Frontier Former Editor

November 22, 2007

Same as it ever was . . . same as it ever was – or musical wanderings

One spring evening 22 years ago, I was sitting in the old Biograph Theater in Richmond, Virginia enjoying a pleasant buzz from the half-gallon milk jug of grapefruit juice and grain that my roomie had brought along to enhance the experience of “Stop Making Sense.”

One of the better concert films of my particular era, even stacked against “The Last Waltz,” I rather enjoyed watching this particular flick. Even though the opening with “Psycho Killer” was fascinating enough, this segment left me walking around the dorm many a drunken night wearing an oversized sportcoat and jerking around as if being shot repeatedly by a large caliber handgun and muttering “same as it ever was, same as it ever was, same as it ever was . . . ”

More proof that geeky white boys can funk and rock . . .

While sitting at work Tuesday, waiting on hold for some other agent with an infirm grasp of the obvious to help my customer on some issue, I was vegging out momentarily when I realized that the hold muzak had a Steely Dan/Donald Fagen theme and that I was whistling “Green Flower Street.” At once, I realized that the barely post-teen agent in the next cubicle was looking at me like I’d lost my mind, that the muzak was almost worth listening to, and that Steely Dan had achieved cultural trivialization.

And a little side trip with Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings . . .

I’m still not exactly in a literarily coherent state these days, but I’m working on it.

November 20, 2007

Filed under: Fish, humor, laughs, walkers — Frontier Former Editor @ 12:53 am

Go read this

and see why I did this:

November 18, 2007

Collected observations

Filed under: bald white guys, economy, food, Joan Crawford, Michael Mukasey, music, Nigella Lawson, observations — Frontier Former Editor @ 12:26 pm

Sorry for the disappearance, but I’ve had various family and professional matters to handle.

I won’t engage you in tedium about those, especially since I have other tedium to provide here today. It’s amazing what dumb stuff bubbles to the surface, so here’s a collection from the last two weeks.

* After careful consideration. I think the most emblematic song of the 1980’s is . . . .


November 4, 2007

He gave his life for tourism . . .

Filed under: boy king, humor, King Tut, Steve Martin — Frontier Former Editor @ 11:50 pm


The Boy King is back. Disco Tut!

‘LUXOR, Egypt (AP) – King Tut’s buck-toothed face was unveiled Sunday for the first time in public – more than 3,000 years after the youngest and most famous pharaoh to rule ancient Egypt was shrouded in linen and buried in his golden underground tomb.’

If I were Tut, I’d come back from the dead and bitch-slap the reporter who called me buck-toothed.

Anyway, in honor of the Egyptian who launched a hundred ripoffs of Boris Karloff and gave Brendan Fraser a slew of residual income . . . . .


This woman is an enemy of the state

Filed under: Food Network, humor, ice cream, mayonnaise, Paula Deen — Frontier Former Editor @ 8:08 pm


Yes, Food Network darling Paula Deen has become a staple aound the household in recent weeks, but I would drive a stake in her heart, separate her head from her body by a body of flowing water, sew her mouth stuffed and shut with garlic cloves, bury her body and head face down so they would merely dig deeper if they somehow tried to rise from the grave, sprinkle each section’s grave with crumbled sacred host and salt, and periodically come by and hose down each site with holy water.

Did I miss anything?

Anyway, the reason for all that pent-up repulsion: she puts mayonnaise on damn near everything that she prepares on her various shows. I come in from lunch, Paula’s making some absolutely wonderful dish, and then she whips out the Hellmans.

 My stomach instantly enters a negative-G Lomcevak.

It was bad enough in my childhood having to watch my father regularly eat peanut butter-banana-and-mayonnaise sandwiches. It was even worse once kids entering the depths of sexual awareness started making the obvious mayonnaise jokes.

My opinion on the intellect of the American workforce pops the air brakes and noses over in a vertical dive when I order a hamburger with no mayonnaise and soon wonder if I choked or went asthmatic when I tried to speak the word ‘no.’

But to come home and have this demon of cuisine desecrate my television with a couple of big dollops of beaten egg and vegetable oil pole vaults over the line of human decency. I might as well invite her to my home to defecate on the carpet.

The word is that Ben and Jerry’s is about to unveil a new ice cream named after Paula Deen. My bet is that it’ll probably be nothing more than frozen mayonnaise.

Maybe they’ll name it ‘Paula Deen’s Sperm Sample.’

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