I often have my ipod playing in the background in between classes, and while the kids are working independently. It is probably ther weirdest ipod in history. I have everything from Placido Domingo to N.W.A. on there. I leave it on shuffle, and some of the kids really enjoy when Sinatra, Martin or Davis comes on. Then a different group gets happy when the Sex Pistols are next.
I for one would really like to see martinis and the Rat Pack culture and look come back.
This looks like someone ignored all the old warnings and summoned another art teacher demon to Earth. Oh well. Plaster won’t buy itself. Someone has to consume water colors sets and sculpy packs or they’d pile up in warehouses.
I say any five-term Senator who files to seek re-election at age 80 has to demonstrate the ability to breathe through a pillow for ten full minutes or he doesn’t get on the ballot.
I’ll go with “No”, Carin, even though I didn’t watch.
Quite frankly, I don’t understand the fascination with her. I saw an interview with her after The Child™ was born and the woman is fantastically stupid. Last year’s Superbowl performance wasn’t all that, either.
Indeed. In much the same way as Mozart’s little flights of fancy could never hold a candle to the majesty of Bach.
I figure it’s all been downhill since the invention of the bassoon. Anybody who would consider the utterances of the “farting bedpost” a pleasurable noise is unfit to be considered an arbiter of musical taste.
Heh, maybe there was something to that rumor to the effect that the pressure of blowing the double reeds affects the brain, driving those players insane after a time? Who knows but it’s so?
I feel that way about bagpipes. Some time in the misty past, some drunken Scotsmen said to each other, “Let’s make somethin’ that sounds really dis-goostin’!!”
“Ol’ mon MacStrrrrrootmaglich’s prrrrrize rrrrram trrrrried to boot me tedder nicht wan oi wiz staggerrrrrin’ hoom ferm t’ taverrrrrn.”
“Wheh’d ye do aboot it?”
“Oi fetched im a cloot wi me stick, an’ he ballad soomtin fierce. Oi tol im tae bloo it oot his edder end boot ee kip ballarrrrrin so oi clooted im aggen an aggen til ee quit.”
“Woon ol’ mon MacStrrrrrootmaglich be roilt win ee foins iz prrrrrize rrrrram’s bin battered oop tat wee?”
“Ee mat, boot oi gat tae thinkin aboot tat blooin it out tedder end, an oi had me an inspiration.”
I often have my ipod playing in the background in between classes, and while the kids are working independently. It is probably ther weirdest ipod in history. I have everything from Placido Domingo to N.W.A. on there. I leave it on shuffle, and some of the kids really enjoy when Sinatra, Martin or Davis comes on. Then a different group gets happy when the Sex Pistols are next.
I for one would really like to see martinis and the Rat Pack culture and look come back.
Flashed back to my parents’ Perry Como records playing on the “Hi-Fi.” Good times.
This looks like someone ignored all the old warnings and summoned another art teacher demon to Earth. Oh well. Plaster won’t buy itself. Someone has to consume water colors sets and sculpy packs or they’d pile up in warehouses.
http://zeqps2k4t563atbs730zvzq12aw.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/char11j.jpg
Is that the knitting vagina lady from David Thompson’s?
Freud wept.
I’d pay good money to see one of the Old Masters from the Renaissance time travel here and horsewhip these jackwagons who call themselves “artists”.
– The anti-Mileys, with the Miley-bots being the “getting back at having to leave the room, the adults are talking” set.
-….and yet they’re so fucking umawares they will never see the irony of swinging nude on a wrecking ball. Dayam sam.
– Looks like someone has finally had enough of his phoney RINO wrinkled old ass.
The artist in the link finally mastered the Spirograph from childhood. On a much larger scale, like those fat pencils they give kids in first grade.
McWeathervane finally gets a wrist-slap, eh? It’s few years too late.
Sirius XM, channel 4, hits of the 1940s. it’s the only reason I subscribe.
I say any five-term Senator who files to seek re-election at age 80 has to demonstrate the ability to breathe through a pillow for ten full minutes or he doesn’t get on the ballot.
I say he should have to run a footrace with anyone who primary’s him.
Winner take all.
Downside: if applied to the Texas governor’s race…
That would be a bad deal.
I’m only suggesting this rule in McVain’s case.
DOUBLE STANDARD!!!!1!!!!
Damn right. If it’s good enough for grandpa, it’s good enough for me.
“Downside: if applied to the Texas governor’s race…”
Well, McCain and Wendy Davis both treated their older spouses about the same way.
Are you suggesting that Michelle’s BFF Beyonce wasn’t classy on last night’s grammys?
I’ll go with “No”, Carin, even though I didn’t watch.
Quite frankly, I don’t understand the fascination with her. I saw an interview with her after The Child™ was born and the woman is fantastically stupid. Last year’s Superbowl performance wasn’t all that, either.
When “popular music” was adult and classy…
Indeed. In much the same way as Mozart’s little flights of fancy could never hold a candle to the majesty of Bach.
I figure it’s all been downhill since the invention of the bassoon. Anybody who would consider the utterances of the “farting bedpost” a pleasurable noise is unfit to be considered an arbiter of musical taste.
Heh, maybe there was something to that rumor to the effect that the pressure of blowing the double reeds affects the brain, driving those players insane after a time? Who knows but it’s so?
I feel that way about bagpipes. Some time in the misty past, some drunken Scotsmen said to each other, “Let’s make somethin’ that sounds really dis-goostin’!!”
“I know — let’s see wot happens when ye blow inna wrong end o’ a vacuum cleaner!”
“Ol’ mon MacStrrrrrootmaglich’s prrrrrize rrrrram trrrrried to boot me tedder nicht wan oi wiz staggerrrrrin’ hoom ferm t’ taverrrrrn.”
“Wheh’d ye do aboot it?”
“Oi fetched im a cloot wi me stick, an’ he ballad soomtin fierce. Oi tol im tae bloo it oot his edder end boot ee kip ballarrrrrin so oi clooted im aggen an aggen til ee quit.”
“Woon ol’ mon MacStrrrrrootmaglich be roilt win ee foins iz prrrrrize rrrrram’s bin battered oop tat wee?”
“Ee mat, boot oi gat tae thinkin aboot tat blooin it out tedder end, an oi had me an inspiration.”
And thus was born the bagpipe.
Very good, lad.