My computer tech is coming over this afternoon, I wonder how I'll convey 64-bit problems in 18th Century lingo.
search
Jill Lapore on how she spent International Talk Like a Pirate Day in 2003. It's a good 'un, me barnacle-encrusted boobies.
Kelli often catches me staring into a mirror. "Checking yourself out again?" she asks.
Honest, baby, I ain't vain. I don't know what it is. Seriously, I don't even know what I'm looking at / for half the time. I'm just looking. I've been this way forever. I remember when I was maybe four or five years old, waking up in the middle of the night, walking into the small green bathroom, closing the door behind me, standing in front of the tall, gold-trimmed mirror, and just looking. And looking.
I used to enjoy watching myself cry. Sorry if that sounds weird or…
Why you get more of a buzz from that cold beer on a hot summer's day. (News you can use!)
The theory was perfect but the patient stubbornly died. Two new books set Druin Burch a'thinking.
One of my favorite shops in downtown Santa Fe used to sell antique scientific equipment, which was pretty cool in itself, but the owner's passion was obviously for the tools of quackery, so it was filled with impressive-looking torture devices. It's a good thing I wasn't burdened by prosperity or I'd have bought him out.
Holy moly! An Aquarium Drunkard has posted an entire album's worth of outtakes from the 1962 The Freewheeling Bob Dylan sessions. That's 25 tracks—cancel work for today!
My fave? Dylan does Big Boy Cruddup's "That's Alright Mama." Let's see, that makes Elvis' cover my #3 favorite version.
Via Grow-A-Brain.
The name of the essay is "Fervor," and that's what Ross writes with. If you can read the last paragraph of this tribute to Ms. Hunt Lieberson without tearing up, you have my condolences.
Great writing worthy of its great subject.
Earlier this week I was invited to Per Se, a sleek restaurant in the Time Warner Center here in NYC for a lavish lunch sponsored by Concord Records. Co-owner Norman Lear was there. So was former SNL and now Letterman band leader Paul Shaffer who served as MC. The occasion was the release of another Ray Charles project which I will be writing about in more detail in an upcoming issue of the magazine. Titled Ray Swings—Basie Swings, it's an elaborate studio creation. Again though, Look for more in December's Stereophile.
While the music was interesting, Per Se was less so. Portions fit for…
As the US eliminates music education from its curriculum, we begin to see proof that music has "real" benefits. I thought that exposing kids to beauty and greatness was enough, but what do I know?
How sex, rum, and WWII ignited the fad that will not die.
This one's for Buddha and Mike.
I never worked in a Tiki bar, but when I was a bartender, I picked up a copy of Trader Vic's Cocktail Book. It had a lot of crappy drinks in it. An Angel's Tit, IIRC, was creme de cacao served in a champagne dish, with some maraschino liqueur floated in the center with a half cherry perched in the middle—first, it sounds awful, but worse, it sounds like precisely the sort of labor-intensive drink a busy bartender does not want to make. However, Vic Bergeron (or his ghostwriter) was great…