Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: rock and roll

Sphinx of Black Quartz, Judge My Vow

This was presented as a sentence that uses all letters of the alphabet, like “The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog,” but is, of course, way cooler. This made me think that maybe I should come up with such a sentence. Maybe you should, too. Any I receive will receive the reward of being published here, which, you must admit, is a rare reward. (Of course, you must first nail down your “x” and “z” words, and build the sentence from there.)

THE GOING RATE

–Rate for not saying anything about Trump: $130,000 (Stormy)

–Rate for saying good things about Trump: $180,000 (Omarosa)

Of course, saying good things involves more effort than not saying anything, so it’s only fair.

CRITIQUE OF TED NUGENT LYRICS

Leaving aside “Wang Dang Sweet Poontang” (“Wang dang, what a sweet poontang, she looks so sweet while she’s yankin’ my meat”), there’s “Sweet Sally”:

“Sweet Sally, she’s a friend of mine

Her long legs in an evening gown

Her black hair just hangin’ down

Sweet Sally likes it double-time

Sweet Sally likes it all the time

Sweet Sally, she’s a friend of mine”

I detect a certain shallowness in this friendship.

COSMO HOROSCOPE, 1984

You thought I’d forgotten these, didn’t you? Anyway, here’s

Beauty for Libra: “Stay just as sweet (and wanton) as you are, but don’t neglect grooming; manicured hands, squeaky-clean hair enhance your witchery.” Yes, clean hair always enhances a woman’s witchery.

And speaking of Cosmopolitan, this month’s cover features “Booty Mania! Belfies, butt facials, and more!” Now, my butt can hold its own in any competition, but you won’t be seeing pictures of it on Facebook. Though I am curious as to what a “butt facial” might involve (even though it reminds me of an unfortunate South Park episode). Plus, one shudders to think what “and more!” might be. OK, I’ll look at the article at Walgreen’s tomorrow. Maybe I’ll actually buy the issue, so I can report back to you. You people are so demanding.

Looking back at previous posts, I see that in May 2013, someone said they would “pay to see me drunk.” Unfortunately, I didn’t note who that was. Is the offer still valid?

And I forgot to add a picture to this post before I started it, so…

ancient art cosmos dark

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

 

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Telling People Why They’re Wrong

…a service we’ve (OK, I’ve) provided for over 5 years.

CRITICIZING THE LYRICS OF MICK JAGGER

Sure, he’s written world-famous lyrics, but I CANNOT BE STOPPED.

–“She was more than beautiful

Closer to ethereal

With a kind of down-to-earth flavor”

You can’t be both ethereal and down-to-earth. They are opposites.

But I take issue with every verse of “Fool To Cry,” my second-to-least-favorite Stones song. (My very least-favorite is “Emotional Rescue,” which is so bad it embarrasses me to hear it.)

OK, in the first verse, his daughter sits on his knee and says, “Daddy, you’re a fool to cry.” Any child young enough to sit on her father’s lap does not have the worldly wisdom to make a remark like that.

In the second verse, we learn that he has a woman who “lives in a poor part of town.” She, too, advises him that he’s a fool to cry. (Actin’ the fool, as it were.) WHY IS YOUR WOMAN STILL LIVING IN A POOR PART OF TOWN? YOU’RE A RICH ROCK STAR. BUY HER A MANSION. Or marry her and move her into your mansion. That would be more cost-effective.

In the third verse, even his friends state that he’s a fool to cry. I find it hard to believe that Mick Jagger’s friends give him philosophical advice. Mick Jagger’s friends say things like,

“Hey, what’s the matter, man?
We’re gonna come around at twelve
With some Puerto Rican girls that’re just dyin’ to meet you
We’re gonna bring a case of wine
Hey, let’s go mess and fool around
You know, like we used to”
In case you think I do nothing but complain, my favorite Stones songs are “Paint It Black,” followed by “Jumpin’ Jack Flash.” I was born in a cross-fire hurricane, after all.
ROCK AND ROLL WILL NEVER DIE
…is wishful thinking, just like “Big bands will come back.” Nevertheless (and ever the more), I have a new Blue Oyster Cult t-shirt. It only has the band’s logo on it, not the name. The other day, the bus driver looked at my shirt and said, “Hawkwind?” No, but good guess.
MORE ADVERTISING ABOMINATIONS
Triscuits are trying to get you to just call them “‘–scuits.” Resist them. Also, “so you can Meijer any way you want” is to be avoided. Sure, it tells you how to pronounce it, but that could be accomplished without turning it into a verb.
A FINAL WARNING
S.G. will start sporadically featuring PERFUME REVIEWS. No, no one was saying, “World Leader, can’t you please include perfume reviews?” (Although I know that a few of you would be interested.) Yes, I should probably start a second blog for that purpose. No, I’m not going to actually do so. Partly because I’m too lazy and incompetent to manage more than one blog, and partly because I don’t plan to do this regularly. I’m not a collector, just a person on a signature-scent quest that seems to be lifelong.
I actually have been doing this informally for some time. In the unlikely event you want to read my reviews of a variety of cosmetic products, check out

MakeupAlley, where I have posted as Snakeskin, Wyrmiax, and, currently, CobraRose.

Cat Esmerelda thinks I have spent enough time writing this, and need to attend to her strange and varied needs.

 

Against Everything

“There’s an improved way to post on WordPress.” No, there isn’t, just a newer way. It is unfamiliar, therefore I fear it.

Faced with an expectant FanBase, I am forced to admit I do not have the cashmere sweaters in hand as yet, so no picture has been taken. I am also bemused by the varied reactions to my appearance in general. A guy who works at Thornton’s said, “You’re the last person I’d expect to have a snake tattoo,” while others seem to think a cashmere twinset is equally unlikely, so perhaps my personal style is not as well-defined as one would hope. Well, as would hope. I try.

CONTINUING OUR CANNIBALIZATION PROGRAM

I forgot to mention, reading my 4th post in Feb. ’13 (called “Trifecta” something, it’s all a blur)–I was basking in compliments as a new blogger (well, ASIDE from the fact that I invented the blog in 1990, and I’m going to keep mentioning that, so get used to it), and someone asked, Why am I not a newspaper columnist? The short answer is that the paper already has Jon Webb and Stan Levco. The long answer is that I’m autistic. (Doesn’t seem like a long answer? Watch me.) I actually had some professional connections in my youth, since my stepfather was in broadcasting, but I was no more able to network than I was able to fly through the air by flapping my arms. (To give you an idea–I worked at a factory for a couple years, and, after calling me into the office to ask if there were “any problems they should know about,” a question which baffled me, they moved me to a department where I could work by myself, since other people had been complaining about me, for reasons They wouldn’t reveal. And yes, I showered every day. So you can see how networking might be a problem.) I might have more of a clue now that I’m older, but I can’t guarantee it. How does one get started writing professionally these days?

Speaking of compliments, I was discussing the tooth fairy with Nick. Aside from the fact that inflation will get us all (I only got a dime or a quarter from the tooth fairy–something silvery and disc-shaped, at any rate), I remarked that kids must sleep more soundly than adults, since someone sticking their hand under my pillow now would probably wake me up. He said, “Probably not. I’m sure you sleep suspended from the ceiling upside down, wrapped in a cocoon of your own wings.”

And speaking of that ancient post–I really regret the demise of the WordPress feature that would recommend illustrations based on words you typed. (Well, except when my post title was “Spiders and Dead Bodies.”) You can sign up for illustration services, but they work by sending hundreds of pictures to your email inbox, and who has time to sift through those? Not me, I’m almost famous.

And speaking of fame (the title of this post should have been “Raging Segues”), the soundtrack at McDonald’s today included “The One I Love” by R.E.M., a song which proves that people only listen to the first 2 lines of anything. This is a popular romantic request number on radio stations, BUT–

“This one goes out to the one I love

This one goes out to the one I left behind

A SIMPLE PROP TO OCCUPY MY TIME…”

Anyone see a problem with that? It’s about casual sex on the road, hard though it may be to imagine R.E.M. engaging in the practice. Unlike, say, the Sour Neon Crawlers, with their army of groupies.

 

 

Day 30: The Final Countdown

(You should say that like they do in the song by the same name.)

Somebody asked, “Are you counting the days till retirement?” I realized I was not, and a person such as myself certainly should be doing so. But I’m not counting down how many days are left in my employment, since I have vacations in the next 2 months, but how many days of actual work are involved. Hopefully, having to report back each day will ensure semi-regular posting (and drinking during vacations will probably ensure the rest).

 

CRISIS IN PROGRESS, DAY 30 EDITION

“Caller at business hired a homeless subject to hold a sign, and he is now threatening them.” You know, you would think holding a sign would require the least vetting of any job.

“Suspect said he’s been tased before and knows to wear extra layers of clothing, also he could pull the darts out and run fast.” Let’s test that theory, shall we? One more reason to plan my outfits in advance!

“Subject states he is military police and has more power than the police.” Let’s test that theory, too!

“I got whiskey poured in my eye and I can’t see.” Well, I got Boone’s Farm wine poured down the front of my shirt once. The guy then tried to clean it up with his tongue. I should have told my caller that.

Officer’s comment on traffic stop: “You can’t be driving on a suspended license in a car covered in blood.” It turned out to be fake blood, but that only makes it more puzzling.

FAST-FOOD TIME-WARP AMBIENCE REPORT

McDonalds at St Joe/Maryland has been remodeled. I was wondering if they’d go for the slick gray cyberpunk look of the one at Lloyd/Rosenberger, but no. It looks like what we thought looked modern in 1959, but in a 70’s color scheme. If I get dementia, they could just set me down there and I’d feel right at home, although I wouldn’t be sure exactly which past decade I was in.

McDonald’s is the place everyone ends up at eventually, so it’s like Life’s Rich Pageant in there–mostly Norman Rockwell, but with a few fringe elements. (I suppose I’d qualify as a Fringe Element, but only on close inspection, and I don’t invite close inspection.) When I last went there, there was a crowd at the counter, and an old guy apparently having some kind of medical episode, so I didn’t anticipate getting my order taken any time soon, and went to Taco Bell across the street instead. (I usually prefer Taco John’s for my infrequent Mexican food urges, but they’re farther down the street, and it was starting to rain.)

The clientele at Taco Bell tends to be younger and more redneck, and the music being played was appropriate. Weirdly, though, it was appropriate for when I was younger. Not that I would have heard it at a fast-food place–businesses didn’t pander to youthful tastes in those days–but I would have heard it blaring from passing cars as I walked down the street in my halter top and bell-bottom jeans. The Stones’ “It’s Only Rock & Roll.” “Dreams I’ll Never See” by Molly Hatchett. (I had to Google that, not having thought of that song for all the intervening years.) Then I thought–I know those opening chords very well–Blue Oyster Cult’s “In Thee,” which I’ve never heard when I’m out. Maybe I should go to Taco Bell more often.

 

A TALK WITH NICK’S OWNER ABOUT MY RETIREMENT

“Now you’ll have lots of time for that ridealong!”

must think fast…“He’d probably just refuse, out of spite.”

“No, I think he’d probably accept–out of spite!”

Good thing he’s only imaginary.

 

THE EQUIPMENT IS OUT TO GET ME

This new radio system sounds like it’s recording what I say, even when I’m not on the phone or air. But that couldn’t be true, could it?

 

 

 

 

Live-Blogging: 4th of July on Reitz Hill

AT 1555

Well, the foot of the hill, at any rate. Time for our annual holiday BBQ! After shoveling dead beetles out of the front windowsill in expectation of guests, it’s on to personal preparation–I am wearing “Gunmetal Gray” eyeshadow, in honor of all the gunpowder that will be deployed tonight (not by us, I hasten to add), and “Watermelon Pink” lipstick, in honor of watermelon.

Rom bashed his hand with a sledgehammer, so that’s out of the way.

We have been preparing to the soundtrack of WABX radio: “EVANSVILLE’S ONLY CLASSIC ROCK STATION! AND CLASSIC CALL LETTERS!” No, sorry, they’re not. And I know whereof I speak, since my stepfather was a radio DJ, and worked at many stations. WLS/Chicago is classic. WABX can’t even be made into a cutesy slogan.

Ad on the said WABX: “For job-training, text JOB–that’s J-O-B–to…” As Rom said, if you have to be told how to spell “job,” you don’t have much of a future.

Most of the radio ads today are telling us to use their products responsibly. Because who could imagine setting off fireworks while drunk might cause a problem?

“Rock and roll never forgets”–Bob Seger

My version: “Rock and roll never forgives.”

Rom’s version: “Rock and roll can’t even remember.”

Kiss wants us to Rock and Roll All Night and Party Every Day. I don’t believe that’s a sustainable way of life.

In other music news, Yes continues to suck.

AT 1621

Um, why set off fireworks during the day? Obviously your World Leader needs to work on regulations for this area, or at least go glare at the people up on the Reitz lot.

AT 1707

Water balloons have been brought. But no one would dare throw one at me, right?

AT 1719

I’d already consumed my supply of apple ale (brought by Nick previously in exchange for a garage door opener battery, because he is too feeble to open a garage) for this vacation, so Sister Elizabeth let me have one of hers! Hurray! I’ve already been transgressive by eating Doritos scoops BY THEMSELVES, without salsa, because salsa looks like puke.

AT 1906

Almost all our guests have gone. 2 praying mantises were spotted–size, small and smaller. Small children were told you shouldn’t whack a set of wind chimes JUST AS HARD AS YOU CAN, thank you very much.

For the record, I was not one of the people who daintily cut a chunk of meat into thirds and only put part of it on their plate. I was all in.

I managed to avoid spilling said meat in my lap.

BONUS OBSERVATION, SINCE I FORGOT TO PUBLISH THIS POST YESTERDAY:

Crisis in Progress, Really?! division:

I am not the person to yell at if you dislike the fireworks laws.

–“It’s legal? Even if it sets my house on fire?” Actually, even if it did set your house on fire, that would not retroactively make it illegal. Another woman, having been told by my colleague 911SK that it was legal until 11:30 through July 9th (WHY?), said, “I want officers to drive through my neighborhood and make them think it’s illegal.” She actually thought that was her right as a taxpayer.

 

 

 

 

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