I’ve seen this once before a while back, but it’s worth sharing, because it’s twoo! It’s twoo!

Heaven is Where:
The Police are British,
The Chefs are Italian,
The Mechanics are German,
The Lovers are French
and
It’s all organized by the Swiss.

Hell is Where:
The Police are German,
The Chefs are British,
The Mechanics are French,
The Lovers are Swiss
and
It’s all organized by the Italians.

What say we check out the Caribbean Festival?

On second thought, probably not a good idea.

No further comment is necessary.

N.B. Some of the language is NSFW (very politically incorrect)

In 1957, Rock ‘n Roll was in its infancy, and, to be honest (with 20/20 hindsight) it often showed. Still, as a pre-teen, I positively loved it.

Frank Sinatra, a teen idol of the 40’s, having been somewhat smothered by the Rock ‘n Roll phenomenon back then didn’t think much of the “new music.” He shared his feelings on the subject in 1957 in a magazine called Western World:

My only deep sorrow is the unrelenting insistence of recording and motion picture companies upon purveying the most brutal, ugly, degenerate, vicious form of expression it has been my displeasure to hear and naturally I’m referring to the bulk of rock ‘n’ roll.

It fosters almost totally negative and destructive reactions in young people. It smells phony and false. It is sung, played and written for the most part by cretinous goons and by means of its almost imbecilic reiterations and sly, lewd – in plain fact – dirty lyrics, it manages to be the martial music of every sideburned delinquent on the face of the earth.

Pretty heavy stuff, no?

Fact is, back then I disliked Frank Sinatra’s music about as much as he apparently disliked Rock ‘n Roll. I thought he represented music for old farts – the stuff my parents liked. He was, to use the then-popular term, a “square.” (Yes, I’m old enough to remember when people used to say that.)

Of course, in time, Rock ‘n Roll matured, and Frank Sinatra paid attention:

In time, I matured as well, and much as dry wine is an acquired taste, so it is with Frank Sinatra. These days I find myself dumbstruck by his talent, and I marvel at his mastery of song.

Then again, maybe it’s just because I have reached Old Fartdome status.

Doo-be-doobie-doo.

Linked by Doug Ross. Thanks!

I didn’t post anything yesterday, because I had no internet access. I thought it would return in the normal course as it often does. It didn’t, and this morning we also had no phone service (both brought to you by Comcast). After enduring several prompt-ridden phone calls, I learned from a real person that my modem had to be “reset.” I cannot help but wonder what caused the modem to become “unset” in the first place. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t something I said.

Anyway, I schlepped upstairs to where the modem is to “reset” it. Wouldn’t you think that in a sane world there would be a button on the front of the modem that says, “Reset”? No such luck. I was crawling around on the floor sticking a bent paper clip into a teeny weeny hole in the back of the modem. Amazingly, the bent paper clip in the little hole fixed my internet and telephone problem.

There are just so many things I don’t understand.

Today’s screw-up was particularly awful.

I just wish he and his wife would just go away, far away, and stay away.

Swiped from Denny’s site.

Late lunch/early dinner here. Time to rest. This retirement thing is a bitch.

I cannot begin to count the times I wish I’d had this on the tip of my tongue. Maybe it’s my imagination, but it seems that its utility grows in direct proportion to the number of words uttered by The One.

My father didn’t finish high school, and yet I believe he was the wisest man I’ve ever known. I miss him.

Read it and weep.

Stop the madness.

Anybody but Obama in 2012.