the fourteen minute post
Nothing. I’ve got nothing. The dog days of summer and I can’t think of a damn thing to write about. Other than maybe this…there sure is a lot about Woody Guthrie on this site these past few days. Two out of three stories are honoring and celebrating the man and his music. That’s kind of nice, not overkill at all given the hundred year thing, but I admit to skipping most of them. Rather listen and play Woody then read about him I suppose. So I’ve done both.
I started yesterday on writing about the shooting in Colorado, but there wasn’t much I could say. Kept thinking of Earle’s “The Devil’s Right Hand” and how we wrote it originally about his passion for firearms and how it’s turned into an anti-gun message. He talks about it a bit when he plays it in concert. Also was thinking about the ex-Mayor of Washington DC once said…the one who got popped a few times for smoking crack: “”Outside of the killings, Washington has one of the lowest crime rates in the country.”
Got a copy of the new Aimee Mann thats coming out in September and haven’t listened to it yet. Loved her thing on Portlandia earlier this year. Saw her once and recall that she was pretty tall.
I mentioned something about Fred Willard on Facebook the other day after his bust. Called his solo sexual act at a Hollywood movie theater a “Best of Show”. Can’t imagine what fetish possesses someone to pull it out in public…well I can imagine it I suppose, but I don’t get the lack of impulse control. Wait until you get into the car at least.
Romney. His tax return hide and seek is one of the most pitiful things I’ve seen in presidential politics. Love the post I read this morning suggesting he’ll never make it to the election. Will get nominated, name Pawlenty as VP choice, get hammered in the weeks after and be forced to resign as candidate. Sounds like a great movie plot.
So this was an experiment. Gillian posted about wasting your time and not working on one’s art. So I thought I’d give it a shot. Not so interesting, was it? Next time I have the urge, I’ll scratch, itch and watch the telly.