From the Say What!?! blog — transcript from an actual deposition:
DEFENSE ATTORNEY: May it please the Court. Your Honor. This Mr. Fred Head is trying to make me look like a bad guy. But there’s two sides to every question, and every coin you’ve got has got a back and front to it … Now, what the lawyer said, what I’m telling you right now and what he told you right now, you don’t believe. You don’t have to believe. It’s lawyer’s talk, so to speak.
And every special issue is going to, that the Court submits to you, is going to be prefaced ordinarily by, “Do you find from a preponderance of the evidence.” The Court, I think, will give you a definition of a preponderance of the evidence. I think it’s called the greater weight of incredible testimony. Incredible evidence. Now, just that Mr. Head says it’s true doesn’t mean it is.
This represents the quality of my thinking skills right now. I’m fer rill.
Fink out (to the kitchen for aspirin and coffee, in that order)
Fiends, the Fink is much obliged and humbled by the emails, text messages and comment posts of encouragement regarding the recent disappointment. Thanks also to Seamus and Hannah (#1 Son and Jakey’s Mom) for bringing Jake over to see me on Monday night. It was a daymaker. Anyway, I heart you all.
It is no secret to those who know me that the word “failure” is particularly unpalatable to me. It is difficult for me to let bygones be bygones, or learn from the experience, and all the other clichés which I find decidedly useless. The failure was my own. Gotta prepare better next time is all.
I had a nightmare (or five) last night. You shall now interpret, lest I throw you back in the dungeon.
I was in someone’s office, looking at set design ideas (is Greg now in my nightmares?), when I heard a horrible blowing and raining sound outside. I must have been in Florida or something, because when I looked out the window, I saw palm trees, bending almost to the breaking point against the wind. All of a sudden, I’m no longer in an office, but in a hotel room. My cell phone is buzzing somewhere, but I can’t find it. When I finally do, there’s someone on the other end (I know not who), shouting, “Where are you? Why haven’t you been answering your phone? There’s a hurricane outside!”
And that is all. If I had a beard, I would stroke it at this juncture. Lars, please do the honor on my behalf.
As always, I covet your articulate and compendious thoughts.
That’s me. Passed my theory exam, but failed the other two. Back to the books.
Go ahead. Name any R & B artist since 1970, and any rapper. They all have one thing in common. They have George Clinton to thank.
Spacey, loopy, crazy, confusing, but amazing George Clinton. You don’t need to understand him; one doesn’t question the Georgeness of a thing. You just nod and say, “Yep. That’s where the funk comes from.”
And what is “Georgeness?” Here is Clinton’s response when asked in a 2006 NPR interview to describe exactly what he does:
“Psychoalphadiscobetabioaqua- doloop — the art of dancin’ underwater and not gettin’ wet. That’d be my job…”
And there you go. That’s his job. Well, that, and living out the effects of an awful lot of weed over the years. Seriously though, he is the undisputed king of funk — the music that gave you your rap and hip-hop artists. George says you’re welcome.
He seems like he’d be a lot of fun (albeit completely perplexing) to talk to. I’ll bet his concerts are cool — maybe Lars can weigh in on that, since he’s been to one. Clinton has like 30+ people in his band; not even he knows them all. I’ll bet *you* could steal away on the bus, grab a trumpet, and just stand up there and pretend…and no one would know the difference. Heh. That would be the Georgeness.
My favorite Parliament/Funkadelics tune is “Flashlight” – here is 30 or so seconds of it. Clinton’s music is heavily sampled, and has been for decades by ____________ (fill in the blank with just about any rapper since 1990). I don’t know how many artists have sampled this, but now you know where it originated.
So thank George today. And me. You can thank me. I didn’t do anything, but you can thank me anyway.
Photo credit: Nitin Vadukul
Random Neuron Firings
Ya know…there are two words that should not be uttered in the same sentence right now. The two words are Baghdad and tourists. Tourists? In Baghdad? Now? Yep.
OK, so they were “pilgrims.” Whatever. I’m not knocking pilgrimages, or a person’s right to pilgrim. But to bring your children into a city where people regularly, and with impunity, blow themselves up at any random time and place… don’t you think it might be wiser to visit other shrines for awhile? I dunno. As my Grandma Johnson used to say, “No one asked me my opinion about it, so I’ll just shut my mouth.”
Enjoyed watching the Cavs win last night. (We won’t talk about the Indians.) Side note: Detroit Pistons coach Michael Curry reminds me of Yul Brynner.
I never much attributed phrases like “artistry” to basketball plays. But last night I saw some incredible feats. LeBron — overhyped and in love with himself as he is — can play ball. Holy…
My fiend Jennie sent me this video yesterday. I was moved, and by the end, totally choked up. It is easy for non-arts people (just like any excluded group in any area of endeavor) to miss the point of how important music and dance are to human existence — not to mention the part they have played since antiquity. This video, which includes people of all ages and ability levels coming together in an Antwerp, Belgium train station, drives that point home. It is amazing to watch.
All right, time to get started on rhythm section parts. I hate weekends. I really, really hate them.