Friday Night Videos

Paul McCartney has earned a reputation as a sometimes brilliant songwriter who almost always releases piss-poor albums. This is a well-deserved reputation. His sentimentality tends to overcome his talent more often than not, resulting in musical drivel. That said, he's still capable of showing the brilliance that made his songwriting with the Beatles such a showstopper. I'm not going to argue that his 1993 album Off the Ground bucks these trends. It doesn't compare to its predecessor, Flowers in the Dirt, but by the same token it's far superior to the forgettable Press to Play. One of the standouts on Off the Ground is "Hope of Deliverance", a tune in which McCartney treads dangerously close to pablum territory, but the general sense of optimism contained in the song and buoyant instrumental arrangement lifts it to something better. It's one I quite like, and it deserves more attention than it is generally afforded.



Previously on Friday Night Videos... Little Jimmy Dickens.

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Friday Night Videos

Back when I listened to the Doctor Demento Show regularly (that was back when you could actually find it on broadcast radio stations) one of the most popular country songs that made repeated appearances on the Funny Five was "May the Bird of Paradise Fly Up Your Nose" by Little Jimmy Dickens. It's a great song, not only funny and clever with its curses, but it features some pretty darn good guitar work. I particularly like this vintage video of it, which shows the limitations of early video technology--every flash of his sequined jacket renders black as it blows out the recording's dynamic range.



Previously on Friday Night Videos... Flatt & Scruggs.

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The perils of astronomy fever

The telescope I currently own was purchased by myself when I was 13 years old. It's a nice 6" Meade reflector, and a very, very good scope for its class. That doesn't mean I haven't wanted to upgrade over the years. I've wanted to very much--a better mount for improved tracking, computer control, etc. as well as a much larger aperture scope for deep space nebulas, more detail on planets, etc. (I would absolutely keep my current telescope, as it can do certain things a bigger one couldn't--especially if placed onto a modern mount). Various times I've been ready to upgrade, but as soon as I reach that point, something happens to derail those plans. For instance, four years ago I'd saved up roughly $1,400 for a 10" Meade Schmidt-Newtonian telescope. Yay! I placed the order, but the scope was on backorder. My order wouldn't be processed until they were available. I got a sudden sense of dread. I knew something Was About To Happen. Sure enough, a few weeks later my young son was diagnosed with needing some dental work that wasn't covered by our insurance. Guess how much was left of that $1,400?

So last week, when The Wife (who is well aware of my telescopic ambitions) generously offered to buy me one of those mount upgrades so that I could get more production out of my current 6" scope, I was ecstatic. The offer came out of the blue. I was happy. But it was the weekend, and the supplier was closed and couldn't take the order until Monday. Cue sudden sense of dread. Sunday evening, the water pump in my PT Cruiser went out. Guess where the money earmarked for the new telescope mount went? It's a universal law of some sort--if I'm about to make a large astronomy purchase, the universe will block the move. Why? What is the cosmos afraid of me discovering? Canon just announced a new 60Da astronomy-dedicated camera, which would be nice to have, but I'm certain if I ever try to buy it, my computer will suffer and immediate motherboard failure or something. I'm going to try and send off the mirrors from my telescope to Optic Wave Labs in the next week for re-coating (they're 30 years old. It's time) and hopefully the relatively low cost will help this initiative stay out of the universe's notice. We shall see.

I learned something interesting while my car was in the shop. I got a cheap rental for a couple of days, a Ford Fiesta, which looks just about the most tiny car imaginable short of a Smart Car. I expected to hate it, but was surprised when it turned out to be a nice little ride. The front passenger section is surprisingly roomy, and the deep bucket seats are quite comfortable. It gets great gas mileage, has decent pickup for an economy car and is very nimble. That said, I won't be getting one for myself. For one, the back seat is incredibly cramped, even for my kids, and the rear cargo space is little more than an afterthought. Well, fine. This is a tiny compact after all. But then I had it parked next to my PT Cruiser before returning it to the rental agency, and was shocked to see that they're both the same length. The PT seems to have infinitely more overall cabin space, and the cargo area is much bigger. The PT is slightly wider, but that doesn't explain how the Fiesta just seems like such a smaller car overall. One of the PT's design problems is that it is too heavy for its size, which results in lower gas mileage than one would expect. I developed a new appreciation for this extra weight while driving the Fiesta, though, a much lighter car. On the highway, the Fiesta felt like it was constantly skittering in and out of my lane, and I had to stay on top of it to keep from suddenly drifting. Any sudden gust of wind would threaten to send it into the opposite lane. The heavier PT, in contrast, grips the road and isn't going to change lanes unless you darn well decide to change lanes. I found that quite interesting.

But, yeah, the new water pump is in and the PT is up and running again. All I'm asking is for another 10,000 miles and I'll be ready to trade it in. It's been a enjoyable car to drive and overall hasn't given me too much trouble, but it's still a 10-year-old car getting to the point where repairs are costing more than it's worth overall. Maybe once I replace it I'll be able to start looking at new telescopes again. Maybe.

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Chicken Ranch report no. 17

Over the weekend I completed chapter 7, which is a good news/bad news situation. The good news is that I am finally done with that ornery piece of writing. The bad news is that it took a week longer to complete than I wanted. Coupled with the previous chapter running a week over its allotted time, and it's pretty clear I'm off my pace. To hit my June 1 goal of completing the entire first draft, I've got to knuckle down and write three chapters per month for April and May. This is daunting, since I've yet to manage more than two per month.

Still, I'm encouraged by chapter 8 getting off to a fast start--even if it was a false one. Not to get into a bunch of arbitrary and complex details, but I wrote the following section for chapter 8, then almost the instant I finished, realized I couldn't use it in the book. Which is a bit of a shame, since it was fun to write. Rather than just hit delete, I figured I'd share it with you good readers, much as I had the excised Monument Hill material from chapter 1:

Sheriff Jim Flournoy stood up from behind his desk as the posse of minister filed into his office. Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian... five all together, he counted.

“Howdy Reverends,” he greeted them in his slow drawl. “What can I do for y’all today?”

“Meaning no disrespect, Sheriff,” one said, “but you’ve been in office a full month now, and have not lifted one finger to rid our community of that den of vice. Frankly, we are all disappointed in you.”

“That Chicken Farm is a corrupting influence,” another spoke up. “They peddle lust in a most shameless way. They pollute the morals of our citizens. You gotta do something!”

Big Jim nodded thoughtfully, taking a deep puff from his cigarette before stubbing it out in the overflowing ash tray on his desk. “I confess this vice situation’s weighed on my mind something powerful,” he said slowly. “And Reverends, I do believe y’all are right. From now on, I’m gonna start enforcing our vice laws in this county.”

Startled, the ministers began clapping and congratulating the sheriff all at once, before Big Jim broke in.

“All of them vice laws. Especially gambling. I instructed Deputy Prilop just this morning to start writing up a list of all the illegal bingo parlors and raffles, so we can shut ‘em all down,” Big Jim said calmly, lighting up another cigarette. “When I’m through with Fayette County, ain’t no place in Texas gonna have a cleaner--”

The first minister cleared his throat, interrupting the sheriff and breaking the awkward silence that’d fallen over his group. The other ministers stared at the sheriff with equal parts panic and horror.

“Sheriff,” the minister began awkwardly, “we would counsel you not to act, uh, too hastily. La Grange has always been a tolerant, live-and-let-live community, and if you get right down to it, those ladies out a Miss Jessie’s don’t really cause any trouble...”

In other news, I submitted an abstract and C.V. for a paper presentation at the East Texas Historical Association's fall conference in Nacogdoches. It's not a done deal, but my chances of getting in are pretty good. I've also spent a good bit of time this past week in discussions with Theatre Under the Stars in Houston about some possible speaking events. They're putting on a big production of The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas this June, and while there's nothing definite, we're tossing some ideas back and forth that could turn out to be pretty cool indeed. I'll be sure to let everyone know as soon as I have something definite.

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Friday Night Videos

Earl Scruggs died this week, and with apologies to Roy Clark and Steve Martin, he may well have been the greatest banjo player to ever live. Here he is with Lester Flatt performing "Foggy Mountain Breakdown" a the Grand Ole Opry:



Of course, I wasn't even born during the height of their career. I learned about Flatt & Scruggs--as I'm sure many of my generation did--through their guest appearances on the Beverly Hillbillies shown in syndication on weekday afternoons. It always baffled me how Flat & Scruggs, presented as being from Bug Tussle on the show, same as the Clampetts, could have assimilated to modern, urban life so readily whereas Jed and his kin consistently flailed around as fish out of water. Heh. Such is the logic of The Beverly Hillbillies.



Previously on Friday Night Videos... Shawn Brown.

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Chicken Ranch report no. 16

These past few days have proven interesting on the book front. I realize I've kept fairly quiet here, but rest assured that's only because life is overwhelmingly busy of late. The current chapter continues to defy my attempts to finish it, and shows every indication of becoming the longest installment of the book thus far. It's frustrating, because every extra day I spend on it puts me farther behind schedule. I can't very well impose an arbitrary ending and move on, so I have little choice but to press on as best I'm able.

I also received some very crummy news yesterday that I'll not go into now. It's a definite setback that's put me in a bit of a mood, but I'll deal with it and move on, as I always do.

On a more positive note, yesterday also brought to me an invitation to present a paper at the East Texas Historical Association's fall conference. There are quite a few details to work out between now and then, but it'd certainly be a nice opportunity if things work out.

I also filed a Public Information Request with the Texas DPS. Yes, I feel such the investigative reporter now. This is something I should've done several years ago, but I put it off, partly out of the hope my other research would turn up the information, and partly out of... well, paranoia isn't the exact word, but when you've invested as much time, money and effort into a project as I have with this book, you don't want to tip your hand. The last thing I want to happen is Texas Monthly screw me over again as they did with the San Antonio Worldcon back in 1997, and I guarantee they'd jump at the chance.

At any rate, I am so ready to finish this book and move on to other projects!

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Friday Night Videos

Back in 1984, rap was still a novelty. So novelty rap was one of the most successful versions of the form. Shawn Brown struck pay dirt with "The Rappin Duke," a song I'm sure many of the folks I went to high school with will remember. Just try and get that chorus out of your head!



Previously on Friday Night Videos... Bruce Robison.

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