-scale=1.0,maximum-scale=1.0" : "width=1100"' name='viewport'/> Plum Street Chili

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Manchester Pride Sings Lily Allen

Let's close Pride Month with a BANG sendoff. Way to go, Manchester Pride! Why be polite when you can be GORGEOUS.

Sunday, June 26, 2016

We come a long Way, Baby.

This is the newspaper story that ran one week after the raid on the Stonewall Inn. Notice the condescension and ridicule. Happy Pride Month.


-by Jerry Lisker, New York Daily News, July 6th 1969

She sat there with her legs crossed, the lashes of her mascara-coated eyes beating like the wings of a hummingbird. She was angry. She was so upset she hadn’t bothered to shave. A day old stubble was beginning to push through the pancake makeup. She was a he. A queen of Christopher Street.

Last weekend the queens had turned commandos and stood bra strap to bra strap against an invasion of the helmeted Tactical Patrol Force. The elite police squad had shut down one of their private gay clubs, the Stonewall Inn at 57 Christopher St., in the heart of a three-block homosexual community in Greenwich Village. Queen Power reared its bleached blonde head in revolt. New York City experienced its first homosexual riot. “We may have lost the battle, sweets, but the war is far from over,” lisped an unofficial lady-in-waiting from the court of the Queens.

“We’ve had all we can take from the Gestapo,” the spokesman, or spokeswoman, continued. “We’re putting our foot down once and for all.” The foot wore a spiked heel. According to reports, the Stonewall Inn, a two-story structure with a sand painted brick and opaque glass facade, was a mecca for the homosexual element in the village who wanted nothing but a private little place where they could congregate, drink, dance and do whatever little girls do when they get together.

The thick glass shut out the outside world of the street. Inside, the Stonewall bathed in wild, bright psychedelic lights, while the patrons writhed to the sounds of a juke box on a square dance floor surrounded by booths and tables. The bar did a good business and the waiters, or waitresses, were always kept busy, as they snaked their way around the dancing customers to the booths and tables. For nearly two years, peace and tranquility reigned supreme for the Alice in Wonderland clientele.

The Raid Last Friday

Last Friday the privacy of the Stonewall was invaded by police from the First Division. It was a raid. They had a warrant. After two years, police said they had been informed that liquor was being served on the premises. Since the Stonewall was without a license, the place was being closed. It was the law.

All hell broke loose when the police entered the Stonewall. The girls instinctively reached for each other. Others stood frozen, locked in an embrace of fear.

Only a handful of police were on hand for the initial landing in the homosexual beachhead. They ushered the patrons out onto Christopher Street, just off Sheridan Square. A crowd had formed in front of the Stonewall and the customers were greeted with cheers of encouragement from the gallery.

The whole proceeding took on the aura of a homosexual Academy Awards Night. The Queens pranced out to the street blowing kisses and waving to the crowd. A beauty of a specimen named Stella wailed uncontrollably while being led to the sidewalk in front of the Stonewall by a cop. She later confessed that she didn’t protest the manhandling by the officer, it was just that her hair was in curlers and she was afraid her new beau might be in the crowd and spot her. She didn’t want him to see her this way, she wept.

Queen Power

The crowd began to get out of hand, eye witnesses said. Then, without warning, Queen Power exploded with all the fury of a gay atomic bomb. Queens, princesses and ladies-in-waiting began hurling anything they could get their polished, manicured fingernails on. Bobby pins, compacts, curlers, lipstick tubes and other femme fatale missiles were flying in the direction of the cops. The war was on. The lilies of the valley had become carnivorous jungle plants.

Urged on by cries of “C’mon girls, lets go get ’em,” the defenders of Stonewall launched an attack. The cops called for assistance. To the rescue came the Tactical Patrol Force.

Flushed with the excitement of battle, a fellow called Gloria pranced around like Wonder Woman, while several Florence Nightingales administered first aid to the fallen warriors. There were some assorted scratches and bruises, but nothing serious was suffered by the honeys turned Madwoman of Chaillot.

Official reports listed four injured policemen with 13 arrests. The War of the Roses lasted about 2 hours from about midnight to 2 a.m. There was a return bout Wednesday night.

Two veterans recently recalled the battle and issued a warning to the cops. “If they close up all the gay joints in this area, there is going to be all out war.”

Bruce and Nan

Both said they were refugees from Indiana and had come to New York where they could live together happily ever after. They were in their early 20’s. They preferred to be called by their married names, Bruce and Nan.

“I don’t like your paper,” Nan lisped matter-of-factly. “It’s anti-fag and pro-cop.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t see what they did to the Stonewall. Did the pigs tell you that they smashed everything in sight? Did you ask them why they stole money out of the cash register and then smashed it with a sledge hammer? Did you ask them why it took them two years to discover that the Stonewall didn’t have a liquor license.”

Holly Woodlawn 
Bruce nodded in agreement and reached over for Nan’s trembling hands.

“Calm down, doll,” he said. “Your face is getting all flushed.”

Nan wiped her face with a tissue.

“This would have to happen right before the wedding. The reception was going to be held at the Stonewall, too,” Nan said, tossing her ashen-tinted hair over her shoulder.

“What wedding?,” the bystander asked.

Nan frowned with a how-could-anybody-be-so-stupid look. “Eric and Jack’s wedding, of course. They’re finally tying the knot. I thought they’d never get together.”

Meet Shirley

“We’ll have to find another place, that’s all there is to it,” Bruce sighed. “But every time we start a place, the cops break it up sooner or later.”

Andy Warhol Self Portrait
“They let us operate just as long as the payoff is regular,” Nan said bitterly. “I believe they closed up the Stonewall because there was some trouble with the payoff to the cops. I think that’s the real reason. It’s a shame. It was such a lovely place. We never bothered anybody. Why couldn’t they leave us alone?”

Shirley Evans, a neighbor with two children, agrees that the Stonewall was not a rowdy place and the persons who frequented the club were never troublesome. She lives at 45 Christopher St.

“Up until the night of the police raid there was never any trouble there,” she said. “The homosexuals minded their own business and never bothered a soul. There were never any fights or hollering, or anything like that. They just wanted to be left alone. I don’t know what they did inside, but that’s their business. I was never in there myself. It was just awful when the police came. It was like a swarm of hornets attacking a bunch of butterflies.”

A reporter visited the now closed Stonewall and it indeed looked like a cyclone had struck the premises.

Police said there were over 200 people in the Stonewall when they entered with a warrant. The crowd outside was estimated at 500 to 1,000. According to police, the Stonewall had been under observation for some time. Being a private club, plain clothesmen were refused entrance to the inside when they periodically tried to check the place. “They had the tightest security in the Village,” a First Division officer said, “We could never get near the place without a warrant.”

Police Talk

The men of the First Division were unable to find any humor in the situation, despite the comical overtones of the raid.

“They were throwing more than lace hankies,” one inspector said. “I was almost decapitated by a slab of thick glass. It was thrown like a discus and just missed my throat by inches. The beer can didn’t miss, though, “it hit me right above the temple.”

Police also believe the club was operated by Mafia connected owners. The police did confiscate the Stonewall’s cash register as proceeds from an illegal operation. The receipts were counted and are on file at the division headquarters. The warrant was served and the establishment closed on the grounds it was an illegal membership club with no license, and no license to serve liquor.

The police are sure of one thing. They haven’t heard the last from the Girls of Christopher Street.

Saturday, June 25, 2016

Guest Author La Motocycliste - Trashcan Potatoes

Over the weekend, I tipped over the trashcan, and harvested enough French Fingerling potatoes for a good meal for two.

Growing potatoes in a trashcan is fun and easy. In case you think, "Potatoes are cheap, why do all this work?" price heirloom varieties at Whole Paycheck sometime.

A lot of communities have gone to high tech trashcans that can be emptied by an automated garbage truck. This leaves the householder with old trashcans, which can be used for low tech urban potato farming.

The first step is to locate a sunny spot. Potatoes are not really choosy, but they do like sun and water. If your sunny spot is over a patch of dirt, cut the bottom off the trashcan with a Sawzall or a hacksaw. If your sunny spot is over concrete, drill drainage holes in the bottom of the trashcan. If the trashcan is really disgusting, clean it up a bit.

Next, put your trashcan on your chosen spot and fill it with four inches of cheap potting soil with a handful of bone meal mixed in. Head off to choose your potatoes. You need about a quarter pound organic potatoes per trashcan. Look for potatoes with nice big prominent eyes. If you have potatoes that have started growing in your pantry, use those.

Cut up the potatoes so you have one or two eyes per piece. Many people leave the potatoes out overnight to skin over, but I have never bothered. Put the pieces about six inches apart on top of the dirt in the trashcan, then cover with another couple of inches of potting soil and another handful of bonemeal. Don't bother to tamp down. Water so that the dirt is as wet as a wrung out sponge. Cover the trashcan with a piece of chicken wire or an old screen to keep critters out.

Keep the dirt moist, and in 2-3 weeks you should see sprouts. Potatoes grow along the stems, so when the sprouts are 8 or nine inches tall and have nice glossy leaves, shake some more dirt along the stems. The plants will grow towards the light, so keep covering the stems as they grow. Keep them watered and the potato plants will grow for about three months. Eventually they will die down. Stop watering. When the plants are deceased, knock over the garbage can and pick out your potatoes.

Note: Reposted from dkos.For those who learn best by seeing rather than reading:

He is Too Ick for Me

Pastor Steven Anderson is furious that the world is lashing out against his hate speech following the tragedy in Orlando. Speaking about himself, Pastor Donnie Romero, and Pastor Roger Jimenez, he says in a recent sermon that LGBT people and their allies have shut down their PayPal accounts, social media accounts, and other ways these pastors make a living.

Singing the verses below for this Pastor to the tune of the Too Fat Polka.
Scumbag Polka
Oh, I don't want him, you can have him
He's too ick for me.
I get diz-zy
I get numb-o
When I'm looking
At this Scum-Dumb-Dumb-oh.
Oh, I don't want him, you can have him
He's too ick for me.
Help, cher Reader. I need more verses. Where are you, Nick, now that I need you?

Initially I posted this version below of the Polka and this conversation took place:
PlumDumpling - I know...definitely politically incorrect.
Schlukitz - It certainly was.

My daughter Luscious got really offended. She points out the first woman in the video is working out. So sue me; I laughed. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa. Better to have fat on your hips than fat in your head.

Schlukitz is an authority on the politically incorrect. I mean he is a truly kind person. Nevertheless, I doan want him; you can have him; he's too ICK for me. The Pastor not Schlukitz.

Thursday, June 23, 2016

HaPenis is a Warm Gun

I wrote this vile snarky article about guns. Because it is getting renewed attention, I thought I would double down. I like attention

I utilized my MAGIC GOOGLE FINGER again. I googled PENIS GUN. The results range from the literal through the cartoon to the sublime as usual. 

I hope you, Cher Reader, appreciate what I do for you. I suffer so because I am a dirt. Adsense will have nothing to do with me because my blog has...gasp...pornography. 

This photoshop made me wince when I saw it. And I have an inny.

Pistol Smoke Drawing Pencil On Paper by BenziDraw

Giant Mutant Robot Scorpion Penis with a Gun by YYS-Musey

I do not know what to say about this. Naughty, Google. Naughty.

This is What Democracy Looks Like or The Great Dem Revolution

"I thought I was going to die a few times. On the Freedom Ride in the year 1961, when I was beaten at the Greyhound bus station in Montgomery, I thought I was going to die. On March 7th, 1965, when I was hit in the head with a night stick by a State Trooper at the foot of the Edmund Pettus Bridge, I thought I was going to die. I thought I saw death, but nothing can make me question the philosophy of nonviolence." - John Lewis

A Sit-In on the House Floor Over Gun Control
Congressional Democrats, led by Representative John Lewis, are protesting the House’s refusal to vote on gun-control measures. Read more...

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Hen & Chicks

I have discovered where one can learn about Succulents in Philadelphia. Hen and Chicks is a Succulent.
The Philadelphia Cactus and Succulent Society was founded in 1942 to exchange knowledge of and experience with succulents among its members. Membership is open to anyone with an interest in growing and learning more about succulents. There are more than 100 members at all levels of expertise - beginners and experts, collectors and growers.
Gardening is a lot of work. I am a lazy gardener. I like plants that are easy to grow, good to look at and fill odd spots in the garden that would be otherwise filled with pesky weeds.

Hen and Chicks meets all my qualifications. It is easy to grow, fills odd spots, drives out weeds and is so good looking.

The plant will grow in partial shade and not much soil - both good qualities in a city garden or on a sunny window sill in Winter. Hen and Chicks produces flowers when the Hen reaches maturity. The flowers are as odd looking as they are beautiful and rare.

Thursday, June 16, 2016

Weighing the Grocery and Soda Tax in Philly

I oppose it. You are taxing the wrong folks. Tax the Corporate Suits, not the poor and middle class. 

Tax the sugary drink and snack makers who make beaucoup money and socialize the costs of doing business. Convenient and disposable? Their detritus is on every street corner for the people and the City to clean up. Got the courage to sue Nestle Coke Frito Lay etc., Mayor Kenney? It will make you famous. Come on, Dude. This is Filthydelphia. Let us lead on this. 

I am tired of cleaning up the chip bags and drink containers that flow downhill from Frankford Avenue and clog the sewers and filthy the sidewalks. It costs our City money to collect this garbage and dispose of it. Make the Corporate Persons pay their fair share.  

Pay attention. Reality is. These folks will tell you all about what is happening to our watersheds. It is not good. 

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Bullshitters Bullshittng

"Let's take America as an example. America is absolutely awash with easily obtainable firearms. You can go down to a gun show at the local convention center and come away with a fully automatic assault rifle, without a background check, and most likely without having to show an identification card. So what are you waiting for?"
- American-born al-Qaeda spokesman Adam Gadahn
I resolved to say nothing about the massacre in Orlando. Nothing I can say seemed meaningful.

Then, having resolved to say nothing, I read the quote above. When in pain, I return to the expressions of my childhood. No shit, Sherlock.

I feel powerless. I am horrified. I keep writing about guns. And mentally ill people (like me) go right on murdering gaggles of people. And the meaningless canned speeches, ready tears, and same-old-same-old stochastic terrorism crap goes down. We are buried up to our noses in rank bullshit, inane and ugly speeches, and salty tears. 

ISIS did it? Right. Sure. Uh huh. Be afraid. And Iraq had weapons of mass destruction, not.

Another colloquialism applies here. Do not piss on my shoes and tell me it is raining Muslims.

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Dirty Blues Sunday #5 - Irene Scruggs

Dirty Blues deals with topics that are considered taboo in proper society. Such music was banned from radio and only available on a jukebox in the blind pigs and juke joints of our nation. It was dancing music. Saturday night at the juke joint music.

Irene Scruggs (born December 7, 1901 – died probably July 20, 1981 in Germany) was an American Piedmont blues and country blues singer.

Using the pseudonym Chocolate Brown she recorded tracks with Blind Blake. To avoid contractual problems she was also billed as Dixie Nolan. By the early 1930s, Little Brother Montgomery took over as her accompanist on recordings and in touring.

Provided to YouTube by The Orchard Enterprises. Good Grinding · Little Brother Montgomery with Irene Scruggs

Friday, June 10, 2016

Elizabeth Warren Speaks

Hot damn, Elizabeth Warren. You go, girlfriend.

This is the whole speech to the American Constitution Society for Law and Policy. You want to listen to the whole half hour. 

We can expect a mean tweet from Trump soon. Probably around 3 a.m. I sure it will feature the words 'Pocahontas' and 'loser.' Carry on, Donald Trump. I await your response with interest.

Thursday, June 9, 2016

Toilet Laws #6 - Bomb Bomb Bomb - Bomb Bomb the Can

EVANSTON – "A small bomb exploded in the women's bathroom at a Target store in Evanston on Wednesday. 

Officials are investigating whether it’s connected to the company’s policy allowing transgender people to use the bathroom of their choice.

Commander Joe Dugan says no one was inside the bathroom when the small explosion happened a little after 4 o'clock. It caused minor damage and no one was injured.

Early indications are that a plastic bottle was used but no projectiles like nails or tacks were inside it. Investigators are gathering evidence including examining store security camera video."          

Exploding a parking lot dumpster is the kind of prank Teens pull to celebrate auspicious occasions. Halloween? Finding a small bag of shrooms? Graduation?

I ask myself, Self:

  • You think these are delinquent Teens at work? 
  • You think these are Christian fundamentalist Teens doing God's work? 
  • You think these are grown men who are "protecting their women and girls?"
  • You think this is a political operative sent by Bryan Fischer?

I mention Bryan Fisher because he seems to find trans women and trans men alluring and dangerous.

I offer an illustration from his BLOG

I am female. I find this guy hot. If this guy exhibited brains as well as daring and fashion sense, I would be on him like pink on a rose. My sexual orientation HERE. 

And just to focus on the irony of it all - I give you the original joke. Ha ha ha, not. And the Music that inspired it all below. Covers of same may be in the comments. 

Honeybees in Trouble

Honey Bee Suite
I have a small garden in my Philadelphia backyard. I grow a few peppers, herbs, tomatoes, flowers. I have been very sad because the Bees seem to have gone away.

We need Bees, so go here for some pet Bees if you like them. Most of the really good stuff we eat needs pollination by bees. No bees means less food.

On Sunday, I saw my very first Bee of the Summer. I was out in the garden, poking around in the Dill without my glasses. I was glad to learn that my eyes still work and I am not crazy. I saw a Bee. The Bees are coming back.

Bees are smart. They know who is growing those flowers. I have been given, while gardening, an affectionate bee nudge more than once. The Bees are making a comeback in Illinois too.
Native bee species spotted for first time since ’90s
 By Sandi Doughton 
Bee enthusiasts beat the bushes Sunday to see if the colony of rare insects is still active, and biologists are planning conservation efforts.
More information is available at www.xerces.org/bumblebees. If you would like to be involved in our citizen science project moving forward, you can sign up at www.bumblebeewatch.org.

If you think you have observed the western white tailed bumblebee, please send a photo and site information. Please note that we cannot verify sightings without a photo, so please include one with your email. 

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

Pushing Back on the White Guy?

Carl baby, you ain't white. Your Grandfather had the KKK burning crosses at his house. STFU Carl Paladino. You are an embarrassment to Italian Americans.
Batta le manine
Ora viene papà
Si prendere confitine
Carlo si mangerà! - Nursery Rhyme
There were a number of things that surprised me in my initial research. I knew something about our nation's early antipathy toward Catholics and Italians, but I had not fully appreciated the depth of that antagonism. For example, the largest mass lynching in U.S. history took place in New Orleans in 1891 — and it wasn't African-Americans who were lynched, as many of us might assume. It was Italian-Americans.
After nine Italians were tried and found not guilty of murdering New Orleans Police Chief David Hennessy, a mob dragged them from the jail, along with two other Italians being held on unrelated charges, and lynched them all. The lynchings were followed by mass arrests of Italian immigrants throughout New Orleans, and waves of attacks against Italians nationwide. Read more...
- Author Ed Falco wrote "The Family Corleone," a "prequel" to Mario Puzo's crime family classic, "The Godfather."
When I was born, I was black.
When I grew up, I was black.
When I get hot, I am black.
When I get cold, I am black.
When I am sick, I am black.
When I die, I am black.
When you were born, You were pink.
When you grew up, You were white.
When you get hot, You go red.
When you get cold, You go blue.
When you are sick, You go purple.
When you die, You go green.
- by an Anonymous pupil of King Edward VI School, Birmingham, UK.

Mormons Are Dangerous

Philadelphia Row House
I live in a Philly Rowhouse. My door opens right onto the street.

I am hanging out at home one day minding my own business.  I hear Knock Knock on the door. I quick open it.

Standing there are two young guys who look like Tarantino Hit Men. As I was about to draw my sword in defense, I saw little name tags. It is Elders Keith and Kevin. I said "Yo guys. Where's the other K?"

Elder Keith said "We have come to share some scripture with you, Ma'am." I said "Sure. We have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God." And the scripture throwdown was on. They quoted shit at me; I quoted shit at them; they quoted shit at me...and then, I had an Epiphany.

Elders Keith and Kevin started to look a little sweaty to me. I had a moment of intense self consciousness. I realized I was standing in my doorway in my pajamas, hair uncombed, no bra, doobie in hand at 3:30 in the afternoon. And what was going on for Elders Keith and Kevin was "Oh boy. We have only been in Philly one week and we have met our first real drug addict." I resent that. I am a writer.

I was so upset by the Mormon invasion that friends from St. Philomena's decided I was in dire need of crisis counseling. We went to the Toilet Bar in Frankford. I got so drunk I was treading the fine line between ecstasy and puking. So one of the altar boys took me out in the alley and rolled me a doob. I was able to avoid puking, mellow out and explain myself. Timothy is such a thoughtful young man.

It is not that I do not like Mormons. I understand the spiritual impulse. I have read The Varieties of Religious Experience. I hang out with Quakers and they are really peculiar. I have even been known to drop acid and consult the Lawn Gnomes.

No. It is not that I don't like Mormons. No. This is what bothers me. I am a mental health consumer, occasionally medicated for public safety. I still think Mitt Romney is coming to get me. I know Mitt Romney thinks the same.

Monday, June 6, 2016

Friend of the Fetus

I just found this song. I had no idea it existed. The things I learn on the Net - just amazing.

Provided to YouTube by Smithsonian Folkways Recordings: I Am a Friend of the Foetus · Carole Rose Livingston and Mark Dann

Friend of the Fetus (Carol Rose Livingstone) 
I am no friend of the fathers and mothers
I am no friend of the sisters and brothers
I am no friend to the weak and distressed
I am no friend to the poor and oppressed. 
But I am a friend of the fetus,
A friend of incomparable worth
I am a friend of the fetus,
Right up to the moment of birth. 
Once it's a baby I will not go near it,
I will not feed it and I will not rear it.
When it is crying I won't even hear it
For I have no room in my heart for a human. 
I will not weep for it, I won't lose sleep for it,
I will not care for it, I won't be there for it,
I'll walk away from it, I won't go grey for it
I will not pray for it and I won't pay for it.

Sign of the Month - June 2016 - The Reason Rally

You choose the best sign from a surfeit of riches. I want to go to this rally next year. Got to be a hoot. 

I remain a theist. However, I think atheists have a damn good argument.

I want to give atheists some free advice. It probably does not help to call religious people crazy. Momma said "You get more flies with honey than you do with vinegar."

The first sign is from Reason Rally 2012. I like it so I put it in here anyway.

I am not sure what this sign has to do with reason or religion but it is kool. Kind of.

Sunday, June 5, 2016

Any man can lose his hat in a fairy-wind. - Irish Proverb

I need to get out more. I just found The Hat Sisters. They have been making hats for fun, charity and each other for 30 years. I love hats. The Hat Sisters can be seen in their natural habitat at Carnival in Provincetown in July.

Dirty Blues Sunday #4 - Bessie Smith

Bessie Smith earned the title of “Empress of the Blues” by virtue of her forceful vocal delivery. She often sang without a microphone and her voice could fill the largest hall. Bessie Smith danced, acted and performed comedy routines with her touring company. She was the highest-paid Black performer of her day.

Bessie Smith, aka Elizabeth Smith, was born April 15 1898?, in Chattanooga, Tennessee. She died September 26, 1937, in Clarksdale, Mississippi, from injuries sustained in a road accident. It was said that, had she been white, she would have received earlier medical treatment, thus saving her life, and Edward Albee made this the subject of his play The Death of Bessie Smith (1960).

Empty Bed Blues is the song I think of when I hear her name. Bessie Smith did not scorn the Dirty Blues. These songs were standards in every blind pig and juke joint in the South and North.

Bessie Smith sang with most Jazz and Blues musicians of the era. Bessie Smith with Orchestra (Louis Armstrong -- cornet, Fred Longshaw, harmonium) -- St. Louis Blues, Parlophone ca 1935 (British re-edition of the US Columbia, MX 140241 from 1925)

Bessie Smith's only film appearance 1929. This is the complete film co-starring Jimmy Mordecai as her gigolo boyfriend. This film fell into the public domain in 1958 due to lack of copyright renewal.

Saturday, June 4, 2016


Frank Herbert fans, do not slay me for using the Bene Gesserit litany this way. I mean it with all my heart.
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Perfect Days

And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days...

                                                                                                                                                            "...dancing up a storm," Kelly says. It's a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky. There's a little bit of mist in the distance hanging over the river. But it's a nice time."

This 1846 painting made George Caleb Bingham's career. Known around Missouri primarily as a portrait painter, he went national with The Jolly Flatboatmen with help from an East Coast arts group. Judith Brodie, curator of prints and drawings at the National Gallery, says, "If it weren't for the American Art Union, this painting may never have been painted."

Sunday, May 29, 2016

The Toilet Laws #5 - Rebuking Target

I am at a loss for words. So I will let you see what is going on at Target and say nothing. Tell what you think, if you please. Or not. Shaking my damn head.

Okay, I lied. These folks seem to be trained carefully. They say "You cannot touch me." They leave before the cops come.

What other group can take a bullhorn and do this? Maybe we should think about doing this kind of stuff at their churches?

Seems like a dance. It is The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fundamentalists.

Teenager Cold Cocks a Pervert and Gets Arrested

I love this. I would do the same to any sexpig Preacher. For those who have no patience with a half hour of perverted speechifying, I provide a short and a full version of the event for your edification.

There is a difference between Law and Justice. The Pervert Preacher got justice; Tabitha Brubaker got law.

You go, Tabitha Brubaker. Such a satisfying sound that bat makes. I wonder if the pervert came when she connected?

This Pervert Preacher denounces homosexuality and holds signs telling young women they deserve rape for not being true Christians.

Brother Dean posted YouTube video of his demonstration at Apollo High School. In the video, Dean admits he is often confronted and yelled at. He uses a megaphone to tell students they're going to hell.

It is too bad they do not teach Machiavelli in high school. 
People should either be caressed or crushed. If you do them minor damage they will get their revenge; but if you cripple them there is nothing they can do. If you need to injure someone, do it in such a way that you do not have to fear their vengeance. ― Niccolò Machiavelli
Her big mistake was that she rendered her act without thinking things through. She didn't plan accordingly to deliver her brand of "street justice" without getting caught. Perhaps she should have toked a bit more and thought it through.
All she had to do was a little homework, casing, observation, and planning.
Wait outside his place of employ/home/worship, etc after dusk donning dark clothing, leather gloves, a ski mask and a tire iron. Simply wait for him to exit into the outdoors. Ski mask over face, walk over, deliver karma across kneecaps, and cleanly escape into the night via a pre-planned getaway scheme. Lay low for a couple of days, say nothing to no one, no posts on FB, no tweets about it... discard any forensic evidence ala Dexter style... boom... done. Maybe she learned a few things for next time. :P

LONG VERSION: So you can hear and see all the shyte this pervert said to children.

Saturday, May 28, 2016

What was your first R rated film?

Mine was I Am Curious Yellow. I am older than dirt.
Seized by customs upon entry to the United States, subject of a heated court battle, and banned in numerous cities, Vilgot Sjöman’s I Am Curious—Yellow is one of the most controversial films of all time. This landmark document of Swedish society during the sexual revolution has been declared both obscene and revolutionary. It tells the story of Lena (Lena Nyman), a searching and rebellious young woman, and her personal quest to understand the social and political conditions in 1960s Sweden, as well as her bold exploration of her own sexual identity. I Am Curious—Yellow is a subversive mix of dramatic and documentary techniques, attacking capitalist injustices and frankly addressing the politics of sexuality.
- http://www.janusfilms.com/films/1165

Dirty Blues Sunday #3 - Bo Carter

Bo Carter, born Armenter Chatmon June 30 1893, is an American Delta Blues musician. He is well known since 1960 for his Dirty Blues songs. However, in 1928 he recorded Corinna Corinna. Bo Carter went blind and died busking in 1971. A life given to Music.
That's probably where everyone else got their version they recorded. Eric Clapton calls his version "Alberta, Alberta". I've even heard it called, "Sweet Maggie, Sweet Maggie". I guess you can use whatever woman's name you are trying to impress at the time. - Arkansas Red
Bo Carter was a member of the Mississippi Sheiks which Bo also managed. That group included his brother Lonnie Chatmon on fiddle and occasionally Sam Chatmon on bass, along with a friend, Walter Vinson, on guitar and lead vocals.

Our subject, however, is Dirty Blues. The filth and dirt begins now. Please Warm My Weiner recorded 1934.

For those not familiar with American slang I offer a translation. Biscuits are breasts. Biscuits, Jelly Roll, Fruit Basket - all such sweet talk. 

Released 1931.

This recording is not particularly dirty. I include it because of the classic blues guitar riff which sounds so modern and familiar. 

A White Rose for Remembrance on Memorial Day

The young dead soldiers do not speak. 

Nevertheless, they are heard in the still houses: 
who has not heard them? 

They have a silence that speaks for them at night 
and when the clock counts. 

They say: We were young. We have died. 
Remember us. 

They say: We have done what we could 
but until it is finished it is not done. 

They say: We have given our lives but until it is finished 
no one can know what our lives gave. 

They say: Our deaths are not ours: they are yours, 
they will mean what you make them. 

They say: Whether our lives and our deaths were for 
peace and a new hope or for nothing we cannot say, 
it is you who must say this. 

We leave you our deaths. Give them their meaning. 
We were young, they say. We have died; remember us. 
- Archibald MacLeish (1892-1982)
God bless all of the Folks, sung and unsung, in uniform and out, who gave their lives for our experiment in democracy. May they rest in peace and honor.

Sometimes the work of a photographer is so beautiful that no words can do it justice. So it is with the work of Eddie C. More of his photographs can be found here:

Friday, May 27, 2016


I wrote two articles on SuperBugs. Sometimes I hate to be right. This is one of those times. I wrote one in 2013 and one in 2014.

The Poster Art comes from the WPA. I am just a small voice crying in the wilderness. 

SuperBugs in Our Food


A Vast Wasteland May Soon Be Upon Us

Guess what. SuperBugs are here now.
Superbugs are routine bacteria that have learned how to avoid being killed by antibiotics. When this ability extends across multiple different types (classes) of antibiotics, the bugs are deemed multi-drug resistant (MDR) and qualify as “superbugs”.
We are now entering a dangerous time in the control of superbugs. For each of the four superbug categories we know the control solutions but ensuring these get implemented is a key challenge to our health system and society.
-. M. Lindsay GraysonProfessor of Infectious Disease, University of Melbourne
Our government as a whole dithers around worrying about who pees where and does nothing. Worst Congress ever. To be fair, I must commend Obama for his actions during the Ebola crisis. But then, Obama is not Congress.

The pharmaceutical industry works only to develop drugs they can market quickly and make a huge profit on before the inevitable class action suits arrive. Many of these superdrugs, quickly developed and marketed on TV, kill and maim people. 

Work on new antibiotics, do they? GO HERE for a report on that and maybe tell me what you think. I think the large pharmaceutical companies are little more than legal drug dealers.

Congress works on keeping people from having drugs they need as a solution in the War on Drugs. See Mike Evans for how well that is working.

Thursday, May 26, 2016

The Toilet Laws #4 - Some Sanity Enters the Scenario

Some sanity here from a Hispanic Republican. Good to see. We need more of this. More Hispanics in government and more sanity in Republicans.

I remember sane and dignified Republicans like Howard Baker and Margaret Chase Smith. Before LePage they were sane in Maine. Nice to be reminded that Republicans can be sane and intelligent. And bilingual. This woman is amazing. I can only repeat her sentiments in my second language. La famiglia è tutto

I am not far from the immigrant experience. My Grands emigrated from Italy. My Nonna never spoke English well. Many Americans are like me. We do not respond well to folks who trash immigrants. The KKK burned crosses in Italian neighborhoods when my Father was a toddler.

Art by Favianna Rodriguez.