back in
The nails he had pulled out coughing chunks of his formless blood.
The screen door banged and tore off he scrambled on his tail slid
Curved did a thing from another world and was out of his element and in
Our vacation paradise cutting all four legs from under the dinner table
With one deep-water move he unwove the rugs in a moment throwing pints
Of blood over everything we owned knocked the buckteeth out of my picture
His odd head full of crashed jelly-glass splinters and radio tubes thrashing
Among the pages of fan magazines all the movie stars drenched in sea-blood
Each time we thought he was dead he struggled back and smashed
One more thing in all coming back to die three or four more times after death.
At last we got him out logrolling him greasing his sandpaper skin
With lard to slide him pulling on his chained lips as the tide came,
Tumbled him down the steps as the first night wave went under the floor.
He drifted off head back belly white as the moon. What could I do but buy
That house for the one black mark still there against death a forehead-
toucher in the room he circles beneath and has been invited to wreck?
Blood hard as iron on the wall black with time still bloodlike
Can be touched whenever the brow is drunk enough. All changes. Memory:
Something like three-dimensional dancing in the limbs with age
Feeling more in two worlds than one in all worlds the growing encounters.
0 Replies
 
McTag
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 02:03 pm
I know a German poem:

Ich heisse Ludwig der Bayer
Ich esse nur Schinken und Eier...

if there's any more to it, I have never been able to find out what.
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 02:08 pm
Hmmm. Does it have anything to do with aspirin, McTag?<smile>

I must be off to the local pop shop. and upon my return, listeners, I shall find a proper poem for our Brit.
0 Replies
 
McTag
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 02:17 pm
Ah, Bayer is a pharmaceutical company, of course.

In German, it has also another meaning, "Bavarian"

This causes some confusion in understanding some of the names of German football (soccer) teams, at least for the English.... :

Bayern Munich is a team from Bavaria

Bayer Leverkusen is however connected to the company, and Leverkusen is not in Bavaria.

This is probably of no interest to your listeners whatsoever.
0 Replies
 
McTag
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 02:19 pm
Similarly in England, Leeds Castle is not in Leeds, it's about 300 miles away.
0 Replies
 
Walter Hinteler
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 02:41 pm
The company Bayer is named such after Friedrich Bayer from Wuppertal, who formed in 1863 "Friedr. Bayer et comp." ('et comp.' was his former employer Friedrich Weskott ) in Barmen (nowadays Wuppertal).


Generally, 'Bayer' as family name indicates that some ancestor came from Bavaria (or some Bavarian territory).
0 Replies
 
Walter Hinteler
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 02:46 pm
Leeds castle takes it name from its first owner, a man named Leed, or Ledian, who built himself a wooden castle in 857.

Leeds (place/town - what is now the city, borough of)was originally called (in 627) Loidis.
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 03:01 pm
Oh, my goodness, McTag. I promised you Burns but I found something for fun. Rosi Lugosi, and she sure ain't a nun.:


Girls in white dresses with black lacy panties.
Unexpected visits from uncles and aunties.
Silver toe-nails. Linda McCartney and wings.
These are a few of my very worst things.

Over large families with overlarge arses.
Yes, I'll admit it, I hate the working classes.
Pig ignorant, ugly, bigoted and mean.
These are a few of my very worst things.

Just to be fair I also hate yuppies
with ghastly dinner parties in designer conservatories.
Schnitzel with celeriac, darlings, nouvelle cuisine.
these are a few of my very worst things.

On rainy Sundays listening to the Happy Mondays.
In Post Office queues.
I simply remember my very worst things
and then I know I'll pull through.

Rotweilers, doberhams, chihuahuas and spaniels.
I hate dogs. I also hate Paul Daniels.
Trendy vicars, I want to shoot them.
Aerobics instructors, I want to nuke.
Car ads, food fads.
Anything with the spice girls.
The royal family and Candle in the Wind. Shut up!
The last of the summer wine. I bloody hope so.
Hamish Mcbeth and all that psuedo cutesy Scottish Irish rot
like Ballykiss my a*******
Riverdance. Why?
Wonderbras. G.W.R.
Pamela Anderson's babies
and I don't care if everyone gets rabies
when I'm in the bath and the telephone ring.
Oh, my god, I hate everything.

Hey, Brit. She's from Manchester.

Well, I am so glad that Walter has cleared up the roiled water of Bayer and Leeds and wooden castles. Love it, my friend.

Back later with a poem for YOU!
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 03:14 pm
Something for Walter:

Poems of Goethe

THE HEATHROSE.

ONCE a boy a Rosebud spied,

Heathrose fair and tender,
All array'd in youthful pride,--
Quickly to the spot he hied,

Ravished by her splendour.
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,

Heathrose fair and tender!

Said the boy, "I'll now pick thee,

Heathrose fair and tender!"
Said the rosebud, "I'll prick thee,
So that thou'lt remember me,

Ne'er will I surrender!"
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,

Heathrose fair and tender!

Now the cruel boy must pick

Heathrose fair and tender;
Rosebud did her best to prick,--
Vain 'twas 'gainst her fate to kick--

She must needs surrender.
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,

Heathrose fair and tender!

1779.*
-----

Now, listeners, that's more gentle than Rosi, right?
0 Replies
 
Diane
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 04:12 pm
Poor Rosebud. If only she had had more spunk:

"Girl Fight Tonight!"
by Julie Brown


Girl fight tonight!
Girl fight tonight!

Look, there she is.
I'm going to kick her blonde butt!
Hey girl, I wanna talk to you!

I've seen the way that you check him out
When you think I'm not around
Mentally undressin' him
Whoa-oh, tryin' to shut me down
Well, you know last night he told me
All those nasty things that you said
You asked him if he gets lonely
Now you're asking to be dead!

Girl fight tonight!
(Shoo-be-do-bop and a shoo-bop-a run away)
Revenge is gonna be so sweet
Girl fight tonight!
(Shoo-be-do-bop and a shoo-bop-a run away)
Your lips are gonna kiss the street
You only want him 'cause I want him
Back off, girl, or else
Girl fight tonight!

I hate the way that your sweater fits (tight!)
I hate your baby talk
I can read your dirty mind
I watch you watch him walk
When you told him he looked like Rob Lowe
Well, that was the last straw!
So now I have to tell him
That you wear a padded bra

Girl fight tonight!
(Shoo-be-do-bop and a shoo-bop-a run away)
Ooh, we're gonna have some fun
Girl fight tonight!
(Shoo-be-do-bop and a shoo-bop-a run away)
Blood and mascara will run
We'll see how long your tan lines last
When you're in a body cast
Girl fight tonight!

Get her!
Don't let her get away!
Yeah!

All in love is fair
She'll rip out your hair
Now I'm declaring war
You know she's killed before
'Cause I'm a lover and a fighter... bitch!
Whoa!

(Shoo-be-do-bop and a shoo-bop-a run away)
Revenge is gonna taste so sweet
Girl fight tonight!
(Shoo-be-do-bop and a shoo-bop-a run away)
Your lips are gonna kiss the street
You only want him 'cause I want him
Back off, girl, or else
Girl fight tonight!
(Shoo-be-do-bop and a shoo-bop-a run away... [repeat])

That's right, you slut!
I'm gonna get you!
I'm gonna rip out your hairs one by one! I am!


Aaaaah!
Stop it! Let go of me!


Aaaaah! You ripped my blouse! Stop it!
You're choking me! Stop it!


Aaaaah!
Get outta here! Get outta here, that's right!
Stop it!
Oh my God! Oh my God!


Hahahahahahaha! She deserved it!

(Shoo-be-do-bop and a shoo-bop-a run away... [repeat])
(Girl fight tonight!)
(Shoo-be-do-bop and a shoo-bop-a run away... [repeat and fade])
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 04:22 pm
Oh, my listeners, Diane is still got that bitch inside.

Hey, gal. It ain't me. I never said that dys looked like Rob Lowe. Razz

You know, listeners, even Will Smith is trying to keep the peace:

Will Smith Urges Rappers to Be Role Models By RYAN PEARSON, Associated Press Writer
1 hour, 7 minutes ago



LOS ANGELES - Will Smith has one big introduction to make at Tuesday night's BET Awards: Gangster rappers, meet the rest of the world. Smith told The Associated Press he hopes to impress the global significance of U.S. black culture on the show's audience and artists.



"The kids that are making these trends, making these songs, don't understand the level of effect that black Americans have around the world," he said in an interview. " ... Black Americans are so elevated, it's almost worship."

Smith, co-host of the show (8 p.m. EDT) at Hollywood's Kodak Theater with wife Jada Pinkett-Smith, said he witnessed the phenomenon recently while in Africa. Touring a village in Mozambique, he came across a shack on which someone had scrawled the name of slain rapper Tupac Shakur.

"I was asking the kids: What is it about Tupac? Why is that there? I kept asking why. They were saying we want to dress like you dress, wear all the things you wear, talk how you talk."

"The impression is that black Americans are the dragon slayers. Here we are 13 percent minority in a foreign land, and yet we can make laws, change laws. If Jesse Jackson shows up at Coca-Cola, something changes."

Smith, who won the first rap Grammy in 1988 for his squeaky-clean "Parents Just Don't Understand," said he wants hip-hop artists to recognize their importance and shift away from thuggish themes.

"It's real important to have balance of the imagery. Yes, there are people who fire guns in the street, but there's also doctors who go to work in those areas to feed their children."

The gangster lifestyle is celebrated in black communities for its strength, Smith said. "That's the image of survivors. The dude that sells the drugs or has the guns or is most willing to kill somebody is the dude that has the greatest potential for survival, or at least that's the perception. So that's what people strive for.

"What I'm trying to present and what a lot of other artists are presenting is a different approach to survival and a more sound approach to survival. It's a more long-term approach based on intellect and skills that can't be taken away from you: The smartest dude survives the best."

Smith picks out Common and Mos Def as other artists "that really have something to say that don't necessarily fit on the `106th & Park' top 10."

Now more well-known as a movie star ("Men in Black," "Bad Boys," "Independence Day") than rapper, the 36-year-old Smith maintains on his latest album "Lost And Found" that his nice guy image has worked against him.

"Black radio, they won't play me though," he raps in one song. "Guess they think that Will ain't hard enough. Maybe I should just have a shootout ... just ignorant, attacking, acting rough. I mean then, will I be black enough?"

Though his current single "Switch" is a top 40 hit, the man once known as the Fresh Prince said he no longer worries about album sales.

"I'm an entertainer. I make it and close my eyes," he said. "Sometimes it sells 14 million, sometimes it sells 300,000. For me it's about just doing what I do, and hoping that my artistry makes a difference."
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Mon 27 Jun, 2005 04:58 pm
Is it safe to come in now?

<looks warily around the door of the control room>

Hmmm. Seems quiet.

Soooo, here's a song by Bread













Friends and lovers
Saying goodbye to each other
Their way
Your way
Gathered in garden and parting in doorways
And it's over
Anyway that's what the papers said.
And I wonder
What was going on inside your head
You were there
You were there
I'd like to ask
Did anybody touch you?
Come and go it went so fast
Did anybody touch you?
Friends and lovers
Turning away from the others
Your way
Their way
Closing their doors and then climbing their
Stairways
And it's over
Anyway that's what the people say and I wonder
Does it really have to be this way
You were there
You were there I'd like to ask
Did anybody touch you.
Come and go it went so fast
Did anybody touch you.
Come and go it went so fast
Did anybody touch you?
Or did you stand alone until the darkness came
Just one more room where everybody knew
Your name.
Friends and lovers
Ever apart from others
Endless hallways
Just say goodbye and it's over for always
And it's over
Didn't you believe me when I said and I wonder
What was going on inside your head
You were there
You were there I'd like to ask
Did anybody touch you?
Come and go it went so fast
Did anybody touch you

and in the background ABC is proclaiming that Tom needs cruise control.

"off message; in other words, gone bonkers."
0 Replies
 
 

Related Topics

WA2K Radio is now on the air, Part 3 - Discussion by edgarblythe
 
Copyright © 2025 MadLab, LLC :: Terms of Service :: Privacy Policy :: Page generated in 0.33 seconds on 01/18/2025 at 06:53:26