Thursday, February 25, 2016

that magic sound


("shop-talk" -- or, "first-world problems")


Some people said that about President Obama; maybe there are some people saying that, every presidential election.

After a recent Donald Trump article, the Reader Comments began with a guy over in Belgium:  "OK, if Trump wins, even I'm moving to Canada!"


Yesterday when I went to post on here, I searched for photographs I could cut-and-paste in -- I'll tell ya it's hell-and-high-water to find a nice photograph of some of these candidates.  (Except for Marco Rubio:  there are many beautiful photos of him and very few clinkers...) 

But I was looking for pictures of Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump -- I wish I had artistic talents, I'd just make my own sketches of these people, and put them on...

Wound up using a black-and-white photograph from 1973, of Donald Trump on the left, with his father on the right, on some rooftop in New York City.  And for Senator Sanders, a photograph of him walking up a flight of stairs was OK...

One Commenter I read on Wed. said, "What an election season."  I would agree with that.

A reader in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts referred to "the ruling elites in both parties who have focused all of their heart and soul on serving the insatiable needs of what Bernie Sanders calls the billionaire class."

The phrase "insatiable needs" was striking -- made you think of crazy people, or predators...or vampires...

But then I thought the word "needs" is perhaps inaccurate. 

I always remember this guy who had his kids along in a mall, and when they would express interest in buying an item he'd ask, "Now, is that a need or a want?" to try to teach them... 

It's a little hard to imagine that billionaires "need" anything from our government.  All the tax breaks and freebie hand-outs on-demand, might instead fall under the heading of "wants."


---------------- [excerpt, Sweet Soul Music, by Peter Guralnick, 1986] ----------------- DOUBLE TIME   I remember the day "I Never Loved a Man"

came out in Boston.  I had gone over

to Skippy White's Mass. Records:  Home of the Blues,

and the little speaker over the door, that was beamed to the sidewalk trade, was filled with Aretha. 

People were dancing on the frosty street...and lining up at the counter...that magic sound as the record kept playing over and over. 

It was as if the millennium had arrived. -------------------------------- [end excerpt]

I love that book.
(I wish I were Peter Guralnick...)


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