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Friday Evening Flowerlude

jinbaltimore

There'll Be Another Dream for Me. Someone Will Bring It.

The first time I saw Donna Summer perform live was twenty-eight years ago.  Disco records, in a remarkable confluence of racism and homophobia, had already been burned in American stadiums the autumn before, and Summer's career was supposed to have been over.  What I remember most about the show was its lackluster quality and how odd it was that Donna was doing that Patti Lupone song about Argentina (at fifteen years old, I wasn't quite up on the showtune stuff...yet).

The second time I saw Donna Summer perform live was last night.  Lackluster it was not (Side note to Bravo's Step it Up fans, someone who looks suspiciously like Nick is one of the dancers in this tour).

I won't even attempt to offer a "review," being too much of a fanboy, or at my age I suppose it has to be fanman... or fancrone.  I can only say if you get the chance, go see her; I defy any other of grandparent status to sing as well.  It's a good thing that self-admitted drug use of hers was shortlived (just around the time of that first performance I saw).  She still hits the high notes on I Feel Love and, yes, weboy, even on your favorite, Con Te Partiro.

The crowd was an interesting mix of other gays I recognized from "back in the day," women my age, who still really seemed to worship She Works Hard for the Money,  and daters of all ages.  I could have done without Hot Stuff and Bad Girls, though, having worshipped them a little too much myself too long ago, but a healthy dose of twirling did come to pass.  And to steal one from you, weboy, the title of this post refers to the line, from McCarthur Park, that Donna was singing...when she winked and smiled at me.  Thanks, Donna (and oh so very generous ticket benefactor - you know who you are) for bringing me another dream, much better than the one twenty-eight years ago.

Leaving you with Crayons, Donna's duet with Ziggy Marley, though obviously not the "official" video:

jinbaltimore

Friday Evening Flowerlude

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

jinbaltimore

Prelude to the Flowerlude

Classic Americana: Outdoor cafes in strip mall parking lots.

Hope you're enjoying a beautiful July afternoon.

Baltimore Gay Pride - Pictures from a Block Party

Friday Evening Flowerlude

jinbaltimore

Scott?

Scott McClellan is not Cher; nor is he Charo, Madonna, Fabio, Fabian, Jaylo, The Rock, or The Edge.

I say this as preface to more on why I don't think I'll ever fully understand the MSM.

Apparently, one-time Bush Press Secretary, Scott McClellan has poison-penned a tell-all on his former boss. 

What I'm finding odd is that, for the last twenty minutes, as both Campbell Brown and Keith Olbermann (I'm shamelessly fickle with the remote) have been reporting this story, chock full of interviews and pundits from both sides of this rancor, everyone of them, to the last, is referring to McClellan as "Scott."  Not "Scott McLellan," once followed by "McLellan" later, but just "Scott.":

"If Scott felt this way, why didn't he speak up then?"

"I think Scott's intentions are good here."

"Scott wouldn't have been involved in those meetings."

"Scott was unhappy with his exit."

Now, I understand that many of these people may have been used to calling McClellan "Scott" when they were working with/alongside of him, but surely when he becomes the story, his last name should be used.  I lose little sleep over the MSM treating GW unfairly, but what kind of press gives us half of the story on a first name basis?  This Scott sounds about eight years old to me, wide-eyed and innocent, you know, maybe a neighbor of Lassie's Timmy.

Google Image Search, for now, anyway, agrees with me, in that all Scotts are not created equal, nor that McClellan is The Scott.  Pictured above is Google's first entry under just "Scott," April Scott, that is, who either won or is entered in something called Quattro High Performance Disposable Babe Tournament.  But Google and its, ahem, priorities, are topics for another day, or week, I think.

- jinbaltimore

  

I See Your Lighter Note, weboy, And I Raise You One

Sweatin' to the oldies with "Jeannie's Diner" by Marylin Whitelaw and Mark Davis

jinbaltimore

Is Everybody Hurt? Is Anybody O.K.?

Forget all you've heard.

Forget about Clinton and Obama, and Axelrod and Penn, and Carville and Richardson, and Dean.

Forget about rallies, endorsements, and surrogates, and lunch buckets and youth voters and problematic old white women and AA's we'd better not piss off, and sitting out or going Green or "I've been a Democrat for thirty years, but if I have to I'll vote McCain!"

Forget about Wright, and The Family, and Matthews, Maddow, Olbermann, Russert, and King, oh! and Schuster - can't forget to forget about Schuster!, and both Kleins (or are there three now?) and about Shakesville.

Forget about the bowling and the beer and the shot.

Forget about polls and the math and  electability, and about the claws coming out while the dice rolled.

Forget about Indiana, North Carolina, West Virginia, Kentucky, Oregon, Idaho, Montana, South Dakota, Puerto Rico, and any other voters out there I'm forgetting to forget. 

That's the important thing: to forget about the voters, because this man, Dr. Phil McGraw says it's time to stop the Democratic primary. 

Or at least he did tonight on Larry King. But forget about King...

jinbaltimore

Quick, like a Bunny! Yo, Madonna! How About a Clinton fundraiser?

Certainly, you can top Elton's net, yes? 

Oh, and weboy? The perfect pop single?...It lasts five minutes, give or take.  ; )  jinbaltimore