Odds & Sods: Friday Follies Edition

the-who odds--sods

There are always follies on Fridays; most other days as well. At the risk of sounding like Keith Olbermann, we begin with:

From Debrisville To Durstville: Robert Durst has been making headlines in New Orleans since his arrest. He faces gun and weed charges locally. I’m glad the DA’s office is charging him since the case against him in the murder of Susan Berman is the *opposite* of a slam dunk. Hopefully, it won’t be an air ball.

More Friday hilarity after the break; at least I hope it’s funny. I dread turning into Jack Webb as Joe Friday at times like this. Why? I’ll never know.

Heckuva Job, Likudnik Brownie: Former FEMA director and Arabian horse fancier Michael Brown made a cameo appearance in the news as a cheerleader for Bibi Netanyahu.

Like a vast detonation of awful, the come-from-behind victory of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is now spreading shockwaves of collateral derp all the way to America’s shores. You remember Michael Brown, the Bush administration flunky who was running FEMA at the time of Hurricane Katrina and helped then-President Bush coin the immortal words “Heckuva Job, Brownie” as New Orleans swirled down the drain into oblivion.

Well, now Brown has resurfaced as a talk radio host and a TPM Reader found to his gobsmacked amazement that Brown is now purchasing sponsored tweets drop-kicking President Obama over Netanyahu’s reelection.

“Take that, little man. #Bibiwins”

Remember when Scott Fitzgerald said there were no second acts in American life? A great writer but he was wrong, wrong, wrong. If Brownie can mount a comeback, who’s next? I don’t think former Governor Meemaw is planning to run against Bitter Vitter, but she’s infinitely more deserving of a second chance than Heckuva Job Brownie.

Top Fucker Chicken: I stumbled into a food related item at Jezebel:

So there’s a new chicken restaurant set to open in Arlington, Virginia. The name the place had chosen, despite no one in ownership apparently speaking Spanish (more on this below), was “Chingon Pollo.” For those who don’t speak Spanish and/or who haven’t worked in restaurants and listened to back of house employees swear at servers and customers, “chingar” is the Spanish version of the verb “to fuck.” So yeah. Not an ideal name.

The thing is, there are a lot of ways to translate “Chingon Pollo.” The most innocent of these is “damn good chicken,” but other possibilities include “a fuckload of chicken,” “hardcore badass chicken,” and “big ole fucker chicken.” Just about the only translation it can’t be (and believe me, I checked every possibility because I desperately hoped this was on the table) is “chicken fucker.”* According to Jezebel’s own Natasha Vargas-Cooper (and her mom), it literally translates as “Top Fucker Chicken” (which is why I went with that) but the connotation in common parlance is more like “Boss Chicken,” and according to Julianne Escobedo Shepherd (and her mom**) it literally means “Fucking Chicken” but the connotation could be more like “Cool Chicken.” Natasha also pointed out that a pizza place in Dallas, Texas went through a similar issue last year when they decided to call one of their pizzas “La Chingona” — and even there, everyone had a different take on what the name meant. So, basically, no one can agree on the specific connotation of the word in context, although everyone agrees on the root verb’s meaning.

At first I thought the prodigal blogger Jude was behind this, but he’s cursing out assholes and being awesome in Cheeseland. I briefly considered the possibility that the disgraced host of the BBC’s Top Gear, Jeremy Clarkson, was behind it since he recently cussed out his fucking bosses at the fucking BBC. I finally realized that they just screwed the pooch or is that pollo? Thanks for the unintentional comedy, y’all. It’s the best kind.

 Get Thee To Sky Dancing: There were several other local and regional stories of interest but my pal Dakinikat stole my thunder over at her joint. I agree with her take on the Mississippi hanging story and on the Strange Case of the Pickaninny Festival poster. I did not make that last bit up, folks, now you have to click on this LINK. I also cannot top the whole pianist to a drag show performer part of the post. I toldja you had to read it.

Finally, Van Morrison has released a duets album but in classic Van the Man fashion, he’s selected lesser known songs to croon with the stars. Here’s one with the great Steve Winwood on vocals and the Hammond B3 organ:

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