
I was going to use this photo as my new blog mugshot, but it looks like there are bees on my neck. What happened, of course, is that the Kodak Fun Effect ® ("Cartoon") added lots of extra contrast to my whiskers. That'll happen.
In other news, today's People Q&A (in the
Columbus Dispatch's TV Plus) features this Q: "
Grey's Anatomy recently had a two-parter about a man who shot himself with a bazooka, and had the unexploded ammo still inside him. Can you tell me the name of the actress who played his wife." (Punctuation not mine.)
I haven't decided if that sounds more like a Bob and Ray routine or a
Monty Python quote. Both, maybe.
The answer, by the way, is Jillian Armenante. In case you, too, were wondering who played the wife of the guy who shot himself with a bazooka on
Grey's Anatomy.
Meanwhile, our local paper printed a Jonah Goldberg piece in which the rugged commentator describes the 85-year-old Helen Thomas as "that thespian carbuncle of bile," and concludes that "swatting Helen Thomas is a start, but it will take a lot more." Well, I hope Jonah tries no such thing. I mean, after a few swats, Helen might die from laughter.
No, I take it back. Go for it, Jonah! Teach Helen a lesson! (Meanwhile, I'll be taking bets. Send yours to my email.)
In more serious news, the money for
The Lion Sleeps Tonight is finally going to the people who should be getting it. Or a lot of it is, anyway. The story is too long and confusing to relate (the royalty details, mainly), so I'll refer you to the best version I've found so far:
In the Jungle, the Unjust Jungle, a Small Victory.
The first piece I read suggested the family had gotten zip from
Lion, and it didn't even mention
Wimoweh or Pete Seeger--who, apparently, thought the money was going where it should and was disappointed to discover otherwise. I believe him--he's a good guy, and artists are usually focused on art, not finances. The Weavers weren't out to rip anyone off. Nor The Tokens. Music-makers are the last to know.
Anyway, a decent deal of dough is going to the right people now, and that's cool. Not sure
I'd be so damned forgiving.
I can't wait for some pop music critic to explain that the song didn't actually belong to anyone, because, after all, black music is "folk" music and, therefore, uncopyrightable. I'm serious--some asshole is going to point out how simple the thing is, and how traditional it is, etc. , and therefore how silly it is that anyone is claiming credit for it. Mark my word. Think I'm kidding? I'm not. Never mind that plenty of money has been going, for years, to people who didn't create the song. No, no. The issue is that black folk are asking for their due.
You think I'm kidding, right? No way that racism that naked would show up in print. Well, I have one word for you: way.
Just wait. I'm right. In fact, such a piece has probably already been written. I will be proven correct, folks.
Or, in keeping with the theme of this blog, I'll
probably be proven correct.
If you think I'm being hard on the rock press in my rants, you ought to see the stuff I edit out! Like most sacred institutions, the rock-scribe industry does not deserve its status. But so long as rock is sacred, then everything written about it (so long as it's properly uncritical) will be, too.
Lee "Bee-Beard" Hartsfeld