Spitball Army

I have tried to explain to people outside of Birmingham the reasons why the populace – or, at least, the people that I come into contact with – have had grave concerns about the future and stability of the city since Larry Langford moved to Birmingham (after entering the election for mayor…try describing that scenario to savvy citizens and watch their faces contort in disbelief!). It’s not like we didn’t have problems before last November’s election. It’s just that the majority of the voters decided that it would be best to put the future of the metropolis in the hands of someone currently under investigation by the Feds, and with a notorious reputation for driving businesses into disaster and dissolution while keeping his nose clean.

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Grandfather stood in the yard and gave a standing ovation.

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It sure is a good thing that most opera-goers already know the plot of the piece, because if one was planning on going to see this performance of Tosca to find out what happens in the story, there would be no surprise!

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…that is to say, those things that we have no earthly idea are insidiously lodged in our brains?

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At the time it was popular, at least when it was initially popular, there didn’t really seem to be much wrong with disco music. It served a purpose – dancing and partying and socializing – that wasn’t particularly well-served by soft rock or punk rock. When its cousin, new wave music, came on the scene – there was a reasonable alternative available. But, there is nothing more soothing at the end of a day of processing mathemaical equations and psychological theory than a steady, relentless rhythmic beat churned out by a machine accompanied by one-dimensional repetitive lyrics – yes, I was in college during this time.

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Passing back through Harlem, I kept a lookout for the museum. I stopped at the traffic light in the center of town. Ahead of me, on the right, I could see that there were still Christmas garlands hanging on the side of the police station. One of the taller brick buildings – two stories – had a graffiti-style collage of Stan and Ollie painted on its entire southern side. Three pairs of grinning faces kept watch over a fenced-in used car lot.

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Dothan, Alabama

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Points of reference:
Jimmy Carter’s presidency was from 1977 to 1981.
This recording was made in 1984.
Bill Clinton’s presidency was from 1993 to 2001.

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If you thought it couldn’t get any worse, the recording is a disaster. It sounds as if a thick blanket has been wrapped around the piano, muffling the sound. The thought of a silencer on a gun comes to mind; maybe whoever was at the controls was trying to cover up the crime.

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Anyway, in the other room the TV is on, and the channel is tuned in to the Grammy Awards. I know, I’m a loser, and I said earlier that it would have to take something really special to get me to tune in. In a way, I am kind of glad I did, as I got to hear Kanye West complain about getting rushed off the stage, and how he “owns” the Grammys and all. As if some people only put out records so that they can win awards. If you had heard him “sing” earlier in the evening (I had the pleasure of only having to hear him), you would know that he won’t be winning any awards at Juilliard (if they even give out awards for what he does) or some other such institution that knows what excellence in music really is.

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