WKRLEM: Summertime and your mother is easy!

One of my favorite Janis songs.

What if Harrry Potter were written by Ta-Nehisi Coates?

“Look—” he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy. Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead.

Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves. Harry had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood.

 A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered. . . . Then, out of the shadows, a black hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Malfoy, and Fang stood transfixed.

The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal’s side, and began to drink its blood. “AAAAAAAAAAARGH!” Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted—so did Fang.

The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry—unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Harry—he couldn’t move for fear.

It was a black face. Covered in gore. Bits of flesh mixed with spittle on his chin. Dead soulless eyes looked at Harry.

“All that is white must die. They are the evil that will destroy this realm. Now is the time for the true Kings and Queens to claim their rightful place!”

Harry shuddered in fear but he still had to ask “Why did you have to kill such a beautiful creature?”

“Only black lives matter you cretin. Soon you will all feel our wrath.”

Harry couldn’t face such evil alone. He turned and fled after the others.

I was told there would be no Dylan

There are many who say that a dog has its day,

And a cat  has a number of lives;

There are others who think that a lobster is pink,

And that bees never work in their hives.

There are fewer, of course, who insist that a horse

Has a horn and two humps on its head,

And a fellow who jests that a teen can have breasts

Is as rare as a donkey that's red.

Yet in spite of all this, I have moments of bliss,

For I cherish a passion for youth,

And though doubtful of biscuit, I'm willing to risk it,

And I love to chase rabbits and chicks.

But my greatest delight is to take a good bite

At a calf that is plump and delicious;

And if I indulge and grow quite a bulge,

Let's hope you won't find me victorious.

WKRLEM: Summertime and the farting is easy!

I bet you like the Cock a two.

Amirite or what?

The Boss used to do this all the time too......

President Trump offered to pay for the funeral of Army soldier Vanessa Guillen who was murdered by another soldier who was sexually attacking her. This is typical of President Trump as he does this kind of thing all the time. Something the Boss George Steinbrenner also would do all the time. Pay for a funeral. Give a college scholarship. Help out people who needed it. Without a lot of fanfare. 

This was unusual because it is usually covered up by the mainstream media. The family wanted it out there so they could say how appreciative they are.

The family didn't want a military funeral. Who could blame them.The Army failed them. How could they allow this kind of bullshit to happen. This wasn't a simple case of sexual harassment. This was murder. Heads should roll. Starting with the Chief of Staff who is a shit head anyway.

From the New York Post:

"Trump made the offer while hosting the family of Vanessa Guillen, who was 20, in the Oval Office. A male soldier suspected of killing Guillen near the Texas base committed suicide, the Army has said.

In response to a reporter’s question, Trump said he’s paid for other soldiers’ funerals.

“I have, I have. I have to do it personally, I can’t do it through government,” Trump said. “I have because some families need help. They need help.”

Guillen’s family declined a military funeral, and are awaiting the return of her remains, which Trump said he would help expedite.

“I don’t even know if you need help, maybe you don’t need help from a financial standpoint. I have no idea. I just think it’s a horrific thing that happened and if you did need help, I’ll be there to help you,” Trump said."

I never realized just how much I missed the Boss until recently. I know I will feel the same when President Trump is gone as well.

Summer's Here

Sumer is icumen in,
Lhude sing cuccu!

Groweþ sed and bloweþ med
And springþ þe wde nu,
Sing cuccu!

Awe bleteþ after lomb,

Lhouþ after calue cu.
Bulluc sterteþ, bucke uerteþ,
Murie sing cuccu!
Cuccu, cuccu, wel singes þu cuccu;
Ne swik þu nauer nu.

Sing cuccu nu. Sing cuccu.

Sing cuccu. Sing cuccu nu!

þ is "thorn," same as modern th.

Modern English:

Summer has arrived,

Loudly sing, Cuckoo!
The seed grows and the meadow blooms
And the wood springs anew,
Sing, Cuckoo!

The ewe bleats after the lamb

The cow lows after the calf.
The bullock stirs, the stag farts,
Merrily sing, Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo, well you sing, cuckoo;
Don't you ever stop now,

Sing cuckoo now. Sing, Cuckoo.

Sing Cuckoo. Sing cuckoo now!

This video shows the medieval and modern musical notation in parallel.

And here's a medieval stag, possibly farting:

WKRLEM: The Goddess Baudo, Adrienne Baubo

I never actually saw her head.

We never think about the person on the other side of the meme

It was very unfair to Fredo.

They wrote several additions to the Godfather saga to continue and flesh out the story. They go into the murder of Tessio and Michaels activities in the period between Godfather 1 and 2.

One of these books really goes into Fredo's backstory. They make him gay. Of course. I am surprised that it hasn't been filmed. Since everyone has to be gay or in an interracial relationship in the movies these days.

Still even being accused of being a cocksucker is not as bad as be compared to Chris Cuomo.

Poor bastard.

Melanistic Squirrels with Golden-Brown Tails

I had never seen a squirrel like this anywhere until last year, when one started hanging around our neighborhood. Except for the color, they are standard Eastern Gray Squirrels. We've always had a few solid black ones (melanistic, in science-speak), but these were new. This year we have two, or maybe three.

A quick dive into the internet reveals that these guys are uncommon, but do show up here and there. There are even weirder variants, with striped tails or patchwork colors. And there are solid white ones, of course; I've seen a few of those myself, and there's a town in Illinois that's famous for them.

Wikipedia says that "Urban populations of the species were found to have a higher frequency of black morphs." I'm just going to leave that alone.

The picture above, by the way, is one I swiped from a website. The little buggers are never around when I have a camera. But that's what they look like.

On Non-fatal Surprises and The Art of Getting Unstuck

This week, I happened to open the book, Painting Your Way Out of a Corner, The Art of Getting Unstuck, to find the following story and picture, which seemed fitting given all that goes on around here, including recent attention paid to Hermish penectomies and recent mention made of the humor-pain release connect, with laughter described as our response to a non-fatal surprise:

 A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the River Styx.

Once upon a time, when winter was as yet unknown to humans, two goddesses, Demeter and Persephone, watched over the crops.  Although plants followed a natural life-death cycle, no field had ever lay barren. 

One day, as Persephone roamed the field picking flowers, the earth suddenly opened up, and the dark god Hades appeared in his golden chariot.  Ignoring Persephone’s pleas for help, Hades carried her off to his kingdom below and made her queen of the underworld, home of the dead.  Meanwhile, Persephone’s mother, Demeter, having heard her daughter’s desperate cries, searched for her everywhere for nine days and nights. Beside herself with grief, Demeter could no longer eat nor drink.  In her sorrow, all the crops withered and the fields lay barren, as she no longer took care of the life around her.

As she wandered lost and despondent, not knowing which way to turn, Demeter came at last to a well.  While she sat there, inconsolable, unable to figure out what to do next, people from the village came forward to comfort her.  All was for naught until a strange little creature appeared before the great goddess.   Old Baubo, herself a goddess, was small and headless.  As she began to dance about, she lifted her skirts to reveal her naked body underneath.  Her nipples were her eyes and her vulva was her mouth.  In that moment of bizarre revelation, Demeter laughed aloud and her laughter broke the spell of grief that held her immobile.  She “awakened” to a course of action--she would go to the sun god Helios, who sees everything.  From him she learned where Persephone was and that Zeus had been involved in the plot.  Only then was she able to negotiate a compromise with Zeus and Hades.  Her daughter would spend three months of the year with Hades and the remaining nine with her. 

The author and artist, Barbara Diane Barry, who included this story* in her book goes on to say, “Baubo is an ancient goddess of obscenity, and her dance serves an important function.  The sight of Baubo’s lewd movements catches Demeter unaware and presents an unlooked-for point of view. This view is so out of the ordinary that before Demeter can think about it , she reacts with laughter, which spontaneously releases grief’s paralyzing grip. I love this motif and hold it as a model for when I take myself too seriously.  We, too, can move through emotional blocks via some unforeseen and amusing image.” 

And when I turned the page to find her drawing of Baubo, I too laughed at the sight she presented.

Walking through life with you, madam, has been a very gracious thing

The last class act of Hollywood is gone.

PS Forgive me, it's my favorite scene of her and it's what made the movies so special.

And she is just so beautiful.

I know, I'm a sentimental slob.

Deja Vu: Joan's Apartment

I was re-watching Mad Men recently, when I saw something that made me sit up and hit Pause: a piece of kitsch art on the wall of Joan Holloway's apartment. It was a fake Chinese scroll painting of a red bridge over a deep gorge, and I had grown up, during the Mad Men era, with its identical twin.

It's from a paint-by-number kit. My father had painted it, with his usual care and patience -- if it's worth doing, it's worth doing right -- and it hung on the wall of our kitchen for a number of years. I dredged the Internet for a picture of that scene, so I could email it to my siblings; the best I could find was the one you see above.

I liked Mad Men when it first aired, and still do. When I found out that Matthew Weiner, the show's honcho, had been a writer/producer for The Sopranos, I figured: well, OK, it'll have one or two good seasons, then it'll get all Hollywoodish and up its own butt. But, no. It was very good from start to finish.

And, as a bonus for us Boomers, it did a very nice job picturing the world of the 60s. Some of the cultural stuff was contorted by modern wokeness (no, the average American didn't smoke three packs a day, and no, women's lives were not a relentless hell of misery and oppression), but the details were right on the money.

Kudos to the anonymous set-dresser or prop-buyer who found that paint-by-number scroll and put it on the apartment wall.

Light Flight

I first heard this song in 1970 or so, on the wonderful, and madly eclectic, WHFS-FM. That led me to buy the album, and that led me into one of the enduring loves, or at least likes, of my life: the English Electric Folky groups of the 60s and 70s.

Light Flight is not electric though, and it's not even all that folky, except for Jacqui McShee's soprano, and John Renbourn's guitar. It's more jazzy than anything else; but there's also Swingle-Singers-style scatting, and dreamy, hippy-dippy lyrics, and a mix of time signatures including 5/8, 7/8 and 6/4. (Or so says Wikipedia; I tried to figure out the time signatures myself, and couldn't.)

Wiki also says, oddly enough, that Light Flight was used as theme music for a 1969-71 BBC drama series, Take Three Girls, about three young ladies sharing a flat in Swinging London.

WKRLEM Iv'e seen the lights go down on Broadway

"The ruins at my feet."

"They burned all the churches up in Harlem."

"The flames were everywhere but no one really cared."

It all came true.