The featured image is from the end of the great film noir, The Big Combo. The cinematography of John Alton makes it a classic. I plan to resume my movie writing with a post about this Cornel Wilde-Richard Conte starrer in 8 days. I have something time-specific in the hopper for tomorrow, so all I’ve got for you is a tease.
We’re having our first genuine cold snap in New Orleans. It’s made me snap to attention, pull out some winter clothes, and run the heater. How snappy is that?
I’m digging Bluesky thus far. The whole power pack thing has given me some interesting new followers courtesy of friends in academia. Should I apologize for being well-educated? That’s what David Brooks and his ilk would like. Bobo can go fuck himself.
If you want to follow me on the new bird app, click here. I have a vestigial presence on the site formerly known as the Tweeter Tube. I must be a glutton for punishment. Oh well, what the hell.
It’s the 61st anniversary of the Kennedy assassination. I’ll have more to say about it in tomorrow’s vintage post. That’s two teasers in one post. What’s a little extra teasing among friends?
I still have War on my mind, the band not the thing. This week’s theme song was written in 1971 by the members of War: Papa Dee Allen, Harold Brown, BB Dickerson, Lonnie Jordan, Lee Oskar, Charles Miller, and Howard E. Scott. It established the band as a force to be reckoned with. I have no idea what that means but it scans. Scanning is important.
We have 4 versions of Slippin’ Into Darkness for your listening pleasure: The OG single, the extended album version, and covers by Black Uhuru and Ramsey Lewis. Let the slipping begin.
Shall we continue to slip? It’s easy. Just ask Lowell George.
Before we slip away, a Paul Simon song:
We begin our second act by trying something different with some mini essays. At least I hope they’re mini without being mousey.
Irksome Language: I’m a stickler for the proper use of language. In watching food TV and the local news, I’ve noticed that everyone uses the word stuffing to describe what I would call dressing. For it to be stuffing, it must be inserted into a turkey or some other cavity. If it’s cooked on its own, it’s dressing.
I considered dressing down Bobby Flay for using the S-word on a recent episode of Beat Bobby Flay. I resisted the temptation because it has become our comfort show, so why should I berate them over comfort food. I’m still right.
You say stuffing, I say dressing. Let’s call the whole thing off.
One thing I like about living in New Orleans is the local TV news. It’s pretty damn good but the longtime market leader WWL seems to be slipping. There’s that word again.
Whoever does their captions, chyrons whatever cannot spell. They recently referred to The Clownfish’s fakakta Ten Commandments law as ONCONSTITUTIONAL. UN, UN, UN.
The WWL morning news recently ran a story about what they called a barefoot football place kicker at Lehigh University of all places. I can’t find the video but in it, the kicker is clearly wearing socks. That doesn’t qualify as barefoot in my book or that of Robert Parker:
The Irascible Mr. Fagen: The Steely Dan front man is a fighting liberal who objects to MAGA maggot’s using his music. Check out this extended blurb from Vulture:
‘”The things that pass for music he can’t understand. Donald Fagen, noted bodacious cowboy and Steely Dan front man, has gotten wind of a cover band at the Republican National Convention playing “Reelin’ in the Years” for attendees — a move that, while not illegal in the complicated enterprise of music rights, is making Fagen’s everlasting summer fade a little faster. (Well, he did just get off a tour with the Eagles.)
“Hey Sixwire,” he addressed the band in a July 18 social-media post. “If you want to play our music, how about playing ‘The Man in the Tinfoil Hat’?” The song, a collaboration between Fagen and fellow sonic iconoclast Todd Rundgren, was released in 2017 as a diss track to then-President Donald Trump. Hidden among the dripping Katy Lied–esque grooves are lyrics that taunt, “He hasn’t got the time for losers unless they do as he commands, / He’s writing checks to his accusers with those tiny little hands.” At the time, Rundgren said Fagen had wanted to go “full bore” with the song and its release, and it indeed ended up causing a bit of a news cyclone for the gentlemen. “It was just me and Donald trying to make ourselves feel better,” he explained, “by doing something instead of nothing.” This logic tracks. They know stowin’ away the time isn’t a good thing.”
We begin our third act with our favorite stolen feature.
Separated At Birth: This image of a beardless JD Vance side-by-side with Jon Hinckley is going around the internet. 
The resemblance is eerie and I daresay creepy. No wonder that fucking donut JD Vance grew a beard. It was to hide his Hinckley-ness or some such shit. Did Hinckley ever fuck a couch? Discuss amongst yourselves.
Your Weekly Oscar: I posted some slip songs earlier, let’s focus on the dark side with OP. Make that Dark Eyes.
Have I told you lately how much I love Oscar Peterson?
The Best Of Penn & Teller: I’m still dining out on seeing the masters of modern magic last summer in Vegas, baby. Here’s a clip from Fool Us that captures the spirit of their live shows.
Thanks to Teller for going in the tank. In fact, we should say tanks for the memory:
Saturday GIF Horse: I’ve been pleasantly surprised at how well received our Vintage First Draft posts have been. My illness accelerated the number of vintage posts exponentially. That’s a fancy way of saying that I’m still in the game but not as prolific as previously.
Here are Mr. Peabody, his boy Sherman, and the Wayback Machine:
You say WABAC machine, I say Wayback Machine. Let’s call the whole thing off. Where would I be without Ira Gershwin?
Skeet Of The Week: I’m not entirely sold on the word skeet to describe Bluesky posts, but I’ll go along with it since I don’t have a better idea.
This Mike Luckovich cartoon will serve as my only comment on the hosts of a show I don’t watch becoming Trump appeasers.
— Mike Luckovich (@mluckovich.bsky.social) 2024-11-19T20:52:33.618Z
What can you expect from a Gingrich GOPer and Zbig’s kid? Very little.
Let’s close down this virtual honky tonk with some more music.
Saturday Closer: I’ve gone on about Bluesky today. Let’s close with some live Allman Brothers:
That’s all for this week. The last word goes to Bobby Flay and his frenemy, Sunny Anderson.
