Pulp Fiction Thursday: Champagne For One
Cheers to Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin. Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: Champagne For One
Cheers to Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin. Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: Champagne For One
So here’s a fun story as we come to the end of the Xmas shopping season. Back in the mid 1890’s when department stores were just beginning to become the shopping norm, they very often had dull, uninspired window displays that did little to attract customers into the stores. This is ironic as once inside the shops, storekeepers did everything they could to keep their customers, mostly women, happy and content. They offered amenities such as complimentary tea service and lounges to rest in. Very nice of them, but those amenities were useless if no one was coming through the … Continue reading Follow The Red and Green Road To Xmas
Oh, waiter, what else is on the menu? Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: Murder Is Served

It’s been 41 years since Mark Chapman murdered John Lennon. Unlike Shapiro, I don’t have a great story about where I was when I heard the news. Besides, I came to praise Peter Jackson’s remarkable documentary Get Back, not to bury John Lennon.
I was shamed by friends into subscribing to Disney+ in order to get back to where I once belonged. You know who you are. Thanks, y’all. I can always cancel without pain or penalty. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I have a different take on Get Back than Shapiro so let the games begin.
I’m in the minority on Let It Be. I’ve always liked it. The album came out when I was laid up. I had mumps and mono at the same time. I rarely do anything halfway. Let It Be was the new Beatles album so I listened to it intently on the record player my mom bought so I could play music in my sick room. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I do, however, prefer the 2003 Macca remix Let It Be Naked to the original 1970 release. The running order is different, and the Phil Spector effect has been expunged. The result is the stripped-down album the Beatles thought they were making before the dread Allen Klein brought in Spector. More about Allen Klein anon.
Until recently, I bought the conventional wisdom that the Fab Four were at each other’s throats during the Get Back sessions. The CW was wrong: the vibes were good with intermittent squabbling. All bands bicker. It’s called creative tension.
There *were* genuine moments of tension. George Harrison walked out, but he was convinced by his mates to return. The day after the band met with Allen Klein there was a dark cloud in the room, but it was dispelled when they strapped on their instruments and played. The presence of Billy Preston helped considerably: the man was a ray of sunshine with musical chops to burn.
I’ve been reading at Philip Norman’s 827-page biography of John Lennon. I say reading at because it’s absurdly over-detailed. Norman is a music writer, but as a biographer, he’s what Gore Vidal called a scholar-squirrel who includes more details than even this lifelong Beatles fan is interested in hearing. I did like the bits about how much John loved cats. Claire Trevor approves. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I consulted with Norman’s mighty tome after seeing Get Back. The source of many of the gloom-and-doom stories is Let It Be director Michael Lindsay-Hogg. I was not surprised. In Get Back, he’s forever stirring the pot hoping some drama will emerge from a bunch of guys sitting around in a room smoking and playing music.
To gin up drama, Lindsay-Hogg keeps asking why John and Paul no longer write songs together. They rarely take the bait. In fact, John makes significant contributions to the song Get Back, which was written in the studio during the sessions.
MLH also ratchets up the pressure on The Beatles to be great when all they want to do is rock. I caught Ringo rolling his eyes several times at the director who is much posher than the lads from Liverpool.
I’ve got a feeling that it’s time to jump to the break. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

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.
This one has a title to die for as well as a cover by Robert McGinnis. Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: Peril Is My Pay
Adrastos goes Dickensian on your asses. Continue reading The Law Is An Ass
Happy Thanksgiving from Adrastos World HQ. Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: The Thursday Turkey Murders

New Orleans weather is as variable during the fall as it is unchanging in the summertime. It’s been cold and dry then warm and muggy, but I have not resorted to air-conditioning. So it goes.
The Orleans Parish runoff election is scheduled for December 11th. I’m supporting an old school NOLA pol in one race and a reformer who’s running against an old school NOLA pol in another. Sometimes I even confuse myself.
I voted to reelect Jay Banks as my district city councilmember. He ran first in the primary despite all the mud thrown at him by his “reformer” opponents. They lost me forever when I saw that they’d rented a billboard together to plug their primary candidacies. Collusion is a bad look.
In the Sheriff’s race, longtime incumbent Marlin Gusman just missed winning in the first round. He’s a terrible sheriff but an excellent politician. I’m voting for his opponent, Susan Hutson, but she looks like a long shot because of all the local political muscle massed against her.
Like many others on the left, Team Hutson seems to underestimate how conservative many older black people are. When I was a neighborhood leader, the most rabid people about crime were elderly black folks. They’re also comfortable with Gusman who is favored to stay in office despite all the outside money being spent on behalf of his opponent.
This week’s theme song was written by Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes in 1980. It began life with the title I Am A Camera and was intended for the Buggles second album. Then Horn and Downes joined Yes, and it became Into The Lens, the first track of side two of the Drama LP.
We have the song in both incarnations for your listening pleasure. I prefer the Yes version because of Howe’s guitar and Squire’s bass, but Downes excels on keyboard on both versions.
There’s an oddball link between our theme song and this week’s Friday Cocktail Hour. Cabaret was based on John Van Druten’s 1951 play I Am A Camera, which in turn was adapted from Christopher Isherwood’s 1939 novel Goodbye To Berlin. It doesn’t get much odder than that.
Before we nod off like Lee Miller in the May Ray featured image, let’s jump to the break.
I’ve had beatniks on my mind, daddy-o. The ultimate beat era book was published in 1957: On The Road by Jack Kerouac. It’s been republished many times over the years. Here’s a sampler, man: The last cover features the real … Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: On The Road
Richard Matheson is best known for his sci-fi novels such as I Am Legend. This potboiler with a great tagline is one of his earliest books. ‘ Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: Someone Is Bleeding
Cornell Woolrich was one of the best, and most successful, thriller/mystery writers of his era. Black Alibi is one of his most interesting books and that’s saying a lot. Handi-Books? Are they like handi-wipes? Enquiring minds want to know. Producer … Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: Black Alibi
Malakatude in the Virginia governor’s race. Continue reading Malaka Of The Week: Laura Murphy

I woke up this morning with a less than earth shattering revelation: I’m sick of writing about Joe Manchin. I’m sick of seeing him on TV. I’m sick of reading about him. I dream of a Manchin-free news cycle. It’s an impossible dream. We’re stuck with him as long as there’s a Fifty-Fifty senate.
Yesterday, the Man of La Manchin dominated the news. Senate Republicans refused to allow debate on Manchin’s voting rights bill. So much for his assurances that at least ten GOPers would vote for cloture to allow the measure to be debated. I’m sick of Joe Manchin’s empty promises.
David Corn of Mother Jones published a piece about Manchin’s supposed two-stage plan to leave the Democratic party if he doesn’t get his way on damn near everything. Manchin denounced the article as BULLSHIT.
I’m sick of Joe Manchin’s bullshit. I also don’t believe he plans to become an American Independent. He says he favors tax hikes on the wealthiest Americans. No GOPer in Congress today has *ever* voted to raise income taxes
Manchin says he supports a $1.5 trillion human infrastructure plan. The GOP’s topline is zero, zed, zip, zilch. Plus, Manchin sponsored the voting rights bill they shot down yesterday. The GOP favors voter suppression, not electoral reform.
This was also the week that the coal state senator came out in opposition to the climate provisions of the reconciliation bill that I call the RIF. Coal made Joe Manchin a wealthy man, so we shouldn’t be surprised. But he also voted for a budget resolution that included a $3.5 trillion RIF jampacked with climate provisions. That’s right, he was for it before he was against it.
Manchin seems stuck in the triangulating Nineties. He wants a work requirement for the child tax credit. This, too, is bullshit. He represents one of the poorest states in the nation. The child tax credit benefits the vast majority of his constituents except for the coal barons he loves so much. Speaking of the descendants of robber barons, former Democratic Governor/Senator Jay Rockefeller’s adult children came out in favor of the RIF arguing that West By God Virginia needs it, By God.
The Man of La Manchin styles himself as a man of action. He claims to seek bipartisan solutions to the nation’s problems. That, too, is bullshit. Every time he gets involved in major legislation, it fails, flops, fizzles. Remember the post-Newtown massacre attempt to pass gun control legislation? Manchin got a lot of favorable coverage that time too. The legislation failed but Manchin still took a bow for his efforts.
As you can see from the featured image, Michael F was the first at First Draft to call the senior senator from West By God Virginia, the Man of La Manchin. It’s not only a brilliant pun, it captures the essence of the man as a legislator. He poses as a legislator who wants to get shit done. That’s, in his own words, bullshit.

There are rumors of a cold front later this morning. It’s really a cool front but cold front is the technical term and I’m a stickler for something or other. I’m just looking forward to not running the air-conditioner.
We’ve been talking Carnival in New Orleans. We all want it to happen but it’s unclear when it will be safe to cavort in the streets with strangers. Perhaps we should consult with Laurence Olivier’s character in Marathon Man:
Beats the hell outta me, Larry.
The City is allowing the annual Halloween parade for tourists to roll. It’s called the Krewe of Boo and this year it’s going to serve as an experiment into public gatherings. Contact tracing will be involved. If things go well, the chances of Carnival 2022 happening increase. If not, stay tuned.
This week’s theme song was written by Graham Gouldman and Eric Stewart for 10cc’s 1975 album, How Dare You. That’s what Dustin Hoffman should have said to Olivier.
Here’s Art For Art’s Sake, money for God’s sake:
Graham Gouldman trivia time. He also wrote this wildly successful Hollies hit:
Let’s pick up our umbrellas and jump to the break.
Suffer the little children who come unto Dan Crenshaw. Continue reading All The Children Cringe
Robert Tallant is best known for his non-fiction books about New Orleans. With this book, he tried his hand at fiction. I wonder where John was when Mrs. Candy was out on the town. I hope everyone remembers John Candy. That joke was in his honor. Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: Mrs. Candy and Saturday Night
I’m sick of writing about Donald Trump. I had a lot of fun mocking him for 5 years, but much of the fun went out of it with the 1/6 Dipshit Insurrection. He was always a menace but the threat … Continue reading Ashli Babbittry Revisited
I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to live in a Mansion Of Evil. Dead bodies and men with thin mustaches give me the creeps. Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: Mansion Of Evil
It’s another book written under a pseudonym. The writer’s real name was Lionel Fanthorpe. He wrote some 250 books under various names. Karl Zeigfreid was his sci-fi guy. Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: No Way Back
Craig Whitlock’s Secret History Of The War. Continue reading Book Review: The Afghanistan Papers

Saturday Odds & Sods is back in all its punny glory. Hopefully, that’s a good thing for our readers. If you feel like heckling, cut me some slack, Jack. Life is hard in Debrisville right now.
My pitched battle with FedEx ended with the delivery of the new HP PC on which I’m writing this post. I’m still avoiding FedEx like the plague. I would only be in the same room with them if they double-masked and showed me their vaccine card. Repeat after me: in transit = in trailer.
I was so disgusted by the MSM’s coverage of Afghanistan that I’ve dialed back my cable news viewing. I’m down to The Last Word with Lawrence O’Donnell because he does not feel the need to hype every story to the limit. That’s why I called him The Last Sane Person On Cable News. Maddow used to be my fave until she morphed from smart ass to sob sister. I could not take the on-air sighing and hand-wringing that now characterizes her show. So it goes.
September has been Todd Rundgren and Utopia month at my house. Hence another Todd tune as this week’s theme song. It’s the title track of Utopia’s 1982 album, Swing To The Right. I reckon you figured that out already. I’m using reckon in the fancy British sense, not the hillbilly American sense. Does that make sense?
We have two versions of Swing To The Right for your listening pleasure: the studio original and Utopia live in Japan.
Ladies and gentlemen, Kasim Sulton on lead vocals.
You probably guessed that Todd is a librul based on the album cover and song title. You are correct, sir, he said in his best Ed McMahon impression.
Now that we’ve swung to the right, let’s jump to the break in utopian unison.
This book is *not* about New Orleans in 2021. Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: Garbage World
The image is bog standard pulp, but the title made my skin crawl. Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: Our Flesh Was Cheap
My latest 13th Ward Rambler column for Bayou Brief is a review of Robert Mann‘s swell new book, Bayous and Backrooms: My Life In Louisiana Politics. Here’s the whole damn tagline: “Is Bob Mann the Zelig or Forrest Gump of Louisiana politics? Find out in Peter Athas’ review of Mann’s memoirs.” Since I made the Forrest Gump reference, the last word goes to Jackson Browne with a song that was in the movie. Continue reading Bayou Brief: Backrooms and Bayous
Chester Drum drums. Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: Killers Are My Meat

I’ve often written that Watergate was my formative political experience. I hereby amend that to primary formative political experience. Recent events have reminded me that the Vietnam War also shaped my worldview. It’s the ultimate cautionary tale: wars should only be fought in the national interest and should not be entered into lightly. That was the original sin of the Afghanistan War: we intervened in a hurry without thinking things through. The bill finally came due in 2021.
My family was divided during the Vietnam conflict. My father was a hawk. My mother was a dove. She wasn’t crazy about the hippie protestors as they offended her Scandinavian sense of order and decorum, but she still quietly supported the anti-warriors.
I recall a fierce argument between my parents over one of mom’s bridge playing buddies. Betty was a Quaker and a pacifist. She strenuously objected to all wars but once Richard Nixon, who was raised a Quaker, was president she became an anti-war activist because of his blatant hypocrisy.
My memory is hazy, but I recall that Betty and her fellow Friends staged a sit-in at a military installation somewhere in the Bay Area. They were arrested. Betty was the spokesperson for the group and appeared on the local news. My father thought this was a bridge too far and demanded that my mother bar Betty from their home. He argued that it would be bad for her real estate business to associate with a radical peacenik. Mom stood her ground and refused to go along. Her dovish hippie wannabe son was proud of her.
That brings me to the post title. Last night, Lawrence O’Donnell opened The Last Word with a segment comparing Vietnam and Afghanistan. He lamented that his dream guests, David Halberstam and Neil Sheehan were no longer alive. They wrote the best two books about the American misadventure in Vietnam. Sheehan’s book, A Bright Shining Lie inspired the title of this post. I only steal from the best.
A Bright Shining Lie told the story of American counter-insurgency guru John Paul Vann who was a true believer in the Vietnam mission. Vann loved the country and its people and became frustrated with the military brass who saw them as pieces to be moved around as if in a game of Risk. Hence the featured image.
The bright shining lie told to the American people during Vietnam was that the war was winnable and worth the sacrifice. The same lies were repeated by the Bush-Cheney administration and their supporters in the media about Afghanistan and Iraq. In the aftermath of 9/11, the Washington Post and New York Times became cheerleaders and apologists for Team Bush’s mendacious war effort. The past is prologue as both news organizations dusted off their pom-poms and went into action over the Afghanistan mishigas without, of course, mentioning their complicity in the initiation of our endless wars. Why ruin a sensational story with the facts?
The collapse of the Afghan government and army confirms the truth of a phrase attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson: “”Events are in the saddle and ride mankind.”
That’s truer now than in Emerson’s day. They didn’t have to deal with hot takes on the Tweeter Tube.
That is one scary looking pitchfork. I wouldn’t want it near my head. Continue reading Pulp Fiction Thursday: No Bones About It