Chamblee54

Bernie

Posted in Library of Congress, Politics, The Internet, Undogegorized by chamblee54 on August 24, 2015

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A facebook friend posted a link, The Top 10 Reasons Why Bernie Sanders Should Win The Nomination. PG is neutral on BS, who is not Hillary. The link was accompanied by an unfortunate graphic. “Bernie Because fuck this shit” The meme was low quality, with “Bernie” breaking up in the white background. The profane slogan was in italics, in a similar font to the Bernie trademark.

When you post a link on facebook, the content provider chooses the headline, and the picture. The fbf said she had no idea that this vulgar message would appear. Indeed, if you look at the post, you do not see this meme. Where did the meme come from?

PG is no prude, and can cuss with the worst of them. However, there is a time and a place. Perhaps the “fuck this shit” message was a reaction to the latest hashtag from #blacklivesmatter, #NotAnally.

The website americannewsx offers few clues. Was this another dirty trick from Hillary, or the Repubs? PG has not read the post, and does not plan to. It is too early in the campaign for that kind of investment. The Georgia primary is six months away. A lot can happen between now and then. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress.

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Another Word For Lie

Posted in GSU photo archive, Undogegorized by chamblee54 on August 24, 2015

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I need to see this in person ~ #tweetthatgotmeblocked @chescaleigh when you say the n-word you demean yourself it is in your best interest not to use it ~ You are blocked from following @chescaleigh and viewing @chescaleigh’s Tweets. ~ POTUS KIA ~ I see that you have blocked me on twitter. You are within your rights to do so. I do regret missing your commentary. I find it interesting that the last comment I made was about the n word. I have felt for a long time than ridicule, rather than outrage, is the best approach to using this unfortunate word. I also feel that the use of those six letters degrades the user, no matter what ethnicity. I have written about this on my blog. The social justice movement is reaching a point where few are converted. Most anti racist talk is preaching to the choir. A lot of people are tired of the conversation. If your goal is to entertain those who agree with you, then preach on. You will get plenty to cheer. If you goal is to influence others, then you might want to talk less, and listen more. ~ I had never thought about William F. Buckley as a closet queen. Horrifying visuals aside, it does make a bit of sense. ~ White progressives trying to help minorities #FeelTheBern put in their place with #NotAnAlly hashtag ~ story is another word for lie ~ For every flag draped coffin, there are a hundred dead Iraqis. ~ You’re entitled to your own opinion, but not to your own facts. ~ It is a dilemma. You should be prepared for war. The problem is, when you have these science fiction weapons, you are going to look for ways to use them. Add to that a political/economic machine that is fueled by weapons spending. I am not smart enough to know the answer, ~ all things are possible in a world without g-d ~ @FrankConniff The most racism ever packed into one sentence: George Zimmerman selling Confederate flags at Muslim Free Zone gun shop. ~ KimKierkegaardashian ‏@KimKierkegaard Without sin, there is no sexuality, and without sexuality, no history. ~ What about being annoyed by ugly graphics? ~ White progressives trying to help minorities #FeelTheBern put in their place with #NotAnAlly hashtag ~ @HrishiHirway Did you know? the origin of the word GODSPEED comes from this one time Zeus and Poseidon took a whizz on a bush ~ Would mojo help? ~ The “confederate flag” is also known as the St. Andrew’s cross. Do you ever see this symbol in St. Andrews? ~ a mexican a black and a chinaman walk into ~ I was in town last night. The Krystal on Peachtree at Seventh is about to become twenty luxury residences. Is nothing sacred? ~ Like that view of Peachtree Street today, the graphic poem will bear very little resemblance to the original. I was down there last night, and was heartbroken to see that the Starbucks/Krystal on 7th street was torn down to make way for “20 luxury residences.” ~ @nihilist_arbys Ash blankets a silent, ruined world. The slaves trudge through nuclear winter beneath a black scorched sky to the last Arbys Arbys is closed ~ #conservative #liberal #racist are obsolete insults their use should be discouraged ~ One day at a time – this is enough. Do not look back and grieve over the past for it is gone. And do not be troubled about the future, for it has yet to come. Live in the present, tomorrow is never promised, so make it so beautiful it will be worth remembering. Happiness is a journey, just as life is. Enjoy the ride. ~ Ida Scott Taylor ~ Comments are disabled for this video. ~ I listened to this talk, and then stumbled into this thread. Is this synchronicity, or a conspiracy to keep people from their chores? ~ written about this video ~ jokes ~ is it appropriate to refer to this as a status? ~ @WernerTwertzog Please, no more trust-building exercises. I prefer to regard you all with suspicion And secret loathing. ~ Rachel Rosenthal is a comedian, improviser, instructor, and free-style rapper working in New York City. ~ The Free Dictionary says “shit” is derived from shitten, in Middle English. There is probably onomatopoeia involved, when you consider how much the act of defecation sounds like “shit”. If you are easily amused, try typing “shit” into google. As for “bull”, this is also credited, or blamed, on Middle English. For some reason, pronouncements by the Pope are called Papal Bull. It is not known if there is a connection to male cattle, or the excrement produced by these animals. ~ pictures from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”. ~ selah

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Conservative Liberal Racist

Posted in Library of Congress, Politics, Race by chamblee54 on August 23, 2015






The management of this blog is not responsible for brain damage incurred while reading this post. If you cant take the heat, get out of the kitchen. Those threatened by this discussion, or not interested, are encouraged to skip over the text, and look at the pictures. These images, of Union Soldiers of the War Between the States, are from The Library of Congress. This is a repost.

There is a meme, with the text a conservative is a liberal who has been labeled a racist. A few comments followed publication. Someone was paying attention. Uhm…WTF?! ~ its a long story ~ All three labels are useless and misleading. I try not to let the labels of others describe me, but sometimes it happens. It is a bit of poetic license.

The words liberal and conservative are useless. When he started to make the comment, PG intended to refer to those two expressions. Then he started to type.The realization hit … the word racist was just as obsolete as liberal and conservative, and probably misused more often.

The next day at work, PG began to think. If you saw a mushroom cloud rising over Jimmy Carter Boulevard, that is what you saw. Random thoughts began to emerge.

A- The popularity of con, lib, and rac, derive from America’s blind allegiance to the belief paradigm The general thought is that what you believe is more important than what you do. The dominant religion in America is Jesus Worship, which is based on beliefs rather than practices. While America is not officially a Christian country, their thought processes dominate the way things work here.

B- The belief paradigm filters down to the popularity of silly labels.We have people who claim to be small government conservatives, and who support sending 200k troops to a war eight time zone away. You can treat your black neighbors with kindness and grace, but if you say the wrong things on facebook you are considered a racist. It is a funny system.

C- Conservatives use liberal as an insult. Liberals use racist as an insult.

D- No one is certain what the words conservative, liberal, and racist mean. You should beware of anyone who claims to be certain of what these labels represent.





Restore Tronald Dump

Posted in Poem by chamblee54 on August 22, 2015

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Old People Running For President

Posted in Library of Congress, Politics by chamblee54 on August 21, 2015

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A recent podcast tells the story of Anna Sklepovich. As her 13th birthday approached in 1941, she noticed that hers was the same day, January 30, as President Franklin Roosevelt. The POTUS was 59. The young lady wrote the White House, and became a momentary celebrity.

When PG heard this, he was suprised at how young Mr. Roosevelt was. The 32nd President has always seemed like a tired old man. After dealing with a depression, a war, and a marriage to Eleanor, Mr. Roosevelt wore out and died. He was 63 in 1945.

35 years later, Ronald Reagan ran for President. His age was an issue. In one Saturday Night Live sketch, Mr. Reagan was taking an afternoon nap during a candidates debate. Saint Ronnie was 69 when he was inaugurated, and was walking when he left office 8 years later. His mental state was a matter of speculation during his term in office.

We are currently looking at a group of people who want to be sworn in on January 20, 2017. A lot of these folks are senior citizens. The office of President is strenuous. It might not be a bad idea to elect a vigorous young person into that position. This does not seem likely to happen.

There has been a trend toward younger Presidents lately, especially Democrats. Barack Obama was 47 when he was sworn in. Bill Clinton was 46 at the start of his term. His wife, the perenniel Democratic front runner, will be 24 years older than when her husband was elected. The effect of his philandering on her aging process is not known.

There is a helpful web page, How Old Would President ___ Be? It shows the anticipated age of all the major players, with the exception of Al Gore. (Mr. Gore will be 68 on January 20,2017. He was 52 when he won the popular vote.) The age story of the POTUS wannabes is not pretty.

The youngest announced candidate is Bobby Jindal. Marco Rubio, Ted Cruz, and Scott Walker would all be under fifty if, G-d forbid, one of them is elected. The seemingly youthful trio of Chris Christie, Rand Paul, and Rick Santorum will all be under 60 in January 2017.

When you get to Saint Ronnie’s inauguration age, it becomes rather disturbing. Pantsuit aficionado Hillary Clinton will be 69. Hairpiece king Donald Trump will be 70. The other candidate generating a buzz, BLM fav Bernie Sanders, will be 75. If BS gets elected in 2016, and re-elected in 2020, he will be 83 when he leaves office. Is this really what is best for America? Pictures today are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.

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Poetry Questionnaire

Posted in Book Reports, GSU photo archive, Undogegorized by chamblee54 on August 21, 2015

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This just turned up on facebook. “just sent my students their first assignment for “introduction to poetry writing” !!!! it’s a “poetry questionnaire” smile emoticon” Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.
01. What shape, color and smell is poetry? Bakery exhaust clouds

02. You’re sitting next to poetry on an airplane. How do you start the conversation? Please turn down the noise on your device. Those drum beats sound like marching ants.
03. What is poetry’s nickname? Fossil fuel
04. What does poetry sound like? Houseplants gossiping about last nights disaster in the kitchen.

05. What room in your house is poetry? Crawl space
06. How does poetry move in its body? Does it walk, gallop, stumble, dance? Slither
07. What are poetry’s five favorite words? Listen stupid help hamburger cow

08. Use those words in a sentence. Listen to grinder/scruff turn my stupid cow into hamburger help.
09. Poetry, music, art and science are high school classmates. Do they get along? During football season, if the team is winning. Otherwise, things change from day to day.
10. What are the politics of poetry? Poetry yearns for return of whig party, and does not see Donald Trump’s hairpiece as qualified. Sarah Palin’s wigs are more historically geographical.

11. Who does poetry follow on twitter? @whiteliesmatter
12. Earth, water, fire or air? Mud
13. “Doth Poets rime, and doth this Line / align, or just lay plain?” Plain does not hook up.
14. Who is the least poetic person you know, and why? Jesus He is boring and pretentious.

15. Surprise! They’re a poet. Ignore his followers when they ask for money.
16. *gargles water while juggling 6 chainsaws, slips on banana peel and falls into enormous banana cream pie, survives unscathed and wins the Pulitzer Prize for poetry* Secret is to use electric chainsaw cords for leverage. Try to fall into a chocolate cake.
17. “As yet, in Time, ye Poets may / forsake the Forms and never rime again.” That’s my story and i’m sticking to it. Don’t believe any of the other stories going around.

18. Are you enjoying this questionnaire? [HR requires me to ask] HR is the hamburger cow.
19. What question do you wish I’d asked? What do you have to do to get a sexual harassment complaint? It is an important item on my bucket list.
20. Answer it. Show up, stay awake, don’t kill anyone.

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The Funeral Of Elvis

Posted in History, Undogegorized by chamblee54 on August 20, 2015

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PG was going to write about some depressing subject. People that are not kind to each other. People in Israel and people in Gaza just don’t seem to get along. Somebody driving a “faded red F-150 pickup truck” in Livonia MI was mean to a little girl. (HT to Neo Prodigy.) This is a repost.

There is a saying, “if a story seems too bad to be true, it probably isn’t”. PG tried to google that phrase, and got confused. Then he seemed to remember reading it in a column by Molly Ivins. Another google adventure, and there was this film. Miss Ivins, who met her maker January 31, 2007, was promoting a book. She sat down with a bald headed man to talk about it. PG could only listen to 24:30 of this video before being seized with the urge to write a story. There is a transcript, which makes “borrowing” so much easier. This film has 34 minutes to go, which just might yield another story or two.

Molly Ivins was a Texas woman. These days there is a lot of talk about Texas, with Governor Big Hair aiming to be the next POTUS under indictment. Mr. Perry claims that his record as Texas Governor qualifies him to have his finger on the nuclear trigger. Miss Ivins repeats something that PG has heard before…
“in our state we have the weak governor system, so that really not a great deal is required of the governor, not necessarily to know much or do much. And we’ve had a lot of governors who did neither. “ It makes you wonder how much of that “economic miracle” is because of hair spray.
Texas politics makes about as much sense as Georgia politics. For a lady, with a way with words, it is a gold mine.
“the need you have for descriptive terms for stupid when you write about Texas politics is practically infinite. Now I’m not claiming that our state Legislature is dumber than the average state Legislature, but it tends to be dumb in such an outstanding way. It’s, again, that Texas quality of exaggeration and being slightly larger than life. And there are a fair number of people in the Texas Legislature of whom it could fairly be said, `If dumb was dirt, they would cover about an acre.’ And I’m not necessarily opposed to that. I’m–agree with an old state senator who always said that, `If you took all the fools out of the Legislature, it would not be a representative body anymore.'”
We could go through this conversation for a long time, but you probably want to skip ahead and look at pictures. There is one story in this transcript that is too good not to borrow. For some reason, Molly Ivins went to work for The New York Times, aka the gray lady. In August of 1977, she was in the right place at the right time.

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Mr. LAMB: And how long did you spend with The New York Times as a reporter?
Ms. IVINS: Six years with The New York Times. Some of it in New York as a political reporter at City Hall in Albany and then later as bureau chief out in the Rocky Mountains.
Mr. LAMB: Would you take a little time and tell us about reporting on the funeral of Elvis Presley?
Ms. IVINS: Oh, now there is something that when I’ve been standing in the checkout line at the grocery store and if I really need to impress people, I just let fall that I covered Elvis’ funeral. And, boy, people just practically draw back with awe. It may yet turn out to be my greatest claim to fame.
I was sitting in The New York City Times one day when I noticed a whole no–knot of editors up around the desk having a–a great scrum of concern, you could tell. It looked sort of like an anthill that had just been stepped on. And it turns out–The New York Times has a large obituary desk, and they prepare obituaries for anybody of prominence who might croak. But it turns out–you may recall that Elvis Presley died untimely and they were completely unprepared.
Now this is an enormous news organization. They have rock music critics and classical music critics and opera critics, but they didn’t have anybody who knew about Elvis Presley’s kind of music. So they’re lookin’ across a whole acre of reporters, and you could see them decide, `Ah-ha, Ivins. She talks funny. She’ll know about Mr. Presley.’
So I wound up writing Elvis’ obituary for The New York Times. I had to refer to him throughout as Mr. Presley. It was agonizing. That’s the style at The New York Times–Mr. Presley. Give me a break. And the next day they sold more newspapers than they did after John Kennedy was assassinated, so that even the editors of The New York Times, who had not quite, you know, been culturally aton–tuned to Elvis, decided that we should send someone to report on the funeral. And I drew that assignment. What a scene it was.
Mr. LAMB: You–you say in the book that you got in the cab and you said, `Take me to Graceland.’ The cabbie peels out of the airport doing 80 and then turns full around to the backseat and drawls, `Ain’t it a shame Elvis had to die while the Shriners are in town?’
Ms. IVINS: That’s exactly what he said. `Shame Elvis had to die while the Shriners are in town.’ And I kind of raised by eyebrows. And sure enough, I realized what he–what he meant after I had been there for awhile because, you know, Shriners in convention–I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a whole lot of Shriners in convention, but they were having a huge national convention that very week in Memphis. And they tend to wear their little red fezzes, and sometimes they drink too much and they march around the hotel hallways tooting on New Year’s Eve horns and riding those funny little tricycles and generally cutting up and having a good time. That’s your Shriners in convention, always something very edifying and enjoyable to watch. But they–every–every hotel room in Memphis was occupied with celebrating Shriners, and then Elvis dies and all these tens of thousands of grieving, hysterical Elvis Presley fans descend on the town.
So you got a whole bunch of sobbing, hysterical Elvis fans, you got a whole bunch of cavorting Shriners. And on top of that they were holding a cheerleading camp. And the cheerleading camp–I don’t know if your memory–with the ethos of the cheerleading camp, but the deal is that every school sends its team–team of cheerleaders to cheerleading camp.
And your effort there at the camp is to win the spirit stick, which looks, to the uninitiated eye, a whole lot like a broom handle painted red, white and blue. But it is the spirit stick. And should your team win it for three days running, you get to keep it. But that has never happened. And the way you earn the spirit stick is you show most spirit. You cheer for breakfast, lunch and dinner. You cheer when the pizza man brings the pizza. You do handsprings end over end down the hallway to the bathroom. I tell you, those young people will throw–show an amount of spirit that would just astonish you in an effort to win that stick.
So here I was for an entire week, dealing with these three groups of people: the young cheerleaders trying to win the spirit stick, the cavorting Shriners and the grieving, hysterical Elvis fans. And I want to assure you that The New York Times is not the kind of newspaper that will let you write about that kind of rich human comedy.
Mr. LAMB: Why?
Ms. IVINS: Because The New York Times, at least in my day, was a very stuffy, pompous newspaper.
Mr. LAMB: What about today?
Ms. IVINS: A little bit better, little bit better than it was.
Mr. LAMB: And…
Ms. IVINS: Has–has–it has a tendency, recidivist tendencies, though. You–you will notice if you read The Times, it–it collapses into pomposity and stuffiness with some regularity.
Mr. LAMB: Why did you leave it?
Ms. IVINS: Well, I–I actually got into trouble at The New York City Times for describing a community chu–chicken killing out West as a gang pluck. Abe Rosenthal was then the editor of the Times and he was not amused.
Mr. LAMB: Did–but did they let it go? Did they let it…
Ms. IVINS: Oh, no. It never made it in the paper. Good heavens, no. Such a thing would never get in The Times in my day.
POSTSCRIPT PG found some pictures, marked up the text, and was ready to post the story. He decided to listen to a bit more of the discussion between Molly Ivins and the bald headed man. When he got to this point, it became apparent that he could listen to Molly Ivins talk, or he could post his story, but he could not do both at the same time.
Ms. IVINS: Oh, well, of course, I’m gonna make fun of it. I mean, Berkeley, California, if you are from Texas, is just hilarious.
Mr. LAMB: Why?
Ms. IVINS: Well, of course, it is just the absolute center of liberalism and political correctness. And it is a veritable hotbed of people, of–bless their hearts, who all think alike, in a liberal way. And, of course, I’m sometimes called a liberal myself, and you would think I would have felt right at home there. But I just am so used to–I’m so used to Texas that I found the culture at Berkeley hysterical.

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Psalms 15

Posted in Poem by chamblee54 on August 19, 2015

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Richards

Posted in Georgia History, GSU photo archive, Music by chamblee54 on August 19, 2015

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A comment at a recent post mentioned “Jenning’s Rose Room, a classic poor white juke and dance hall … where Trader Joes now sits.” PG had been in that building when it was called Richards. Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.

There is no telling what the original use of the building at 931 Monroe Drive was. It was across the street from Grady Stadium, and adjacent to Piedmont Park. The railroad tracks that became the beltline ran behind it. The parking lot was primitive, with a marquee sign built at some point. (PG drove by that sign several nights and saw that Lynyrd Skynyrd was playing.)

There was another nightclub building on the hill behind JRR. One night, PG went to see a jazz band there, accompanied by someone who lived in a nearby house. After seeing the band, PG was led to a horse stable behind the bar. The horses were not well maintained … you could see the ribs sticking out. There is a story of a goat getting loose from the stable, and being chased out of the jazz bar during happy hour.

Jennings Rose Room was before PG’s time. There is a story that some men had lunch there, and made a bet. The idea was to hit a golf ball from the JRR parking lot, and putt it into a hole at Piedmont Park. A biscuit was used as a tee. The first shot went across the street, onto the field at the stadium. Eventually, the ball was hit across Tenth Street, onto a green, and into the cup.

At some point, Jennings Rose Room closed. A gay club called Chuck’s Rathskeller was opened in that location. A rock and roll club or two did business there. Then Richards opened.

The first time PG was in the house was after a Johnny Winter concert at the Fox. There were rumors of visiting musicians dropping by Richards to play after their shows. Mr. Winter was only onstage for a couple of minutes after PG got there.

The most memorable trip to Richards was during the summer of 1973. The headliner was Rory Gallagher, who was ok but not spectacular. The opening act was Sopwith Camel, one of the forgotten bands of the seventies. They performed a novelty hit, “Hello Hello”. Someone in the audience liked it, and paid them to do it again. The band wound up doing “Hello Hello” five times, and said that was the most money they made in a long time.

Average White Band was making the rounds that fall, and had a show at Richards. A lot of the audience was black, and they hit the dance floor in unison when “Pick up the Pieces” was played. Fellow Scotsman Alex Harvey was in town, and joined AWB to sing “I heard it through the grapevine”.

Muddy Waters played at Richards one night. The band did most of the playing, with Mr. Waters tossing in a few licks on bottleneck guitar. He might have sang a couple of times.

About this time, Iggy Pop played a few shows at Richards. One night, someone snuck up on him, and gave him a hug. It was Elton John, wearing a gorilla suit.

PG saw three more shows (that he can remember) at Richards. Richie Havens was worth the two dollar admission. Soft Machine played in the winter of 1974. Larry Coryell played a show that summer, with the Mike Greene Band opening. PG got to talk to Mike Greene that night. The National Association of Recording Arts and Sciences (who do the Grammy Awards) had a President named C. Michael Greene at one time. PG thinks this is the person he talked to that night.

Two friends of PG went, as their first date, to see Spirit at Richards. They were married a few years later. Towards the end of 1974, Richards was running out of steam. They advertised a New Years Eve show starring B.B. King, and sold high priced tickets. When the crowd showed up for the show, they found the doors locked. Richards had closed.

The next tenant for 931 Monroe Drive was going to be Cabaret After Dark, a gay club. There was a fire the night before the grand opening. The building was never used again. Eventually, a shopping center was built on the site.
UPDATE: Here is an article, from the Great Speckled Bird, about Richards. This is a repost.

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No Labor-Saving Machine

Posted in Poem by chamblee54 on August 18, 2015

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Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest 2015 Part Two

Posted in GSU photo archive, Undogegorized by chamblee54 on August 18, 2015

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Here is part two of the chamblee54 coverage of the 2015 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. Number two might be more appropriate. Part one went up a few days ago. The explanation of what BLFC can be found at all three of those links. Pictures for this appalling waste of bandwidth are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.

Claire had more daddy issues than Boy’s Life magazine published in the late 1970s, but she was a perfect match for Donald, whose personality was vaguely sticky, like the outside of a squeezable honey container or anything handled by a three-year-old. — James Pokines, Boston, MA

Wilbur’s passionate kisses sent a warm shiver down Eugenia’s tender spine and made the coarse hair on her knuckles erect. — David Pepper, Torrance, CA

This is a story about love, but not just any kind of love like how you love the feeling of trading in a pair of soggy, old socks for fresh ones, or the taste of salty French fries dipped in a chocolate milkshake, I’m talking about the other kind of love. — Anna Sagstetter, Fort Wayne, IN

It was debatable what Felicity enjoyed most about the night – the delicious dinner, the marvelous movie, or the satisfying sex – but one thing was clear and that was that she hoped she wouldn’t be doing it alone again next time. — Randy Blanton, Murfreesboro, TN

Camilla was a strong, confident woman who ran a Fortune 500 company and made her own yogurt, but what she really longed for was a control-freak guy who would tap her phone, lock her in her room, and force her to listen to Gilbert Gottfried singing the national anthem.
Laura Ruth Loomis, Pittsburg, CA

Having eaten her fill of the town’s fils et filles, the French witch inspected her candy-encrusted house and decided she needed a grander lure to attract grander prey–perhaps she should build a homme depot. — Scott Britton, Boston, MA

Old Man Dracula forgot to put his teeth in one night, and so had to come home hungry, with a sort of “nothing dentured, nothing veined” look on his face.— Matthew Pfeifer Beaman IA

Spurs a-jangling, Black Bert sauntered to the bar and cried “this town ain’t big enough!”—then gulped a whisky, fingered his six-shooter, and belched—”so I say we annex Dry Gulch, thus increasing our tax base while simultaneously reducing fixed costs through economies of scale.”
Joel Phillips, West Trenton, NJ

“Pecos Mac” McCarthy index-fingered back the brim of his battered Stetson, squatted at the edge of the waterhole, cupped a handful of brackish water, squinted out over the shimmering alkali flats of the Badlands, and decided then and there that he had prit’ near had it with overwrought, hackneyed western imagery. — Joseph Pramuk, Napa, CA

Barnaby asked the counter girl for a pastrami sandwich on rye with heartbreak, onions, and ennui on it, wrapped to go in the soul of a sheep, to which she turned wearily and yelled, “Another number six!”— Jeff Coleburn, West Chester, PA

Stephanie did not intend to become an animal coroner when she went to veterinary school, but the workload was manageable and, for cats, she usually just had to check the “curiosity” box under “cause of death.”— Doug Purdy, Roseville, CA

Carlos stared in lust and amazement as she walked away, her spandex-covered body giving the impression of two well-oiled sumo wrestlers on stilts furiously going for the win.
Marlin Back, Columbus, IN

The Phylognites made love by intertwining their eyeball stalks, a most erotic sensation except occasionally when, due to inexperience or excessive ardor, their stalks became inextricably bound in what (unbeknownst to them) a species of obnoxious, quarrelsome little bipeds on an obscure planet circling a small star in the Milky Way might call a “bird’s nest.” — Wayne Carmichael, Tyler, TX

“You’re a dead man, O’ Flanagan,” said the mortuary supervisor to the corpse laid out before him, chuckling to himself at how comical that remark was, a sentiment not shared with the rest of the night shift who all secretly yearned for the day he retired, having heard the same joke on innumerable occasions with just the surname of the deceased changed. — Ted Downes, Cardiff, U.K.

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Was Mae West A Real Girl?

Posted in GSU photo archive, History, Undogegorized by chamblee54 on August 17, 2015

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Today would be birthday 122 for Mary Jane “Mae” West. Of course, she died in 1980, so the party is off. PG saw a note on facebook, and made the comment “She was rumored to be a man.” One right click google search later, this post started to take shape.

There is a blogspot site, maewest.blogspot.com. It is still published, with a birthday post today. Five years ago there was a post, Mae West: Penis Rumors. It seems as though Miss West liked to say, to the press, “When I die, you are going to be very surprised!”

A hollywood gossipmonger had a story, Was Mae West…A Man?! Much of her information comes from the tasteful findadeath site. The story here is that Mae West died in 1950, and the death was kept quiet. Her brother made appearances in her place, until the final death in 1980. This would have been quite a feat, considering that John Edwin West died in 1964. That doesn’t stop people from talking.

“…the real Mae West died somewhere around 1950, give or take a couple years, and rather than let the show stop, it was announced that not Mae, but her brother, died. Of course, the brother then became Mae West and carried on until November 1980. If you look carefully at photos from around 1950 on it definitely looks like a different person not to mention the big hands and masculine features, bone structure, etc. I may not have all the details 100% correct but I would almost put money on the fact that the ‘Mae West’ ‘who died in 1980 had a weenie!!”

The hands were mentioned by Raquel Welch. The two were in Myra Breckinridge, the first movie Miss West had made in 27 years. (Miss West appeared on Mr. Ed in 1964.) Miss Welch appeared at a film festival in 2012, and had stories to tell.

“When I went over to say hello to her (one day) I said, ‘Hi, it’s Raquel, remember?’ She sort of extended her hand to me and I went to kiss the ring and one false fingernail painted silver fell to the floor. I looked at the hand and I thought, ‘Oh, I’m getting a vibe.’ I really think she’s a man! At this point in her life all bets are off and you’re not going to be able to doll it up that much. I would say it’s pretty accurate that she resembled a dock worker in drag.” …

“I had this beautiful dress and it was black with a big white ruffle around the neck and a black velvet hat … Apparently Mae got wind of the fact that I was wearing this exquisite dress and I went to the studio that day for our scene together. I got coiffed, got my hair done and went to the closet to get the dress and it wasn’t there. I asked my dresser what happened to the dress and she said, ‘It’s been confiscated. Mae does not want you to wear that dress. You can wear the red dress that you wore in the last scene!’ … Welch was so outraged that she stormed off the set and refused to return until the dress was back in her closet. … “For the scene, we never appeared in a two-shot together. She left after she did her lines and I had someone off-camera reading her lines and I had to pretend she was there.”

Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.

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