Reflections on the Wobbly Threads Holding My Brain Together

AKA a post about whatever is going through my head at the time… 

I recently took a “Name that 1960s band” quiz and was told that I was “smarter than 99% of your peers”. That may seem flattering, but it’s grossly inaccurate. I have just spent an inordinate amount of time listening to this decade of music from a very young age and can (sadly) recognize many of the ugly band members. Don’t get offended, ya’ll. You have to remember, these guys (and some gals) were MUSICIANS, not movie stars. What I do believe would actually qualify me as smarter than my peers would be knowing that Zal Yanovsky (guitarist of the Lovin’ Spoonful and a great example of a not-exactly-attractive musician) was married to Jackie Burroughs (aka Hetty King on Avonlea) for a period in the 1960s. Like, whoa. I’m still reeling from this discovery I unearthed earlier this year.

For some reason, I recently thought of this photo of Keith Moon:

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Keith Moon and Snoopy, what more could you possibly want in life?

(Well, a little chocolate never hurts. At least that’s what these sweat pants with an elastic waist band tell me.)

But it made me think of how the photo was taken by Linda Eastman, which then made me think of the last photo taken of Keith Moon:

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You can’t see it clearly in this photo, but Moon was sporting a “Wings” t-shirt that night as well. And all of this made me think of how, as a kid, I frequently checked out Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now from the local library in its massive hardback form, and next to it on the shelf was a book whose spine read Moon. I would devour that book in a few years during a Who obsession and enjoy it so much I had to have a copy. (It really is a very good biography.) And now, on one of my bookshelves, it rests next to my very own compact paperback of Many Years from Now.

Anyway, reflecting on Keith Moon made me want to watch The Who’s video for “Happy Jack,” which has nothing to do with the song really. It’s really about how a robbery turns into a massive cake party. Because cake, obviously, trumps anything of value in that safe.

Which got me thinking about how “promo clips” (predecessor of music videos, if you like) were so different back in the day. Take, for instance, this promo clip for Small Faces’ “Get Yourself Together”:

Basic plot: Three members of Small Faces, who were pretty much the most adorable band ever (excepting The Beatles, of course), dress up as coppers and playfully mug their lead singer. Nothing to do with the song, really. Just an excuse to be adorable. Sad to think that Kenney Jones is the only surviving member of this forgotten gem of a group.

Yeah, Kenney Jones, who, of course, briefly replaced Keith Moon in The Who after his death.

And you know who’s a really big Small Faces fan?

Uhh, dude on the right who stole Steve Marriott’s haircut?

(But then buzzed it off and went through a series of questionable haircuts, only to carefully and painfully re-grow the same haircut some twenty years later and now smartly refuses to let it go…Does it worry you how much I know about Paul Weller’s hairstyles? It shouldn’t. It’s perfectly normal. Ask any medical professional.)

Yep, Paul Weller. The Jam actually did a decent cover of “Get Yourself Together”, but some of Weller’s other covers of Small Faces tunes ain’t so great. (I find his cover of “I’m Only Dreaming” unforgivable, really.)

But you wanna know what’s great “when you’re knocked on your back an’ your life’s a flop”? Besides watching Style Council videos that feature Paul Weller’s great bad dance moves and haircuts, of course. I can see how the man has stayed so thin over the years — he must burn like 1000 calories just singing. Dude packs so much into one line of lyric — all those little dance moves just earn him an extra handful of marshmallows in his hot cocoa in the morning. Because he seems like the kind of guy to drink hot cocoa in the morning. Don’t believe me? Try singing one of his songs sometime. Do it in a sleep mask when you think your husband’s busy gaming, and wow, way to steal my life. Don’t believe me about Paul Weller being the kind of guy to drink hot cocoa in the morning? Sorry, but do you actually think you know more about Paul Weller than ME? You just might, but I wouldn’t bet my life savings on it.

(Could someone please ask Paul Weller if he actually does drink/like hot cocoa + marshmallows? Just to be safe? THANKS! THANKS SO MUCH!!!)

Anyway, back to what’s great when you’re down on the bottom and there’s nothing else except to turn the radio dial to the “REAL (and I do mean REAL) Oldies” station and the announcer says, “Want Rick Nelson? We got ‘im!” Uhhh, you betcha, you little mind reader you. IT’S LATE, BOOM!

(Good luck getting that song out of your head.)

Which brings me to one of those things that keeps me up at night: Which pop song is more un-realistic: Ricky Nelson being “Stood Up”  (that was great, Rick!) or Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson fighting over the same girl (Paul – giggle – I think I told you, I’m a lover, not a fighter!!!)? Thinking about it makes my brain hurt and keeps me up at night. It’s such a tough call. Share your thoughts, please.

I’m serious.

I know, I know, I’m a lot like George Harrison, who pondered the BIG (we’re talking Tom Hanks BIG here) life questions in his music (e.g., “What Is Life?”).

Now, once you’ve answered my last question, prepare yourself to answer: girl, who ya gonna choose–Macca or Michael?!

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Nah, just kidding. You don’t have to answer. I just wanted an excuse to post this picture. Paul is, like, so cool. Don’t fight me on this. Unless you want a broken nose.

In case you missed it, there was an article in last week’s Parade about “Haunted Hollywood.” The article claims that Ozzie and Harriet Nelson’s home (featured on The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet) is haunted by the wandering spirit of Ozzie Nelson. A “visitor” claimed that she woke up to find Ozzie smooching her in the middle of the night.  Uhhh…what the heck?! You should go all out in your fantasies, lady. I mean, Ozzie is cool and all, but why wouldn’t you say RICKY was kissing you? That would actually attract tourism and all. Whatever. In the words of Jim Morrison (who’s haunting something or other as well, according to the article–when he’s not busy possessing Jason Patric, of course): PEOPLE. ARE. STRANGE.

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Just gonna leave that there and not delve into a whole Beverly Hills, 90210 tangent. You’re welcome. (For the GIF, I mean. This whole blog post is a series of tangents and one more wouldn’t kill it or bring it back to life, depending on whose side you’re on.)

We finally delved into Castle Rock around here, and while I found the mysterious premise intriguing enough, I didn’t really jump out of bed (quite literally) until I heard the familiar voice of David Selby in the fourth episode.

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I’m sure caring, conscientious relatives had told me he would be making an appearance, but I am getting senile and just forgot. Little Critter shrug. Anyway, it was good to see ol’ Mr. Selby still kicking around, and it made me want to marathon some Dark Shadows. It is October, after all. And then I remembered I just recently watched pretty much the entire series, so it may be too soon, unless I want to watch storylines I purposefully skipped (cough, Leviathans, cough). I don’t know — do you think that’s healthy? You can be honest.

I did leave the house recently and saw the newest interpretation of A Star is Born. I found it entertaining, captivating, and moving. I’ve only seen it once, so I’m not properly equipped to meticulously critique and analyze it, but I will say (because this is MY BLOG and you can’t stop me!!!!): I loved the natural chemistry between Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga. I loved how fully each actor engrossed themselves in their respective roles. I loved how moving and believable this love story was–again, in a completely natural, non-forced way. I love how the film emphasized true artistry and how machines of the industry can strive to peel that away and suffocate it. I love how Cooper’s Jackson Maine makes a point of “having something to say” in his music. And how that comes full circle with Ally (Lady Gaga) in the end. I guess the short of it is I loved it more than any movie I’ve seen in the movie theater in quite a while. Maybe you will, too. Unless you’re overly attached to seeing James Mason in swim trunks (tragic) or Barbra Streisand wearing clothes FROM HER CLOSET–in which case, fair enough. Horses for courses as they say.

Which brings me to the final thread holding my brain together…

Okay, so The Beatles recently announced the release of the 50th anniversary edition of The Beatles aka THE WHITE ALBUM. There’s a 3CD version, which features the original album (in a new stereo mix–yeah, if you want Mono, you have to have the Mono Box Set…like, don’t even get me started) and a disc of the Esher demos (Esher is a suburb of London where George Harrison lived; the boys gathered there to record demos for what would become The White Album), a 2LP edition, a 4LP deluxe edition, and a super deluxe 7-disc version, which includes the original album, the Esher demos, 3 discs of studio outtakes, an audio Blu-Ray, and a 168-page hardback book.

Yeah, guess which version I want?

I might as well just give Paul and Ringo full access to my bank account. It never ends with this band.

I mean, I still cherish my well-loved, slightly yellowed 30th anniversary edition of The White Album. That’s how old I am. And I know I shouldn’t have to buy this album again, but…I love this band. The sound of my beating heart.

But I will say, new and improved isn’t always guaranteed to be better, even with this band. I strongly dislike the new mixes of “Free As A Bird” and “Real Love” that were featured on Beatles 1+. When I hear them, I do a very good impression of the Wicked Witch of the West at the end of The Wizard of Oz. They sound horrible.

I also was really disappointed with how the video for “Real Love” was changed for the DVD release of The Beatles Anthology (and Beatles 1+ collection). I wish I still had my VHS tape of The Beatles Anthology, taped off TV. It had the countdown to the NEW Beatles song and featured Paul, George, and Ringo driving up to the studio. They all get out of George’s sweet ride, and Paul’s all, “Nice motor. Nice motor.” I have lamented getting rid of that tape for YEARS. But, due to the wonders of the Internet, my prayers have been answered. (Don’t judge my prayers. It was a real need.) Someone uploaded the clip to YouTube:

THANK YOU!!!!!!! May God bless and keep you always, may your wishes all come true, may you always do for others and let others do for you…

Now, if anyone also has the ORIGINAL “Real Love” video as aired on ABC in 1996, PLEASE SHARE IT WITH ME!! It would extend my life by years.

But back to horses for courses and how that relates to the White Album and why that is the final thread holding my brain together.

Well, let’s just look at the following clip from The Beatles Anthology:

This clip is a perfect illustration of what makes The Beatles Anthology so great, and why I love it so much and have completely committed it to memory (watching it like 900 times will do that to ya). It features differing memories/opinions of The Beatles’ story, and each narrative is a perfect reflection of that personality:

  • George Martin feels it would have been a stronger single album rather than a disjointed, hodge-podge of a double album.
  • Stylish Ringo, sporting a Raiders ball cap and a plaid jacket, agrees: there should have been two albums, The White and The Whiter Album. Oh, Ringo, you sardonic Beatle you.
  • George, chilling in a Kazookie (some call it “Hawaiian”) shirt and shades on one of the million acres of Friar Park, brings us back to reality: that band had a lot of ego and how do you tell Paul McCartney that “Honey Pie” isn’t that great? Eat cake, Macca!!!
  • Back to Professor George Martin, studying a track list of the album. It could have been a “fantastically good album” if it had been condensed a bit more. Some people believe The White Album is The Beatles’ greatest work. “It’s not my view,” Martin concludes. “But um, horses for courses.” LOVE THIS GUY.
  • Uh oh, I think Paul heard my comment about “Honey Pie.” “I’m not a great one for that–maybe it was too many of that…” (I guess that’s why we have all agreed to just not talk about your hideous mullet/mustache combination of the 1970s.) Paul gets REAL sassy and metaphorically snaps his fingers as he declares: “It was great, it sold, it’s The Beatles’ bloody White Album, shut up!” BURN BABY BURN!!!!
  • What this clip does not show–but what I SWEAR is in the full version (which I can’t verify at the moment because laptops no longer have disc drives, and I can’t put the DVD in the DVD player because the DVD player is in my torn up, non-functional living room at the moment…TMI? SORRY!!) is a shot of George Martin silently swiveling in his Professor chair after Macca’s sassy burn. Classic.

Did I mention I love this band? And “Honey Pie” isn’t THAT bad. “Wild Honey Pie”, on the other hand…travesty. That should have been elbowed, burned, exorcised, the whole nine yards.

Alright, that’s enough. IT’S LATE, after all. This has been a great examination of how my brain works. Don’t worry, I can still hear a couple of marbles swishing around up there, so I am a-okay.

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Mini Grab Bag, Pt. 4

You oughta know the drill by now, kiddos. The Countess has hit a dry spell, ain’t got nothin’ too excitin’ or comprehensive to blog about, so she just performs a lobotomy on her brain and opens up a huge grab bag of whatever’s floatin’ around up there for all the world to read and weep…

I watched Love & Mercy again recently for the…oh, I don’t know, eight millionth time? 150611_gma_connelly2_0633_16x9_992:))))))))))))))))))))))))) all the smile emojis in the world for this movie :))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Ok, so that’s a bit of hyperbole. I’ve actually only seen it approximately seven million times. But really, I’ve seen this film many, many, many times. I couldn’t stop laughing about three minutes into the film, which perplexed my husband because it wasn’t exactly a funny scene. “I’m just laughing because I know exactly what he’s going to say next,” I told him. It’s such a great film and makes my heart so, so happy. Can someone remind me why neither Paul Dano OR John Cusack were even at least nominated for you-know-what? I guess the nominating committee didn’t close their eyes like Brian told them to. (“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I closed my eyes, didn’t see a thing.” What a party pooper, that Murray.) So many great moments and lines in this film. “You’re grass, and I’m a power mower.” “I’m already eating as fast as I can!” “Does it sound like a drug song to anyone else?” “Mike, you can leave if you don’t want to be here, thank you. I’m working with the cello players.” “See you tomorrow, Hal!” And on and on and on. Ahhh. I love this movie.

(Pssst, anyone else uncontrollably amused by Mike Love’s one critique of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra’s album of Beach Boys songs? “When the first list came to me, they didn’t have ‘Kokomo’ on it. Now, it wasn’t a big hit in the UK, but it was No.1 for eight weeks in Australia and a No.1 in the US, so I said, ‘Actually, it’s the biggest-selling single we ever had – bigger than “I Get Around”, bigger than “Good Vibrations”, so that’s really saying something.’ Not having it on the album would be a mistake. In the end it turned out great.” No, in the end, it turned out hiiiiilarious. Listen for yourself here but only if you want to be cursed with having “Kokomo” in your head ALL SUMMER LONG, grrrrrrr.)

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Brian Wilson (Paul Dano) hears the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra’s rendition of “Kokomo.” Or just the regular version of “Kokomo,” same difference.

Unless you have been hiding under a rock with my sister, then you probably already watched Paul McCartney Carpool Karaoke. 

Not that I really watch The Late Late Show with James Corden on a regular basis or anything (or at all, really), but it is easily the best Carpool Karaoke ever. It’s funny, poignant, and magical as only a former Beatle can conjure. I’m also so lovin’ the new Macca trax. How blessed we are to have Sir Paul McCartney in this world!!

On the other hand, I’m still trying to figure out this new Arctic Monkeys album. 

Do I like it? Do I not like it? Am I awake? Am I asleep? Do I want to book a trip to the moon? I just don’t know. But I’ve been listening to it pretty much non-stop trying to figure it out and finding snippets of lyrics popping into my brain:

What do you mean you’ve never seen Blade Runner?

Dancing in my underpants
I’m gonna run for government
I’m gonna form a covers band and all

Kiss me underneath the moon’s side boob

(Wait, what?) 

Bear with me, man, I lost my train of thought

Since the exodus it’s all getting GENTRIFIIIIIIED 

I launch my fragrance called “Integrity”

Confused, unsure, and looking for answers, I sought inspiration from a higher power. That’s right, I turned to Google and discovered a clip of an interview with Noel Gallagher being questioned about the album.

The journalist puts forth the premise of the album (a retirement home for rock stars on the moon–no, really) to Noel and wonders if he fancies it. “I don’t know what to make of it,” Noel answers simply.

(Meeeeee toooooo.)

The journalist presses a little, describing the album as experimental, off-the-beaten track, not really what you would expect from Arctic Monkeys.”No, you’d expect a few choruses. There wasn’t any of them,” Gallagher quips dryly.

Love that guy.

It is completely different from anything Arctic Monkeys have done before, it isn’t exactly what you’d expect, it might make you a bit uncomfortable or even outraged that those “We’re Arctic Monkeys, this is ‘I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor’, don’t believe the hype” have grown up, grown some facial hair, changed a little…but, alas, I haven’t stopped loving you once.

There’s also been a ton of outrage (apparently) that Alex Turner grew some facial hair and has been sporting a beard.

I just wanna know where ya’ll were when Jarvis Cocker grew a beard. Like, that was outrage, and it was a protest party of one as I recall. At some point–oh maybe two or three years later, I think it was–I had to accept that Jarvis wasn’t going to shave his beard or wash his hair on a regular basis. You can’t change people, people. You just have to love them for who they are.

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And Jarvis is a really weird guy. But I still like him a lot.

I still got it. 

And by “it,” I refer to the ability to win the Turner Classic Movies edition of Scene It despite not spending all my spare time watching old movies anymore. I won even when my opponents got questions like, “What does Zuzu tell Daddy happens every time a bell rings?” and “What film stars Clark Gable, Marilyn Monroe, and Montgomery Clift?” and “What color are Dorothy’s shoes in The Wizard of Oz?” Come on, now, I’m sleep-walking here, answering these questions!!

But really, I won because I always choose The Maltese Falcon as my playing piece, and it never, ever lets me down.humphrey-bogart-maltese-falcon-steve-wynnHearts in my eyes for Sam Spade forever.

I’ve been to the movies twice recently (to see Jurassic World and Incredibles 2, both very enjoyable) and saw the absolute worst trailer for a movie, ever. Like, ever, ever. 

I don’t even know if I can post it here in all good conscience. Some virtually braindead individual had the dumb idea to not only make another film version of Little Women but also “re-imagine” the story by placing it in a modern setting. I’m appalled, really. I have no words. This is like in Back to the Future II when Marty finds himself in an alternate 1985 where his mom has had a boob job and is married to Biff. We have to go back to 1955 and stop Biff from giving himself the Sports Almanac from 2015. We have to stop this movie from being made. We only need the perfect, definitive film version of Louisa May Alcott’s story produced in 1994, starring Winona Ryder as Jo. And if you can’t deal with that, at least respect the author’s work and LEAVE IT ALONE. I SAID NO NO NO!!!!!!!

I need to calm down.

Happy birthday, Ringo!

Peace and love.

I’m the greatest and you better believe it, baby!

I finished watching all eight seasons of 24…my life is now devoid of meaning. 

I haven’t watched the “revival” or whatever you wanna call it, but I must say, I was little underwhelmed by the series finale. It seemed…a little reminiscent of an earlier season finale????? Come on now. But Jack Bauer is still awesome.

Meanwhile, I haven’t been watching much–like any–Dark Shadows lately. 

I kind of cycled through all the story arcs I wanted to and I don’t know if I really want to watch the Leviathan storyline (like who needs that kind of negativity in their life???) or if I should actually watch the pre-Barnabas (gasp!) episodes for the first time ever. I remember seeing a few on Sci-Fi as a kid, and as I recall, they were one long yawn. Apparently, however, there are fans who argue that some of the series’ best acting and writing is found in those early episodes. I just don’t know if I can stomach 209 episodes of no Barnabas or Quentin. I don’t know if that life is worth living, frankly. Let me know your thoughts.

That’s it, kids. This is just a “mini” grab bag–for when you need a Hand of Count Petofi fix but don’t want all the calories. Unless you’re like me and eat the whole bag anyway and then end up in bed, shutting out the rest of the world.852664894-brian_wilson_1968_laying_in_bed_with_smoke

It’s waaaaay past my bedtime. As if that weren’t clear enough.

Bonsoir!

Grab Bag, Round 3

It was recently brought to my attention that I had not updated this blog since December 6. I am not going to say it has been because I have not had anything to write about, but I really have not felt compelled to write or made the time to write for publication a priority. I am not going to say it has been because I’ve been too preoccupied (not “busy” — too many people are reportedly “busy,” and I am not one of them) becoming 1% fluent in French, devoting a lot of memory space to what cat treats my cats prefer (is this a warning sign for dementia?), and just generally loving my job and life and cats.

Oh, let’s be honest: I have not had anything to write about. And I can hear one of my writing professors tearing this sad, rambling excuse of an introduction apart. Get to the point! Where is there a kernel of truth in this? So sorry….but I really do remember what cat treats I buy my cats and which ones they prefer! Sigh. Without any further ado or anything in particular to write about…Allons-y! 

I’m glad Casey Affleck won the Oscar for Best Actor. Like really, really glad. 

The Oscars are not perfect because in case you have not noticed the world is not a perfect, fair place. Some of my favorite actors have never been awarded Oscars–some unjustly so (cough, cough Montgomery Clift!!!! cough, cough), some understandably so (Cary Grant was just so effortlessly good, everyone despised Robert Redford for being so good-looking and talented, and I need someone to explain why Richard Burton never won one to me actually)–and so it’s easy for me to be dismissive of the award and to say it doesn’t really matter. But at the same time, The Oscars are a recognition of the finest acting and do occasionally get it right. See: Marlon Brando, Daniel Day-Lewis…and, this year’s winner, Casey Affleck.

Affleck’s win is being reported as controversial because of the sexual harassment allegations made against him. I do not know if the allegations are true. I’m not condoning that behavior, but I do know that his acting in Manchester By the Sea is of the highest caliber. I saw this film in the theater in January, and it has been a long time since I have been so moved and utterly captivated by a performance. He inhabits the role so heartbreakingly completely, it really is hard to believe that he is just acting. His character hardly ever cracks, rarely lets us in, yet Affleck did a phenomenal job of making him real. Pure artistry. So he deserved the award. The award is for acting, not being a perfect human being. End of discussion.

(But can we discuss how it is even possible that he is related to Ben Affleck? Really?! Guess who stole all the acting genes?!!)

While we’re on the subject of actors…

This line was read out of a book I purchased recently: “Leonardo DiCaprio is to Titanic what Clark Gable is to Gone with the Wind.” I’ve been thinking about that sentence a lot. It’s a dumb sentence. Of course Leonardo DiCaprio is to Titanic what Clark Gable is to Gone with the Wind: they’re both the lead actors. Unless the sentence is implying that Titanic and Gone with the Wind are somehow in the same class of movies or that Leonardo DiCaprio and Clark Gable are in the same class of actors, which is an ugly can of worms I do not want to open. Hadn’t Leo’s career kind of peaked with Growing Pains?  Luke Brower, man!! Classic.

And while we’re on the subject of Growing Pains

Maybe I stopped updating this blog because 2016 was so darn depressing. (Jimmy Fallon’s assessment of Manchester By the Sea was so spot-on: the only thing more depressing than 2016.) We lost Mrs. Brady, Dr. Jason Seaver, George Martin, David Bowie, Carrie Fisher, Debbie Reynolds, and George Michael–on Christmas day, no less–to name a few off the top of my head. Really, when George Michael died, I felt like I’d been knifed. (Quick, which actor told Hedda Hopper the story of his life in one sentence was “I’ve been knifed”? Quick now!) I could not listen to his music for a few days because I just felt so inexplicably sad and his music had always made me happy. I’m over that now–YAY!!–but what a loss. CHOOSE LIFE!

So how was your last Christmas?   

Besides George Michael dying, my Christmas holiday was quite enjoyable. I did not ask for any books for Christmas this year because even though I am a firm believer that you can never really have enough books, my shelf space is trying to challenge that belief. Still, I received two absolutely beautiful books — a stunning annotated edition of Little Women and The Tale of Kitty-in-Boots, a never-before-published story by Beatrix Potter, freshly illustrated by Quentin Blake. I love them both (even though it will probably take me the whole year to fully digest the annotated Little Women)–so much so that I felt compelled to write my first Barnes and Noble review of The Tale of Kitty-in-Boots because apparently, there are people in the world who do not appreciate Quentin Blake’s talent as an illustrator aka people who have no taste. Ugh.

That reminds me of how I used to pollute the internet with my Paul Weller obsession…

And how recently, I watched the Showtime documentary about my almost favorite band aka The Jam, About the Young Idea. It was so great and totally re-awakened my love for all things Paul Weller. Once upon a time, Paul Weller was all I cared about. Like really. He stole my soul, and I’m not 1000% sure that he has given it back, but I have stopped stalking him obsessively. It probably helps that I was banned from Tumblr, my main outlet for expressing my Paul Weller obsession (because hey, no one in my vicinity cares about Paul Weller). But I wasn’t banned for being obsessed with Paul Weller. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was the only person on that website who cared about Paul Weller. I was banned for posting pictures of Morrissey. Yep. Steven Patrick Morrissey. You’re the one for me, fatty–you’re the one I really, really love… We should talk about that song sometime. It’s great.

Anyway.

I’ve been listening to The Jam and The Style Council and Paul Weller a lot lately after not listening to him extensively for a couple years anyway, and I still remember every line, every beat. That’s kind of alarming but also comforting. Is there a study on this phenomenon? I love to listen to The Jam when I am angry or frustrated or just have a lot of energy or am just breathing because I really, really love The Jam. Like, can “Going Underground” be my wedding song? And the public wants what the public gets, 
But I don’t get what this society wants! Paul Weller was–IS–an amazing lyricist, and I don’t know if enough people realize that. That guy could pack so much into just one line. Two lovers missing the tranquility of solitude. The world is your oyster, but your future’s a clam. And oh, who could pick just one line from “Town Called Malice”?

And then there’s The Style Council. Oh, The Style Council. More great lyrics, even better videos with Paul Weller’s often questionable haircuts and lamentable lack of dance moves. Really, that man should never have been without a guitar on stage. I could probably devote an entire blog entry to every Style Council video. But I doubt anyone would want to read that. Or would you?

Anyway, I love Paul Weller. Like a lot. And I just recently have been reminded of how much.

Remember when I told you this was my favorite picture of Paul Weller?

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Yup. Love this guy. He’s actually really talented and sometimes charming.

I still love Ellery Queen.

And I’m still sad there was only one season of the Jim Hutton series. But I still imagine Jim Hutton as Ellery when I read the Ellery Queen novels (which are a lot of fun to read), and I still watch the episodes over and over again, even though I know how they’re going to end. Why? Because Ellery has an expression for every emotion I’m feeling. Take a look…

I come home to find my cat has poop on her butt…again.

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I tell my ten blog readers that I’m going to start posting analysis and discussion of Style Council videos: 

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I see Marlon Brando in a Rolex commercial: 

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I need a sassy comeback, but can only muster a Melville reference: 

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Did I put deodorant on this morning?

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I realize it is 12:30 in the morning; I am always in bed by nine!

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Me currently:

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I told you I didn’t really have anything to write about. Well, didn’t I? All right. That’s all, folks.