Spreading confusion over the internet since 1994
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I took Ghost Of Myself on April 29, 2014 at 09:19PM
and processed it in my digital darkroom on April 30, 2014 at 02:47PM
Dance Now At Every Chance
Tax breaks are sacrosanct, responsible budgets be damned…
The next time a Republican even comes near climbing aboard the deficit cross, you have permission to laugh in their face. The party of paying for things has proposed $310 billion in permanent, unpaid for tax provisions today.
The party of austerity for children, veterans, the elderly, and the sick claimed they were only cutting people off in order to be “Responsible with the Deficit”. This is the same deficit that they told us didn’t matter when they were in charge, but after they fled responsibility in the wake of the 2008 crash as a Democratic President took office to clean up their mess, suddenly the deficit was all Republicans could think about. So sorry about your starving baby, but the DEFICIT.
The DEFICIT is the number one priority, they somberly and relentlessly intoned any time they got near a microphone.
And yet today, Republicans proposed tax provisions without offsets that Ranking Member Sander Levin (D-MI) points out would add “a combined $310 billion to the deficit,” which “represents more than half of the entire federal deficit this year.”
(click here to continue reading GOP Hypocrites Busted For Trying to Add $310 Billion to the Deficit Via Tax Breaks.)
watch the statement yourself…
track list:
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I took The Smithsonian Collection of Classic Jazz on April 27, 2014 at 09:02PM
and processed it in my digital darkroom on April 28, 2014 at 02:05AM
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I took Toke Up On The Terrace on September 29, 2013 at 01:41PM
and processed it in my digital darkroom on April 28, 2014 at 01:57AM
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I took Below Kinzie Street Bridge on April 25, 2014 at 06:39PM
and processed it in my digital darkroom on April 28, 2014 at 03:19PM
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I took Life’s What You Make It on April 25, 2014 at 06:26PM
and processed it in my digital darkroom on April 26, 2014 at 02:02AM
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I took RCA phonograph on March 08, 2014 at 01:31PM
and processed it in my digital darkroom on March 13, 2014 at 05:51AM
All Work And No Play Makes Jack A Dull Boy
Speaking of nostalgia, will this exhibit trigger a typewriter renaissance like the vinyl record resurgence? I’m ancient enough to have written nearly all of my college papers and other writings on typewriters; computers were not common tools until my senior year, and I never owned a computer myself until after I moved to Chicago. I took a typing class as a freshman at Travis High School1 so I always felt comfortable with my fingers on a keyboard. As an aside, before Mac OS X, when it was easier to crash your computer by adding system extensions and control panels, I had an INIT that made typing on my Mac sound like the click-clack of a typewriter. At least you knew when you pressed a key…
The labels alone make a racket: Meiselbach, Blickensderfer, Bar-Lock. No wonder the show-namers at the New Britain Museum of American Art call their fabulous little exhibition of antique typewriters “Click! Clack! Ding!”
…
The nickel-plated Odell No. 2, an 1890s machine made in Chicago, looks like a cross between a meat slicer and a sextant. The Lambert No. 1, a 1902 invention that retains its handsome wooden case, resembles an old-fashioned telephone and is about the same size. Even some of the typewriters featuring keyboards and more familiar designs are not what you would describe as “user-friendly”: Where exactly is the paper supposed to go? Why can’t I see the ribbon?
It turns out that the earliest typewriters were “blindwriters,” like the 1876 Sholes & Glidden No. 1 that is the oldest item in “Click! Clack! Ding!” A large and ornate cousin of the sewing machine, the Sholes & Glidden did not permit the typist to see the surface of the paper, which was imprinted — uppercase only — from below. (The operator could enjoy the golden garlands and rosy blossoms delicately painted on the machine’s black casing, however.) As for the specimens without keyboards, they were the very first portables. Known as “index” typewriters, they work with a pointer-like device that selects a letter and another that presses it into the paper — a perfect machine for the two-finger typist.
These early technologies soon gave way to improvements — uppercase and lowercase in the Smith-Premier No. 1 and the Bar-Lock No. 2; “visible” typing in the Williams No. 4 and the Meiselbach Sholes Visible. “Click! Clack! Ding!” conveys some of the history and significance of the typewriters on view, selected from the nearly 300 owned by a Connecticut collector, Greg Fudacz. There is another Connecticut connection as well: Hartford, the home base for Royal and Underwood, was once called “the typewriter capital of the world.” Other brands came from other towns, including Bridgeport, Derby, Middletown, New Haven and Waterbury.
…
The 1906 Chicago Model 1 looks less antique than the 1922 Noiseless Portable. And you can’t help wondering what today’s computers would look like if the Odell No. 2, with its circular base and saw-tooth bar of letters, had won out in the turn-of-the-century marketplace for writing machines.
(click here to continue reading A Review of ‘Click! Clack! Ding! The American Typewriter’ at the New Britain Museum of American Art – NYTimes.com.)
Underwood Typewriter
Dominion Typewriter Co.
Delitia – Buffalo Milk Butter – Eataly Chicago
Who knew I was setting a trend?
From dairy giant Land O’Lakes to tiny creameries, the butter business is booming.
Per capita U.S. butter consumption has hit highs not seen in about 40 years. The once demonized fat is downright de rigueur in cooking circles, a star on celebrity chef shows. It has become a natural food darling.
Butter owes much of its comeback to its simplicity. Consumers have become increasingly picky about processed foods with lists of indecipherable ingredients.
“There has been a complete resurgence of butter since at least 2008, and it really has everything to do with ‘real food,’ ” said Melissa Abbott, culinary insights director at the Hartman Group, a market researcher. “There’s been a backlash against margarine and other processed spreads.”
…
Part of butter’s renaissance stems from the rise of TV programing about food and chefs, particularly on the Food Network, said Heather Anfang, vice president of U.S. dairy food marketing at Land O’Lakes. “The vast majority of those chefs use butter, so there’s a lot of talk about butter,” she said.
Consumers listen to chefs. “They are the leading food educators of our time,” said Hartman’s Abbott.
The foodie focus on TV and certain Internet sites has consumers paying more attention to details, educating themselves on ingredients and reading labels. “They have a strong desire to know what’s in their food,” Anfang said. “And they want a simple label.”
A product can’t get much less complex than butter. It’s made from two basic ingredients: sweet cream and salt, or just cream, of course, if it’s unsalted butter.
(click here to continue reading Butter’s comeback is churning big sales – chicagotribune.com.)
Nordic Creamery – Goat Butter
I’m kidding of course, but to be honest, I’ve never had a refrigerator in my home that didn’t have butter in it. What has changed is that there are many more options of good, quality butters these days. Land O’Lakes is not the only option, thankfully.
Mrs O’Leary’s Butter Cow
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I took Use Marine Channel 13 or 16 on April 25, 2014 at 06:13PM
and processed it in my digital darkroom on April 26, 2014 at 03:33PM
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I took Lost Time Is Not Found Again on April 20, 2014 at 07:07PM
and processed it in my digital darkroom on April 25, 2014 at 05:45PM
My photo doesn’t do this cover justice…
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I took Truckin’ My Blues Away – Blind Boy Fuller on April 23, 2014 at 05:58PM
and processed it in my digital darkroom on April 24, 2014 at 03:10AM
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I took Flowing Fancy Free on April 18, 2014 at 03:48PM
and processed it in my digital darkroom on April 18, 2014 at 09:11PM
Does this ever happen to you? You’ve owned a piece of music1 in your library for a while, and you like it, but your relationship to the songs is tenuous, ephemeral, noncommittal. And then for whatever reason, you rediscover that particular artifact, and it grips you, forces you to play it over and over, compels you to swirl the songs in your ears. Is it that certain music takes a few plays before it sinks in? Is it a factor of your changing brain? The music is the same, but your response to it has altered, deepened.
Last week, a song came on my iTunes shuffle while I was photostrolling, a song from Guy Clark’s Old No. 1 LP. I had added this album to my library July 15th, 2008, the same day I added Nigeria 70 Lagos Jump, Ry Cooder’s I, Flathead, Alejandro Escovedo’s Real Animal, and had played Old No. 1 a few times since then, but I couldn’t say it was a particular favorite of mine. I had played it five or six times, and particular songs shuffled a few more times than that, but nothing more.
However, last week, that particular song smacked me2 and would not relinquish its hold on my imagination. So I was compelled to listen to it a few times, and then enticed to listen to the entire album multiple times. Great tunes through and through. My favorites are L.A. Freeway, She’s Ain’t Going Nowhere, A Nickel for the Fiddler, Desparados Waiting on the Train, Like a Coat From the Cold. Maybe others too. The shaggy-dog story on Texas, 1947, about putting a nickel on the train tracks as a six year-old boy has some great lines, as does That Old Time Feeling. What I’m saying is there are no skippable songs on Guy Clark’s debut album, Old No. 1…
Maybe I’m about to start my mid-life crisis, though only if I concede to not living past the age of 120, maybe it is because so many of my formative years were spent in Austin, or maybe because I’m such a fan of Townes Van Zandt, but for whatever reason, I am adding this album to that best albums of 2014 post that I will probably never get around to writing…
Guy Clark pushes a fading, black and white photograph across the table. In it, a man leans against a 1939 Packard, foot propped up on the bumper in the dusty streets of Monahans, Texas. “Jack Prigg” reads the inscription on the back. He’s smiling and sharply dressed in a black suit, a gleam of success in his grin. The image is striking for its sheer contrast to the portrait of Prigg immortalized in Clark’s “Desperados Waiting for a Train,” the old, busted oil-driller crying at the kitchen table to broken memories and songs. “Well, that must have been a Sunday,” laughs Clark, looking at the photo as he carefully takes a toke from the last vestiges of a joint and lets loose a rattling cough.
The workshop in the basement of Clark’s west Nashville home collects such memories. His father’s Randall knife sits on the workbench alongside his tools for making guitars. Behind him, shelves of cassettes with handwritten labels display a country songwriters hall of fame. A black and white photo of Townes Van Zandt, his haunted eyes somehow tracking around the room, stares down from the wall. Clark pinches a clump of tobacco and begins rolling a cigarette. The 71-year-old songwriter’s eyes sharpen as he takes in the room, his lips pursed together between the faint stains of yellow on his white mustache and goatee.
“Shit, I’d go back to Texas in a second if I could break even,” he says. “But the music business is here, and if I could just pay back what they’ve given me, or advanced me, I would love to live in Texas. At this point, though, I don’t know. I’m too fucking old to move back, pack all this shit up.”
Clark’s lack of sentimentality is deceiving. What the songwriter submerges in person surfaces in the deeply personal poetry of his songs, from “Desperados Waiting for a Train,” to the elegy for his father in “The Randall Knife,” and the title track of his new album, “My Favorite Picture of You,” an ode to his wife Susanna, who passed away last year after an extended decline from cancer.
Guy and Susanna’s marriage stands as one of the great relationships in music. As strongly devoted as it was tumultuous, their union and the art it produced became the locus for a new community of songwriters that emerged in the Seventies, a wave of scrappy expatriate Texans overtaking Nashville that included Steve Earle, Rodney Crowell, and most notably, Van Zandt, whose lifelong friendships with both Clarks remain inextricable from the couple’s relationship.
Those days feel impossibly far away in the quiet of Clark’s house as he draws slowly on his cigarette.
“If you want good friends, they’re gonna cost you,” he notes as he exhales a thin line of smoke.
(click here to continue reading We Were From Texas: Guy Clark and the high price of inspiration – Music – The Austin Chronicle.)
from Thom Jurek’s review at Allmusic, where I learned that Steve Earle played on this album…3
If only every country songwriter could release a debut album as auspicious and fine as this one. Houston’s Guy Clark, well known to the outlaw movement for his poetic, stripped-to-the-truth songs about ramblers, history, the aged and infirm, the drunken, the lost, and the simple dignity of working people who confront the darkness and joy of life quietly, issued Old #1 when his compadres had already been making waves with his songs. Jerry Jeff Walker had already cut “L.A. Freeway” and other tunes by Clark, as had Gary Stewart, Billy Joe Shaver, and others. But the definitive versions come from Clark himself. On this disc with help from Emmylou Harris, fellow Houstoners (a young) Steve Earle and Rodney Crowell, guitar wizards Chip and Reggie Young, Mickey Raphael on harp, pianist David Briggs, fiddle boss Johnny Gimble, and the angel-voiced Sammi Smith, Clark executed a song cycle that is as intimate and immediate as it is quietly devastating with its vision of brokenness and melancholy, loose wild times, and unforgettable characters.…Old #1 was unequaled in 1975 for the depth of its vision and the largeness of its artistic and empathetic heart; only Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run came close to it in terms of aesthetic merit.
(click here to continue reading Old No. 1 – Guy Clark | Songs, Reviews, Credits, Awards | AllMusic.)
I’d rather listen to this album a million times more than having to plod through Born to Run again.
Footnotes:
My photo was used to illustrate this post
My photo of Boston Store used here, sans credit. I don’t care, much, because there are a lot of fun photos here. Though, it is unfortunate that this dude didn’t give credit to most of the photographers who took the photos.
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CraigsLostChicago
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