“I Wanna Go Home To The Armadillo.”
I’ve heard that song so many times without knowing the words, let alone the source. It’s the theme song to Austin City Limits, performed by Gary P. Nunn and Jerry Jeff Walker. (Oh and by the way, unless you’re sporting functional longrider hats, y’all just look silly.)
Red Nightmare is a must watch. Anything featuring Jack Webb is by default automatically awesome and true. [via]
Have a great weekend, folks. More great stuff is coming up, whether you like it or not.
Mail Call Letterpack – You get two players that play only the cartridges you can buy from Smith Corona and you can send a 3, 6 or 10 minutes letter. Just $70 a pair in 1967, these would be $450 in today’s dollars. How is this better than a phone? They say, it has no static and it’s cheaper!
Life, 1967
Make a 10 minute telephone call that will get to its destination in 4-5 business days, and in 4-5 business days you might get one back and can continue the conversation. Beats buying a reel-to-reel, and squelches telemarketers, too.
There’s a throne with a hole, and a basin to catch the football that for some odd reason is located in front of the seat. There’s a megaphone to amplify the action, presumably to alert a nearby attendant that a goal has been scored. The attendant opens a small valve and dumps it on the floor. But then, um, it won’t, er, like, you know, it doesen’t, well, work and, uh, hmm. I give up.
Image Description: Subject: Chair with opening in the seat and a tub underneath with a spigot attached; for the purpose of producing steam baths to alleviate the pain of bladder stones.
Nothing but Plague Doctors. Prior to medical/scientific knowledge about the causes of The Black Death, Plague Doctors risked their lives attempting to treat the infected while trying to protect themselves from the “miasma.” The very sight of a Plague Doctor terrified people as he was a harbinger of death, and due to his specialty, a Plague Doctor was often forced to be a recluse himself.
I missed the debut of the The Butter Dance, but inadvertently featured it here. Don’t try this at home, or anywhere for that matter. After all *ahem* Melati Suryodarmo is a professional. [h/t kdub]
Retro Pron – 1890s. Drool away me laddies. Drool away.
Serge Gainsbourg singing “Chez Les Ye-Ye.” Serge is Pee Wee Herman on sopors. He rocked, but not as much as Pierre Cassel whose shoes became glued to the floor during the video. Cassel’s son is a rapper named “Rockin’ Squat.” Go figger.
Personally, I think Robert Johnson was/is overrated, and his fame is due to his recordings covered by British rockers of the early 60s.
Yeah I know, Blasphemy. Johnson got picked, while others, like Papa Charlie Jackson were overlooked. I’m not an authority on musical anthropology, so take it for what it’s worth.
Jackson’s “Airy Man” showed up on a Yazoo Records album that the Missus gave me years ago. The chords were unusual, and the liner notes said this:
“Airy Man Blues,” a work in the key of D, illustrates Jackson’s most complex blues picking in the uptempo idiom at which he and very few other bluesmen excelled. Two fingers play melody and harmonies with support from a thumb which is quite steady within several different patterns. Often he executes complex or seemingly impromptu runs on three or more strings. The basic chord changes are:
D, D, G7, D; G, D, E, A/A7; D, D, G7, D; G7, D, E/A7, D. In the break he changes to B, B7, E, E7, A, A7 D/D minor, D.
Despite the length of these phrases and the comedy of his lyrics, the song is well within the basic blues idiom, lacking in all essential ragtime qualities except speed.
So I looked for a live vid of Papa Charlie Jackson, but instead found a cool tribute by “Gnarlemagne.” It works.
With that we’re out. Have a great weekend, folks and be back here tomorrow for more inane entertainment.
Tacky Raccoons 