Earlier this month The IP went into the deep woods of  Kentucky.  He picked up more than a few ticks, but when he finally got out of the woods, he also picked up a cool thrift store LP in one of the smaller communites in this country!  And now, even though he’s a bit nervous about all those tick bites, he at least knows what movie he’s gonna show for his First Annual Outdoor Bad Movie and Barbecue (FAOBM&B):

The Wild Angels contains one of most succinct declarations of the “right” to selfish hedonism (libertarianism?), which is why it still sounds and looks awkward to this day.  Peter Fonda even looks a bit embarrassed, like he doesn’t believe himself as the words come out of his mouth:

“We wanna be free! We wanna be free to do what we wanna do. We wanna be free to ride. We wanna be free to ride our machines without being hassled by The Man! … And we wanna get loaded. And we wanna have a good time. And that’s what we are gonna do. We are gonna have a good time… We are gonna have a party.”

Hey, The IP could think of worse things a motorcycle gang could do than have a party (though there is a rape in the movie).  That’s what makes this Roger Corman-directed, pre-Easy Rider film a classic in the “So Bad it’s Good” genre of movies.

It’s clear that  that Corman took some cues from the first outlaw biker film, The Wild One with Marlon Brando.     In a similar mood of pent-up and directionless male energy, the film’s protagonist engages in a short but now-classic piece of dialogue:

The Wild One is not a particularly “great” film, but it is good, and as the first actual bike gang film, it ranks ahead of  The Wild Angels (although the latter actually features REAL Hell’s Angels).  Not to mention that Lee Marvin’s supporting role as Chino makes Peter Fonda look like a wuss.  And Wild Angels features a pointless motorcycle rabbit chase (Jefferson Airplane allusion?) that is a good example of the exagerated screenplay that Corman seems to be pulling from a hat as he goes along. Some viewers see it as a work of genius. And granted, at least in the world of B-Movie genius, it is.

Below is a clip from The Wild One. The clip is mostly white-guy interpretation of BeBop-era hepcat talk, but it concludes with Brando’s famous line. One of The IP’s problems with the film is Johnny’s rather conventional female love interest Kathy; she’s just not that compelling.  The film uses the concept of “Jazz improvization as a lifestyle” which is made somewhat obvious by the way Johnny describes what they ”do” in the below clip.  The cinematography in this film is excellent; if you like contrasty, B&W noir-like effects and day-as-night processing, you gotta see this flick:

Corman knew that he stood on great shoulders, that’s why he had no qualms about “borrowing” some of the tropes of The Wild One in his own biker flick.  In fact, if you watch the below opening credits (a crucial part of any film) you can actually see Corman’s own improvisation (sorry) on some of the filmic devices used by Kramer.   

WATCH OPENING SEQUENCE TO THE WILD ANGELS

How about that theme song?  Pretty cool, if you ask The IP.  And Davie Allan & The Arrows are still crankin’! 

The Wild One, too, has its stupid moments, to be sure. Nonetheless, it succeeds as good cinema because of the care taken in its direction and production; and it doesn’t hurt to have Brando and Marvin in the mix.  And that’s actually why The Wild Angels gets the nod for the FAOBM&B.

PDK’s annual Good Neighbor open house was last weekend.  Rather than deal with the crowds, The IP just chilled at home and caught a few of the aerial performers as they banked and turned over his abode during their air-show routines.

The above AeroShell team flew over The IP’s Skyland neighborhood the evening before the show.  Because they fly a hyped-up version of the classic AT-6 with its awesome Pratt & Whitney radial engine, they were the only aircraft at the show that evoked that resonant and scary WWWII warplane sound; all the  other teams flew planes that sounded like flying chainsaws.  No. The IP did not take that above pic, but they did fly over his abobe, sans contrails.  But if you want to see more of that photographer’s work, which is quite good, visit the airshow recap site here.

Nothing like a free air show you can watch off your back stoop. 

The IP actually gets to watch a free air show every night around 9:00 when his batty friends come out of hiding for their evening meal.  The big open bowl of green with the stream running through it is the perfect venue in which these bats can gobble down insects at a rate of over 1000-per-hour.  At first it was only a couple of Little Brown Bats, but soon a Big Brown Bad joined the show.  At one point one of the LBBs started swooping down on the BBB, much like a blue jay would harass a hawk.  What a show!

The above is a photo simulation of a LBB dive-bombing a BBB as described earlier.

It’s curious to note that the LBBs tend to fly a good 30 feet above the BBBs.  The latter are able to echo-locate the emerging fireflys and Junebugs; maybe that’s why they’re bigger. 

Blog at ya later!

Not only is this LP valuable as a rare example of Jesus-based psyche-folk music, the label managed to gather together an excellent cast of supporting musicians, each notable in their own right:

 Jay Berliner

 

There are a lot of folks that are into vintage Jesus Movement music. Here’s the review of this LP from the guy who literally wrote the book on Jesus music:

Ken Scott Archivist Review: A Love Song continues to present challenging music while drawing from Biblical material for its twelve songs, all united on varied aspects of the topic of love. ‘Noise Of Solemn Assemblies’ and ‘Joseph’ are classic examples of psychedelia dripping with acid organ, while ‘Palm Sunday’ has a more dream-like quality, Amanda’s flute work softly poised above spacey atmospheric guitar harmonics. ‘A Matter Of Sobriety’ pulls a Procol Harum maneuver with its classical cathedral organ and harpsichord accompaniment. Nods to the ’60s sounds of Dave Brubeck and Ramsey Lewis can be found on ‘Pharoah’s Adopted Grandson Moses’ and ‘The Camel Swallowers’. Closes with a high-energy Johnny Rivers-styled rocker ‘The Man For Me’. Several top-notch musicians were enlisted, including jazz keyboardist Dick Hyman and guitarist Jay Berliner. Such uniqueness in lyric and composition (not to mention the professional sound) is rare in the Christian community, so if you get the opportunity, by all means experience John’s music. It’s extraordinarily groovy!

Maybe that’s why The IP feels a bit guilty. And because he got the LP at a Society of St. Vincent de Paul thrift store, an organization that is devoted to helping the poor instead of preaching that prosperity gospel bullshit, well, he is really having a WWJD moment. He knows what he SHOULD do: Just get his Grammy-Award-winning analog-to-digital friend to transfer the LP onto a CD, put the LP on e-bay, take the money from the highest bidder, and donate it all to SSVDP.

LISTEN TO A YOU TUBE OF A TRACK FROM YLVISAKER’S OTHER LP ON AVANT GARDE RECORDS

Hey. The IP knows that interpersonal dysfunction is common in most places in this country; and he can’t claim innocence in the same regard. Nonetheless, The IP gets a good chuckle every week when he reads the Police Blotter section in Atlanta’s hanging-on-by-its-fingernails free “alternative” weekly publication, Creative Loafing. The ATL is one of the most dysfunctional cities in which The IP has ever lived, and The Loaf’s Police Blotter captures that attribute perfectly:

PAY UP: A 33-year-old man said a woman scratched his car, a 1995 white Mercury Cougar. The woman said she brought her car over to the 33-year-old man’s home on Hood Street to get her tire fixed. “[The man] stated he wanted some pussy instead of the money,”* an officer wrote. “[The woman] said she could not have sex because she was on her cycle.”* Apparently, a scuffle ensued. The man said the woman scratched his car, but she said she fell on his car. The officer said they both would be arrested. Then, they both decided not to press charges. The officer asked whether they lived together or had a relationship in the past. “Both parties stated, ‘No, we just know each other from the area,’” the officer wrote.

SUCKER BORN EVERY MINUTE: A 25-year-old man said he was walking in Buckhead around 1:30 a.m. when a blond woman — with a tattoo possibly of a rose on her left breast* — pulled up. He said the woman seemed distraught — she said she was lost and needed directions. The woman said she was staying at a hotel downtown and asked him if he could get into her car and help her find the Rio Bravo restaurant on Roswell Road. (Blotter Diva note: The restaurant is roughly three blocks away.) “While on the way, he asked [the woman] to stop at an ATM so he could get $20 for a taxi after she dropped him off,” an officer wrote. The man said he gave the woman his Visa debit card and told her the pin number since the ATM was on the driver’s side of the vehicle. The man said they went to the restaurant, where she was supposed to meet her friend — but the friend didn’t show up. He said the woman asked for his help to return to her downtown hotel. “[The man] said he wasn’t comfortable with that, and was let out of the vehicle.” The next day, the man’s bank called about suspicious overnight activity on his Visa debit card, including $302.95 withdrawn from an ATM on Roswell Road; charges of $50 and $36.69 at a QuikTrip around 4:55 a.m.; and seven charges totaling almost $550 at a Kroger around 5:15 a.m. The man said he’s not sure how the debit card got out of his possession.

GOING BATTY: On Henry Thomas Drive, a woman said her sister — armed with a baseball bat — kicked at her bedroom door, trying to get in. A police officer arrived. Several relatives in the apartment said the sister was “geeked up.”* The officer wrote, “I asked [the sister] what happened and she replied, ‘They know how I get when I’m geeked, I saw something on the television and I got scared.’” The sister, age 45, was charged with disorderly conduct.

HAIRS LOOKING AT YOU: One afternoon, an officer stopped a suspicious man at the intersection of Woodward and Loomis avenues. “I gave [the man] several warnings to put on his shirt and pull his pants up to his waist,” the officer wrote. “I seen [the man] again walking with his shirt off and his pants below the waist, showing his pubic hairs.” The man, age 34, was charged with public indeceny/lewd appearance.

IP Notes:

* If this guy had his own shop, he would have a sign that read “Pussy or Cash Only! NO CHECKS!

* Does this mean that if she wasn’t on her “cycle,” she WOULD have had given the guy “pussy” to pay for the repair?

* Never trust a woman with a tattoo; especially if it’s on one of her breastages.

*”Geeked Up” is a slang term for being high on crack. The IP learned this from a crackhead co-worker (who knew?).

Most of Georgia is well on its way to having a record rainfall for May.  That “Rain Train” The IP noted a few posts ago just keeps coming, so much so that our area’s famous drought might be coming to an end.  Our water supply, and the supply for folks in Alabama and Florida, the fake lake known as Lanier, is rising.  And we have our rights, as the judge overseeing the lawsuits about the Apalachicola-Chattahoochee-Flint basin has noted:

“People have got to have a right to their electricity, people have got to have a right to the natural resources, people have got to have — have rights to have stuff, and people are going to drink water, you know.”

Like the judge says, The IP has a right “to have stuff,”  Dammit! And he IS going to drink water; you just watch.

Not only is the Rain Train good for our drought, it’s been providing amazing moving pictures of clouds and sky.  The IP’s been taking random shots of the sky after work this May.  Because the Rain Train is running on the tracks of frequent frontal systems, there’s been a lot of convection and turbulence in the air, making and manipulating clouds.  The late-setting sun provides an amazing illumination system.  It’s like The IP gets to watch a short experimental film from GOD nearly every night.  Here are some stills from GOD’s recent work:

THE COUNTRY’S IN THE VERY BEST OF HANDS

From the Musical “Lil’ Abner” (1956)

(Gene de Paul / Johnny Mercer)

Recorded by: Percy Faith; Shelly Manne;

Peter Palmer; André Previn.

Them city folks and we-uns are pretty much alike,

Though they ain’t used to living in the sticks.

We don’t like stone or cement, but we is in agreement

When we gets down to talkin’ politics:

        The country’s in the very best of hands,

           the best of hands, the best of hands.

        [Note: the above two lines are interspersed among

           all the verses and wherever else needed.]

The Treasury says the national debt is climbing to the sky

And govermnent expenditures have never been so high.

It makes a feller get a gleam of pride within his eye,

to see how our economy expands,

The country’s in the very best of hands.

You ought to see the congress when it’s drawing up a bill,

“Where as”’s and “to wit”’s are crowded in each codicil.

Such legal terminology would give your heart a thrill.

There’s phrases there that no one understands.

The country’s in the very best of hands.

The building boom, they say, is getting bigger every day.

And when I asked a feller “How could everybody pay?”

He come up with an answer that made everything OK,

“Supplies are getting bigger than demands.”

The country’s in the very best of hands.

Don’t you believe them congressmen and senators are dumb.

When they run into problems that are tough to overcome,

They just declare a thing they calls a moritorium.

The upper and the lower house disbands.

The country’s in the very best of hands.

    The voters are connected to the nominee,

    the nominee’s connected to the treasury.

    When they ain’t connected to the treasury,

    They sits around on their thigh bones.

    They sits around in this place they got,

    This big congressional parking lot.

    Just sits around on their you know what.

    Up there they call them their thigh bones.

        Them bones, them bones gonna rise again,

        Gonna exercise a franchise again,

        Gonna tax us up to our eyes again,

        If we gets them off of their thigh bones.

The farm bill should be 89 percent of parity,

Another feller recommends it should be 93.

But 80, 95 percent, who cares about degree?

It’s parity that no one understands.

The country’s in the very best of hands.

Them GOP’s and Democrats each hates the other one.

They’s always criticizing how the country should be run.

But neither tells the public what the other’s gone and done.

As long as no one knows where no one stands,

The country’s in the very best of hands.

    They sits around in this place they’re at,

    Where folks in congress have always sat.

    Just sits around on their excess fat,

    Up there they call them their thigh bones.

    They sits around ’til they start to snore,

    Jumps up and hollers “I has the floor!”

    Then sits right down where they sat before,

    Up there they call them their thigh bones.

        Them bones, them bones gonna rise again

        So dignified and so wise again

        While the budget doubles in size again,

        If we gets them off of their thigh bones.

The money that they taxes us, that’s known as revenues,

They compound up collaterals, subtracts the residues.

Don’t worry ’bout the principle and interest that accrues,

They’re shipping all that stuff to foreign lands,

The country’s in the very best of hands.

For the little IP, some of the most important lessons for his understanding of American economics came through his first visits to an MLB ball park and a large airport.  Within a few minutes in each place, he noted how much more expensive were the food items and other “concessions.”  Like THEY are making a concession for us?  WTF?         

Anyhow, The IP thought about that supply and demand revelation when he read this recent piece in the New Yorker about the new Yankee Stadium:

As expected, nothing was cheap (Philly cheesesteak, $10.75; citrus slaw, $6), but the menu boards helpfully listed the number of calories in each item, and a winner emerged in the calories-per-dollar statistic: Moe’s Billy Barou Nachos, which can be found on the concourse of the upper deck. At nine dollars and 1,410 calories, they provide triple the value of a standard ballpark frank ($6 and 297 calories). Dieters, don’t be fooled by the Miller Lite. If you buy it in the souvenir-cup size ($10), you’ll consume more calories for your money than you would by drinking Peroni ($8.50).

And ever notice how the filthy rich are always trying to hide themselves from the general public?  They must know that their wealth is suspect and that the less “fortunate” others might not like them.  That’s why all the stadiums now have “luxury suites” that help protect the filthy rich and their friends from the masses (yet even today the “masses” have to be pretty well off just to be in the “cheap” seats). 

The IP bets there are even some TARP-funded NYC bastards that lease the above suites.  The ironic thing is that the above suite looks just like some room you’d see in a CEO’s McMansion or Trump condo; it’s like their own little gated community inside the stadium. 

Sure sure.  They had social and economic stratification back in the olden times, but all The IP can tell you is that when his older sister took him to Fenway in 1971, the hot dogs weren’t that expensive, even when considering inflation.

There’s a lot of communal pressure at a ball park or airport.  Everyone is saying “WTF?” and going ahead and spending a lot of money for things they could buy elsewhere for less than half the price; many moms and dads are probably tapping into their Christmas funds just to give their little kids a taste of “real” Americana.  At least the other people in the lines provide a little comfort…they normalize irrational behavior for everyone.  ”Holy shit!  I just spent $45 for some hot dogs and beer!  WTF!”

But the above examples of supply and demand do not represent an essential “law” of capitalism.  It’s more cultural than economic, and America makes room for a wide range of cultural economies.  Such a congruency of opposite capitalisms occurred when, just after The IP read about the $10.00 Miller Lite at the new Yankee Stadium, he read about free beer in Portland, OR:.

One accessory, however, was ubiquitous: as breakdance crews windmilled and as the Portland legend Fogatron did his human beatbox routine, every hipster — male, female or otherwise — carried a plastic cup full of beer. Free beer.

So there you have it.  Two different cities, two different venues, two different cultural economies.  The IP would opt for the free beer in Portland, thank you.

Even though The IP uses reading glasses and acknowledges that good lighting helps with that particular task, when it comes to interior lighting for the home, he prefers light bulb wattages no greater than 60.  Even a 40-watt bulb provides enough light to illuminate most rooms.  And with some acclimation, it’s surprising how much light can be produced with even less wattage.  This was made very evident when The IP came acrost and actually started using a light bulb he found while in a used building materials store recently:

At first he was, like, WTF?  “Who the hell uses an 11W bulb?  WTF could that be used for?”  Then he looked on the other side of the little box:

The IP never really considered the specialized nature of scoreboard light bulbs.  The bulb itself is a beautiful thing, with the glass of the bulb thicker at the top to act like a lens and magnify the light outward; just perfect for a scoreboard. 

So what other “application” for such a light bulb could be found in one’s home?  The IP found the perfect one:

The IP NEVER found a better bulb for his panther TV lamp.  He put it on a timer so it would be lit from 11:00 to 4:00 AM.  That is the time when The IP might get up out of bed to take a leak, have a late-night snack, or get a glass of water, or whatever.  When every other light is off, 11 watts actually produces a lot of light.

Hey all you krayzee pithecanthropes.  Whazzup?  It’s just another Saturday here in Skyland.  There’s been a train o’ rain the last two days, and The IP has managed to dodge some downpours and get some domestic shite done.  His first project was to clean up and rehab his bowling ball garden for the new season:

Some new black mulch and some cleaning and re-setting of his river pebbles and balls was in order.  He also planted some “Irish Moss” with the hope it will spread to provide some nice green carpet next to his balls.  He also picked up some St. John’s Wort plants to add to the mix.  It should be all done by Sunday afternoon.

As you can see from the radar pic above, the rain train has some good gaps in which The IP can do some stuff, like crank out some BBQ chicken this PM.  He’s working on a new sauce to unveil at his upcoming Outdoor Movie Night. 

Despite the rain, there were a lot of yard sales this weekend in Skyland.  The IP picked up the below drafting table for $5.00:

It will make a good desk space for his bedroom, or perhaps an impromptu outdoor table for the movie night.

How about that Miss California bee-atch who goes out of her way to diss gay marriage and then has the people who run the pageant pay for her fake boobs.  WTF?  God hates gays but loves silicon breastages?  Where is that in the Bible?  How funny that MercuryNews.com, the site to which The IP linked for the story, covers “The Silicon Valley.” True dat.