Cynique

Hola. It occurs to me that my musical medley really wouldn't be complete without a bit of Latin Soul. No, not Santana. Let me ignite your interest with something a little more hot. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=00cEQHhbiVI

Having fulfilled my winter wonderland obligation, I have now embarked on a new journey through a 500+ page nonfiction documentary. The snow-covered novel was an equally-long mystery thriller entitled “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.” One reason I was drawn to it was because of its back story. It was the first in a trilogy that followed the adventures of an affable middle-aged journalist and an enigmatic young woman best described as a cross between a biker babe and a Goth priestess who doubled as a computer hacker. The Author of this novel which was translated into English from Swedish was Stieg Larsson, and just as his 3-book series that centered around these 2 characters began to soar up the best-seller lists he died of a massive heart attack at the age of 49, leaving his survivors to quarrel over his million dollar estate… Talk about literary irony. This book was compelling enough for me to stick with because I wanted to see how it ended, and the writing style had a good flow, but I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it. Since “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo” is being made into a film starring Daniel Craig, the actor who is the current incarnation of James Bond, you might want to just wait for the movie to come out. The second book which I have just started and am already immensely impressed with is entitled “The Warmth of Other Suns” and is written by Isabel Wilkerson. This book chronicles the period between 1915 and 1970 during which time Blacks began leaving the rural south to seek better lives in the great Northern metropolises, and is a era otherwise known as “the great migration”. I will give a report when I complete it.

If the Robert Johnson video skips, to get rid of the kinks play it a second time in order to fully appreciate his extraordinary performance.

The big swing bands of the 1930s and early 40s were who provided dance music for hep cats and fly chicks. I can see my older sisters and brother jitterbuggin now, - or “cuttin a rug” as it was also called. This era was the hey day of Duke Ellington and Count Basie. Who hasn’t heard of these giants? The name Jimmy Lunceford may not be as familiar but he was also a trail blazer in this domain. For trivia buffs Lunceford was once the rival of Harlem Renaissance poet, Countee Cullin for the hand of W.E.B.DuBois’ daughter. Countee got the girl because her family found him more acceptable than a transient saxophone player. Jimmy got the last laugh, however, when Countee turned out to be gay. The marriage ended after 2 short years, while Lunceford went on to become a respected artist in his field. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsB_K8f3-0w Jimmy Lunceford I don’t know how I can seque into a reason for slipping the next artist into the mix except to say that his name is Paul Robeson. And he could sing.

LMAO. It's really humbling to note that something I unsuccessfully tried to post resulting in a blank space is drawing more viewers than my cavalcade of music threads. Hummm. Is there a message here. Oh, well. I'm having a ball digging up and posting what I consider significant chapters in the annals of music culture. Thank you, YouTube. You've enabled me to channel the past. And, thank you also, Troy, for providing me with a forum to showcase the diversity of music.

In my ongoing quest to do what some will find boring, the next two entries are meant to remind people that before Motown, Disco, Psychadelic Funk, Hip-hop, and Rap, black people snapped their fingers and patted their feet to other types of R&B music. Yeah, you know a little about the Blues. BB King. Roberty Cray. But, let’s go back a little further, back to the 1930s. Myth has it that musician Robert Johnson went to the crossroads and while there, sold his soul to the devil in exchange for the amazing guitar skills he inexplicably acquired. Nobody does, or did it better. Blues aficionados claim Johnson approached his guitar like a keyboard and treated the strings like piano keys. Sheer genius. Ella could chirp the hell out of a romantic love song, and really put over a lively tune. So could a lot of other vocalists. When it came to scat singing, however, the inimitable Ms. Fitzgerald was in a class by herself. Ella Fitsgerald

There was a time when Frank Sinatra had the ladies swooning and Nat Cole elicited sighs, but back then there were those of us who also appreciated the vocalizing of chitlin-circuit singer best known for his rendition of a raunchy song entitled “I want a bow-legged woman”. Like his contemporaries Arthur Prysock, and Billy Eckstein, a guy named Bull Moose Jackson could also wrap his pipes around love ballads and make female hearts flutter. Yes, Ella’s fans considered her the best, and blond blue-eyed Doris Day was everybody’s favorite girl next door but, with her soaring range and luscious tone, Sarah Vaughn could hold her own.

LOL. I understand Troy. "It's Blue World" lives up to its title, and is reflective of the slow pace of life back in the 1950s. The selling point of the record is the showcasing of the vocal musicianship that spawned the perfect harmony. Not to worry. This just gives me a chance to again play with my new toy and provides a link to a more upbeat song by the Freshmen. BTW, I always thought BOYZ 2 Men were kind of reminiscent of this group.

Man, this is getting good to me now that I know how to embed YouTube songs in a post! And I know I am being self indulgent, but who cares. This is more fun than exchanging insults with Carey, and it’s not like other board members, who obvious prefer to lurk, don’t have equal time to do their thing. Moreover, people should always take advantage of an opportunity to broaden their music tastes. With the that said, let’s get esoteric. To my surprise I have discovered that a piano genius who burned up the key board back in the late 50s and early 60s has become increasingly unfamiliar to anybody but the most elite of jazz buffs. Check out this dynamic rendition by the late great Errol Garner. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZWgf8wn9_Zw Everybody has heard of Charlie Parker and Miles Davis; they are legends. But in keeping with my aim to expose some of the jazz luminaries of the past, take a listen to a Gerry Mulligan and Chet Baker selection This combo was an exponent of the west coast school of cool jazz. What was innovative about their group, aside from fact that Gerry Mulligan played baritone sax, was that there had no piano player in it.

The other song I am posting is entitled “60-Minute Man" by the Dominos and is at the other end of the spectrum. A popular favorite of the 1950s, this recording is a classic example of doo wop music. The 4 Freshman made songs to listen to; the Doo-Wop groups put out music to dance by. Doo-wop music usually featured a tenor with a high falsetto voice and a deep throated bass singer who kept the beat. The lyrics typically celebrated or denounced the virtues of the ubiquitous “my baby”. Back in the day, no basement party with blue lights was complete without a good selection of Doo Wop songs to dance the "bop" to or do the "slow drag" on. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCeI0e7EKDc

From time to time people provide links to songs they want to share with others for one reason or another. Since it's a slow day, I'll indulge my personal tastes. Music lovers know that good music is good music, and the passage of time doesn’t alter this. My first choice is a song that became popular around 1950. It is entitled “It’s a Blue World” and was a ground-breaking record because it set the bar for all the crooning male singing groups that came after, including The Temptations, who cited The Four Freshmen as the vocal quartet which had inspired and influenced them most. As is the case in all of their selections, the Four Freshmen’s 4-part harmonizing on “It’s Blue World” is ethereal and pitch-perfect, its unique sound achieved by voices soaring into an uncharted realm, Although only one original member of this highly-acclaimed group is still alive, over the years, their albums have continued to sell, with old members being replaced buy new younger ones dedicated to preserving the distinct sound of what eventually became a franchise. Today, a Four Freshmen ensemble is still performing in small venues all over the world. I first heard “It’s a Blue World” on the radio and was blown away. I wanted to rush right out and buy it but I didn’t catch the name of the artists and my interest faded. When I met my husband a couple of months later, and discovered that he had this selection in his record collection, his approval rating immediately shot up. When we sang along with it he would sing the baritone part and I would sing alto. While he was away in the Air Force this was one of “our” songs. I cannot hear it today without thinking of him. Listening to this old romantic ballad might be a new experience for those whose ears are more attuned to the styles and genres of today. I’m sure some will find it sappy or square but anybody who has an ear for music cannot help but appreciate this perfect melodic blend of a what is equivalent to a human chord, - a sound that is as fresh today as it was 60 years ago.

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Oooooooooh puleeeeze. Still stumped as to why I don‘t dig him, unable to accept the idea that I find him stupid and obnoxious, our boy carey is apparently fantasizing that the reason I take him to task so much is because I secretly fantasize about being with him and his old erectile-dysfunctional self. Ugh. Excuse me while I barf. I’m sure carey also fantasizes that I feel slighted because I want him to devote a thread to me. This is how his ego-strapped mind works, and I knew I should’ve stopped while I was ahead. I guess all the time I wasted arguing with him is equivalent to my patting him on the head, and now like a beaten-down ol hound dog, this repulsive dufus is licking me in the face. EU. Pitiful. They say a woman’s sex organ is her brain, and my intellect feels raped by cary’s latest juvenile testament to his arrested development. This silly ol pervert needs to grow up. If he appeared in my dreams, they would turn into nightmares! And if I were so inclined to harbor any romantic aspirations, believe me they would cast me as a cougar with a 30-year-old stud, not some Viagra-laced goon whose pillow talk would make me want to suffocate him. Yawnnnn.

You're the one who doesn't get it, carey. You have an inordinate amount of GALL. You have absolutely no self-awareness. You really think you are a hero and I am a villlainess. You talked about Chrishayden like a dog, then you did an about-face, groveling over his ho-hum response, hoping you'd come across as somebody who, unlike me, is mild-mannered and agreeable. You print obscene pictures and then get sanctimonious when I stoop to your level. Then you get mad when somebody sees through your attempts at sanitizing your dirty work. And actually, I was waiting for the very tacit TarFairy to tip back in and disagree with my response to your insistence that all black folks give Obama their unconditional support. It appears the only people who agree with you are afraid to come to your defense. Wonder why? LMAO. And contrary to your misconceptions, I don't crave praise like you do. It should be obvious that gaining the approval of others is not a priority of mine. Poor ol carey. What would you do if you didn't have the 2 words "cynical" and "sarcastic" to fall back on when attempting to excuse why I don't love the smell of your shit. Puleeze. Get real, and grow up, you big whining baby.

ROTFLOL. Translated: "Chris, I want you on my side because I need somebody to prop me up and I know if I stroke your ego you'll help when I try to get back at Cynique. OK, Buddy? You got my back, right? Pretty please.

Well, carey, for somebody who claims I'm takin things much too seriously, you sound really solemn as you lick your wounds and perfectly illustrate my description of your writing being a meandering stagger through a maze of loose ends. What does my calling Obama bi-racial have to do with me having light skin?? And what does my having light skin have to do with self hate?? This certainly doesn't square with your attempts to label me as "uncle tomish". Your whole disjointed response was "classic carey": a mish-mash of non sequitors. And I really had to laugh at your co-opting the phrase "purple prose", a term I once used to describe that long-winded mush you write. For somebody who's obssessed with me being a cynic, you ought to know that a cynic's writing style is anything but "purple prose". My writing may be many things but it is not "flowery" and pretensious. And just because you write, hoping for the praise you rarely receive, doesn't mean I do. I write as a pass time, warning what my subject is in the title so folks can by-pass it, should they choose. And, incidentally, in the picture I posted of me wearing a scanty outfit straddling a chair, I was not wearing anything made of leather and I carried no whip. Another example of the flawed powers of observation that invaribly provoke you to lie and exaggerate. Just like you bashed Chrishayden's book without reading it. And your sucking up to Chris, trying to enlist him as a ally was really a transparent act of desperation. Chris and I disagree on a lot of things, but there are a few areas where we find common ground. So be it. I won't get mad if you 2 team up against me. I luv it. BTW, Xeno is one of my favorite posters, too, because he's quite articulate and intelligent. You've chosen to overlook that he and I are often supportive of each other. Bottom line, carey, because you are not an original thinker. Your whole gripe was nothing more than a regurgitation of the things I said about you. Instead of accuratly parsing my post, you just transposed my words and changed the names. Problem with that is that I am not guilty of the same things you are. I have my own set of faults. Like feminists of the past, I refer to myself a "super bitch", which is not a "foul" name, but a warning that I am not a Polly Anna. I guess that's too implicit for your obtuse mind to process. Adopting an iconoclastic stance, I challenge people with tunnel vision, and I respect anybody who gives me a good argument; that leaves you out. (What does the word "floddering" mean. Are you trying to say "floundering". Pitiful) You put your big hot air baloons out there for all to read, then when somebody sticks a pin in them, you pee on yourself. LMAO. Bottom line: if can't take it, don't dish it out.

After those pictures YOU ran how can YOU have THE NERVE to get indignant. Typical of how self-righteous you are, carey. This is an open forum. You put your ol boring self-aggrandizing posts out there and then get mad if everybody doesn't praise and agree with you. If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen, you obnoxious ol fart.

You spelled "especially" wrong, dumb-dumb, and if you think there is anything new and fresh about all that tired ol tripe you're puttin out, think again. The only think noteworthy about your dull comments is that picture of you exposing your twat, proving what I've always suspected that you are a hermaphrodite who takes it both ways. That's why you can't think straight. How did you last HIV test come out??

In posting that "Wizard" attack on Chrishayden, carey, it's so obvious that you were miffed because Chris rejected your position by refusing to blindly support Obama, so you are now trying to "save face". You can't best Chris in this Obama debate, so you are trying to draw attention away from your failure by ridiculing a book he wrote, which no matter how flawed, is better than any of your efforts. You, of all people, are on shaky grounds trying to bash someone else's writing as bad as your inept meanderings into a maze of loose ends are. The only thing your sophomoric attempt to get even with Christ does is to prove how petty you are. Plus, you continue to over-estimate the impact you have on people. But you don't intimidate or impress anybody with your lame attempts at playin "hardball". And you're always accusing others of having a big ego, yet you really think you are the supreme arbitrator of what being "black" is all about. You set your rigid little standards and expect everybody to go along with them as if you're somebody worthy of being emulated. Not. You are clueless when it comes to the concept of diversity. Time to wake up and realize that you ain't nothin but a tangled-tongued wanna-be who thinks he's in the know - a delusion inasmuch as you are not a critical thinker, but a linnear one whose peripheral vision is blocked by your innate lack of deductive reasoning powers. In bringing this reality check to a close, carey, I'll stoop to your level by repeating a playground chant: you think you're "it" but you ain't "shit".

And what does Chrishayden's book have to do with his giving a common sense assessment of Obama that only a blind fool could deny is right? But then we have to consider the source who is none other than Carey, that sorry old incarnation of Uncle Remus shuffling forward to defend his favorite house nigga Obama, shaking his fist at that uppity scamp Chrishayden fer talkin 'bout de HNIC, scared the massa might be listening. Shut yo mouf, boy! Lips flappin in the breeze, rubbin his scaly skin cuz the truth hurts, mad cuz politics made strange bedfellows out of Cynique and Chris, ol snaggled-toothed uncle carey remus hovers there, face scrunched up, the hairs in his nose bristling as he actually believes that his threats command respect, totally unaware that the only reaction he inspires is laughter and pity. And since he is too stupid to effectively refute what Chris verbalized, the only way uncle carey remus can respond is to call anybody who rebuts him "critical" or "cynical" before going into his "picture gallery mode", ignoring how the actual photo of himself is the personification of a moron who thinks ignoring reality makes him smart. Pathetic. LMAO. Keep your head lowered, uncle carey Remus. Maybe when President Obama retires from office, he'll hire you to be his yard nigga, so be sure to also keep your lawn mower in working condition. Or- if you really want to embrace the "audacity of hope" pray that he'll adopt you as his pet monkey.

I'm not familiar with FaceBook lingo, Troy, so I guess what I think is a "wall" is not a "wall". But anyhow I saw a link to that video somewhere while I was stumbing around Facebook terraine. Some young white guys from NY who specialize in this kind of thing supposedly saw the news clip and contacted Antoine about turning his rant into a video. "And the rest is history". I also heard he capitalized off of his 5 minutes of fame so well that he was able to move out of "The Projects". And, no, I didn't set up that tribute page for my grandson, Kyle. My other grandson did. All I did was write the bio which was a revised version of his funeral obituary. Kyle's middle name was the same as his father's, and his father is around your age. Demetrius, as I'm sure you know, is a Greek name which became a favorite among Blacks probably because it was the name of the heroic Greek slave who was a character in a best-selling novel of its day entitled "The Robe". This immmensely popular book was later made into an epic movie which is still being shown on TV, usually around Easter time.

What I found amusing was that in response to my remark about today's younger generation being captivated by electronic gadgets and computer technology, Chrishayden asked if my complaint was inspired by some kid playing his boom box too loud. Say what? Didn't boom boxes go out back in the 1980's? A good example of how updated Chris' thinking is. Somebody tell him this is the year 2010.

I was reminded that Ol carey took a page out of Kola's book with his gallery of graphic pictures. Ahh, those were the good ol days when me and Kola-nut used to go at it. But let me tell you, as an opponent, ol dumb Carey can't hold a candle to Kola. "You asked for it Cynique", Carey warns, like he was gonna unload a big one. Wooooo. Boy, was I skeered. Not. Super Bitch cannot be intimidated. It's interesting that Carey would include the obscene pictures in his family album thread. Since we know they aren't actually me, can we assume that they are poses of his relatives which he just happened to come across while assembling the exhibit he decided to bore us with. (Like who gives a shit about his family tree. If I wanna see monkeys I'll go to the zoo.) LMAO.

Ummmm, Troy. Are you aware that this news clip has been turned into a hip-hop video which is also on YouTube and has reportedly received a million hits. There was a link to the video on my FaceBook wall and it is ridiculously hilarious.

The true mark of a defeated man. Unable to intelligently defend his stupid contentions, he clings to his usual security blanket. Unlike you, carey, I don't have to scan images of other people to make up for an inablility to verbalize. Your actual picture is already available, and your liver-lipped, bubble-eyed mug is all that is needed to illustrate your mental deficiency. Talk about goofy lookin! You're the poster boy for it.