I was driving past a new condo development near my house, and on the sign was the line "A Walker's Paradise" (I'm not sure why; it's not very picturesque around there). Anyway, it reminded me of this song:
John Mellencamp and band, live on TV, 1983 (If you don't like listening to this, you can add the vuvuzela sound-effect.) I'm going to go out on a limb here, and guess that the people who work at some high-rise aren't going to vacation at the Gulf of Mexico this year...
The Kurt Hummel character on "Glee" (portrayed by Chris Colfer) performed it in a recent episode; the character is gay, but he decided to butch it up for some reason (I didn't see the whole episode). (Or is it faux-butching?)
(To see Colfer's skill with swords, click on the header.)
If you can't hang with "Pink Houses," this will probably really irritate you:
In Britain, Roxy Music, alongside Bowie, helped British rock break with denim authenticity.
DT:
Yeah, well music can certainly wear different clothes, get a different haircut, have a different accent and pretend to be different people and get different scriptwriters. I'm not sure how much that has to do with music. You may be getting the picture that I reduce everything to real simple choices, because that's who I am. It's a desert island question, you get to choose one of two albums -- whichever Smiths album you consider the greatest, or the John Cougar Mellencamp album you consider to be the greatest, I have never met anybody who would take the Mellencamp album, except for myself. But I would kill myself if I had to live out my life on a desert island with a Smiths album. I would rather have John Cougar Mellencamp. I think ultimately that there is a basic blood difference in that Mellencamp in his blood has the music, but Morrissey doesn't. It's not his fault, he's got something else. It doesn't mean he is a lesser human being, it just means that he is not American. As much as people don't want to deal with this stuff you have to come to terms with the fact that some cultural idioms are specific to blood, or whatever you want to call it. If you have got to go see two reggae bands, this one's from Kansas City, the other is from Kingston, Jamaica, which one are you going to go for? It's simple.
Doug, I don't know if you still check in on this blog, but I was doing some shopping at the Dave's Market on Cedar today, and "98.6" by Keith played on the overhead music, and I thought of you...
I got some chicken breasts, mustard potato salad, and some Stroh's* (the favored tipple of EYK, that band with all those WRUW DJs and me) (I don't think you can get Stoney's anymore)
I don't know if you were involved in that gig with Children's Crusade or SA, if you were, I'm sorry I missed you, but their promo was inadequate/incompetent (nothing on ClePunk?) Are there any gigs lined up for Guardrail Boy?
Oh, I also got a two-liter bottle of 50/50, because I haven't been able to find it in cans this year (I've only seen Squirt, which I don't like nearly as much). No clips for 50/50, so here's Ann-Margret for Wink, in a commercial that looks like it was made by Paul Sharits or George Landow:
(I'm sure that this is not very engrossing for the average reader, but no one seems that psyched about my regular not-narrowcasted posts)
*Waldo Drogulus (a pseudonym for one of the three-guitar section in "On Certainty") e-mailed me to register his disgust at the idea of quaffing Stroh's. His recommendation: "On a hot day like this - I'd buy some lemon ice from Corbo's and drench it in chilled vodka..." Not a bad idea; sort of a Russian-Italian sno-cone.
