Sometimes, some people forget to lie

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Simply put, as one discerning patron (in another establishment), put it:






In acknowledgement of the good humor his wit offers the few discerning patrons, who have been enjoying his comments in the undeserving, unappreciative dive he graces with his presence, it is my honor to bestow upon the gentleman [drum roll]... the much coveted Honest Scrap award!



Congratulations on this well deserved accomplishment.
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The poetry of F. G. Sanford

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Damn, here is what is rather bluntly put and straight to the point, wouldn't you say, Count?





It doesn't have any of the whimsical allusive poetic tongue of a F. G. Sanford, but it does carry some wallop.

- Are you familiar with F. G. Sanford, Count?

- . . .

- Well, neither I am.

He's one commenter whose entry I just so happened to stumble upon while reading some of the comments about The Pseudo Debate Over Jeffrey Epstein’s Suicide, which has been all the vogue of late in the presstitude and amongst the servile mass media stenographers, who, quite unconvincingly, pass themselves off as the fourth estate nowadays.

Details that shock still emerge. Intelligence assets converge. There are hints of foul play that just won’t go away, And conspiracy theories resurge! Just ignore all Jack Ruby’s connections. Those stories are merely deflections. Tricky Dick payed him well, when he threatened to tell, Jack claimed he got cancer injections! They needed a secret backwater. A place to hide Joe Stalin’s daughter. The family estate of Ruth Paine worked out great, But that link didn’t seem to hold water! Allen Dulles had many a tryst. Another Paine topped off his list. But don’t dig too deep in a Nietzschean leap, Such theories are rightly dismissed! Don’t bother connecting the dots. You’ll have yourself tied up in knots. The string that you’d need would be quite long indeed, The guilty are covered with spots! The evidence gets a sequester. They’ve got pictures of every molester. That safe that they cracked in New York was just packed, Now it’s classified where it will fester! The case will not likely be solved. That’s because of the big-shots involved. Fools will x-ray the ground for what’s already found, The cement truck diversion resolved. They’ll never release any files. They are classified pending denials. Dershowitz is relieved and Prince Andrew reprieved, Cash payouts will stifle the trials! Folks won’t look at what’s right in their faces. It works just the same in all cases. Ghislaine like Ruth Pain will get legerdemain, All the good stuff will stay in safe places! They covered up Epstein for years. Never mind all the tragic young tears. So now in a pinch, you think they might flinch, And endanger those stellar careers? The Iran-Contra fixer is clever. He’s certain to pull every lever. All the classified dirt is a cinch to subvert, They’ll just keep it a secret forever! It’s been fifty six years since the coup. But the truth never seems to pull through. With each turn of the screw, magic bullets accrue, And Americans can’t find a clue! — F. G. Sanford August 20, 2019

Truly inspired, if you ask me. Poetry and critical thinking combined!

But then again poetry and critical thinking, perhaps, have become somewhat out-of-style in this era of nitwittery.

Subtlety is lost on some people.
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It's Spring...

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Happy New Year!

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Oìdhche Shamhna and all that.



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Mother Fountain

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Wine?







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One of my kind

The pointy ears give it away ;-)



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I'll drink to that

Same here.

I come here for the music.





Besides, one of the bartenders is an old acquaintance of mine.



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Rest In Peace, Fierce Loveliness

Lena Horne, the ground-breaking singer, actress and civil rights activist who, in 1942, became the first African-American performer to be put under contract by a major studio, died on Sunday, May 9, at New York-Presbyterian/Weill Cornell Medical Center in New York. She was 92.

From Lady Haig, in June 2009~~~

"James Gavin's long awaited 'Stormy Weather,' about the legendary-most-exquisite-living elegant beauty: Lena Horne, is gorgeous gold and blows my mind and I am haunted by what was required of this beautiful, intelligent woman, still remembering in 1965 as I watched an at least seven foot tall Las Vegas deputy ... See Moresheriff in true ... See Morewild west garb, clad in beige, from the top of his huge hat to his shiny brown boots, escort the trembling stone-faced beauty of Lena across the open floor of Jake Gottlieb's Dunes Hotel, where she was appearing but could not throw those 'bones' and wish a 'new pair of shoes for baby.'

"Once upon a time, my first husband, a white man Al Haig, the chosen pianist of the innovators and titans of bebop:Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie, played the piano in a movie, entitled: Stormy Weather with Lena Horne. He opened and he closed; Al was present at the heart of the rhythm, then suddenly he was gone, so is The Dunes Hotel, BUT LENA HORNE IS STILL STANDING. YES!

"I picture Lena, dressed in a gorgeous flowing red chiffon caftan, alone in a penthouse with Ava Gardner sipping a toast to James Gavin and reciting:

'Oh I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of - '

John G. Magee

Posted by BebopAuthor"
http://bebopauthor-grangeladyhaigrutan.blogspot.com/2009/06/james-gavins-long-awaited-stormy.html
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Here is looking at you, kiddo!

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That's the thing about the deficit, it doesn't matter...until it matters. And then it doesn't matter.

Or is that the other way around? I don't recall. Does it matter?



Moriarty - "Private Lily"
by naiverecords
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Happy New Year Jin!

We must have a beginner's mind, free from possessing anything, a mind that knows everything is in flowing change. Nothing exists but momentarily in its present form and color. One thing flows into another and cannot be grasped. Before the rain stops we hear a bird. Even under the heavy snow we see snowdrops.

---Shunryu Suzuki

And I would answer you...that to prepare the future is only to found the present...for the sole true invention is to decipher the present under its incoherent aspects and its contradictory language....You do not have to foresee the future, but to allow it....

---Antoine de Saint-Exupery

What else is there to say? We end in joy.

---Theodore Roethke

And of course to the whole Wulfshead clientele and staff of universally distinguished personage. Special thanks to jin though, for offering her blog-only special box of sweetmeats, which we ordered and she shipped to us. We've finished off nearly every crumb saving 2 scones, an apricot and a chocolate chip (each a meal in itself), for this morning. I'm astonished at the slight quantity of sugar used in the jecstatic concoctions---and almost no pornography at all!
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Innovative Solutions for Progressive Individuals...

...and Jazzo!

All praise be to bacon!
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Waiting For Sam No More

My mentor, I guess, was the late poet John Tagliabue. He didn't introduce me to the work of Samuel Beckett. That was done by 2 religion professors in 1959. In fact, when I directed my first production of Godot the next year, playing Vladimir as well, I may have introduced him. But it was John who revealed to me a few years ago the full intellectual and cultural brilliance of Beckett. One does not see in the plays, poems, novels (or whatever-they-are) an author sitting at table, after a gourmet dinner, discussing with friends the paintings of Cezanne. But that's who he was...and now we have the first volume of his letters to prove it. The Times has a great review~~~

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/05/books/review/ONeill-t.html?_r=1&8bu=&emc=bua1&pagewanted=all

A word about that first production: it was rather a revolutionary act in Central Maine in 1960 or so, at a quite conservative (then) college named Bates. I realized there was no hope of a formal student project of such a play in the campus theater. But I knew a professor who had a key to the place, so our little cast of 4, plus the Boy of course, used to sneak in there to rehearse. I chose a very popular student to play Estragon. I figured they wouldn't expel him. For Pozzo and Lucky I got 2 faculty members. One, I believe, still teaches English up there, and the other was a history prof who became the college dean. Perfecto! The play requires almost no scenery, and for lighting I just stepped off stage at "sunset" and switched down the overhead lights. Then I came back on. Such business is completely in the spirit of the thing.

However, the crusty old lady who ran theatre then---her first name was Lavinia, so you can imagine (and the building now is named after her)---discovered us a couple days before we were ready to show it. To my amazement, instead of getting me thrown out of school, she decided to avoid scandal and give our show the full treatment. Lighting design (complete with Moon that shot up into place), a better scraggly tree, costumes, the works. Nevertheless, we didn't avoid scandal. When Estragon points out to Vladimir in the first moments of the play that his fly is full open, the old dignitaries in the front row practically fainted as I zipped it up. Never neglect the little things of life.

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This is the time...

...and this is the recording of the time:

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

The most widely watched address ever delivered on the planet!
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