Another good day on the Arse front today, with that favoured, sparkly-eyed supplier [I've just stumbled across a radio programme called 'The Organist Entertains', Church, Wurlitzer and Hammond, what a tickle.] in house to entertain. I commented on her outfit - oh Krusty, you smoothie you, who needs double cream or custard... - and we got into a debate on something that remains a bit of a grey area for me.
How are the following distinguished?
It is all too confusing for me, so help would be appreciated.
'The Organist...' has 'Entertained', and very good it was too. There's plenty of scope with playing, tubes, blowing &c, but I won't go there. You can get that somewhere else...
There's a lot of ... today, isn't there? Sorry, but my mind is wandering a little, drifting. Not as lonely as a cloud, howe'er, not least because despite the envelope-stretching limits of boredom to which I am occasionally pushed, few get close to that of reading Wordsworth. I was made to do that at school, and it's one of the things for which I have not forgiven that institution.
Anyway, purely to test my ability to put a picture on this site, 'cause folks, this is the first, and because it shows that I made some effort to understand all these different types of shorts, some hotpants;
And because I'm not sure on the copyright issues with this kind of thing, here is where you can buy those hot-tastic-pants if you wish, or better still, buy them for someone.
Such a sight were those that I felt forced to go and make myself a pina-colada to get over them. That's better.
Anyway, now we know that Krusty can put pictures on here. Don't get excited, I'm not intending to do it often, but it does offer a little relief.
Have I been throught the concept of 'cottage cheese music' before? It comes from the description of Blue Cheer as being so heavy they 'turn the air into cottage cheese'. I like that idea. I like it more than I like Blue Cheer, as it happens, but que sera. Well, I was trying to convey this to the aforementioned sparkly-eyed one today, 'cause she asked what I was listening to, and it just so happened that I was listening to what is, for me, the definitive cottage cheese choon. 'Whole Lotta Love'. I don't need to say any more, do I? You too can feel that bass throb, that drum slapping and pounding, that dirty thrusting guitar...(there he goes again, ...ing all over the place with wanton abandon, is there a technical name for such a punctuation, if so please share your knowledge with gap-toothed Krusty and spare him the humiliation of having to ask at the bookgroup), you can feel the air change as your toes tap and you feel driven to jyrate and gump. She had never heard of the tune. Not even when I mention TotP. OK, alternative reference point then, how about Jimi Hendrix? No. I'm opening and closing my mouth like a koi - well, I'm a bit more upmarket than a goldfish - I just can't believe I'm having this conversation. There's no point in trying anything else, is there? Whatever you think of it, it is impossible to have avoided the music of the late Mr. Hendrix. Popular media will endeavour to make you make the effort to avoid it. Like The Beatles, you don't have any choice. It's one of these cultural 'norms' of modern society, like the expectation that you've read Dan Brown (x for Krusty there) and Harry bleedin' Potter (oops, another x there Krusty), you like Abba (golly Krusty, it's another x there too) and you watch 'Lost', 'Big Brother' and 'The Apprentice' (jeez Krusty, you're more out of it than Ovid under anaesthetic). But no, not sparkly-eyes. Poor wench. She's just not going to get what I'm on about.
She needs coolin'.