Try DownPlaying This

The Beatles’ 1964 Stateside Tour involving their February 7th arrival in NYC (at the newly christened JFK International Airport) and appearance on Ed Sullivan’s nationally televised variety show (on the 9th) could not have been better timed.

Americans, still in deep mourning following the 11/22/1963 assassination of our youngest, ever, 35th President… John F. Kennedy… desperately needed a reminder that life could go on.

To all horrified by that grotesque gun violence… especially this (then) 9-year-young boy and my contemporaries… John, Paul, George and Ringo were the embodiment of youthful exuberance. While their prime-time TV debut showcased their unique interpretation of rock ’n’ roll… one eventually becoming the soundtrack of life for an entire generation… something even more significant was in play… namely… how their raucous energy / high decibel music was the perfect Rx for blowing away that lingering, pervasive, suffocating, Dealey Plaza stench.

So… why the need to rehash this nearly 56-year-old tragedy?

Because of the swamp monster, who has been masquerading as the 45th president. Even though he is alive and (physically) well… well…

Ever since the orderly transition of power to that disorderly doofus, We… America’s critical thinkers… have been mourning the 01/20/2017 death of the presidency… the death of democracy, decency, intellectualism, logic, liberty, peace and genuine patriotism… the death of joy, itself.

From that day forward… uh… better make that backward… We have been in deep mourning… in desperate need of a lifeline. But, where to go to find that?

My reader(s)… just when I had begun to suspect those DC Washington Woes had indelibly stained my mood… my entire outlook on life… a deep shade of blue… somehow… someway… on some entirely different plane of consciousness… I wound up free associating the power of music… its stain remover / curative capabilities. Lo and behold, the Fab Four came to mind.

True, I could not step into a time machine to re-witness the birth of the Beatles. But, the next best, equivalent was well within reach… my access to CDs representing JPGR’s entire, recording studio produced discography.

Last week… I decided to PB that massive, Beatles soundtrack in chronological order. No sooner had Sir Paul’s 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 counted in I Saw Her Standing There than I felt my much needed grin begin… followed, a scant nanosecond later, by my buoyant mood… those lofty spirits persisting while tracking (at a clip of one or more CDs per day) until I polished off all 13 Beatles albums plus the two Past Masters volumes. And there were a couple of bonus tracks, too… namely… Free as a Bird and Real Love (McCartney, Harrison and Starr’s 1995 collaboration / overdub of their tracks with the late Lennon’s two previously recorded vocal tracks).

Even upon completion of my musical adventure last Friday, I could still revel in the fact that this was far from over. Hence, my spending the better portion of this week listening to these bonus Beatles albums… [1] Star-Club Live! in Hamburg, Germany 1962, [2] Live at the BBC, [3] Yellow Submarine Songtrack, [4] 1! [5] Let It Be Naked / Fly on the Wall and [6] LOVE.

My parting recommendation… should you ever find yourself feeling down about anything, try taking your fave recording artist / band out for a spin. Once that smile returns to your face, I’m sure you’ll concur that the healing power of music can never be downplayed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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A Pathogenic Dealey Plaza?

 

Following the (alleged), lengthy, outward-bound trail of “bread crumbs” extending from the White House to two specific boudoirs, we now know how sufficient funds proved insufficient in silencing a porn star and a Playboy bunny… i.e., could not prevent them from exposing the X-rated (alleged) prez’s (alleged) extramarital hook-ups.

1. If the fake prez’s sexploits are, indeed, true… one wonders how a self-proclaimed “stable genius” could ever be caught in flagrante delicto. One would think that, at the very least, he’d be aware of the fact that…

Money Can’t Buy Him Either Love or Silence!

How ironic it is, indeed, how he cannot even properly assess who’s to blame. Hell, all he would ever need to do is gaze adoringly into the nearest mirror. Now, that’s not asking too much from a narcissist… is it? Well… apparently it is.

Instead, we find that his persecution complex, paranoia and arrested development are all acting like a harmful drug interaction… i.e., one that drives him to bogusly brand finger-pointing Democrats and liberals as mudslinging disseminators of “fake news”.

At the risk of over-generalizing… must anyone remind the (alleged) prez that sex industry workers tend to be liberally minded? Such a ‘tude could certainly prove an asset for anyone who bares it all and/or boinks for bucks. Additionally, many of these folks feel the “allure” of porn wages, which far exceed the non-living, minimum wage jobs, which billionaire conservatives purportedly “create”. As such, a nude model / porn star could neither feel any loyalty to the big bucker Donny… nor could he ever expect them to cozy up to the glaring hypocrisy of his publicly, pretending to be a Bible thumper while privately fornicating.

Hmm… to help him atone, perhaps, future mistresses could spank / thump Trump’s rump with a Bible? Uh… BAD IDEA! The Secret Service would first freak out… next categorize that as an assault… and finally rush in to (hopefully secretly) offer up their protection.

2. If the fake prez’s sexploits are, indeed, true… one wonders how a self-proclaimed germ-o-phobe could ever overcome his fears long enought to engage in risky, condom-less conduct? BTW, the porn star did claim they had barebacked it! Imagine that… even against the backdrop of an antibiotic / antiviral drug resistant, STD raging pandemic… one that’s inclusive of potentially fatal HIV/AIDS! And, most assuredly, when considering the tenacity and adaptability of most microbes, usage of words, such as FATAL, would not be unwarranted.

3. If the fake prez’s sexploits are, indeed, true… this means he has not only had sex with two women but with every last, damned one of their sex partners… and with every partner those partners have had sex with… and on and on and on.

4. If the fake prez’s sexploits are, indeed, true… how can any medical professional ever claim (with any certainty) that nasty microbes… maybe even some that have yet to be discovered… have not been rotting away his body and (alleged) brain? Indeed, might his reckless, erotic private behavior account for much of his wildly erratic, public behavior?

5. If the fake prez’s sexploits are, indeed, true… what would stop an enemy from using that against him. What if that were to go beyond that (alleged) made-in-Russia pee-pee tape, which Vladimir Putin is (allegedly) using as blackmail? Bad enough… BUT… here’s where the (alleged) prez’s (alleged) promiscuity gets even dicier.

What if, someday, an ISIS type foe were to hire some bioethics barren, recombinant DNA geneticist… ask him/her to tinker with the adenine (A), thymine (T), guanine (G) and cytosine (C) bases… and in the process… cook up a totally new sexually transmitted disease? Let’s say that resultant microbe is fine-tune engineered to be female gender-friendly. Fleshing that diabolical scenario out further, each infected woman would become a totally unharmed carrier fully capable of spreading the disease to each of her totally vulnerable male partners… men who’d, eventually, succumb? Perhaps that pathogen should be named the BlackWidowSpider-18? Or to be more scientifically accurate call it the LatrodectusMactans-18?

6. If the fake prez’s sexploits are, indeed, true… one would hope that his Secret Service protectors are cognizant of the fact that any of his drop-dead-gorgeous women, in actuality, could be in possession of a deeply concealed (as in… invisible to the naked eye), drop-dead caliber weapon. In other words, the fake prez, while tooling down each partner’s “private road”… as it were… could be driving down the pathogenic equivalent of JFK’s 11/22/1963 motorcade drive through Dealey Plaza.

One would expect Secret Service training to be inclusive of such futuristic plots… i.e., so they’d know their protection should be inclusive of confronting and confining a suspected bio-assassin before she had even undone one blouse button… or if things had already gotten down and dirty… to… at the very least… rush in… just in the nick of time… to offer (latex) protection to the prez!

Yeah… I know… I know… I know…

This blog’s already icky subject matter has just gotten even ickier. But… as we all should know… both a Blogger’s and a Secret Service agent’s job can get dirty… but damn it… someone has to do it!

 

 

My Childhood Innocence Was Shot To Hell!

 

The following is an excerpt from my very first WordPress blog*… my memories of 54 November 22nds ago… when… as a (then) 9-year-young boy… a horrific, blood splattered, national tragedy forced me to eyewitness too much age inappropriate content… to grow up way too soon.

 

I voted for John F. Kennedy when I was ONLY six-years-old!

Well… uh… sort of. Here’s what had actually happened…

After Mom had closed the voting booth curtains, hoisted me up to adult eye level and demonstrated how everything worked, she actually let me shift JFK’s lever down! My having done something so grown-up on Election Day 1960 had been a feel good, defining moment in my young life.

As I grew physically, so did my understanding of (and respect for) the immense leverage, which each of those tiny levers can exert in shaping our nation and world. Tragically, not everyone opts in to such a civilized, orderly process. Such was the case on November 22, 1963…

It had been a gray, overcast, rainy Friday. There had been no school for Sis and me (due to parent / teacher conferences). I was just finishing lunch when my sibling came rushing into the dining room. Still clutching her pocket-sized transistor radio, she blurted out…

“Somebody Shot President Kennedy!”

Mom, Sis and I quickly adjourned to the living room. Even before our Zenith TV’s B&W picture tube had fully warmed up, we could already hear one of CBS anchorman Walter Cronkite’s earliest bulletins.

As time came grinding down to a dead halt we felt ourselves rapidly descending into the depths of our nation’s communal shock. There was little else we could do… save for waiting and hoping that our worst fears would not be confirmed. But…

The bad news just kept on spilling forth from our nation’s TV screens while Kennedy’s dream for the betterment of our national / global society, was hemorrhaging forth from his head wounds… dying along with this great man.

Eventually, Cronkite had to choke back his own overwhelming sorrow as he reported…

“From Dallas, Texas… the flash apparently official… President Kennedy died at 1 p.m., Central Standard Time… 2 o’clock Eastern Standard Time… some thirty-eight minutes ago.”

And that’s the way it was… the feel rotten, defining moment in my young life. The President I had “voted” for three short Novembers earlier had been blown away. Bullets… not ballots… had removed John Fitzgerald Kennedy from office and shot to hell my childhood innocence.

 

 

Assassin’s (perhaps assassins’) bullets had also irreparably devastated our entire global society. We can only speculate what the alternate timeline would’ve been… what our present day world would now look like had JFK opted to stay in DC 54 years ago, today… had kept a low profile for the remainder of his time in the Oval Office (he likely would’ve won a second term).

I do think it fair to conclude that had the voters witnessed what a real president’s policy and demeanor should be… had JFK been able to usher into reality his visions for a better world and better day… our electorate would’ve NEVER, EVER settled for any of his deplorable, dishonorable, stick-figure successors… namely…

The psychotic, “used car dealer”, war-hawk Tricky Dicky Nixon… the labor union busters, devastators of the middle class Ronny Reagan and George H.W. (daddy) Bush… the war criminal / torture chamber manager George W. Bush who on 9/11, first, got caught with his CIC pants down  and, next, went on a rampage to fear monger Americans into granting him carte blanche… to recklessly trash U.S. Constitutional freedoms and needlessly, pointlessly war monger his way into no-win invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq… to stupidly allow himself to be morphed into the ventriloquist dummy / puppet of his own VP; the evil, greedy, sociopathic, war criminal Dick Cheney.

And saving the worst of the very worst for the very last, real Americans would’ve booed and hissed the xenophobic, homophobic, narcissistic, misogynistic, jingoistic, materialistic, infantile, senile, bullying #45 right off the stump.

Well… long sad sigh… to borrow and update Walter Cronkite’s sign-off catchphrase…

 

And that’s the way it is November 22, 2017.

 

 

If you’re a fan of sci-fi twinged, episodic TV… writer J. Neil Schulman’s “what if JFK had survived Dallas” themed alternate reality gets brought to life by the cast and crew of the classic TV series, Twilight Zone… this particular installment titled: Profile In Silver

 

 

*My debut blog, A Tale of Two Timelines Part I, is filed away in my Archive. For those who’d like to access it, click onto March 2016 and scroll down… way down.