In 1951, one little turd was so overdue for a premium ass kicking. But he wasn’t there for kicking; he was the catcher. The catcher in the rye, first published today. One of the greatest American novels. I should read it sometime.

Whoops. Fixed the link to the Schickele song down below. Go listen.

Just another thing– in case you caught the end of Guy Noir preceding the song I wanted you to hear, you might be wondering about the significance of the minimalist gag. Well, Peter Schickele was a close friend and classmate of Phillip Glass at Juliard. So there.

Also, Phil told Pete to go see the film Bucket of Blood, which he did on his wedding night. Said it was a great film and I hope to see it someday.

Idiom of the fortnight: Green-eyed Monster

It means a jealous person. It comes from Shakespeare’s Othello. Origins.
I don’t care what the PoMo idol topplers think. Shakes was a righteously clever bastard.

While one green-eyed monster might get violent, maybe, say, throw a bottle at someone, another more poetic monster would present his or her ex-lover with a bar of the finest bittersweet chocolate. Othello even done kill his chick.

Still, some green-eyed monsters are more furry than fangy and just go home. That’s the hardest path to take for a monster. Still, such monsters can ride with my posse any day.

We shall see if that gets done…
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S’more Schaubudensommer stuff.
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Never have so many lies been told than before the election, during the war, and after the hunt.
–Otto von Bismark (my translation), printed on the inside of the cover flap of a package of cigarette papers.

God I almost forgot:

Happy Woody Guthrie’s Birthday
and
Happy Bastille Day

Potter notes
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I had to get Ron to hear this tune after he started cranking out a chord progression on the squeezebox that was almost identical to it.

Listen–starts around 24:00. It’s from David D?sing and the infamous Professor Schickele, the Moses of Nerd Rock.

Great, nerdy lyrics, and a killer chord progression. And yes, we will cover it.

Schaubudensommer. It’s a yearly treat thrown in the Scheune’s backyard. Kind of an alternative sideshow, with tents and whatnot, kind of a rough ’round the edges Cirque de Soleil.

Well it’s more rough than out there ’round the edges; no sword swallerin’ or human pincushions.

Word is that the Great Voltini is the act to catch. Come early, because they fill the tent every time. My longtime aquaintance from music school, Annamateur, is also not to miss.

We went to see the Gosh Brothers, a duo after Dude Dude Chick’s own heart.

We also saw Hikoki Gumo, and I can’t recommend that. Georg, known in the past for lashing together a giant tower of wooden poles, has his own tent this year.

It started quite nicely, with Georg taking one staff and doing a beatiful kata, then taking all twelve poles and a string and balancing them in a graceful swinging tripod formation. Then he carefully stuffs them all through his shirt–tedious, but amusing. Then he stands in the middle of the round stage and takes off the shirt, leaving a shirt teepee.

Interesting, but that’s it. So I went away a bit disappointed.

We also sat in the flying armchair, a work of Jim’s Bimbo Town.