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
6/8/2025
Anything goes #31
39 responses to “Anything goes #31”
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THE SEDUCTION OF REBECCA
I started out with the usual sub-standard double lattee at Borders, because the great Firefly Cafe was closed Sundays, then a quick drive across town to the Unitarian Church. I’m not religious but I like the community aspect of it and I did meet my last paramour there last year. Hey its Indiana!-Church is almost required!
The sermon was pretty disappointing as usual, something about a neighbor cat who was hanging around the minister’s dead cat’s grave-puleeeze! This minister is so uninteresting it inspires ME to go to Divinity School to become one, even sans my belief in a god! As she talked I try to just flow with my judgements and not pile on with vicious thoughts. Hey, its INDIANA! What did I expect? (As I walked out of the big room a nice man made the mistake of asking me how I liked the sermon. I told him the best part was the great free feeling walking out when it was over. I said that if 97% of the congregation voted to hire her then I want to meet that three per cent and be their friends!)
After the “sermon” I stood around drinking coffee with my name tag which read Professional Schmoozer underneath my name. Rebecca had also just dropped in on the Unitarians as she made her rounds around the country replacing computers as part of the Year 2000 project for her veterinary hospital group. She asked me how old I was and I said 45- she was 33. Just then Angela came by signing people up for the Young Adult Group she and her friends were forming; she was probably about 27 herself (turned out to be 22). She said the group was for 18-35 year olds.
“Oh, I’m too old for that,”I said. “I’m pushing 50!”
“Oh right,” She said. “Just give me your phone number and address- you’re COMING!”
Rebecca just smiled up at me, then when Angela went away she said, “See? I didn’t give you away!”
“Well I tried to tell her,” I said. It reminded me of those scenes in the movie Crazy In Alabama where Melanie Griffith is carrying around her husband’s head in her hat box. Whenever anyone asks whats in the box she says “my husband’s head” and everyone thinks she’s joking. (Later Rebecca told me that thats how those church “young adult groups” implode: an older guy 34,35, whatever, will hit on the young chicks; they’ll be turned off and stop coming; then the younger boys will stop coming because there’s no girls; then NOBODY comes- Goodbye YAG! Well dammit I’m going to the first meeting- the new reborn 35 year old me!)
That night I called up Rebecca at her hotel and she agreed to meet me at Borders where Charley’s band was playing. We sat on the couch listening to the hilarious and talented musicians Yo Yo Pa. Somehow we started kissing, then made a general spectacle of ourselves for an hour or so. When the music wound down she asked if I wanted to go back to her hotel.
“I’ve got a couch there too,” she said.
“But whats going to happen without these fifty plus chaperones we’ve got here?” I asked. “Who’s going to be the sensible one? You?”
“Why do I always have to be the sensible one?!”
“Well I can be pretty sensible; in fact my therapist said I was too careful.”
We had a pretty fun time, pretty sensible time back at the Residence Inn.(I don’t think I’ve EVER been so eager to bury my face between a woman’s legs- must’ve been that blond pussy.) My favorite moment was when I was kissing her ear, caressing her breast and nipple with one hand while my other hand danced between her legs. She was screaming but suppressing it into a sighing, panting squeal-scream. Then she said, “You’re PERFECT”… I liked that.(Doug, sorry I didn’t get a comment from you after my last submission @ #30, what’s the point without that? Oh well, here’s another:)
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Never considered church as a venue for pickups, but if I did Unitarian would be the way to go. Wife & I attended a UU service, once, maybe twice (?) in Kansas City, for the community, not for the religion, and people were nice enough, but same as your recollection the sermon was colossally boring.
We didn’t tell anyone it was boring, though, except each other. Ha!
Blonde is nice but mostly it’s hair down there that’s a beautiful thing. Same as hair on top of a woman’s head, I don’t know who’s drawn to the Telly Savalas look.
I’m a quiet man, and sometimes I have nothing to say. Wasn’t intended as a slight. Enjoyed as always.
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Hey, I have a problem: I haven’t read any of your stories in a while, since I have limited internet now I’m not going through your daily list to find something new, and I will not read anything old, even if I didn’t read it the first time, same with ava, same with never not re-reading books, and rarely movies a second time, with the exception of “Oh Brother,” “Big Labowski,” and “Idiocracy,” at times…
Can you put a star next to a new one, are there no new ones?
Or???
I know mine on “Anything Goes” are usually old ones and I want you to read them and respond, but that’s just once a week, and an interesting genre I hope, so…
And what’s the deal? Why so many retreads every day, trying to get an archives of all your old Pathetic Life out there, or…-
This is good questionage that demands good answerage, but I’m too tuckered tonight. Which is the answer, basically, day after day. Let me percolate on it overnight and get back to you tomorrow. (:
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OK, here’s an answer that’s not necessarily better but definitely longer.
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Another blog that is always an interesting read, from filmmaker Jon Jost (“All the Vermeers In New York” was his most popular film, and actually the only one I’ve seen.) Irascible as artists were once and sometimes still are:
https://jonjostvol2.wordpress.com/
Much of it is travel though there’s an interesting post up now on his 82nd birthday.
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Whoa, that is good, especially his latest entry. I generally avoid celebrity blogs because they’re usually all about puffing themselves up, but this guy Jost is writing for the love of it, not for the love of Jost. Adding it to my surf cycle.
You also nudged me toward JWZ a while back, thanks again. Any other great blogs you’re reading that I ought to?
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I share what I like and at the moment there’s not a lot much else!
Jost seems like he could make a claim to being the “last underground filmmaker,” he just makes things. When digital cameras made it even cheaper to make films, he started to make a LOT of films. I’ve bought (yes, bought!) several of them from Vimeo but I haven’t yet had the time and inclination to watch them yet.
Something about this — a filmmaker who just wants to make films, who makes them for and with whatever he has, and sells them online direct to fans who might buy them — seems like the idealistic view of what the internet was supposed to be like when I first heard about it. Instead of, you know, (points everywhere around us)
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Sounds downright ziney — doing it to do it, not necessarily for the money. One thing I like lots about the Kagi search engine is, you can search specifically for “small web” results, sites that aren’t ad-bloated and algorithm-driven. Decent results, too.
Jost’s All the Vermeers In New York is on my list, and if I like it I’ll circle back to the Vimeo collection.
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I comment on a couple of sites, and I don’t remember whether I’ve posted this vid on this site. Doesn’t matter; genius can be repeated without harm. SNL, 1976. The most gentlemanly of the Beatles with his friend, another gentlemanly sort.
https://duckduckgo.com/?q=paul+simon+george+harrison+snl&atb=v341-1&ia=web
jtb
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> I comment on a couple of sites
Wait, you’re two-timing me?
Thanks for the fine music, and the non-YouTube link that lets me choose where I watch. I chose Daily Motion.
I strongly dislike YouTube, for its frustrating interface, its obscenely anti-factual algorithm, its relentless advertising, its eagerness to strike down alleged copyright violators, and especially its near-complete monopoly of videos on-line. YouTube’s domination of video is, I’d wager, more complete than Google’s domination of search, to the point that “watching a video” is basically a synonym for “watching YouTube.”
Dismantle Google, is the t-shirt I want to wear.
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“I comment on a coupla sites is actually geriatric speak for “I can’t remember what I had for breakfast so how should I remember what I’ve commented before?” And who the hell comments on porn sites? About music?
I’ll try to avoid YouTube, but I’m not sure it’s always possible.
jtb
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It’s close to impossible to avoid YouTube, if you’re watching pictures that move online. That’s the problem. I hate ’em, but I’m at youtube.com at least once or twice daily, damn it.
I’ve never commented on a porn site, but I’ve read the comments, and they’re so reliably stupid I could probably be King of the Pornsite People.
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I wrote a longish comment here and it went the way of free ketchup at McDonalds. I think it was an offer to chip in on business cards for you that said “King of the Pornsite People” featuring a fair sized penis intersecting with a highly decorated crown in the center. It’s not as charming the second time around, but I didn’t want to just leave it hanging, lost in space and time. Stroke on, your majesty.
jtb
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No stroke for me, please. My uncle had one of those, and it seemed to be no fun.
They don’t have free ketchup at McDonald’s any more? Fuckers.
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The ketchup story is from 1969. I was writing for a newspaper, and three of us stopped for some burgers and fries at McD’s. G decided he wanted ketchup with his fries, and went back inside to grab some. They charged him three cents. He returned to the car and said, “I didn’t know McDonalds was a Jewish name.”
I can assure you that G is not anti-Semitic. It just popped into his head. He’s now a reasonably well-knows Northwest writer. I crewed for him on his modest sailboat in Wednesday night races on Lake Washington. I’ve not seen him for something approaching forty years.
John
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What I ask of an ethnic wisecrack is that it not be mean or intended to hurt. Also helps if it’s funny. G’s joke meets all the criteria.
The ketchup was free when I worked at McD, 50 years ago. Might be mistaken but I don’t remember eating any McDonald’s in several years. They don’t have humans taking orders any more, and I can’t figure out the kiosks, so alas, I’ve been forced to eat healthier.
Were you a lousy sailor? Why has the mysterious G never again needed you to trim his yar or whatever?
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I was an inexperienced sailor. Most of the crews were 2-person crews because weight matters in 24-foot sailboats. G usually put me on the tiller. It’s not an Einstein job: know where the wind is coming from and keep the sail full. Direction is only important in a general way. It’s a little trickier into the wind, but the skip will tell you when to tack then “remind” you, “Keep the damn sail full.”
My friend M sailed his 26-foot sailboat across the Atlantic, stopping for a few months in a Central American country to help them recover from a devastating earthquake. It was just him and his wife, all the way across the Atlantic to the Mediterranean Sea and, a year later, back. Obviously, through the Panama Canal both ways. That is a tiny boat and a big fucking ocean. M was best man at my second wedding. I’m not planning a third and still trying to keep the sail full with decreasing success.
jtb
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I can feel the salt in my face and hear nautical music as I read your reply. Flutes mostly, I think.
So how does sailing work, the very basics. Like, you need to go north, but the wind is blowing south — how the hell do you get there? And maybe more complicated, what if the wind is blowing north-by-northwest — you somehow monkey with the sails to make the boat go north?
Just seems to me like you’d need a frickin’ engine.
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By this time, Steely Dan was touring, but seldom with all the same people who recorded the original. It doesn’t matter. They were preserving the 60s and 70s and anticipating the millennium and the end of the rock age, sounding damn fine doing both.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UfZWp-hGCdA&list=RDUfZWp-hGCdA&index=1
jtb
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Telling you true, this is a song I completely took for granted when it was a hit. Pleasant enough, but just background music for the ’70s, that’s all. Same for Steely Dan in general.
You have, with some earlier posts, got me to reconsider. SD became the background music because they darn-well captured the era’s spirit and vibe and beat. There’s serious art happening here.
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You said it more clearly and succinctly than I did. Steely Dan was an odd consortium. The business and musical decision makers, from the beginning, were Donald Fagen and Walter Becker. Mr Becker was smarter than he looked and Mr Fagen wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. They had fifty or sixty members before Mr Becker died and are still playing today. They take the stage about nine at a time, but it’s a little different for every mini-tour (they don’t tour much anymore). Nonetheless, they’ve managed to drag the 70s out 50 years now and to create a band business model that nobody else really follows. Sure, the Beatles hired Sheila Bromberg to play the harp and had dozens of specialist players over their 20 or so albums, but the Dans count their players like the Romans counted their Legions. The cause us to ask, “What is a band?” The Dans are either down to one member or down to sixty. It’s not an easy count.
But it sure is a fine listen.
John
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One wonders, however do they split the royalties?
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Since about the 4th album, it’s been a two-way split. Everybody else is on salary with, from time to time, a bonus for exceeding projected sales figures. That’s for recording. Then, they get paid on a per-gig basis for the tours. Since the two principals generally write (or at least arrange) the songs, the royalties, per se, go to them or their heirs and assigns.
jtb
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Sounds fair I guess. What’s blatantly unfair is that my ass itches a lot this morning, but that’s neither here nor there. Well, actually it’s there, now with ointment on it so it’s sliding around in the recliner.
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Doug, there’s nowhere to reply above, and I don’t have a very interesting reply anyway. I was a sailing novice 40 years ago and haven’t sailed since. I will only summarize at the highest level. The idea is to catch the wind and use your sail(s) and tiller and rudder to impart forward motion to the boat. That’s what the Donovan song is about, using forward progress of a boat as a metaphor for forward motion in love and life. Remember that Europeans invaded the Americas with boats that had no engines except the wind, and the wind was seldom directly behind them. I think this translation (that’s what it’s called) is best explained with diagrams and physics and I’m incapable of understanding enough to explain it to myself. But sailors figured it out. You never point directly into the wind: you use the force of the wind and advance at angles. This is called “tacking”. For more information you’ll need to ask a real sailor. Just keep in mind that when you change course, and the boat turns (and the boom at the bottom of the sail translates the sail to a different position, changing the forward course of the boat), duck. When you hear the captain say “Coming about”, for god’s sake, watch your head and upper body or you’ll be boomed into some very cold water and sailboats do not have a reverse gear.
Ahoy matey. jtb
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This is a perfect summary of a few things I’d already known but forgotten and several things I’d never known and might even remember. You’re a fine ‘splainer, man.
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Ah, hell. Brian Wilson.
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BRIAN Wilson tells the story of how Don Henley once came backstage after a concert. The Eagles co-founder arrived clutching his copy of Pet Sounds, the Beach Boys’ classic 1966 album, and told Wilson how much their music had inspired him when he was younger.
Keen to have Wilson autograph the album, he watched as Wilson picked up a Sharpie and wrote: “To Don – thanks for all the great songs.” Henley turned to leave but Wilson called him back and, grabbing the record, crossed out “great” and replaced it with “good”.
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Oh man, that’s a great great *great* story, and I want it to be true!
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Here, for posterity, is the exchange the writer of “Heroes and Villains,” “God Only Knows,” and “In My Room” had with interviewer Mark Voger:
Q. Have you seen any good movies lately?
A. Well, I’ve only seen one in the last couple of years. It’s called Norbit by Eddie Murphy.
Q. How did you like it?
A. Fantastic movie. Very funny.
Q. What’s your favorite movie?
A. Norbit.
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Well, you know what this means: Norbit goes on the watchlist.
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Well, yeah, that sucks. Bad vibrations this morning.
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I’ve commented on Tom Waits before. If you want a bio of his rise and fall, I’m sure there’s one out here. Sorry, but the best song I could find is on YouTube. Waits, in his 20s, seemed incapable of writing a bad song. This is the first song I heard him sing and it’s still my favorite. Waits rose toward the top, releasing his first five albums, every one a winner, between 1973 and 1977. By the time critics and the press took notice, he’d started on a downhill slide — it wasn’t all shit, but it was nothing like the first five. It’s a sort of a sad story, genius turned to imitation. This song is from his fourth album, Small Change. The lyrics are scrolled at the bottom for your listening convenience. I suppose it’s a little like the Brian Wilson story, without the mansions and without the Wrecking Crew. But for five years, nobody could top him. Here’s “Invitation to the Blues”.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ag2hddV1hE4
jtb
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Already have the blues, so I guess the invitation’s been accepted.
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. . . and I treat this site as a serious social commentary blog, so we ought to have an appropriate death notice for Brian Wilson. He and Phil Spector (separately) changed the way songs were recorded, and made the recording studio into the most powerful musical instrument in the world. I suppose that by now there are a thousand obits for Brian floating through the cosmos of the Web, and who needs one more? The same could be said of movies, but you and your movie guys write the thousandth movie review all the time. I’m barely marginally qualified to write this site’s Brian obit, but if nobody else does, I’m going to give it a shot. As you know, mi amigo, I take this shit seriously. But not so seriously that all the fun leaks out.
Brian Wilson didn’t surf. There’s the first sentence. My next opportunity to write will be Sunday or Monday night. I’ll check in to see whether someone else has written the second. If not, you’ll hear from me.
Su Amigo,
Juan-
I’ll have the week’s obits later today, but I haven’t found one that does justice to Brian Wilson. That’s for you to write, and I’ll look forward to reading it.
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Brian Wilson shit on a plate and served it to his father for dinner. Top that, Mozart!
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From the fine journal Far Out:
“Sometimes, I provoked my dad. Once I took a shit on a plate and brought it to my dad. ‘Here’s your lunch,’ I said,” Wilson recalled.
The more I know about this guy, the more I love him.
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In defense against spam and bots, comments with attachments or multiple links require my approval, which might delay things.
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