Call it a survival kit.
The boyfriend is out of town this week, enjoying* the chilly dewiness of Portland, Oregon. (I wish I was with him – I get hungry just thinking about Portland, with all its easily accessible, diet-vanquishing, culinary goodness. Plus there’s a lot of hella rad folks who live there, and while I normally loathe good food and great people, something about the air there makes me all for it.)
I love my boyfriend, and I never find myself wishing he was gone; all the same, I cherish these times when it’s just me and the cats. It’s not that the boyfriend keeps me from doing anything, per se, but self-respect keeps me from behaving certain ways in his presence.
For example, alone, I do nothing with my hair other than washing it. The result is a blond afro which effectively doubles the size of my already-capacious noggin. I wear a wife-beater constantly – something that never fails to get me not laid in this house – and if it’s too cold, I simply toss a hoodie over the wife-beater. That’s fashion, kids.
The cover for my new album, Save Auntie
39 years ago today, light ceased radiating; the World stopped spinning, coughed up a hairball, then turned on its side and attempted to shake loose all the other furry dust berries clinging to its nipple-ly peaks. Fearful of this new creepy darkness, the World tried to catch the tail of a passing comet only to stagger badly and get singed by the fiery interloper.
But seconds before collapsing gloomily into one last catatonic stupor, the World accidentally stepped on the remote control, triggering a channel change and so discovered that there was in fact something worthwhile to watch on television.
October 5th 1969, Monty Python’s Flying Circus was unleashed onto the airwaves of the BBC … six rather handsome young gents (Terry Jones and Michael Palin from Oxford, Eric Idle, John Cleese and Graham Chapman from Cambridge and American born Terry Gilliam from a little school in Los Angeles called Occidental College) changed history itself by saving the World, and us, from sheer utter boredom.
This new DVD release of the hilarious Terry Jones directed 1979 Monty Python film starring John Cleese, Graham Chapman, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, and many others, is not the first time it has been released on VHS or DVD over the years, but this new 2 DVD reissue includes some extra bonus "immaculate" additions not seen before.
Life of Brian is so worth watching if you have never seen it before or watching again if you have already seen it. Life of Brian is the Monty Python crew at their comedic very best with a film budget to really stretch out their already hilarious TV sketches. Basically the plot outline is that "Brian," who is a lot like Jesus, is constantly getting confused with JC. Brian, who was born on the original Christmas and in the stable right next door to the Messiah, ends up spending most of his life being mistaken for the messiah.
The movie is chock full of memorable (and oft imitated) parts. The two clips below include the movie's crucifixion, ending when all break into song (always look on the bright side of life) and the hilarious scene where Brian, the reluctant messiah, is being chased by his devoted mob up the hill, where he encounters the holy man in the hole who has sworn to silence for 18 years.
Tomorrow (Jan 29th) the new Monty Python's Life of Brian - The Immaculate Edition will be available at Amoeba Music in the DVD section. Ask if you have any difficulty finding it.
I've never met a man I didn't mutilate. I only wish I had said that first.
I might be happier today.
A funny thing happened on the way to listening to some Bonzo Dog Band vinyl. I think I’ve finally found an answer to the ol’ question “When did the attitudes of the free wheelin’ 60’s shift in the 70’s, and is there an exact date when it was nailed into the proverbial American forehead?” I think the answer lies in the sound of a tuba.
Side Note: not only am I something of a record geek, I’m also a closeted history geek, and I kind of believe in what philosopher George Santayana once said: "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to have it shoved up their friggin’ asses!” (Okay, maybe it didn’t go quite like that)
Of course there was a difference between the late 60’s and the early 70’s. Perhaps not a great defining difference (at least not until disco hit big), but let’s say as different as “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter” compared to “Blue Bonnet” margarine, or olive oil to canola oil. Actually ignore that part. But there was a slight imperceptible change in attitude somewhere early on in the 70’s and I believe I‘ve uncovered, for my thesis, the linchpin date.
Of course it just dawned on me not everyone knows The Bonzo Dog Band. Created in the early 1960’s by British art-school students (art school, where all great bands begin!) the Bonzos started out playing mostly traditional jazz, early century novelty and British music hall songs.
Later they combined those elements with rock, adding touches of psychedelia and dadaism to confound the public at large. They released about 4 or 5 albums, and toured the US with The Who and The Kinks. Eventually they were aligned with Monty Python's Flying Circus, having met several future members on the set of the children's television show, Do Not Adjust Your Set, where the Bonzo’s were the resident house band. They disbanded in 1970 but had one reunion album released in 1972. There you have it … in a nutshell.