Let’s see what happens when your host (me) has nothing to say, and instead it’s open mike night. Step right up, speak your mind, tell a story, sing a song, whatever.
once weekly, usually on Saturdays
6/15/2025
Anything goes #32
29 responses to “Anything goes #32”
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“Liberal Royalty” Well, no shit? I expect a full report, Holland, I’m sure it was a great event to crash.
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Not quite, not quite as wonderful as if it hit Washington DC, but just ponder the brave and brighter new world that could’ve come from a Tomahawk missile hitting the Hamptons yesterday.
And did you catch the byline, where ‘reporter’ Theodore Schleifer shares the giddy news that he’s getting married in October?
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What, you didn’t get your invite yet? I’ve already ironed my tux
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THE SEX ADVICE MAN
Dear Advice Man,
What is it with us older men who want to “capture” these free-spirited younger woman? The chick shows us some interest, we fall in love, then after she gets a little experience she goes off on her carefree way. How can a guy KEEP one of these babes?
Older not Wiser
Dear Older,
Often when an older man gets a younger woman you soon hear him complaining about how “immature” she is.Some older men think they don’t want women their age because they have a lot of baggage, but the baggage of youth and inexperience is a pretty big pile itself. Maybe you could knock her up and hide her from the abortionist? That could get you a decade or two. (Whatever you do never let her see the decrepid old man who you really are.)Dear Advice Man,
I gave my girlfriend what she called the “epiphany of all orgasms” and the next day she left me for another man. A month later she came back to my bed and after she came she called me The Orgasm King. Then she gave me a goodbye blowjob and I never saw her again. What gives?
The King
Dear King,
Once you hit the top thats it, its all downhill from there. Your girlfriend sounds like she likes to come and go. Get over her.Dear Advice Man,
I’m writing you because I can’t afford real therapy, maybe you can help me. I’m 23 years old and have never had an orgasm! (One trooper went down there for Three Hours with no luck.) In my one-night-stands I usually just fake it because it gets tiresome. Each guy thinks HE’ll be the one to “make me a woman” but no one has.
No, I haven’t been molested or abused. What should I do? Is it a trust issue? Do I need therapy? (I’ve never had a lover over twemty-six years old)
Want to Come
Dear Want,
Its not you, its the sex partners you choose, ie, bad lovers. Find a lover over 30, or better yet over 40 and I can practically guarantee that there are many occaisions of satisfying pleasure and release in your future. Maybe I should hook you up with the Orgasm King above?
(And though I hesitate to send you over to the other side, lord knows they’ve gotten enough of our women already, you might consider making love with a WOMAN, helping you get in touch with your own body, recognizing what it is that you really like.)-
The prudish feminist and especially the anti-father in me got momentarily queasy at “knock her up and hide her from the abortionist,” but I still laughed. A laugh overrules all the rules.
There’s the joy of being male — millions, maybe billions of women wonder how to have an orgasm, but I never had to wonder, and didn’t need an instruction manual or a mirror to find my way around.
Never was crowned “The Orgasm King” but my performance got good reviews from my wife and *two* of the other six women in my life. That’s almost half positive, far better ratings than I’ve earned in any other aspect of life.
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Ogler King (Without A Crown)
I’m probably the biggest ogler in town, a people watcher, girl watcher, and okay, a tits and ass watcher. I’m on the beauty patrol constantly watching for pretty faces and bodies. Sometimes I sit in my car outside the grocery story with a rating system and can only leave after reaching my quota of luxuriantly shaped flesh.
When I see a knockout who has it all I want to interview her and ask what it’s like being a sex goddess in yoga pants and does it bother you that men, and others, drink you in lustfully? (Once in the Eugene Costco I saw a woman with a glorious ass and followed her up an aisle, sometimes I’ll make multiple passes by women with nice asses.)
On a trip to Eureka recently I got to look at then talk to the sexiest piece of ass in the store, a knockout in every way. I went back and passed her by from all angles a couple times then found us both in the bulk section. (I asked her opinion about which was healthier, low fat or whole fat yogurt, and she said low fat, of course!)
In the oglers’ eye we are actually looking for imperfections: ass checks out great, tits oh yeah, face not so much, onward.
What is the most beautiful thing, image, in the universe? A woman’s body of course.
If I signed my name to this, admitting that I’m the dirtiest old man, would I get points for honesty? Ha, no way. Those who know me might say, “Well, I knew that,” or “Yeah, that makes sense.”
Once in Mexico I was in a cafe with a couple, which included the most beautiful woman in town, and I could see her boyfriend looking. When I lived in the hills with a girlfriend we would be getting along really well, but when we came to town and she caught me looking, great fights were spawned.
So it doesn’t matter: men look, everyone else also and me most of all.
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See, this is what makes you king of the oglers. We all ogle, but saying it in mixed company is considered inappropriate, and hearing it from other men always sounds lowbrow. When you craft it into good writing, though, it becomes litrachur.
I’m discreet about it, but cheerfully and perpetually ogle old women and young girls, skinny and fat, pretty and plain and women conventionally judged unattractive — they’re all attractive to me, red and yellow black and white. Hell, I’ve fantasized about that blonde liar who works for Trump.
Great picture of your mom, btw.
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my mom at 19 does look like a lot of fun, the saucy wench:
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That’s a nice piece of Oedipussy.
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I’ve just paused for the briefest moment of silence, mostly for pushing out a fart.
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Bolshevik bee seizes the means of production
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Bee the change you want for the world!
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My deepest thoughts and prayers go out to the hive for their loss.
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Doug, this is a tape of the middle stages of the recording of God Only Knows. It’s kinda long, but get to the one minute mark and play until the two minute mark. Again, there is a lot of recording to go, but I swear I hear our water dispenser keeping time from time to time. And this is God Only Knows. This probably means that buried five or ten layers deep in the final cut of God Only Knows is our friend the water dispenser keeping time, forgotten, alone, but right on the beat. See what you think.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DVUBpzlELOg
John
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I’m not hearing it, sorry. It’s icky, too, like the making of sausage or legislation, or a red-hot naked lady showing me her drippy tampon. Can you give me a timestamp where you hear it?
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1:20 for about 9 seconds and throughout the cut.
jtb
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I hear it first at 1:20 off and on (it’s the beat: it’s gonna be off and on) for about 9 seconds. And I hear beauty there throughout the cut, like a wonderful house half done, so you can see the double insulation and the expert wiring. Actually, it sounds pretty much like any other great song half finished. It’s made of individual notes made into phrases , tempo changes, a hard bassline, some soft strings, etc. None of them individually make much sense or have even a hint of beauty, but knowing what this became I do hear the proto-beauty. I’m afraid I missed the tampons.
jtb
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I sent you time stamps and comments and the whole comment errored out.
John
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. . . and then came back again 20 minutes later.
I should let this go, but you’re a particularly bright guy. You must know that scenes from movies without the background music, sometimes without the extras, sometimes without full makeup are viewed by the director and the art director and the makeup artist and lots of other people to make sure the scene is properly blocked and no drop-in dialog is needed and for a hundred other reasons. There’s still art there, but it is un-integrated.
jtb
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I hear something, a clicky noise with a hint of echo. Hear it often, and other clicky sounds like half a tambourine shake between sentences when Wilson’s talking. What to make of it, though, I do not know. He knew what to make of it and did a swell job.
Michelangelo hammers thousands and thousands of chips off a chunk of marble, and eventually he’s made that skinny naked boy with curly hair. It’s awesome when he’s finished, but while he’s working on it I can’t tell good hammering from bad hammering.
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The studio that Brian used (and lots of people -Sonny and Cher, Jan and Dean, Glen Campbell, many more) loved click tracks. The purpose of recording with a click track was to make sure that you were moving at the same speed throughout the song. It’s easy to drift slower or faster over the course of a three minute song.
So when you hear the studio version of a recording, sometimes the click track is there in the background. The click track never makes it to the final tape that cuts the record, but everybody playing on the record can hear it while they’re recording. That’s what you might be hearing.
jtb
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Never knew that, but after you’ve explained it of course it makes sense. You could write about this stuff for a living, man!
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OK, I wrote a long paragraph about click tapes 90 minutes ago when I wrote the rest of these comments. They all disappeared, but eventually all but one returned and the click tape is the missing comment. Frequently, when studio musicians are creating a background for singers to sing over (see also: Beach Boys), they’ll use a click tape that they can hear but that doesn’t register on the master tape that the singers will be singing to. The click tape ensures that the pace or cadence of the music doesn’t vary throughout the song. There is a tendency for a large ensemble to slowly speed up or slow down over the course of an 8 or 10 minute song. If the studio is using a click tape, and if you are listening to the studio-side of the recording, you’ll frequently hear that click click click. If you are listening to the master side, you won’t hear the click. I guess I’m used to hearing a click tape, and just sort of block it out, but I’ll listen again and see if that’s what you’re hearing.
jtb
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Is this the disappeared comment? It’s in a different subthread, but it’s there…
What’s your well-read perspective on Murry Wilson? Just from that five minute audio clip I’m ready to declare him Daddy Dearest.
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Yes, that’s the lost comment, and it’s generally called a click track, which I called it the first time, rather than a click tape. I’ve read a few books about the Beach Boys, but I didn’t follow them like I did Leonard Cohen or Bob Dylan or They Might Be Giants or a couple of British groups. Murry Wilson fucked up the Beach Boys and their careers AND their publishing rights big time. He had no discernable talent, as opposed to his progeny, and the boys spent perhaps 25 years litigating their publishing rights after Murry sold them off without the “boys” permission (the boys were all in their 20s when Murry sold some or all of their publishing rights). He didn’t even get them interested in music when they were younger: Brian organized the guys and they were pretty much self-motivated.
Murry Wilson was an asshole who tried to get rich off his talented sons and more or less succeeded but wasn’t associated with the band during most of their productive years. Brian kept firing him and he kept coming back until he died of a heart attack at 55.
I really came to the Beach Boys through the Wrecking Crew which generally admired Brian and liked the band.
John
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For me, the Beach Boys were on the soundtrack all my life and still are, with catchy pop stuff that never seems to get old, along with more innovative stuff, thanks to Brian. Yesterday was my first introduction to his father, and it’s making me think that Brian’s infamous head issues weren’t just rotten luck.
Probably it’s all common knowledge, but it takes something extra special or extra crazy to make me give a damn about celebrities’ lives, and this schmuck Murry Wilson is pissing me off. Hell, I dreamed about him last night, and it wasn’t sweet dreams.
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Brian lost hearing in one ear because his old man hit him in the head with a plank. Many of Brian’s songs aren’t my cup of tea, but anybody who can write and record God Only Knows can go in any Hall of Fame in the world. He has a dozen songs like that, and even if I don’t listen to the dozens of other songs he wrote and recorded, the best of them is the best of music. I was blessed with supportive parents, but Brian was blessed with supportive brothers. Brian’s support system had a longer shelf life. I feel comfortable and justified celebrating his life and accomplishments and listening to his music through my cans as I nod off in my chair.
I appreciate this conversation with you and have enjoyed it. I don’t think of the Beach Boys as celebrities: I think of them as artists, and I do give a damn about art and the people who create it.
John
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Talking music and musicians with you is always fun and educational. People are amazing, to come through that and do what Brian Wilson did. Here’s his fine cover of “Shortnin’ Bread”, which I’ve had on replay for two hours now.
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