Being the continuation of InstaPunk and InstaPunk Rules
Something else I owe my wife for
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All right. Won’t be any surprise. I always gave women their due, I thought, when it came to singing. I loved Piaf, Ella, Doris Day, Lena Horne, Billie Holliday, Ronnie, Janis Joplin, Whitney Houston to a point, you know, all the good ones, even Martha Tilton. I even made excuses for the also-rans, Grace Slick, Stevie Nicks, Pat Benetar, the Heart sisters, Janet Jackson, Diana Ross, and even Roberta Flack, who broke my heart with two songs and was never heard from again. (No. Find your own links.)
But when it came to opera I knew nothing. Nothingk. My wife and I grappled with the great Pagliacci-Domingo debate. One’s too this, one’s too that. Nessun Doooormat. Blah blah blah. Until the day she brought up Maria Callas.
Well, I knew all about her. Nice beak. Onassis castaway? Opera? Wasn’t she that? Who’d want Jackie? I mean, really. Eurotrash.
And Pat said, “Have you ever actually listened to her?”
Well, no. I stopped listening to sopranos when WFLN kept talking about Joan Sutherland. Old lady singers singing young girl arias from ‘La Boheme’ with discreet coughs interspersed.
“Get over yourself,” Pat said. (Tact has never been a hindrance for her. The last thing she is, according to her three children, is a controlling person. “She’s just, uh, candid,” they all say.) ‘She’s the greatest female voice in history. Listen…”
I did. She was right. I went directly to the Super Bowl of female arias.
GOAT is the word I’m groaping for. From gentle and soft to soaring and heart-breakingly, piercingly anguished, world-breaking angel with no transition at all? With no break in voice at all. And not even at the end of her range. Impossible. Nobody can do that but an archangel.
Ontogeny recapitulates philogeny. There’s an intensely contemporary reason for taking a close look at Scientology. The Swamp is so huge it seems like the Borg. But what are the stripped down essentials of the Borg? Here’s a look at a laboratory example, a microcosm if you will. In the interests of full disclosure, I did encounter Scientology back in the weird year of 1968. I was in Boston, got scooped in to a “Dianetics” exercise, and got speedily thrown out for having too much “charge” to participate. The one in charge was blond, bland to the point of creepy, and I almost (but not quite) succeeded in making him lose his temper. In further interests of disclosure, I spent years on Facebook, debating Trump-haters. They did lose their tempers. But they also exhibited the exact same repetition of Talking Points the lefties (and Scientologists) employ. Exact. Same. Words. How I made the cult connection. Overview Like it says. Troublemaker. Destroy Utterly Horror Show Squared More ... More
Everybody rushed in after the fact to be first with the goods on how Trump pulled off the biggest electoral upset in modern presidential history. I was already ahead of them though. I had been covering the political briar patch with a steady diary approach for four presidential election cycles, both terms of W, the meteoric rise and weird re-election of Barack Obama, and of course the first flutterings of the Republican country club riot over replacing him. I had three blogs to draw from over that time, and a couple+ books out of it, including one demonstrating that I had Obama figured out long before even his fiercest beltway critics caught on. Here’s another relevant book . I recognized the unique potential of Trump to win the whole thing early, in June of 2014. I could prove it. Why has it taken me this long to do my own book about the most spectacular politician of all our lifetimes? Two reasons. I didn’t realize I had produced so much material about Trump, the blog in whic
As you work your way through the links here, don’t be shy. Get ‘Click Happy.’ Even on pics. FIGHTING BACK ONE FILE AT A TIME … How bad has it gotten? I uploaded this video from the old Instapunk at YouTube an hour ago. It has already been removed for violating YT Community Standards. There’s a pdf version, just published, of the post from Instapunk.com the video above was created for. Nobody censored it 15 years ago. Back then, it was unquestioningly covered as freedom of expression. Here’s my pdf file of ‘ The Goosestep Enigma ’. This was by no means the most controversial post or graphic included in Instapunk’s 2,000+++ posts over the years. Now I’m going back in time to make pdf versions of the key parts of that website, meaning the most comical, controversial, reflective, insightful, and graphically provocative. But why reinvent the wheel. It’s all still there, isn’t it? The sad fact is that the truly huge resource called Instapunk.com is facing a ticking clock. The original site
Another has-been life ruined beyond repair. Trump Curse writ large. Rosie O’Donnell still can’t get over the fact that Trump won the Republican nomination in 2016 by blowing off Megyn Kelly’s gotcha question about his mean tweets to women, using her as the completely understandable punchline. Millions of men, and even some women, said to themselves, “I would do that too.” She’s a sad case. But this latest outburst got me to thinking. Maybe I’ve been unfair to The Donald myself over the years. With my wife and others, I’ve taken the position that I admire Trump as a President and would-be savior of the Republic. I’ve also said I wouldn’t have him in my house for dinner. Or, less pompously, that I have never had any desire to meet him in person. I have fought strenuously for his political life and fortunes. No one can deny that. But I also fought for George W and Mitt Romney (as I had done for McCain, whom I genuinely despised) when they were running. Didn’t want to meet them eit
Funny as hell and deadly serious Let me begin on a note we can all agree on. There is a time in our teen lives when we imprint on popular music. What we were listening to during the dramatic changes in our bodies, social lives, and aspirational identities stays with us, regardless of what we come to value and treasure later in life. Everyone has those certain songs that are foundational chords in their lives, and they respond physically to even a few notes of the recordings that gave rise to their libidos and, well, self . Two not unrelated things. This is a constant and nothing new. There are Sinatra imprints, Elvis, Beach Boys, Dylan, Motown, Beatles, Stones, Who, Doors, Bowie, Joni Mitchell, Judy Collins, Pink Floyd, James Taylor, Michael Jackson, Phil Collins, James Brown, Rick James, Springsteen, Metallica, and on and on and on imprints. (Apologies to the imprinters in Country, Disco, Jazz, and Blondie/Madonna Pop, have my own chords there too.) I never judge those. We just all
YEAH. THE VP DEBATE You have no idea. This is all an apotheosis for me. The Joke meme has captured me. Like, you know, I know there will be Democrats out there and vociferating about how good Walz did in appropriate ethnic accents. Defending Kamala was always a loser. Bathos is hell. And they think this POS is on their side. They do. Actually this is called projection. Here’s the real basis of Tim Walz. A banjo-banging would-be wise man who claimed Minnesota children were “above average.” Keep watching, rolling over to the next vid too. Keillor is a Walz… uh huh. Older, fatter, meltier… 2028 My very first blog, Gloves Off, contained a spirited defense of the ones we used to call Ladies. All gone now except for the ones still motoring onward with walkers and cute hair with no cosmetic surgery. They were mostly mothers. Not all. I have memories none of you can match — my own mother, Addie and Adelaide, Mildred Conklin, Gwendolyn Fennessy, Emma Jones, Rosa Riggs, Joy Coleman, Sis Hine, I
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