The Michael Jackson thing finally put me over the edge: I am boycotting the New York Post. Mind you, I do love gossip. I mean, once upon a time I was the movie editor at People. And one of my fondest memories is being in the middle of god knows where and hearing that Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley (guess she's not being called as a witness) were married. That was too wonderful to be true. And yet it was true!
And I reckon that's the problem. I used to read the Post for the same reason that I used to like country music, partly as a goof, and partly to keep in touch with what my brothers and sisters of America were thinking about. But as country music with its drinkin' and cheatin' and numbin' litany of misfortunes began to seem more and more true to life and less and less amusing, I went off it.
Same with the Post. It probably started with Bush's reelection. Then there was the Scott thing, the Martha thing. Even Wierd but True started seeming not that weird and all too true. The headlines started to suck. And I could get the horoscope on the web without ever having to look at the rest of the depressing reality of what America is today.
In fact, what I have in common with my countryfolk right now is mostly the president and the addictions we share. Not enough for solidarity.
Reason not to stop smoking today: Michael Fucking Jackson
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This blog used to be called "Why I Can't Stop Smoking." Well, I did stop smoking. Now I need to stop drinking. The only thing is, every day there seems to be a reason why I can't just yet. It worked before, so—here goes! Today's reason
mr. and mrs. jones
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About Me
- Claudia
- The sister of the President of the Garden Club, a former journalist (People, Life) and now vacation rental property manager on an island once known as Claudia's Island, Claudia has honed her bedmaking skills and seldom travels without a truckload of substandard chairs.
5 comments:
Cher: I was driving home from Cornelia, and decided to listen to Loretta Lynn's newest album. Which, by the way, won the Grammy for best Country album of the year. Why, I have no idea. I love Loretta, as you know. We are going to see her at Hurricaine Mills in May. But there isn't one song on this album that's any good, in my opinion, anyway. However, there is one song that truly takes the cake. You, my dear, would die if you heard it. So here are the lyrics: my jaw was on the floor.
I'm in a womens prison with bars all around
I caught my darlin' cheatin that's when I shot him down
I caught him in a honky tonk with a girl I used to know
The door to my cell is open wide and a voice cries out oh, no
The judge says I'm guilty and my sentence is to die
I know I've been forgiven but the price of love is high
The crowd outside is screamin' let that murderer die
But above all their voices I can hear my mama cry
I'm sittin' here on death row and lord, I've lost my mind
` For love I've killed my darlin' and for love I'll lose my life
I can hear the warden coming from the clinging of his keys
But when they come to get me They'll have to drag me on my knees (do you believe this?)
The door to my cell swings open Its time for me to go
The priest is reading my last rights he says dyin's part of living you know
And there's a crowd outside screamin' let that murderer fry
but above all their voices I can hear my mama cry
` Now they've strapped me in the chair (Holy Shit!) and covered up my eyes
and the last words I hear on earth Is my mama's cry.
Je pense que peut-etre elle Loretta regarde Jerry Springer de trop. Or quelque-chose!
I love Michael Jackson and I love country music. My momma done raised me up that way.
And I still wish my mother had the sense to name ME Scarlett, like Ms. Fluffy O'Hara named HER daughter.
The thing about how country music and the Post used to be entertaining when they had less to do with reality made me think about drugs. To be fair, quite a few things make me think about drugs, but this time there was an insight attached.
Back when reality was pretty standard, folks turned to things like LSD to make it more exciting. Now that reality has turned truly frightening, one needs Xanax, Prozac, and the like to bring it down to something approaching manageable.
Just a thought and once again, I'd like to thank all those hard-working neocons out there, you know who you are.
I had a similar theory about country drugs (uppers, meth) vs city drugs (downers, heroin). But maybe you're right and after all it's just the age--mine and society's.
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