Almost midnight

So close, TCM. So close.

Shine so bright...

Shine so bright that it burns their fucking eyes.

(Unknown)

Happy Father's Day!

Hope you all have a great day!

Recent reading: The Reporter Who Knew Too Much

Another book, along with the Felder autiobiography from earlier this month, that I had partially read before setting it aside not because it wasn't any good, but because I got distracted by other shiny new toys/books. There's at least a couple more that fit into this category lying around, and now that I'm done with my spring classes and don't have a summer class, I'm hoping to get those wrapped up soon.

The Reporter Who Knew Too Much:

The Mysterious Death of What's My Line TV Star and Media Icon Dorothy Kilgallen

by Mark Shaw

Dorothy Kilgallen was one of the most famous and influential journalists of her day, but today is tragically largely forgotten. But before her untimely death in 1965, Kilgallen wielded immense power. She had a successful newspaper column and was seen weekly on television as a panelist on What's My Line. She was a top investigative journalist and covered a number of high profile cases, including the Sam Sheppard trial. Ernest Hemingway called her "one of the greatest women writers in the world" and the New York Post described her as "the most powerful female voice in America". 

Kilgallen was a natural. She dropped out of college, went to work at the newspaper that also employed her father, and never looked back. At the height of her power she also made some dangerous enemies, including FBI director J. Edgar Hoover, Frank Sinatra, and according to this book, mobsters who eventually had her killed.

Kilgallen died November 8, 1965 at the age of 52 due to a deadly mixture of alcohol and barbiturates. What was never determined was how and why this lethal combination was ingested. The coroner left it at "circumstances undetermined", but Shaw argues that Kilgallen was murdered due to the investigation she was conducting into the assassination of President John Kennedy, which she unfortunately had been very vocal about. Kilgallen had become suspicious beginning with Jack Ruby's easy access to Lee Harvey Oswald and had supposedly linked both Ruby and Oswald to a New Orleans mob boss. She didn't buy the idea that Oswald acted alone and may have been about to publicly expose JFK's assassination as a mob hit, revenge not on the president but on his brother Robert Kennedy, the attorney general. One significant aspect of Kilgallen's death is that her Kennedy assassination file disappeared at the same time and was never seen again.

According to Shaw, the hit actually traces back to family patriarch Joseph Kennedy Sr., who enlisted the mob through Sam Giancana to help deliver votes in key states during the 1960 election. In return for helping deliver the presidency, it was expected that Bobby's relentless pursuit of organized crime figures (including the NOLA Don, who he'd had deported at one point) would go away. When it didn't, the mob felt used and betrayed, and that meant payback. Kilgallen not only apparently made this connection, but had attended Jack Ruby's trial, interviewed Ruby during the trial, and felt that his mob-approved lawyer, Melvin Belli, punted his defense. She also disputed the findings of the Warren Commission identifying Oswald as having acted alone in the assassination. Shaw posits that if Kilgallen had been able to complete her investigation and reveal her findings to the world, she could have changed history.

Shaw looks at a number of suspects with motives to silence Kilgallen before settling on the mob. It's a compelling case because of the widespread damage that could have been done to a number of individuals - including Hoover - had her findings been made public. Kilgallen herself had told friends that her life was in danger. Shaw also maintains that incompetence by the coroner who conducted the autopsy and an insufficient police investigation into her death led to her being dismissed as a boozer and pill popper who brought about her own demise, while denying her justice by not holding those responsible for her death accountable for murdering her.

If I have one quibble about the book it's that there are numerous occasions of typos, dropped words, and missing punctuation that begs the question of editing. It's a shame because it could be interpreted as amateurish and take away from this compelling and exhaustively researched argument about Kilgallen's death. There is also a corresponding website for the book and he's also written a second book on Kilgallen that I haven't read yet. Shaw had become interested in Kilgallen's story while researching a biography of Belli and discovering that after she died, Belli had told a friend, "They've killed Dorothy; now they'll go after Ruby."

The case is closed, is it? Well, I'd like to know how, in a big, smart town like Dallas, a man like Jack Ruby - owner of a strip tease honky-tonk - can stroll in and out of police headquarters as if it was at a health club at a time when a small army of law enforcers is keeping a "tight security guard" on Oswald. Security! What a word for it. (From one of Kilgallen's columns)

 

Truthiness in advertising

Q: Does beer make you smart? A: It made bud wiser!

 

Hahahahahaha!!! Yeah, I know, old bad joke. 

This is even funnier:

This was posted by Barbara M. Deaton on The Boomer Room page on FB. I don't even know if it's real, but given some of the crazy old ads I've seen, I wouldn't be at all surprised if it was an actual ad from back in the day.

Recent reading: "The Not So Subtle Art of Being a Fat Girl: Loving the Skin You're In"

This is a book I would not have chosen on my own, but needed to read for a paper I wrote for a class that just wrapped up. My topic was the long-term damage and disservice being done to morbidly obese young women by the short-term feel-good benefits of the emergence of the recent fat acceptance movement. 

 

I'm not talking about husky girls or size 16s. I'm talking about people who are not just 100 pounds overweight (the generally accepted definition of morbid obesity) but women who are way, way over that. Think Chrissy Metz (who has been as high as 400 pounds), Lizzo (300 pounds), and model/activist Tess Holliday (reportedly 280 pounds), whose autobiography I ended up using as a source for the paper. 

 

My reason for choosing this topic is because I do think it's a disservice, and a dangerous, potentially deadly one. It's also a personal thing, because while I'm overweight, I've never hit morbidly obese territory. Still, I know what kind of issues I have and how uncomfortable I am at my weight, so when I see women who are 50, 100, 150, even as much as 200 pounds heavier than me, I just don't buy that they're living their best life and that they're comfortable in that skin. My opinion. Time will tell what the future holds for this movement.

 

The Not So Subtle Art of Being a Fat Girl: Loving the Skin You're In

by Tess Holliday

In her defense Holliday had a difficult and chaotic childhood that would explain comfort eating, which she freely admits to. Growing up she dealt with poverty, divorce, and her mother nearly dying after being shot in the head. In her teens Holliday would experience taunting and criticism of her weight. She writes, "From a young age my life was simply about surviving."

Still, she's tough as nails. She originally wanted to be a makeup artist, but the discovery of plus-size models in a catalog helped inspire her to embark on a modeling career of her own. Social media helped bring her attention, leading to her #effyourbeautystandards hashtag going viral. In 2015 she became the largest model signed by a major agency, despite being much shorter and much heavier than typical plus-size models, who were usually tall size 16s.

Like many in-you-face activists, Holliday doesn't brook any criticism and this leads to a certain amount of hypocrisy. She criticizes people who utilize tanning salons because of - get this - the potential danger. She states, "I don't know why anyone would want to risk dying from cancer for the sake of getting a tan." And yet she doesn't address the risks of morbid obesity, of which there are a multitude. She also dismisses critics as compensating for their own issues and shortcomings, instead of at least acknowledging that they may have a point about the well-documented health risks of obesity.

 

Another thing I discovered in my research is the contentious issue of weight loss within the fat acceptance community. Holliday once unfollowed a fan who had documented her weight loss on Instagram. When the disappointed young woman contacted her to ask why, Holliday's response was, "Your weight loss posts are too triggering for me, I'm sure you understand." So much for acceptance, tolerance, diversity, and "healthy at any weight." And this despite the fact that the woman had lost weight on doctor's orders after having been diagnosed as pre-diabetic. More recently, Holliday, who does not appear to have lost a significant amount of weight (or any, really) has announced that she has anorexia, and I just don't know what to think about that. I do think it's safe to say that she has an unhealthy relationship with food (and I can sympathize with that) and probably some other issues that aren't being assuaged by her outwardly positive approach to her size.

In fact, not once does she mention her actual weight. She does admit to going from size 16/18 to 20 after the birth of her first child, and news coverage of her agency signing described her as a size 22. I know what size I wear even though I'm significantly smaller than her, so I'm taking that 22 with a big, fat grain of salt.

Overall, Holliday's is a great story of perseverance in the face of hardship, but it's also noteworthy for her refusal to discuss the possible long-term ramifications to not only her health, but to other morbidly obese women who might be encouraged by her story to embrace an unhealthy lifestyle, rather than really loving themselves enough to do a better job of self-care.

The wit and wisdom of Tess Holliday:

A photo of a fat person enjoying their life is no more "promoting obesity" than a photo of Stevie Wonder is "promoting blindness."

 

Yeah, I know.

Have I mentioned lately that we're living in a damn clown world?

 

 

When you're right, you're right. 

 Do it. DO. IT.

 

Snicked from the internets. Let me know if credit is due.

Stupid woke idiots...but I repeat myself

Screenwriter Ed Solomon once posted this to social media:

Do I even need to point out that Ed Solomon's screenwriting credits include...wait for it...Men in Black? So yeah, idiot, I think you do need an old white male's "mansplanation". Dumbass. Seriously, we are living in a clown world.

This and more cringe-worthy interactions can be found in this article.

If only...

It's the anniversary of D-Day and Google is honoring the occasion on its homepage with...

...oh, wait. 

Coffee???

Why, don't you know? It's...(drumroll please)...

 

What do you mean, who's Angelo Moriondo? The hell is wrong with you? If you've heard of D-Day, surely you've heard of Angelo Moriondo, the man who gave us the espresso machine!

No? Well good thing the fine folks at Google are here to give you some education and culture.

Oh, also it's the 78th anniversary of D-Day, so thank you for saving the world from Nazis and yadda, yadda, yadda.

 

Sigh. I guess an espresso machine in action is better than the Google doodle of a burning American flag, because you know that's how they'd do it if they thought they could get away with it.

Recent reading: "Heaven and Hell: My Life in the Eagles (1974-2001)"

Heaven and Hell: My Life in the Eagles (1974-2001) 

by Don Felder with Wendy Holden

Legendary Eagles guitarist Don Felder grew up poor and music-crazy in Gainesville, Florida before becoming part of one of the biggest-selling rock bands ever. He tells his story from the beginning with his impoverished childhood and into his teens, during which while teaching guitar one of his students was a youngster named Tommy Petty (yes, that Tom Petty).

In his twenties, newly married and struggling to get by in Boston, he was enticed by a close friend, Bernie Leadon, to head to Southern California. Felder and his wife, Susan, drove across country to Los Angeles in 1972 and he began playing and touring with the likes of Graham Nash, Stephen Stills, David Crosby, and Joni Mitchell.

 

Leadon had been a founding member of the Eagles along with Glenn Frey, Don Henley, and Randy Meisner. By the time Felder hit town, the band had had a great deal of success with their country-tinged rock. One day he was asked to join them in the studio and play on a couple of songs for their new album On the Border, one of which was the future hit "Already Gone". A few days later he was asked to join the band as an actual member and happily accepted.

What followed was nearly three decades of rock stardom, legendary albums and songs, monstrous egos, and almost non-stop behind the scenes strife. First, Leadon, who was unhappy with the move away from country to rock, left. He was replaced by Joe Walsh. After more friction, Meisner left and was replaced by Timothy B. Schmit.

When the Eagles were first formed, the decision was made that everyone would share equally in the singing and songwriting. The idea was that no one became a breakout star, and no one would ever feel sidelined. But over the years as Frey and Henley commandeered control of the band, that concept fell by the wayside. Felder was able to contribute, most notably the opening strains of their monster hit "Hotel California", but Frey and Henley, along with the band's slimy manager Irving Azoff, who was supposed to represent all of the Eagles but always sided with "The Gods" as that twosome became known, ran the show and often kept Felder and other, "lesser" Eagles in the dark about business deals. Felder, just happy to be part of a successful rock band, rarely objected.

 

But it was the deal that was supposed to reunite the band after a live show on New Year's Eve 1999 (that shafted Felder, Walsh and Schmidt) that finally led to Felder speaking up, and the result was his being unceremoniously fired from the band that he had always loved desperately, despite its dysfunction. It was also this shady deal that led to Felder suing the band. The case was settled out of court, and the good news is that as the book ends shortly after that, he seems to have found himself in a good place in life and also seems to have made his peace with the insanity that was his life in the fast lane.

Highly recommended look at the music industry in the 1970's forward, and for the warts-and-all look behind the scenes of one of the biggest bands in the history of rock and roll. For all the shit he took, Felder made some amazing music and lived an amazing life.

I spent years on the road away from my family, missing my wife and kids. I suffered stress-related health problems and spent sleepless, drug-fed nights wondering if it was all worth it. I endured untold emotional abuse from people who should have been my best friends. We'd been through so much. We'd laughed and loved and lived and cried to the same songs as our audience, but the bottom line is, we never really got along. I realize that now. From the first day I walked into the Record Plant studio, that band was breaking up. Everyone was at each other's throat, emotionally and artistically. We just never clicked the way some bands did. A self-destruct mechanism was constantly ticking away. Beneath a rigid code of silence that hid our fractured, contentious side from the public and allowed our mythical peaceful, easy image to continue, our dream of stardom and togetherness slowly morphed into a Hotel California-style nightmare. Terrified of speaking out in case I made things worse, my years of acquiescence meant that I could check out but I could never leave.

May Words of Wisdom

I only write when I'm inspired, so I see to it that I'm inspired every morning at nine o'clock. --Peter DeVries

Do not set aside your happiness. Do not wait to be happy in the future. The best time to be happy is always now. --Roy T. Bennett

Let today be the day you love yourself enough to no longer just dream of a better life; let it be the day you act upon it. --Steve Maraboli

Love the hand that fate deals you and play it as your own. --Marcus Aurelius

 

I'm going to make everything around me beautiful - that will be my life. --Elsie de Wolf

 

The soul always knows what to do to heal itself. The challenge is to silence the mind. --Caroline Myss 

 

Live in each season as it passes: breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit. --Henry David Thoreau 

 

Elegance is the only beauty that never fades. --Audrey Hepburn

 

Let the magical night sky with beautiful music be your backdrop. Make the moon and stars your friends because they know your secrets. --Hiral Nagda 

The love of old things is a way of respecting time. --Wu Ming Yi

 

Once you realize your worth, you'll be embarrassed at the shit you once settled for. --Jesue Pena

 

Evil cannot create anything new, they can only corrupt and ruin what good forces have invented or made. --J.R.R. Tolkien

I will absolutely leave the court when I do my job as poorly as you do yours. --Justice Clarence Thomas (to the media)

The most dangerous person is the one who listens, thinks and observes. --Bruce Lee

We don't always need to agree with one another. But we should try our best to behave with respect for one another. --Karen Salmansohn (How sad is it that in today's society that advice sounds quaint and naive?)

There's no crying in hockey. The NBA, on the other hand...

Man oh man, it's been a slow blogging month. Luckily, The Babylon Bee has come through with this hilarious headline: 

From the most excellent article:

LOS ANGELES, CA—With nothing to do during basketball playoffs, LeBron James turned on a hockey game and was shocked to see players somehow getting back to their feet after being knocked over.

"This makes no sense!" said a bewildered LeBron. "No tears, no waiting to be carried to a wheelchair, they just literally stand back up and keep playing. How is this possible??"

In case you don't know, LeBron is known for, uh, exaggerating physical contact on the court. Because, apparently there's crying in the NBA. 

 

Also, be sure to scroll down past the article and check out the Law & Order: Microaggression Victims Unit video. Spot on.