DIRECTOR'S CUT (2018 REMASTER) BY KATE BUSH
Director's Cut (2018 Remaster)
Kate Bush
Now playing. I really do love this album. It’s my favorite Kate Bush record. I love the mature richness of her voice. And I meant it when I said the version of Song of Solomon on here is the most punk rock piano ballad ever recorded. Everything about it is just perfect, but it’s her invocation of Little Richard, the king queen of rock n roll that pushes me over the top every time.
THE RED SHOES (2018 REMASTER) BY KATE BUSH
The Red Shoes (2018 Remaster)
Kate Bush
The first, and for many years the only Kate Bush album I owned. My friend Neil shared a lot more of her catalog with me, usually on my car stereo as we sat and sobered up after a night of disco and drinks. I’ve come to appreciate more the reworked versions of these songs on Director’s Cut (especially Song of Solomon), but every now and then I revisit these originals.
REPUBLICANS HATE AMERICA
Just heard about today’s decision by six corrupt Republicans on the Supreme Court to give Führer Spray Tan the absolute power he so desperately wants.
Republicans hate America. They hate democracy. They hate diversity. They hate holding themselves accountable. They hate laws that inconvenience them. They hate that America does better under Democratic leadership than their own. They hate the rules and fight to change them. They hate fairness so they cheat. They hate the the most vulnerable populations among us. They hate minorities. They hate gay people. They hate good education. They hate public education. They hate anything and anyone that doesn’t make them richer or more powerful or promise lower taxes. They hate that voting is a right. They hate the poor. They hate the old. They hate single parents. They hate the sick. They hate women. They hate choice, unless it’s their own. They hate our environment and planet. They hate religious minorities. They hate truth. They hate civil rights. They hate people who are smarter than them. They hate patience. They hate unions. They hate compassion. They hate the arts. They hate funding anything except the military. They hate progress. They hate conservation. They hate precedent. They hate desegregation. They hate transparency. They hate compromise. They hate freedom. They hate things that keep us safe. They hate science. They hate Social Security. They hate logic. They hate giving credit to other people. They hate the middle class. And they hate you, unless you are one of them.
I don’t care how many flags they’re a flyin’ or how many fireworks they’re a poppin’ or how many rounds they’re a shootin’ or how many troops they’re a supportin’ or how many national anthems they’re a singin’ or how many thought and prayers they’re a thinkin’ and a prayin’ this Independence Day. Republicans hate America. Look at their polices. Look at their platform. Look at their funding priorities. Look at Project 2025 for Pete’s sake.
Their hypocrisy is vast, destructive, corrupt, cruel, and absolutely unpatriotic.
Republicans hate America.
🎵 Mighty Joe Moon by Grant Lee Buffalo. I wish they’d remaster and re-release this magnificent album. “Drag” is my favorite song next to “Mockingbirds” (next to “Fuzzy” which is on another album entirely).
🏆 I thought the Substack iOS app was the worst app ever, but it turns out the Amazon Music app and its weird echo device compatibility and weirder caching issues win that designation.
So the lying liar used his equal airtime (and illusion of credibility) to call the other guy a liar, and half the country believes him because he said it like it was truth. Truth don’t matter when you’re a conman. Just slap the appearance of conviction onto hyperbole and they’ll believe it. That’s how conmen work. I’m pretty sure that’s also how they get elected.
We are in for generations of tragedy, corruption, and regression. This country as we know it is, I fear, doomed.
😐 Really guys? We’re debating golf handicaps? We’re really doing this? Ok. Stick a fork in me; I’m done. Goodnight, Gracie. And that’s the way it is. See you next time on the radio. I bid you goodnight. So long, and thanks for all the fish.
Tuning in to the debates and my god are newscaster/commentator panels are awful. AWFUL. And I still don’t understand how there are so many stupid people in this country. And I seriously can’t stand mainstream media any more. omg. awful awful awful
We aren’t exactly fans of yours either, buddy. Try doing some actual work on behalf of the people you’re supposed to be serving and representing instead of using taxpayer dollars to call for ethnic cleansing. (Which I hope someone sues you for because propagating this kind of garbage as a public servant is unhinged, unacceptable, and unnecessary.)
SNOPES.COM GETS ONE WRONG
Remember When Trump Praised Nazis? (video from zeteo.com)
“Very fine people on both sides.” Was this a statement Trump made that praised the nazis at the Unite the Right rally? Snopes.com says nope.
The problem with the Snopes “very fine people” fact check, which claims Trump said those words but didn’t mean them that way, is that it looks at the comment in a very narrow context. Zoom out a little, and I mean like a couple millimeters, and the fact check turns into a “true” rating quite easily.
Here’s how ChatGPT explains it:
Analyzing the “Very Fine People” Comment in Context
1. Pattern Recognition: Given Trump’s history of making incendiary statements and then attempting to clarify them, his “very fine people” comment fits a broader pattern. Critics argue that his initial statements often reveal his true sentiments, with clarifications serving as damage control.
2. Implicit Endorsement: By not unequivocally condemning all participants in the Charlottesville rally immediately, Trump left room for interpretation that he was tacitly endorsing or at least not fully rejecting the extremist elements present.
3. Historical Consistency: Trump’s reluctance to distance himself from extremist and white nationalist groups, combined with his history of making racially charged statements, strengthens the argument that his “very fine people” remark aligns with a broader pattern of behavior.
4. Impact on Public Perception: The larger context of Trump’s actions and rhetoric contributes to public perception that his comment about “very fine people” was not an isolated misstep but part of a consistent approach to racial issues and extremist groups.
Conclusion
When evaluating Trump’s “very fine people” comment against the broader context of his behavior, patterns, and rhetoric, it becomes more challenging to separate the remark from his established history. This context suggests that his comments might reflect a consistent approach to handling racial issues and extremist groups, where initial statements are more telling than subsequent clarifications. Understanding this context is crucial in assessing the true implications of his words and actions.
Someone in a LinkedIn group posted a link to the group (which is secular) to the Christian book they authored (which apparently is doing very well). I couldn’t help myself and left a Congratulatory comment with a screenshot from The Satanic Temple’s website. 😈🤘
🧠 Q: Is it rude to see two therapists? Or just expensive?
…Asking for myself.
My therapist helps me navigate Neurodivergence in a broad way. I love that and don’t want to lose it.
I also need someone who can get down to the real nitty gritty of coping with everyday issues.
I COULDN'T NOT WRITE THIS REACTION TO RAISE THE ROOF
Green Library Online Exhibit Supporting the Black Lives Matter Movement
This is important. You should visit it.
65 Stories: Say Their Names (a Stanford Libraries exhibit)
Raise the Roof by MeShell Ndegeocello (Read by Staceyann Chin)
“Raise the Roof” is a song from her forthcoming album No More Water: The Gospel of James Baldwin by Meshell Ndegeocello. It speaks about the Black American experience. I will never, as no white person will ever, be able to know precisely what that experience is like. But this song helps me feel what’s being felt by a whole lot of people, and it makes me want to be a better ally. My reaction to the song fits somewhere in that space.
My Reaction to “Raise the Roof”
This song is a poem. A heartbreaking, compelling call to action. A demand. An overdue alarm, a siren, an earthquake desperately shaking and rousing and stirring and waking everyone up from whatever apathetic existence they’ve resigned themselves to live in, languishing in lost hope.
This song is a reminder that the past hasn’t gone anywhere.
Parks and land and trees once public are sold to devil’s red developers with too much money and too little conscience.
These men, and they are men, take everything. They bulldoze and ruin. They make a profit. A profit without investment or acknowledgment or apology. Just. Profit. Just for them.
Greedy and gorging themselves they stand on the once public property they now own. They stand in blood soaked mud, and on tree stumps, and on what’s left.
They are proud and tall lumberjacks, dismissive destroyers with shined clean boots and expertly ironed bulletproof uniforms. Their careless, heavy feet pulverize anything in their path. What is in their path is rotting, still strange fruit dropped from southern trees they saw down and slaughter.
But strange fruit still ripens and rots even when the Poplar trees are stumps and roots. Strange fruit is on the ground under a black boot and can’t breathe. Strange fruit is carrying a toy gun before a badge and a bullet do what they’re designed to do. Strange fruit is 17 years old, wearing a hoodie sweatshirt bloodied and shredded by a vigilante’s not guilty verdict. Strange fruit dies - dead - as a direct result of a system that displaces, disregards, disenfranchises one group of people and rewards another.
Lumberjacks whose killing carnage goes without consequence don’t care. They don’t need to; they’ll be acquitted. Not guilty. And they don’t care what’s in their path because it’s their path - they designed it for themselves, they built it for themselves and they see it as the only path that matters.
But it’s not the only path that matters.
Alarms are going off and the earth is stirring, quaking, awakening.
And so we are woke. We are watching. We are done mouthing minced words. We are ready.
It’s time to raise the roof on these motherfuckers. Indeed, it’s time.
Notes
Some songs move me to want to write about them - to make and create something in inspired response.
I have lots of ideas about what I want to write for lots of songs I love to listen to. “Tusk” and “Walk a Thin Line” by Fleetwood Mac. “Narcissus” by Roisin Murphy. An essay for every major song on Boys for Pele by Tori Amos.
But my OCD ADHD brain usually kicks in and then works and overworks all those ideas, dulling rather than polishing them, demotivating me and getting in my way. The ideas and inspiration get stuck. I don’t write anything.
Sometimes I hear a song that’s so compelling and important, I can’t not write about it. Like, right now. Like, I won’t be able to do anything until I write about this because I can’t do anything until I write about this.
Hyper-focus takes over and forces my fingers to the keyboard, my eyes to the screen. I start writing and words seem to know where to go - structure being more intuitive than intentional. Then it’s done and I am released until another song grabs me by the arm and tells me it’s time to write.
The song “Raise the Roof” by MeShell Ndegeocello, is one of those compelling and important songs that I can’t not write about. So I wrote. And I stopped. And I hope it encourages someone to listen to the song, and consider all the considerations that need to be considered: fascist, racist oligarchical regimes are running and ruining the country, and we need to stop them once and for all. What will your contribution be?
Waking up this morning, which is a little overcast causing it to look like a grey muggy sauna out there, with a few songs from k.d. lang’s Ingenue. It’s one of very few albums I listen to that doesn’t have a single skippable song. “So It Shall Be” is my favorite this morning.
One of my favorite neo soul singer songwriters is a woman named MeShell Ndegeocello. She plays bass, sings, and has a new album coming out which is a tribute to James Baldwin. This song, Raise the Roof, is a spoken word piece (I’m not sure who’s speaking). If you believe black lives matter at all, you should listen to this.
✝️ Heh. My Amazon review of the Book of Mormon Alexa skill is live
🧼 I’m currently wearing a face mask before I hop in the shower. Listening to I’m Breathless and wondering how we all just accepted that “Vogue” was on that album and that’s the way it was and that’s the way it was going to be and just deal with it. Should’ve been an EP or something.
Actually it fits more in place on The Immaculate Collection because I always want to hear “Justify My Love” right after it. #StrikeAPoseButNotOnThisAlbum
😔 The Book of Mormon came up as a recommended skill to enable. Like, the actual Book of Mormon. There exists an Alexa skill for it. Because why not, right? It was kinda fun writing a five-star review that used almost every song title from the musical including “Orlando (reprise).” The only one I didn’t fit in was “Sal Tlay Ka Siti” which is a bummer. I should’ve tried harder, I know.
It’s mom and dad’s anniversary today.
This song just spoke to a place in me that really needed to hear it. I’ve got to get my life together.
“Wise Up” by Aimee Mann song.link/us/i/1544…
🦈 Sharks and batteries? Really?! Folks, we’re gonna need a bigger battery powered boat that doesn’t sink from its own weight while we get electrocuted and jump the shark to attend hate rallies, I guess.
#BabyShark #Unfit #TrumpCult #MAGAcult #WordSalad #JawsTheMovie #sharks #batteries #SinkingShipPlants can be so alien looking. This is the tip of a vine Michael has growing on our brick house. 👽🌸📸
Lucky shot, but it’s one of my new favorites. I’ll post to Pixelfed, which I should probably visit more than once a year. But micro.blog really is my go to for pretty much all the posts, except sassy political posts I put on LinkedIn.
Anyway, here’s a bee on a Lauren’s Grape Poppy 🐝📸🌸
30 FAVORITE PHOTOS OF LUCY THE BEAGLE 📸🐶
These are most of the photos of Lucy in my collection that, for one reason or another, I had marked as being favorites.
14 years is a significant amount of time to have a best beagle friend. Saying goodbye after 14 years of hellos - it’s a loss I never anticipated would be so excruciating and heartbreaking and deeply painful.
I know I keep saying this, but I truly found a place in myself that I didn’t know was there when she left this plane. I expressed so much raw, pure grief in 10 minutes than I think I have yet in my life. And I could tell that it was physically coming from a place in my body and essence that was so deep, and cutting so close to my core. A profound lament. A moment of shared, sad humanity.
There’s another Over the Rhine song that just came to mind. “Nobody No. 1” from their double album, Ohio.
And though we love to numb the pain We come to find that it’s in vain Pain is our mother She makes us recognize each other
c’mon now, child, don’t cry…
I miss my girl.
I miss Lucy.
OUR LUCY IS GONE
Our Lucy is gone.
After a severe weekend we said goodbye to her yesterday morning at around 7:30. She’d had either a stroke or a tumor on the brain. It all happened pretty quickly. She stopped eating on Saturday. I hand fed her some baby food that she sort of seemed to like. It might’ve kept her sugar up a little, but it wasn’t enough to sustain her. Her tail had stopped wagging. She couldn’t stop pacing around and running into the walls and corners and things. She was losing control of her bladder. Her legs trembled. By pre-dawn yesterday morning I knew it was time.
Michael was with her when they administered the drug. I couldn’t stay in the room. I owed it to her, but I just couldn’t.
I waited and cried from my soul in the car outside. It was crying that came from the deepest part of me. A place I don’t even think I’ve ever accessed before. Deeper than my heart. Deeper than my core. It was like a piece of my true essence shattered and crumbled.
There was a painting of some poppies hanging on the wall of the grieving room. Before I left her with Michael, I told her she’d be able to rest among the poppies in Michael’s garden without any more pain.
We drove home and I listened to a song that, for some reason, became the soundtrack for this devastating experience for me. It’s called Sleep Baby Jane. It’s by Over the Rhine. There’s a moment in the song where the singer wails what could be a cry of sorrow or of despair or of desperation and bargain. There’s confusion in it, too, and a longing for comfort to alleviate someone or something’s suffering. Underneath the counter vocal sings repeatedly, “My baby. My baby. My baby.” The last line of the song is “Let me call you an angel.”
When we got home without her, I took this photo, and others like it, of some of Michael’s garden poppies. I took photos and I waited to go inside where our beautiful cats would be saying hello and asking for treats. Inside where the most joyous, happy, sweet dog would run to greet me any time I’d return from anywhere, showering me with unconditional love and affection for just being me.
She made bad days better. She was a very good, good dog.
She was my special girl.
My baby.
My angel.
