Saturday Odds & Sods: More Than This

La lumière, la solitude by Yves Tanguy.

The weather has been beautiful this week in New Orleans: brisk, chilly, and sunny. Yet I’m still cranky verging on irascible. It must be the news cycle.

We went to a Confederacy Of Dunces themed birthday party last night. It was fun even though Burma Jones was not there to mop the ho flo. The birthday boy’s wife went to high school with former First Drafter Jude. As Jude would surely say at this point, it’s a small fucking world, after all.

As you know, the holidays are hard for me. This year I’ve been plagued with calls from telemarketers. I even marked one of them as SPAM RISK, but they keep calling from a variety of Gret Stet exchanges. Blocking them is emotionally satisfying but doesn’t work that well. It makes me appreciate caller ID even more.

This week’s theme song was written by Bryan Ferry in 1982 for Roxy Music’s Avalon album. It was also the title of a 1995 compilation album. It contains one of Ferry’s finest vocals more or less or is that more than this? Beats the hell outta me.

We have three versions of More Than This for your listening pleasure: the Roxy original, Robyn Hitchcock, and Matthew Sweet & Susanna Hoffs.

Before we go off hoffs-cocked, let’s join hands and jump to the break.

I’ve been digging the Sweet/Hoffs covers albums of late. Here’s their version of the song that got me into Yes:

While I’m at it, I might as well post Yes performing the song live geezers:

We begin and end our second act with this Squeeze song:

Irascibility often leads to laziness. We’ll have a full-blown second act next week.

We begin our third act with a modified version of our favorite stolen feature.

(Not) Separated At Birth Casting Edition: Last week, we hung out with the Philip Marlowes, this week the Hercule Poirots.

The players: Tony Randall, Albert Finney, Peter Ustinov, Ian Holm, David Suchet, Albert Molina, Kenneth Branagh, and John Malkovich.

David Suchet is my favorite Poirot, but I dig Ian Holm’s mustache. But I’m not sure what I think of Branagh’s soul patch. I wouldn’t wear it to one of these:

The last word of this hairy segment goes to Nirvana:

Last week’s Dick Powell cancer stick ad led me down a rabbit hole of celebrity cigarette ads.

Coffin Nail Corner: I used to smoke but I don’t recall ever having a cigarette hangover. I remember a hacking cough and smelling like an ashtray, but never a hangover.

Hey, it’s a special blend. What else would Lucy and Desi smoke? I wonder if it gave you special cancer. Beats the hell outta me.

The Movie List: I thought I’d so something different with this feature. I didn’t do any systematic research I just winged it. That’s what I do best.

My Top Ten Favorite Movies With American City Names In The Title 

  1.   The Philadelphia Story
  2.   Nashville
  3.   LA Confidential
  4.   Fargo
  5.   Chicago 
  6.   Atlantic City
  7.   Gangs Of New York
  8.   The Cincinnati Kid
  9.   Kansas City Confidential
  10.   Meet Me In St, Louis

A few notes about the movies. The swell Steve McQueen-Edward G Robinson poker movie The Cincinnati Kid is set in New Orleans. None of the films with my city’s name in the title was as good as any on the list. So it goes.

We recently saw a high school production of Chicago. The daughter of some friends played Roxie Hart. She was pretty darn good as was the production itself.

We just rewatched the movie, which led me to some retro casting:

  • Gene Kelly as Billy Flynn
  • Shirley MacLaine as Roxie Hart
  • Rita Hayworth as Velma Kelly

The last word of the segment goes to the cast of the movie Chicago:

Saturday GIF Horse: Dr A and I have been rewatching The Goldbergs on Hulu. We’re up to season five’s Bevolution. That’s apropos of nothing. I just felt like typing Bevolution.

I gave myself an earworm. Just substitute Bevolution for Revolution and Ringo’s your uncle. To hell with Bob.

This next segment reminds me of when Jay Leno was funny and went on Late Night with David Letterman and discussed small-town news.

Tweet Of The Week: Parade route book signer Michael Tisserand was visiting kin in the Midwest and came up with this gem.

Michael is not only a sharer of small-town news, his latest book My Father When Young would be an excellent Christmas gift. It was my birthday present from Dr A this year.

Read my rave review of Tisserand’s tome here.

Let’s close down this virtual honky tonk with some more music.

Saturday Classic: I mentioned yesterday what a cultural phenomenon West Side Story was in its day. That’s one reason Oscar Peterson recorded this album in 1962. Rumor has it that he also felt pretty, oh so pretty…

Have I told you lately how much I love Oscar Peterson? Yeah, I know, I did it yesterday.

That’s all for this week. The last word goes to my favorite Poirot, David Suchet. Who but Poirot would be on the beach and wear a three-piece suit and gloves?

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