Saturday Matinee: You Don’t Own Me, Johnny. Don’t You Know It’s the End of the World, Baz?

I don’t own Leslie Gore. She owned me up until I saw her hairdo and horseface. Bunky just sealed his eyeballs shut and listened.

I remember hearing this on the battery powered transistor radio I got for Christmas that I hid under my pillow, and Skeeter Davis sounded so purty. She’s another one who had a great voice and a bad hairdo. (I’d never seen her until a few minutes ago, but I was in love with her when I was about 8.)

Then there’s k.d. lang. Just ’cause she gotta big caboose and a butch haircut doesn’t mean I don’t like her music.

And then there’s poor Baz. [Tip o’ the tarboosh to Phil. He says it’s been around for a few years, and somehow he knew that I’d like it by saying so on his Blog From Down Under.]

Speaking of Down Under, some time ago, when WordPress was revamping it’s vamps, I was unable to add the video above to this post. Found a new link for it by accident, so here it is.