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* * *
Song-a-Day project continues
As you can probably tell, my goal is now to write a song on those days when I actually have one to write. This one came to me in the shower earlier this week and wouldn't leave me alone until I finished it. The title was previously used by Firesign Theater. Drat them! Most of it scans to the song as written, but since the original doesn't exactly hold steady on syllables per line from one verse to the next, I took a few liberties. For example, in the word "Philadelphia," the line works for singing if you hold "del" for two beats.

W.C. Fields Forever
(tune: Strawberry Fields Forever, Lennon/McCartney)

by

Blind Lemming Chiffon

Why don't you sit down, 'cause we're gonna watch
W.C. Fields
Bought the boxed sets
We will laugh our insides out
W.C. Fields forever

Looking for loopholes in Bibles,
Never was fit for honest work.
Became a juggler and did comedy on the side,
And then, one Christmas day, he died.

Living with Carlotta Monti,
Who ever thought she'd write that book?
William Claude Dukenfield, Mahatma Kane Jeeves
Larson E. Whipsnade, he's all three.

Never gave a sucker an even break,
Said, "Don't trust a man who doesn't drink."
On the whole, he'd rather be in Philadelphia.
So, now, let's watch that DVD.
* * *
New song
Dr. Demento
by Blind Lemming Chiffon
to the tune of Santa Lucia

Dr. Demento
For President, oh
We won't relent, no
Dr. Demento!

Dr. Demento
Like a pimento,
You're heaven-sent, oh
Dr. Demento!

I started singing this one in the shower this morning and now I can't stop. HELP ME!

* * *
Is anyone in filkdom aware of this gem by Chris Smith? Should oughta be!
* * *
My backwards con report, part 2
Well, I got my water turned back on, called the water company, explained the misunderstanding, and they are kindly waiving the $100 turnon fee. Turns out they abandoned MyCheckFree in October, and sent out emails, which I didn't read, and MyCheckFree decided not to send any notification and just leave it looking like they were waiting to get the bill from Denver Water.

So, I'm doing some laundry now, and while I wait for the washing machine so I can take a shower and get to work, thought I'd put together another segment on FKO 2008.

Woke up Sunday morning late and happy. Daytime is kind of a blur in my mind - I remember hanging out in hallways and con suites, talking to various people, showing Peter Alway my new banjo uke, jamming a bit in Alderwood, and catching the hall of fame concert, which was great as usual, although I must admit I have a bit of difficulty figuring out why some people like that song "Ship of Stone." Maybe I don't get what it's about or something.

Saturday evening I performed my (losing, as usual) song contest entry. Drat that Randy Hoffman for being so good, and so consistent. And Downtown Freddy Brown for writing a song with so darn many chords in it. And I never did hear who the other winner was, but drat them, too, for being so great.

I performed my losing entry as a kind of talking-blues punk tune, sort of like the style of Talking Heads but not exactly, because parodies almost never win contests. However, the song is kind of sort of a parody of Paint It Black.

To Be Written
by Blind Lemming Chiffon
(For 2008 FKO songwriting contest, theme Nightmares in the Dark, written late the evening of 4/4/08)

I see a blank space on a page, I need to fill it.
There's darkness in my mind and now I have to spill it.
Songwriters are obsessed, like folks by vampires bitten,
And what eats us alive are songs still to be written.

Blunt trauma to the head, stab wounds, gunshots a-plenty.
Petechial hemorrhage in victims under 20:
These things seem scary, but they're like a purring kitten
Compared to contest entry songs still to be written.

Officer, please let me go, for I've done nothing wrong.
It's legal, isn't it, to not finish a song?

(That was the ending when I fell asleep, but I woke up around 4 AM and wrote a final verse)

I dream of goblins, ghosts, and even evil bosses,
Religious nuts who long to nail me to their crosses,
Then I wake up, switch the light on, at a desk I'm sittin'
Writing this song - and what's it called - hmmm - "To Be Written."

The auction was great, particularly because (a) I didn't buy anything, and (b) the item I donated, as well as most all the other items, went for huge amounts of money, and everyone was very generous in their bidding.

I settled into the small filking room (Butternut) and didn't leave until I was ready to sleep.

Saturday afternoon, I missed many of the concerts (to my regret), and performed my recently-posted song "While I'm Here," in the one-shots which got great audience response and which I plan to keep in my repertoire. Let's see -Am position, capo 3 - making a mental note. Tony and Vixy's concert was a must-see - I've been a fan since I first heard them at the NASFiC in 2005 - and it was just SO GOOD! I was kind of hoping they'd do Emerald Green, and wish Tony had done a song or two - I really like the way he covers Jonathan Coulton, but in spite of all that, not disappointed at all.

Saturday morning I got up early hoping to get Tony to reverse-engineer a difficult song that I wrote a parody of but can't perform very well. I warned him it might be a challenge, and that isn't what he wanted for the workshop (probably should've asked beforehand) so he used a KT Tunstall song, which was pretty cool, and I did pick up a few good tips from the workshop, so no complaints. Now I need to check the KT Tunstall CDs I have and see if that song is on one of them. The song I'm trying to get (Hamlet, Redux, by my friend John William Davis) is mostly piano, and the guitar part that isn't muddled by piano is in a non-standard tuning. John is very secretive about his chords. But now I have a few things I can try - never thought of trying to get the melody down first and adding the chords in later because I usually learn songs the other way.

The washing machine is about done, so next segment: Friday evening - two concerts and a wedding.

* * *
Recent events
Monday morning was relatively uneventful - shuttle, airport, overpriced breakfast at Friday's, Detroit stopover, nothing worth buying or even looking at in an hour spent shopping at the Detroit airport (unlike Philadelphia, which has GREAT airport shopping.) 3 hours on plane from Detroit to Denver. Rotating oversize luggage racks in Denver STILL not working. I wonder how much we the taxpayers paid for those. Saved $4 on airport shuttle by reserving round trip in advance.

Arrived home and there is a notice on my door that my water has been shut off. I thought my billing was set up at MyCheckFree.com, but apparently the water people haven't been communicating with them. I haven't been able to get the MyCheckFree site to come up (sometimes when I'm away for a few days the satellite internet service I have is kind of slow, and I have 3-year old software for a number of very good reasons, so when various websites update their stuff, I get left behind.) So anyhow, I got home 3:30 and called the water company at 3:40, and they said I missed the 3:30 deadline and I can't get my water turned back on until tomorrow morning.

So, I stopped at the library to see if I could use a computer for free - FAT CHANCE - all occupied, mostly by guys with waist-length hair who look like they haven't ever left their seats. Stopped at Quizno's for a submarine sandwich, then Kinko's to find out how much they charge to use a computer. $12.00 an hour! No way.

Stopped at the post office, & got the new Tom Paxton CD in the mail. Also got a flyer from Starfest - the guest list this year looks pretty cool, but it's SO commercial - you have to buy tickets to get stuff autographed - still, Syler, Jayne and Ms. Visitor from Star Trek.

Last stop - grocery store - spent $12 on 15 gallons of distilled water, so in an emergency I can use the can.

Sunday evening I was sort of hanging around the hotel lobby looking for people to go to dinner with, and ended being invited to Kelsey's with Norma McPhee & her friend (I am SO bad with names) - I enjoyed the company, but the food was not the greatest - the steak I ordered medium was more in the charred-beyond-recognition range. I'm one who doesn't send food back in restaurants, but I enjoy complaining about it later.

Arrived back early for the Dead Penguin and the door was still locked. Entertained some in the hallway with my strumstick - I did ask if anyone else in the hallway wanted a turn, but all seemed to want to wait for proper seating.

The D.P. was outstanding. I played, so far as I can recollect, 3 songs, and probably listened to about 30 or more. For the most part, I enjoyed the listening as much as the performing, which, in my book, makes it worthwhile to spend the extra night in the hotel. The three songs I played were "The Boy Who Once Knew Puff," "You Get a Catapult, I'll Get a Cat" (backed by my "G" strumstick capo'd to "C") and, finally, "I Am the Carpenter," which I wanted Vixy to hear because she has also set "The Walrus and the Carpenter" to music. The response from Vixy was one of my better moments of the con. I'll just be modest and say I think she liked it.

But the high point of the evening was just before I had to go off to sleep - Marilyn Miller performed my other Puff song (the title escapes me, but in my mind I call it Puff the Magic Vampire) not having any idea that I wrote it or that I was in the room. And a splendid job she did with it, too. When I sing it, I usually see people nodding off - so, good to know song OK, my performance not so much. I also noticed the audience reacting to some predictable lines and jokes in it that I hadn't realized were so predictable - but the trick ending (Puff the Vampire bites Jackie, they're both immortal, and the last line is "Dragons live forever, and so do little boys."

A few years back I went to hear Peter Yarrow in Boulder. He mostly babbled about spirituality for about 4 hours, and sang perhaps 2 songs. He talked quite a bit about the deep spiritual nature of "Puff the Magic Dragon," which he co-wrote with Leonard Lipton in 1963. Yes, a children's song about aging and death could be seen that way I suppose, but why bother being so defensive when 90% of the listeners back then KNEW it was a drug songs. And who can say for certain that drugs can't be spiritual - I mean, for gosh sakes, look at the work of Carlos Castaneda. To me, vampirism is one of the more interesting concepts that has grown out of primitive spirituality and folklore (which are, I often argue, one and the same) - the entire idea that if one obtains immortality through "improper" channels there must be such dire consequences - how QUAINT!

Anyhow, I had a very strong negative reaction to Peter Yarrow's lecture, and perhaps got a smidgen of how I was feeling into that song, but to be very honest, that song has always disappointed me somehow. It could have been so much better, but I could never put a finger on it. The second Puff song (The Boy Who Once Knew Puff) is essentially an attempt to do what I was trying to do with the first one, and if it sets anyone off by perpetuating the alternate theory that Puff really IS a drug song, well, yeah, that's what I was going for.

Perhaps I'll get back to this later and write about the rest of the con, but I am just SO tired right now.

* * *
While I'm Here
While I'm Here
Tune: When I Go, by Dave Carter
Lyrics by Blind Lemming Chiffon, 3/18/2008

Sit in the circle, don't say a thing
I must hear pretty music while I'm here
When it's your turn, be ready to sing
I must listen intently while I'm here

You may bellow like a banshee, or sing loudly and off key,
If you're a talented professional, it's all the same to me
I must pounce upon your songs and I'll absorb them like a sponge
The celebration never quite gets done, the circle must go on, while I'm here

Soon to be my turn, ready to go
I will strum ukulele while I'm here
Fire burns within me, soft steady glow
I must sing you my new song while I'm here

I must catch another airplane, I must see my friends again
Sing in broken voice at four A.M. just like a dog in pain
I must take a dose of strong caffeine, stay up 'til dawn is near
I'll post my new song here on LJ, hope that someone out there likes it while I'm here

It's seven in the morning and at last it's time to sleep
There's a sign upon my doorknob, and a solemn vow to keep
For the sound of roaring vacuum cleaners, that's a thing I fear
And I must bundle up, wear earplugs, let no light disturb my slumber while I'm here

Daytime, the concerts, hearing my friends
Hope they'll let me sing with them while I'm here
World of dreams where the song never ends
I must sit 'til my back hurts while I'm here

And should you hear me sing a song you like, no matter how absurd,
Please don't be afraid to tell me, or to ask me for the words.
I'll accept your admiration, if it's honest and sincere,
And if you don't like my singing, will you please keep your mouth shut, while I'm here
* * *
Arthur C. Clarke died tomorrow
It's true - I've seen dozens of posts, today, on 3-18-08, stating that Sir Arthur C. Clarke died on 3/19/08. What a crowning final achievement for this writer, scientist and futurist - to die in the future, thanks to the international date line.
* * *
What I wrote for my mom's celebration of life (memorial service) today
When we lose someone close to us, one natural thing that most people need is to have some object, or even a memory, that ties us to that person and helps us to remember them. It's very important to keep our connection to the past as we move ahead.

The one possession of my mother's that I wanted most to keep is a piece of black-on-black pottery made by a Santa Clara Indian, signed R. (probably Ramona) Sisneros. I don't know how valuable it is, but to me it is priceless, because of the moment I shared with my mother, when I was about 10 or 12 years old. I saw it on display at Charlie Eagle Plume's shop, and pointed it out to my mother. Something about how it has two handles that are wrapped around each other made it stand out, and she agreed with me and bought it. My mother was always fascinated with Native Americans, and had many books about their culture, jewelry, pottery and so on.

It might have been that same day that Charlie, the owner of the shop, taught me something that has stayed with me my entire life. He gathered everyone in the shop together and had us sit in a circle on the floor. Then, of all those people, he picked me out, and asked me, "What is the most valuable thing in the world?" Being the materialistic coin-collecting brat I was, I guessed, "Um - the Hope Diamond?"

"No, that's not it."

"The gold in Fort Knox?"

"No."

"I was stumped, and sat there in silence.

"The most valuable thing in the world," said Charlie, "is a friend."

Now that I am 52, I have many friends, some of them still here, others gone. It is important to me to keep my connections, both to the present and to the past, and while I am still materialistic to a degree, the way I look at the objects I keep around me has changed. I have a collection of autographed books and records, and, for me, those autographs help me to hang on to my connection to that person and their work, however small that link might be. Just the memory, for example, of standing in line with hundreds of avid fans to get blues superstar Taj Mahal's autograph on a CD, and his taking a moment to shake my hand, means a great deal to me.

There is one connection, however, that stands out in my mind. In 1968, when we returned to Denver, my mother arranged for me to take guitar lessons at the Denver Folklore Center, and, as it turns out, that is the most wonderful thing that anyone has done for me, ever, and I can't even imagine my life without the music I found there. In later years I often shared music with my mother, bringing her to concerts at Swallow Hill, or playing CDs in the car. She especially enjoyed Hawaiian music, probably because of all the trips she took to Hawaii with my father, and how the music helped her remember those good times.

My guitar teacher took a 13-year-old wannabe rock 'n' roller Beatles fan, and introduced me to the music of black Americans whose music rock 'n' roll was based on. I learned guitar pieces by Elizabeth Cotten, Reverend Gary Davis, and most important of all, Mississippi John Hurt. John's records taught an entire generation of guitar players how to play, and I am one of them. I spent hour after hour listing to my one John Hurt record and trying to figure out how he made that guitar sound so great.

John's career in music was brief. He recorded a few tracks in 1928, and disappeared. One song he wrote, "Avalon, My Home Town," helped some young blues fans who were looking for him to find him in the small rural town of Avalon, Mississippi in 1963, and he suddenly became a recording artist, a star on the New York club scene, and a favorite of the Newport Folk Festival. He died 3 years later, but his music will never be forgotten.

Harry Tuft, who still owns and operates the Denver Folklore Center, once let me play a guitar that belonged to Mississippi John Hurt, and the connection I felt to John while playing it was, for me, perhaps the most deeply spiritual moment I have ever experienced.

Dick Waterman, a noted music photographer, and John Hurt's manager, wrote this in the liner notes of the John Hurt tribute CD:

"One of the last times I had with John was at the Cafe Lena in Saratoga Springs, New York. As we were packing up the guitar after the show, a young man came into the dressing room. 'John,' he said, 'When will I see you again?' John laid a towel over the guitar and then closed the lid of the case. He turned and spoke slowly, 'Well now, you can see me any time you want.'

The young man was puzzled by the response. 'I mean, when are you coming back here?'

John smiled and shook his head. 'You'll have to talk to Dick about that. But, you know, I don't have to come back here for you to be seeing me again.'

The room was quiet while the young man and I waited for John to explain. He touched his chest with the fingers of his right hand. 'Now that I met you, I took you to be my friend and I brought you down here into my heart. And if you take me to be your friend, then I'll be right down there in your heart. So any time you want me to be with you, all you have to do is think about me, and I'll just come right up out of your heart and I'll be there with you. That's the way it is with friends. They live forever in your heart. Any time you want me to be with you, you just think about Mississippi John Hurt, and I'll come right up out of your heart and I'll be with you forever.' "

* * *
Why I am beginning to really hate PayPal - any suggestions?
The full text of the emails back and forth, minus personal information, is behind the cut. Read more )
* * *
New revised songwriting project
Well, obviously, the song a day thing was a trifle optimistic, so I'm changing my goal to this: I will write a song and share it every time one occurs to me. Here's one that came to me earlier today.

I Love My Beanie
(Tune: I Love My Shirt, Donovan, album title: Barabajagal)

Do you have a beanie you really love,
One that you feel so fannish in?
You don't even mind if I spin the propeller
That only makes it nicer still.

I love my beanie, I love my beanie,
My beanie's so comfortably fannish.
I love my beanie, I love my beanie,
My beanie's so comfortably fannish.

Do you have a button you really love,
Ones that you feel so fannish in ?
It tells everyone "Klingon Spoken Here."
That only makes it nicer still.

I love my buttons, I love my buttons,
My buttons are comfortably fannish.
I love my buttons, I love my buttons,
My buttons are comfortably fannish.

When I wear them on an airplane,
Everybody points and stares at me.
Yes, I wear 'em on the airplane
Because I'm going to a con,
I've got this stuff on
They know I'm going to a con.
I've got 'em on

Do you have a t-shirt you really love,
One that you feel so fannish in ?
A t shirt you bought at a con last year
That only makes it nicer still.
I love my t-shirt, I love my t-shirt,
My t-shirts are comfortably fannish.
I love my buttons, I love my buttons,
My buttons are comfortably fannish.
I love my beanie, I love my beanie,
My beanie's so comfortably fannish.

I see most of you dress the same.

I love my beanie, I love my beanie,
My beanie's so comfortably fannish.
I love my beanie, I love my beanie,
My beanie's so comfortably fannish.
I love my beanie, I love my beanie,
My beanie's so comfortably fannish.
I love my beanie, I love my beanie,
My beanie's so comfortably fannish.
I love my beanie, I love my beanie,
My beanie's so comfortably fannish.
I love my beanie, I love my beanie,
My beanie's so comfortably fannish.
I love my beanie, I love my beanie,
My beanie's so comfortably fannish.
I love my beanie, I love my beanie,
My beanie's so comfortably fannish.
I love my beanie, I love my beanie,
My beanie's so comfortably fannish.
* * *
HAHAHAHAHA - actually, I dropped out of high school when I was 17. Yay dropouts!
You paid attention during 100% of high school!
 

85-100% You must be an autodidact, because American high schools don't get scores that high! Good show, old chap!

Do you deserve your high school diploma?
Create a Quiz

* * *
OK, this is the last one, I promise
Make your own clipart like this @ www.TXT2PIC.com
* * *
Yes, I have nothing but contempt for modern technology
Make your own clipart like this @ www.TXT2PIC.com
* * *
A book cover for the unholier-than-thou
Make your own clipart like this @ www.TXT2PIC.com

This is a book cover I once dreamed of seeing at Barnes & Noble. The message: if you think you have all the answers, to a point where you can dispense them to others freely, you are just SO clueless. And that includes me.
* * *
Utah Phillips
Utah Phillips, folklorist, songwriter and storyteller, is having some tough times. Health care for aging musicians in this country is of similar or lesser quality to the health care received by prison inmates and skid row bums. I doubt that any future health care reform will come soon enough to help Utah Phillips. I know many of you are die-hard folkies and are already familiar with his work. Myself, I own autographed copies of all his albums and CDs. If you're not familiar with his stuff, might I suggest now would be a good time to pick up a CD or two, and that if you buy them direct from him, well, that would really be cool. My own recommendations for getting started are his early albums, with most of his best original songs, including Good Though and El Capitan, both of which are pretty much included in the boxed set.

http://wilderside.wordpress.com/2007/12/31/help-utah-phillips/
* * *
song # 18 of my way-behind song-a-day project
These Foolish Things (tune: These Foolish Things)
parodied from a transcription of the Ella Fitzgerald recording

A one-way ticket to Upper Silesia
Some customs agents here who want to seize ya
The way a monkey swings
These foolish things remind me of you.

Loud gunshots ringing in the neighbor's basement
Or how much better I could have this day spent
My right arm in a sling
These foolish things remind me of you.

You wore that cheap gorilla suit
You scratched and asked for cheese.
I knew somehow that you had fleas

The winds that blow the shingles off my cottage
Touching a wire of enormous wattage
Those packing peanuts that cling
These foolish things remind me of you

Those fresh spring flowers that make me allergic
The way a judge smirks at a guilty verdict
How Jerry Lewis sings
These foolish things remind me of you

The stroke of midnight when I smell that pumpkin
The shallow river that the lemmings jump in
A broken mattress spring
These foolish things remind me of you

I think of when I first found you,
Of how much it has cost,
Oh, how I wish that you'd stayed lost.

Waking up to the gentle bites of vipers
A parking ticket on my windshield wipers
The crimes of evil kings
These foolish things remind me of you

A favorite TV show, now only reruns
Attacked by 47 hungry sea lions
A neck I want to wring,
These foolish things remind me of you

The smell of gases rising from the sewer
Those paddles shocking me, still turning bluer
Those broken guitar strings
These foolish things remind me of you

I think how long I've known you,
And it's been way too long,
Oh, how I wish that you were gone.

The scent of burning trash that gives me headaches
Waiting at home all day for (censored) FedEx
The itch that turns to a sting
These foolish things remind me of you.
* * *
Why I haven't been writing any songs lately - PLEA FOR HELP!
I have what seems to others like a "minor" health problem, but it isn't minor to me. Symptoms are deep under-the-skin itchy red blotches on hands, feet, scalp, arms, chest and back.feet, sometimes developing into hard painful bumpy spots. Right now I have one of the bumpy spots on my foot and I can't put my shoes on. This has been going on maybe 4 weeks. I first tried all the usual OTC remedies - they cost a lot, and provide either zero or temporary (like 5 minutes) relief. The first doc thought it was some kind of allergy or cold sores, gave me Doxepin (I take Allegra and had already tried adding some Benadryl) and said it should work in 3-4 days. It didn't. The second doctor thinks what I have is hives, said I should have given the meds 2-3 weeks (come ON - I'm SUFFERING here) and switched me to Hydroxyzine and Triamcinolone Acetonide Cream USO 0.1%. That was 5 days ago. The red spots on my arms disappeared after 24 hours. but now they're coming back and it's also on my scalp, the back of my neck, etc. The cream does provide temporary relief to where I can sleep for 2-3 hours at a time.

And no, I haven't changed anything about my diet, environment or personal products lately.

I'm not asking for or expecting any free medical advice, but do any of you know any good home remedies that I haven't tried yet? Let's see, I've tried vitamins of all kinds, eucerin cream, hydrocortisone cream, gold bond cream, vaseline intensive care, cutting things out of my diet (I have no history of food allergies, but what the heck), pain meds and just relaxing. My BP is 130/82 according to my home monitor.

And yes, I plan to try the doctor again on Monday. This time, I'll try to get either my PCP or a dermatologist.

The other thing that's bugging me - and I'm working very hard not to be stressed out about it - is trying to get Fedex to deliver a package to me. I spent 12 hours today waiting for a package that never came, and being unable to leave the house. Their customer service is not very helpful, and can't do anything at all until Monday, at which point they probably still can't. I work 8-5, have called them and asked for evening delivery, and they said no they can't do that but they can deliver on Saturday. I called 5 times today to try to get a delivery time window, but they couldn't do that either, although they did promise me more than once over the phone that the package would be delivered today, and that they deliver up until 8:00 PM. According to the internet tracking, my driver called it quits at 5:46 PM without delivering my package. The company that sent the package refused to send it to my PO box, which is also very annoying. Going to pick up the package is about a $20 cab ride, which would probably have been better, in retrospect, than waiting at my house all day.

Needless to say, I will never again do business with these lying sacks of garbage, and UPS is on my list as well.

I know there's nothing any of you can do (other than patronize the US Postal Service, which, I think, has much better customer service) but it's been nice venting my frustration. If any of you would like to call FedEx and tell them for me what you think of them, their number is 1 800 463 3339.

* * *
Many news media outlets advocating mass murder of children for Xmas - details at 11:00
http://www.childrenscrusade.com/ahccmedia.htm

Have any of you ever read about the Crusades?

Here is what the dictionary has to say about it:

cru·sade
Pronunciation:
\krü-ˈsād\
Function:
noun
Etymology:
blend of Middle French croisade & Spanish cruzada; both ultimately from Latin cruc-, crux cross
Date:
circa 1708
1: capitalized : any of the military expeditions undertaken by Christian powers in the 11th, 12th, and 13th centuries to win the Holy Land from the Muslims
2: a remedial enterprise undertaken with zeal and enthusiasm

The Crusades, as I read about them many years ago in school, were a time of chaos and mass murder, when frenzied religious zealots went off and destroyed opposing churches, killed large numbers of people, burned heretics and conducted auto-da-fes and such. To celebrate this insanity, the equivalent in its time of last century's holocaust in Germany, or the bombing of the world trade center on 9-11, by having such things as the Billy Graham Crusades, Campus Crusade for ----, or this particular crusade, is, to me, glorifying the mass murder of all those who don't agree with the self-proclaimed xn majority. Would anyone think of publicizing a Children's Holocaust, or giving air time to a Billy-Graham-Let's-Kill-or-Convert-All-the-Non-Christians-and-Burn-Their-Buildings event? That is, precisely and exactly, what a crusade is.

These people are sick and evil.

Those who do not learn from history...
* * *
Some things I'm thankful for (and not so thankful for) in this festive season
Well, I'm thankful for my friends, and my LJ friends, two groups that intersect to some degree. Which is one reason why some parts of this message will be behind a cut. I'm sort of happy the worldcon is coming to Denver, that I get to work on it, and that we were able to get Kathy Mar as Special Music Guest. And I'm thankful to have lived to be 52, with most of my faculties intact and to have the ability to reason and question. Yes, every day, I look up at the sky, clench my fist, and shout, Thank god I'm an atheist! )

And, having completed my rant, I'm thankful for owning my own house, in which I will now comfortably crawl into bed and sleep soundly.
* * *
A song that makes me cry every time I hear it
http://www.tompaxton.com/audio/the_bravest.mp3

I am SO lucky. I get to hear Tom Paxton in concert both Friday AND Saturday next weekend.

And this will be like the 5th, 6th or maybe 7th time.

If any of you will be at GaFilk, Consonance or OVFF and would like me to get you an autographed Tom Paxton CD (at cost), please let me know.

I just listened to "The Bravest" twice in a row. I think I may be dehydrated.

(I wonder if he's ever heard "The Murderous Little Toy"...)

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