#mountain man or hillbilly baby | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

Hollow Pass (Part 1)

Summary: When the reader has to spend a day in the mines for work, she’s less than thrilled. When the miner showing her around for the day, Dean Winchester, is an ass, she’s even less thrilled. But an accident will change all of that and if they want a chance of getting out of the mess they’re in, they’ll need to put their lives in each others hands, literally...

Pairing: Miner!Dean x reader

Word Count: 4,100ish

Warnings: language, injury, frightening/claustrophobic/near death situations

A/N: Please enjoy the first of this 2 parter!

_______

You sighed as you stood in the trailer of the manager’s office, a jumpsuit and a pair of boots sat in a chair. Your boss, bless his heart, thought it was always a good idea for corporate positions to experience a day in the mines to truly understand the product and what the little guy went through on a day to day basis. The argument that you were not really corporate, not even close, seemed to go over his head.

“Y/N, you gonna change? I need my office back,” said the manager through the door. You pulled it open and pouted. “I don’t want you going down in the mines anymore than you do but if you want to make corporate, you gotta do what the CEO says.”

“Dad I don’t even want to work there. I like my simple office job.”

“Then why have you been in all those development programs at work?” he asked. You shrugged and he sighed. “Cause you can’t say no.”

“Do I have to?” you asked, looking back at the overalls.

“Do you want to quit?” he asked.

“I don’t want to lose a good paycheck. But I don’t want a corporate job either,” you said.

“Then you’re shit outta luck,” he said. “I’m gonna put you with the Winchester boy. He’s on safety checks in our most secure mines.”

“You mean the ones that never have problems.”

“Funny how that all coincidentally happened today of all days,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks dad.”

“I don’t want you going anywhere near explosives. You’ll be safe doing the checks with Dean for the day.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you said twenty minutes later. The man in overalls and a hard hat rolled his eyes.

“I’m ten minutes late because of you which means I’m gonna get docked those ten minutes of pay so thank you little miss corporate.”

“I’m your boss’ daughter, jackass.”

“Still ain’t my boss,” he said. You huffed and headed over towards the mine entrance when he grabbed the back of your overalls. “No, dummy. You have zero safety gear so unless you want to die, you’re coming with me.”

“Asshole.”

“Dean Winchester at your service,” he said, dragging you over with him to some lockers. He punched a card and went to the storage racks, seemingly grabbing a few items and putting them on. He picked the hard hat off your head and grabbed one with a light and a wire attached to it, clipping it on your belt. He put something over your shoulder you put your arm through like a sling and clipped a mask onto the back of your belt, a flashlight and a small hand pickaxe going through your other loops. “Turn this lamp on anytime you’re in the mine and never, ever, take off your hat. If I yell at you or you smell something funny, get that mask on. Flashlight and the axe are backup for emergencies.”

He put a radio in your pocket and looked you over.

“Oh and for the love of God, do not wander off. I don’t care if you see a bug or break a nail or gotta piss.”

“What do you do if you have to…” you said.

“Normally you piss against some rock like a man but special manager’s daughter we’ll walk you back out here, take our slow ass time, make me go longer than my shift and because I was late today, I don’t get overtime.”

“That sounds kinda illegal.”

“The contracts for this company are a fucking nightmare,” he said, walking out of storage.

“Why work here then?” you asked as he went to an area and grabbed a clipboard. He took two water bottles and clipped them on each of your belts before whistling for you to follow after.

“Well somebody had to pay for his baby brother to go to law school and it wasn’t going to be my drunk of a father now was it,” said Dean, stopping and writing something down.

“So you didn’t grow up with mining in your family?” you asked.

“No. I’m not some redneck hillbilly like you imagine either,” he said. He flipped on his light and turned yours on when you got to the mine entrance. “Crouch.”

“Huh?”

“We ain’t riding the cart which is missing, dumbass. Crouch down so you can fit in the tunnel,” he said. You swallowed and had to bend down some, following Dean closely. “Ain’t claustrophobic are ya cause now’s the time to tell me.”

“No,” you said. “Jerk.”

“Ah, see? We’re getting along already.”

You walked for five or so minutes before the ground sloped down further and an entrance to the right opened up. Dean straightened up and you did the same, stretching out as he grabbed the back of your jumpsuit.

“Dude, would you stop doing that?” you said.

“Would you stay in my line of sight?”

“That’s harassment. You can’t touch me without my permission,” you said, crossing your arms. He blinked a few times and rolled his eyes quite possibly the most dramatically you’d ever seen in your life.

“This? This is not an office building. Every single time you step in here you run the risk of dying and you have zero clue on how to stay safe down here. I hate it when you people with your big offices and penny pinching bullshit come down here and complain about every goddamn little thing. If you want out, get out of the fucking mining business.”

“You’re an irritable person,” you said. He grumbled and tugged you along with him until you brushed him off. You followed him down a hallway and another, Dean checking things off on his clipboard as he went. “Are you gonna explain any of this stuff?”

“What do you think?” he said. He whistled and you followed him down a few more hallways when he stopped a gauge looking contraption. He checked a few different numbers and valves on it as you spun around.

“I guess it is kinda cool. That somehow you guys know how to block up rocks and leave all these cracks and know how to make it so it doesn’t all come crashing down.”

“Cracks?” he asked as he squatted down and read off a meter.

“Yeah like that big one,” you said, pointing at the wall across the way. He turned around and looked at it for barely a second before he grabbed your arm.

“Move. Now,” he said. He pulled out his radio and pressed down the button. “We have a grade five crack in Lodge Six West. Do not blow. I repeat do not-”

The ground rumbled and you heard a splintering noise, Dean pushing you back into the hallway you’d been in. He jumped on top of you and covered your body with his, all the lights going out, a loud thundering of falling rocks happening close by. It seemed to go on and on before it finally stilled, the hallway pitch black.

“You alright?” he asked.

“I think so,” you said, coughing when you felt dust in the air.

“Don’t move,” he said. He lifted his head and there was some light, Dean looking around before climbing off of you and staring at a new wall of rock. He looked at the hallway you’d been in, clicking on his flashlight and you saw where the rock dropped off about a hundred feet away. “Well. Shit.”

“What just happened?”

“The rock was unstable and they already set off the charges and it shook the mountain so now there’s a giant hole over there and our exit is blocked.”

“What’s that way?” you asked, nodding down the only unobstructed hallway.

“Further down into the mine before you hit the decommissioned area.”

“Is there a way out,” you asked, Dean patting his side.

“Fuck. My radio is under all that,” he said. He took out yours and handed it to him, Dean nodding before he turned it on. “Main do you copy, over?”

There was silence on the other end and Dean hit the button again.

“Main this is Winchester in Lodge Six West with…what’s your name?” he asked.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, manager’s kid. Copy, over.”

“Winchester this is Main. We got lots of calls coming in from ground crews about a shaking.”

“Lodge Six West Hall K is a giant crater of death and Hall H is buried, right up to the entrance of junction HJ.”

“Injuries?”

“We’re okay,” said Dean.

“Give me a second.”

Dean took a deep breath and coughed. He tapped your mask on your belt and you put it on, the air a bit easier to breath.

“Winchester this is Melvin.”

“She’s okay, boss. Just a little shook up. Saved our asses from winding up in the ground even if she doesn’t know it yet,” he said. He held out the radio and you pulled down the mask.

“Dad I’m fine, really. We both are. It’s just kinda dark and smelly is all.”

“I know. Put your mask on sweetie until you can get to some cleaner air,” he said. You put it back on, Dean, getting to his feet. He pulled you up and looked back at your blocked path.

“Any other collapses?” asked Dean.

“None reported so far. Everyone should be out of the mine’s or on their way. Alarm is blasting.” You looked back at Dean, his eyes shutting.

“Melvin we can’t hear it. At all.”

“Rodney’s out checking where our side of the collapse starts. We’ll get you out,” he said, someone panting in the background.

“Hall B, Mel,” he said. Dean turned away from you and sighed. No one said anything for a long time until Dean finally raised his head.

“We got two 16 ounces bottles of water. If she rations it, she’s got a shot,” said Dean quietly.

“No, she doesn’t,” said your dad, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “How long does your radio have?”

“Mine got crushed. Hers was on a quarter charge. I’d guess maybe an hour or two tops,” he said.

“Should we call your brother?”

“He’s hiking in Glacier Park this week. No cell service,” said Dean quietly. “Just tell him to check my bottom desk drawer. There’s something for him there.”

“I can do that,” he said. “Is there anyone...parents-”

“All due respect sir, I’d rather you talk to your daughter,” he said. Dean held out the radio to you and you picked it up, Dean skirting around the corner to the one unblocked hallway.

“Dean?” you asked, following over there. He was leaned against the wall and looked over his shoulder at you. “What’s going on?”

“They can’t dig us out in time.”

“What do you mean-”

“Talk to your dad. You’re wasting time. That battery won’t last forever,” he said. He turned back and you walked back around the corner, sitting down against the wall.

“Hi dad,” you said.

“Hey,” he said, his voice shaky. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Mom’s on her way down to talk, okay? She’ll be here in ten minutes.”

“I so quit this job,” you said, wiping off your eyes with the back of your hand. He laughed and you threw your head back. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m gonna stay on the line as long as I can, okay?”

“Okay. Okay.”

Two Hours Later

The battery in the radio had died about fifteen minutes ago. There was no sound aside from your sniffling and Dean’s down the hall. You got up eventually and went into the hall, sitting down beside him. You handed him the radio and he clipped it back on his belt.

“You okay?” you asked, voice hoarse.

“You try listening to someone say goodbye to their parents and not bawl,” he said. He wiped off his face and took a deep breath. “Air’s better now at least.”

“What do we do now?”

“Now,” he said, clipping his water bottle onto your belt. “You sit there and try not to exert a lot of energy and that water will last you a few days.”

“We both heard my father. They can’t drill or dig or do anything fast enough. It’d take weeks. I’m not sitting here next to your dead ass so take your damn water back,” you said, shoving it back in his chest. He didn’t speak but put it on his belt, pulling his knees into his chest. “Why were you so mean to me before? You gave up time on the phone for me. I don’t think you’re what you pretend to be.”

“I’m a dead man walking and that’s a fact.”

“Technically you’re sitting.”

He smiled and rested his face in his knees. He sat up and reached over behind you, hitting off your headlight.

“We need to conserve power as long as possible,” he said.

“Will our lights go out before we dehydrate to death?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said. “This is what it’ll be like.”

He flipped off his lamp and you swore you’d never experienced a darkness so deep. You felt his hand graze yours before holding it and you swallowed.

“Kinda less scary knowing you can turn it back on again,” he said.

“You didn’t answer my question. Why such a brute?”

“You do this job long enough and most people think you’re a dumb sack of shit with nothing in his head. You’re dead weight, odds are you’ll die down here or get into some kind of accident and have to go on disability the rest of your life. You corporate people are always so stuck up, like I’m not even good enough to be the dirt on your shoes. I didn’t give you a chance because odds were you were like all the rest of them. You’re the only reason we didn’t die in that hole, very painfully.”

“Wouldn’t we have-”

“No. It’s not a simple hole we would have fell in. Falling rocks, crushing and hitting, landing on you, ones you hit yourself. Might not kill you immediately. You’d feel it.”

“Dying of thirst is better?”

“I’d say so. Still get to keep this handsome face, or what’ll be left of it,” he said. He flipped his light back on and you scooted closer. “I think you’re very attractive.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m gonna die in like three or four days. Life has no consequences now and I happen to find you very attractive and you seem like a smart, sweet woman that put her parents a little at ease during the worst moment of their lives.”

“Who’s your brother?” you asked. “No consequences after all.”

“He’s a lawyer...and my best friend.”

“You said you did this job for him.”

“Student debt is a bitch. I try to help him out and the overtime helps make dents in it,” he said. “Our parents had debt out their asses. It caused so many problems for us. I wanted him safe, never have to worry about the next meal on the plate or the roof over his head or having to wear my hand me downs ever again. At least he’ll get my life insurance policy. That should help.”

“I have been busting my ass since I was a college freshman in that office to move up the chain for a job I didn’t even want. I completely lost nearly all of my twenties to work. All so I could die in here.”

“Well I know this doesn't sound good but I’m glad I didn’t die all super painful. Or that I’ll be alone,” he said. You smiled and nodded, Dean returning it. “Got any bucket list shit we can pull off down here?”

“We could make out,” you said. “Never knew anyone could make that jumpsuit look good.”

“Why the fuck not,” he chuckled. He leaned in close and your helmets bonked, Dean pulling his off and yours, quickly cupping your face.

His lips were gentler than you thought, the two of you stopping when your lips were pressed together. You rested your forehead against his and broke off only an inch.

“Not as much fun at the moment as it sounded,” you breathed out.

“Pretty good last kiss though,” he said. You put your helmets back on and you grabbed his hand again.

“Don’t let go down here. Please.”

He reached to his belt and undid a little pouch, pulling out a small tether of rope. He clipped one end onto him and the other to you.

“For when the lights go out,” he said.

“How long do we got?”

“About a day, maybe a little more,” he said. You sighed and turned your head, staring down the rest of the hall. “It’s decommissioned, Y/N. It’s a death trap.”

“Is there a way out?” you asked.

“Maybe. Maybe they never find us though,” he said. You stared at him and he nodded, hitting your headlamp back on. “Enough of the pity party. Let’s go get out of here or die trying.”

He stood and held out a hand, hoisting you to your feet.

“So. What’s our best option?” you asked.

“It’s alright for a bit until we get to the decommissioned section. When we get there, that’s when it gets dangerous. Technically it’s dangerous now considering the blast but we’re okay for a bit,” he said.

“Let’s go then,” you said. He nodded and you followed him down the hall, walking side by side.

“Alright so the decommissioned section is called Hollow Pass. Beyond that is Upper Seven. If we can get to Upper Seven, we can get out the old entrance I’m pretty sure. Never been in there but hopefully it’s not a maze over there.”

“So Hollow Pass is the hard part.”

“Yeah.”

“Why was it decommissioned?”

“Unstable ground. Holes, pockets of air, rotted support beams, wood planks.”

“So it’s a death trap.”

“Yup,” he said. “We’re probably gonna die down there.”

“What do you think our odds are?”

“Well it’s been out of order for over fifty years, we have no map, I have no real idea where exactly to go...I give us 1% odds.”

“Beats are 0% odds here.”

“Good way to think about it considering we’re going to most likely die.” He stopped walking and took a deep breath. “If I fall or whatever, follow the widest hall possible and keep away from wood and cracks as best as possible. Ration your water and eventually you’ll find your way out.”

“If you fall I’m definitely not gonna make it.”

“Well at least try. You can tell my brother how devastatingly brave I was that way.”

“You just spent the past hour crying.”

“So did you,” he said. You bumped his shoulder and he returned it but it was playful and soft. You walked together quietly for a moment until Dean rounded a corner and took a deep breath.

There were a few planks across a hallway, Dean kicking them down, frowning when they broke pretty easily.

“There’s gonna be rot.”

“Lovely.”

“We don’t have to go,” he said. “You don’t have to. There’s a chance-“

“There’s no chance Dean. Not if we stay up there. If you don’t want to go, I will. Maybe I can get help back in-“

“We’re doing this together or you’re staying. I can go and you-“

“We both go,” you said.

“I go first. You step where I step and if I tell you to do anything, you do it.”

“Dean. We already established that you’re not a hardass. You can lead the way but you know, nicely.”

“Alright, alright,” he said. He gave more slack in the rope attached to the two of you and took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

He was calm for a few minutes until you were turning down a hallway, Dean suddenly stopping in front of you.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Look,” he said. You poked your head around him, swallowing at the rotted wood on the ground, holes worn into the planking. “Y/N that’s not good. Rot means there’s water and water means erosion and erosion means big shafts hundreds of feet straight down under those wood planks.”

“How much of it is wood?” you asked. You both looked ahead and sighed, the whole hall flooring covered in wood. “Shit.”

“Y/N. This is too dangerous. I’ve worked in mines since I was 18 and it’s way too dangerous.”

“Dean. I don’t want to die. If we don’t do anything, we’re dead in three days, maybe less.”

“Maybe they come up the decommissioned mine and get us,” he said.

“Dean. The mountain collapsed from what my dad said. They are not coming in here, risking even more lives, in this mine. It might even have collapsed on the other side on the way out. We don’t know. All we do know is we stay and we’re dead or we go and we’re maybe dead.”

“You still won’t let me go on ahead on my own to try to get some help?”

“You’re not leaving me alone,” you said. You stepped ahead and he yanked on the rope, pulling you back. “Dean. Stop.”

“I go first,” he said. You held up your hands and he swallowed, Dean stepping past you, carefully putting his weight down on each plank. “Follow. Every footstep exactly where mine go.”

You followed after, the only sounds your breathing and the occasional board creaking. Dean put a foot down and stopped moving forward when you heard snapping.

“Go back. Slowly.”

You stepped a foot backwards, putting weight on it and your foot going straight through. Dean grabbed your arm as you pulled your foot up, a few sticks falling into a deep dark pit.

“What do we do,” you breathed out.

“Well we’re over rock that fell away so there’s a big hole beneath us if the rotted wood is anything to go by,” he said. You heard the slight waiver in his voice and sighed. “We make a choice. Forwards or backwards.”

“Back looks bad. Plus we already probably broke the supports.”

“I think solid ground is in front. But I have to jump for it,” he said. You looked past him and shook your head.

“Dean, it's way too far. I can try to walk over there if you let out the rope. I get to solid ground and then you walk and if you fall, I got you with the rope.”

“Sweetheart, there’s no way.”

“You’re too heavy and we can’t stay here,” you said. You slipped past him and he tried to grab you but you went quickly. “Dean let out the rope. Now.”

“Fuck. We’re gonna die.”

“No we’re not,” you said, walking quickly, planks creaking but you sighed when you had solid rock under your feet again. “Alright. Just go where I did and fast.”

He took a deep breath and walked a few steps, a loud groaning of the wood making him move faster.

You hit the ground the second you saw him go down, the wood breaking away. Dean shouted and you dug your heels into the dirt.

“Y/N!” he said, falling straight down into a hole and out of view.

_____

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dean #winchester #dean spn #miner!dean #au #dean x you #Dean Winchester one shot

415 notes · View notes

lucky-bastards · 2 years

Text

How To Be Alive - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Rating: Mature

Summary: Back home, the officers of Easy and King Company struggle to settle back into normal life. Ron is haunted by his actions. Andy is consumed by guilt. Carwood just can’t get a break. Eddie tries to escape his nightmares. Fate brings them together and they try to cope with the chaos that is now their life.

Characters/Pairings:

Andrew A. “Ack-Ack” Haldane/Edward “Hillbilly” Jones, Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs

Possible Tags:

AU, Post-Canon, Post-War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Depression, Survivor Guilt, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Coping, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Canon-Typical Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, easys and kings officers meet, they all try to get their shit together specially Ron and Andy, Lip needs help, everybody needs a hug, Eddie is going to kick everybody’s ass if he has to

Chapter 2 : Carwood

Carwood got down to his knees and heard a crack. He groaned, but it didn’t help. The leaking pipe under the sink continued to drip. He rolled up his sleeves and felt around for the pliers, which had to be somewhere behind him. The damage didn’t seem extensive. Signs of wear and tear, he thought. The complete house needed to be renovated from top to bottom, but with the business as usual, Carwood couldn’t keep up with the work. He repaired everything he could find, but in the end he tried to patch a canyon with band-aids.

After the accident that killed his father and left his mother in a wheelchair, they decided together to run their own house as a guest house. But the old farm, which his father had taken over from his grandparents, had already been more than used up when they moved in. Nothing a nice coat of paint and decent curtains couldn’t fix, his mother used to say. The ravages of time gnawed ceaselessly at the old walls, and it could no longer be denied that the building was on the brink of being ready to be demolished.

The problem was that they still needed the money. Carwood had sent all his pay from the Airborne to his mother, but on his return he’d found that neither his mother nor his younger brother Carl were good with money. Instead of a new porch, one thing that had greeted him in the yard was a brand new truck.

“Carl’s my baby. Times have been hard enough,” his mother had said when he brought it up after a few weeks.

Carl was the baby, and Carwood was the man of the house. As it always had been.

He loved his mother, but it was getting harder to suppress the bitterness, because Carwood was exhausted. He’d been allowed two days to recover; they’d even let him sleep in. But then he’d been gently but firmly pushed toward the work.

A never-ending mountain of work. Little things piled up and as soon as he got one thing done, five other things popped up that needed his attention. That’s not counting the daily chores that had to be done in a guest house.

Carwood had once heard of a story that had a name for it; some ancient myth from the Greeks, perhaps?

‘Ron would know’, he thought.

He pushed the thought away. Carwood tried not to think about it, but that his former company commander had answered none of his letters yet gnawed at him. More than he wanted to admit to himself. He had even contacted the Airborne to make sure the address was correct. That wasn’t the issue.

Of course, maybe Ronald Speirs didn’t want any contact with him. He wouldn’t be the first veteran to want to leave the war behind, and all that went with it. Only he couldn’t bring himself to believe that. It hurt too much.

They’d liked each other, hadn’t they? Ron and he. Carwood would have called them friends without a second’s hesitation, or at least that was what he believed. Speirs had never been much of a talker; he was not one of those people who liked to be the center of attention. But Carwood had found his company pleasant. He had also not minded that he had led their conversations and done most of the talking.

Ron didn’t seem bored with him, either. If so, he would have said. If Ronald Speirs was one thing, he was direct. He wasn’t the type to beat around the bush. If something went against the grain for Speirs, he let you know it and let you know it clearly.

Or had he lied to Carwood? Had he forced himself too much on Ron and Ron hadn’t had the heart to tell him he was getting on his nerves?

He couldn’t believe that. He didn’t want to believe that.

If Ron didn’t want to write him back, so be it.

‘He’ll have his reasons,’ Carwood thought, ignoring the tugging in his chest.

‘He’ll have a good reason.’

With fresh energy and new determination, he placed the pipe wrench on the dripping pipe and pulled. The dripping stopped. One problem solved, a perceived thousand still to do.

*****

“Carwood! What took you so long, we have to go!” His mother sat in her wheelchair in the kitchen and the disapproval in her voice was impossible to miss.

She had put on her best dress and applied makeup to celebrate the occasion, something she had only done on a handful of occasions since the accident.

The party. Carwood had forgotten. Confused, he stood in the back doorway to the kitchen. Soiled from boots to thighs with mud, a good amount of the dirt trickled onto the kitchen floor, which he had mopped that morning. He looked down at himself and smiled sheepishly.

“Of course, I’m sorry, Mother. I’m going to get ready. Give me ten minutes.”

“Five, Carwood, five,” his mother said, turning her chair and rolling out of the kitchen. The tires squealed softly and Carwood remembered he had to go to get fresh oil for it.

Their neighborhood’s big barn party in Huntington had been the talk of the town for weeks, and Carl, as well as his mother, had talked about Carwood attending this time. In his dress uniform, of course.

“My son is a hero, let everyone see that.” The pride in his mother’s voice had been impossible to miss.

But it was not about him. She never admitted it or talked about it, but Mary-Ann Lipton was still struggling with her accident and her limitations. She was a proud, beautiful woman; the accident had not changed that. A woman who, together with her husband, wanted to restore the farmhouse to its former glory, who, despite two small children, wasn’t too shy to work. Until everything had changed.

Mary-Ann was still a beautiful woman, but that her legs were failing her was something she still couldn’t deal with.

Sometimes Carwood felt she blamed him. Which was complete nonsense. But he couldn’t help it to feel that he was not enough. Since childhood he’d had to take on the role of the man, standing up for the family, as the eldest son and their representative.

It was never enough.

He’d agreed to accompany his family to the barn festival, even though he did not feel like it. He was already going over the work that would be left undone, mentally making notes of what he needed to get done in the next few days and what he could put off so as not to lose the upper hand. As if he ever had control since his return.

He’d calculated that he would leave the party by midnight at the latest. So he could still set the tables for breakfast for the guests the next morning. That the guesthouse was only occupied by two permanent guests and a traveling journeyman craftsman was to his advantage.

They made not much money these days, but the work he had to do taking care of the guests was limited.

He carefully slipped off his shoes and trousers, taking care not to splash more mud into the kitchen. Carwood left the clothes outside on the porch; he could take care of that later.

Then he went to fetch his dress uniform.

Carwood had hung it unceremoniously in his closet, well packed to protect it from dust and moths. He’d had no intention of ever wearing it again; the Airborne was behind him. But there you go, never say never. With heavy steps, he climbed the narrow stairs that led to his room.

While his mother lived in a room in the house's part they also rented out to guests, Carwood had moved into one of the upper, smaller rooms that servants had once used.

His own little kingdom. Since his return, he appreciated the privacy of these rooms even more.

He opened the door and squinted against the sunlight. The window faced west and now, in the hours of evening, bathed the room in golden light where dust danced.

The wooden floorboards beneath his feet creaked softly and familiarly. Except for a bed, his closet, a small dresser and a desk, the room was empty, but Carwood liked it that way. He kept the room tidy. It calmed him.

Only the desk was piled high with paper, most of it letters. He couldn’t help but smile.

Easy Company consisted largely of enthusiastic letter writers and his boys never tired of telling him about themselves.

He was incredibly relieved by every letter he received.

They were home. His boys were safe, and every line confirmed that.

The letters were his anchor.

Except for those who did not come.

While he carefully undressed all the way and stacked the dirty laundry neatly in the basket provided, his eyes fell on a letter he had started not too long ago. Three lines in blue ink. Three lines of inanities that he wrote to a man who was not interested in them.

Why didn’t he write back? Carwood stared at the piles of letters, all from Easy Company men. One or two came from Winters, and even Captain Nixon. But none from Ron. The one person he longed for most had forgotten him.

Yet Carwood needed him. On the front lines, back in Europe, it had been Ron Speirs that Carwood had leaned on. He, who tried to be there for everyone, would have torn off an arm and both legs if it would’ve saved one of his boys. It was Ron who had taken him aside at the convent and told him that his efforts were appreciated. Ronald Speirs, who’d saved Easy after Dike had lost it.

Ron had taken the lead that day and never let it go; and finally, finally, Carwood had found someone he could just follow. In the past that had been Winters, but the man transferred to Battalion Command and Carwood didn’t blame him, but it wasn’t the same after that. Until Ron joined Easy, he’d been alone.

Alone, like now.

Home was supposed to be a refuge. Away from the war, away from the chaos. Cozy evenings on the porch, warm food, a soft bed and hot showers. Conversations with friends, clothes you could choose for yourself. All he had was more to worry about, more work, and more people dumping their shit on him.

It wasn’t fair, and Carwood felt bad. Letters were arriving for him every week. His boys hadn’t forgotten him. They told him about their homes, their families, what they were up to, and how they were doing.

They all asked how Carwood was doing.

Good, he wrote back. Always good. Everything was fine.

Nothing was fine, but he couldn’t get out of his skin. His protective instinct was still there, the instinct that he couldn’t burden the boys with his problems. The first sergeant, the Lieutenant, always the officer, who had an answer and a solution for everything. Who had an endless supply of hope and confidence to give was there for everyone; always ready to shoulder an extra burden.

In the darkness of his room, Carwood sank to the floor and heard nothing but his own breathing.

*****

The last of the light crept into the barn and the large double doors let in the smell of the surrounding fields and the great fire outside over which the meat roasted.

The neighbors had dressed up, yet Carwood felt uncomfortable in his uniform. Next to the women in their Sunday best, the children with shined shoes, straight partings and bows in their braids, his dress uniform seemed like a foreign object.

He saw others, soldiers like him, one or two from the Marine Corps and a young sailor who, with his blond hair, blue eyes, looked as if he had stepped out of one of the propaganda posters that were still everywhere. Posters that now were faded, in tatters or half pasted over. Just like the war.

His mother urged moving on, and Carwood followed. Carl had dropped off to a group that had to be his friends. Young people, still almost children, carefree and light, with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. Carwood felt ancient.

He shook hands, nodded, and artfully thanked those who thanked him for his service.

“You’re a hero, son,” he heard so many times during the evening that the words lost their meaning. It was like he was back in Holland, in Germany, and people were talking to him in a language he didn’t understand.

“You look well, a handsome young man!” Old Mrs. Ambrose patted his upper arm. “Doesn’t he look well?” she asked her husband.

Elijah Ambrose, a former Colonel in the Navy by trade, nodded, but his attention was on a group of young girls who were giggling at a photograph that one of the young ladies had apparently brought with her.

“Splendid, splendid,” he murmured around his cigar.

“A handsome young man,” Mrs. Ambrose repeated. Her fingers dug into Carwood’s arm. Sooner than he knew it, he was surrounded by that very group of girls, one of whom was Mrs. Ambrose’s granddaughter.

Young ladies, he should rather say, but Carwood saw only girls. Hardly old enough to have outgrown the bows.

He danced with the granddaughter, feeling like the father leading his daughter across the floor one last time at her wedding before handing her over to her husband.

Out of the corner of his eye, he took in the looks of the young men, Carl’s friends included. He read envy in their eyes and a defiant challenge.

He did not accept it.

*****

The evening passed and turned into night. The campfire outside the barn grew larger and the smell of grilled meat hung over everything. Somewhere above the stars shone in a familiar yet almost forgotten firmament.

Carwood had freed himself from the clutches of the girls and especially their mothers. His uniform attracted the women of Huntington and their unmarried girls like moths to a flame. It took his breath away, but not in a good way. He felt like he was choking.

But now he stood outside beside the great double door, at the edge of the barn, out of the glow of the fire and the feast. So far, no one seemed to miss him. He wished he could disappear altogether. But for now, his only place of retreat was the guest house and the pile of work waiting for him there. At least he would be undisturbed there; he could set the table for the guests’ breakfast. Maybe there would be enough time to sit on the porch and listen to the cicadas.

Music drifted outside from the barn; the band of the local church group didn’t hit every note, but that didn’t bother anyone.

Carwood had slipped back inside and was looking for his mother to say goodbye when he heard a loud, clattering bang.

He froze. One of the dancing couples had run into the band and swept a good amount of the drum set off the makeshift platform that served as a stage. The accident was followed by peals of laughter.

Carwood felt sick.

The sound had made him wince, his heart feeling like it was about to jump out of his chest. The worst part was the fear. That inner feeling of horrible dread that took hold of him.

“Clifford, what are you doing?” his mother’s voice came through to him. Shrill with incredulous indignation.

It was then that Carwood noticed that the whole barn was suddenly silent. Confused, he looked up, and it took him a moment to understand where he was. Everything seemed much bigger all of a sudden.

He was lying on the floor in the middle of the barn.

Without him consciously realizing it, his body had fallen back into old patterns. He was lying on his side, his knees pressed against his torso, his hands placed protectively over his head; his fingernails clawed into his hair. He had fallen into the same position as he had in the Foxholes in the Ardennes. And he hadn’t even noticed.

People were staring at him, his brother Carl and his mother in the front row. Carwood felt hot waves of shame rising. He didn’t know what to do.

Slowly, his stiffness loosened, and he clumsily struggled to his feet, feeling the stares of everyone following his every move. All he wanted to do was leave.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he muttered, over and over.

He practically ran out of the barn, away from the people, away from the fire, away from the light. He didn’t stop running until he was back in their farmhouse and in his room.

His whole body was shaking, and his eyes were burning. Whether from shock or shame, Carwood couldn’t tell. He retched, but nothing came.

He tore off his uniform, crumpled it into the far corner of his room.

Carwood stood in front of his bed, still half beside himself. It didn’t feel safe. His body was still on alert, even if his mind was checking in, asking if he was alright.

You’re home, the war is over, there’s your bed, it’s warm and safe.

It was almost as if he was watching himself from outside and part of him couldn’t comprehend what he was doing. Another part just registered his movements with clinical attention.

Carwood pulled his pillow and blanket off his bed.

He crawled under it.

The hard wooden floor felt like frozen dirt.

6 notes · View notes

cardest · 3 years

Text

New Orleans playlist

Hungry for some po boys? Feeling the Mardi Gras vibes for this weekend? This is the ultimate NOLA playlist, right here. Play the songs here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC182dTlE-Gii6ZOO5ZrN1Z1T

Louisiana and New Orleans, all in the one awesome playlist. If there are songs I left out, let me know and I can add those. Or come meet me at Le Bon Temps Roulé and we’ll listen to this NOLA playlist together with drinks.

LOUISIANA & NEW ORLEANS

001 Bob James - Take Me To The Mardi Gras 002 Earl King - Ain’t no city like New Orleans 003 John Lee Hooker - goin’ to Louisiana 004 Crowbar - Wrath Of Time By Judgment 005 True Detective - Theme (The Handsome Family - Far From Any Road) 006 EyeHateGod - New Orleans Is The New Vietnam 007 The The Meters - Chicken Strut 008 Paul McCartney - Live And Let Die (from Live And Let Die) 009 The Rolling Stones - Brown Sugar 010 Lucinda Williams - Crescent City 011 King Hobo - New Or-Sa-Leans 012 Concrete Blonde - Bloodletting 013 Down - Underneath Everything 014 True Blood Theme Song (Jace Everett - Bad Things) 015 Corrosion of Conformity - Broken Man 016 The New Orleans Jazz Vipers - I Hope Your Comin' Back To New Orleans 017 Willy DeVille - Jump City 018 Left Side - Gold In New Orleans 017 Necrophagia - Reborn through Black Mass 018 Johnny Horton - The Battle Of New Orleans 019 Dr John - Litanie des Saints 020 Foo Fighters - In the Clear 021 Redbone - The Witch Queen Of New Orleans 022 Jucifer - Lautrichienne 023 Danzig - It's a long way back from hell 024 Harry Connick, Jr. - Oh, My Nola 025 The Gaturs - Gator Bait 026 Jon Bon Jovi - Queen Of New Orleans 027 Cyril Neville - Gossip 028 Carlos Santana - Black Magic Woman 029 Gentleman June Gardner - It's Gonna Rain 030 Eddy G. Giles - Soul Feeling (Part 1) 031 Tool - Swamp Song 032 Beasts of Bourbon - Psycho 033 Seratones - Gotta Get To Know Ya 034 Chuck Berry - You Never Can Tell 035 Grateful Dead - Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodleoo 036 Pale Misery - Hope is a Mistake 037 Exhorder - Homicide 038 King James & the Special Men - Special Man Boogie 039 Chuck Carbo - Can I Be Your Squeeze 040 Amebix - Axeman 041 Tomahawk - Captain Midnight 042 Waylon Jennings - Jambalaya 043 Heavy Lids - Deviate 044 Red Hot Chili Peppers - Apache Rose Peacock 045 Necrophagia - Rue Morgue Disciple 046 Johnny Cash - Big River 047 Albert King - Laundromat Blues 048 Meklit Feat Preservation Hall Horns - You Are My Luck 049 Le Winston Band - En haut de la montagne 050 Dr. john - I Thought I Heard New Orleans Say 051 Down - New Orleans is a dying whore 052 Samhain - To Walk The Night 053 Creedence Clearwater Revival - Green River 054 Southern Culture on the Skids - Voodoo Cadillac 055 Bonnie, Sheila - You Keep Me Hanging On 056 Warren Lee - Funky Bell 057 Elf - Annie New Orleans 058 Cannonball Adderley - New Orleans Strut 059 Doug Kershaw - Louisiana Man - New Orleans Version 060 Willy deVille - Voodoo Charm 061 The Animals - The House of the Rising Sun 062 Porgy Jones - The Dapp 063 Lost Bayou Ramblers - Sabine Turnaround 064 IDRIS MUHAMMAD - New Orleans 065 John Lee Hooker - Boogie Chillen No. 2 066 Hank 3 - Hillbilly Joker 067 Nine Inch Nails - Heresy 068 Talking Heads - Swamp 069 Irma Thomas - I'd Rather Go Blind 070 Mississippi Fred McDowell - I'm Going Down the River 071 Dee Dee Bridgewater - Big Chief 072 Dr. John - Creole Moon 073 Agents of Oblivion - Slave Riot 074 Steve Vai - Voodoo Acid 075 Saviours - Slave To The Hex 076 Kris Kristofferson - Casey's Last Ride 077 JJ Cale - Louisiana Women 078 Cher - Dark Lady of New Orleans 079 LE ROUX - Take A Ride On A Riverboat 080 The Melvins - A History Of Bad Men 081 Floodgate - Through My Days Into My Nights 082 Opprobium - voices from the grave 083 Quintron & Miss Pussycat - Swamp Buggy Badass 084 Child Bite - ancestral ooze 085 Sammi Smith - The City Of New Orleans 086 The Explosions - Garden Of Four Trees 087 Bobby Boyd - straight ahead 088 Bobby Charles - Street People 089 Wall of Voodoo - Far Side of Crazy 090 Rhiannon Giddens - Freedom Highway (feat. Bhi Bhiman) 091 Elton John - Honky Cat 092 Serge Gainsbourg - Bonnie and Clyde 093 Fats Domino - I'm Walking To New Orleans 094 Cruel Sea - Orleans Stomp 095 Down - On March The Saints 096 Danzig - Ju Ju Bone 097 The Neville Brothers ~ Voodoo 098 Megadeth - The Conjuring 099 Miles Davis - Miles runs the voodoo down 100 Elvis Presley - King Creole 101 Led Zeppelin - Royal Orleans 102 The Lime Spiders - Slave Girl 103 BIG BILL BROONZY -'Mississippi River Blues' 104 Kreeps - Bad Voodoo 105 Dirty Dozen Brass Band - Caravan 106 Kirk Windstein - Dream In Motion 107 Eletric Prunes - Kyrie Eleison - Mardi Gras 108 Merle Haggard - The Legend Of Bonnie And Clyde 109 Corrosion of Conformity - River of Stone 110 THE ADVENTURES OF HUCK FINN (MAIN TITLE) 111 Zigaboo Modeliste - Guns 112 ReBirth Brass Band - Let's Go Get 'Em 113 Inell Young - What Do You See In Her? 114 Jimi Hendrix - If 6 as 9 (Studio Version) Easy Rider Soundtrack 115 Deep Purple - Speed King 116 Exhorder - The Law 117 Crowbar - The Cemetery Angels 118 A Streetcar Named Desire OST - Main Title 119 WOORMS - Take His Fucking Leg 120 steely dan - pearl of the quarter 121 Tabby Thomas - Hoodoo Party 122 Black Label Society - Parade of the Dead 123 Dwight James & The Royals - Need Your Loving 124 Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter (2012) The Rampant Hunter (Soundtrack OST) 125 PanterA - The Great Southern Trendkill 126 Ween - WHO DAT? 127 Earl King - Street Parade 128 Ernie K-Doe - Here Come The Girls 129 Dejan's Olympia Brass Band ~ Mardi Gras In New Orleans 130 Body Count - KKK Bitch 131 Goatwhore - Apocalyptic Havoc 132 C.C. Adcock - Y'all d Think She Be Good To Me (from True Blood S01E01) 133 The Meters - Fire On The Bayou 134 Dr. John - I Walk On Guilded Splinters 135 Balfa Brothers - J'ai Passe Devant ta Porte 136 Ween - Voodoo Lady 137 King Diamond - 'LOA' House 138 Creedence Clearwater Revival - Born On The Bayou 139 Dax Riggs - See You All In Hell Or New Orleans 140 Professor Longhair - Go to the Mardi Gras 141 Dixie Witch - Shoot The Moon 142 Ramones - The KKK Took My Baby Away 143 Fats Waller - There's Going To Be The Devil To Pay 144 Mississippi Fred McDowell - When the Train Comes Along with Sidney Carter & Rose Hemphill 145 Treme Song (Main Title Version) 146 Tony Joe White - Even Trolls Love Rock and Roll 147 Nine Inch Nails - Sin 148 Exodus - Cajun Hell 149 NEIL DIAMOND - New Orleans 150 James Brown - Call Me Super Bad 151 Jimi Hendrix - Voodoo Child ( Slight Return ) 152 Allen Toussaint - Chokin Kind 153 Dash Rip Rock - Meet Me at the River 154 Hawg Jaw- 4 Lo 155 Hot 8 Brass Band - Keepin It Funky 156 Hank Williams III - Rebel Within 157 Dejan's Original Olympia Brass Band - Shake It And Break It 158 Jelly Roll Morton - Finger Buster 159 The Royal Pendletons - (Im a) Sore Loser 160 Little Bob & The Lollipops - Nobody But You 161 Gregg Allman - Floating Bridge (True Detective Soundtrack) 162 Michael Doucel with Beausoleil - Valse de Grand Meche 163 Dolly Parton - My Blue Ridge Mountain Boy 164 Othar Turner & the Afrossippi Allstars – Shimmy She Wobble 165 Jucifer - Fleur De Lis 166 Soilent Green - Leaves Of Three 167 Ides Of Gemini - Queen of New Orleans 168 Betty Harris - Trouble with My Lover 169 Lead Belly - Pick A Bale Of Cotton 170 Candyman Opening Theme 171 Goatwhore - When Steel and Bone Meet 172 Acid Bath - Bleed Me An Ocean 173 Pere Ubu - Louisiana Train Wreck 174 Walter -Wolfman- Washington - You Can Stay But the Noise Must Go 175 Alice in Chains - Hate To Feel 176 Body Count - Voodoo 177 Live and Let Die - Jazz Funeral 178 Smoky Babe - Cotton Field Blues 179 Professor Longhair - Big Chief Part 2 180 Lewis Boogie - Walk the Line 181 James Black - Theres a Storm in the Gulf 182 The Balfa Brothers - Parlez Nous A Boire 183 The Jambalaya Cajun Band - Bayou Teche Two Step 184 The Deacons - Fagged Out 185 Thou - The Changeling Prince 186 Black Sabbath - Voodoo 187 King Diamond - Louisiana Darkness 188 Doyle - Cemeterysexxx 189 KINGDOM OF SORROW - Grieve a Lifetime 190 Hank Williams III - Louisiana Stripes 191 FORMING THE VOID - On We Sail 192 BUCK BILOXI AND THE FUCKS - fuck you 193 Down in New Orleans - The Princess and the Frog Soundtrack 194 Trombone Shorty & James Andrews - oh Poo Pah Doo 195 Whitesnake - Ain't No Love In The Heart Of The City 196 The Dirty Dozen Brass band - Voodoo 197 Joe Simon - The Chokin' Kind 198 Down - Ghosts along the Mississippi 199 AEROSMITH - Voodoo Medicine Man 200 Nine Inch Nails - The Perfect Drug 201 The Byrds - [Sanctuary III] Ballad Of Easy Rider 202 The Iguauas - Boom Boom Boom 203 PJ Harvey - Down By The Water 204 Louis Armstrong - Do You Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans 205 Dr John - Right Place Wrong Time 206 ESTHER ROSE - handyman 207 Lightnin Slim - It's Mighty Crazy 208 Slim Harpo - Blues Hangover 209 Irma Thomas - Ruler Of My Heart 210 WEATHER WARLOCK - Fukk the Plan-0 211 Superjoint Ritual - The Alcoholik (Use Once And Destroy) 212 Stressball - dust 213 Trampoline Team - Kill You On The Streetcar 214 Xander Harris - Where’s your Villain? 215 Dukes of Dixieland - When The Saints Go Marching In 216 Kid Congo & The Pink Monkey Birds - Su Su 217 Danzig - I'm the one 218 EyeHatteGod - Pigs 219 Hank Williams Jr - Amos Moses 220 The Cramps - Alligator Stomp 221 Crowbar - The Serpent Only Lies 222 Shrüm - drip 223 Thou - The Only Law 224 DR. JOHN - Babylon 225 Garth Brooks - Callin' Baton Rouge 226 Wild Magnolias - All On A Mardi Gras Day 227 NCIS New Orleans TV Show theme 228 Skull Duggery - Big Easy 229 Harry Connick Jr. - City beaneath the sea 230 Elvis Presley - Dixieland Rock 231 Tom Waits - I Wish I Was In New Orleans (In The Ninth Ward) 232 Neil Young - Everybody's Rockin 233 Philip H. Anselmo & The Illegals - Delinquent 234 CORROSION OF CONFORMITY - Wolf Named Crow 235 Widespread Panic - Fishwater 236 Lillian Boutté - Why Don't You Go Down to New Orleans 237 Bryan Ferry - Limbo 238 Scream - Mardi Gras 239 EyeHateGod - Shoplift 240 Better Than Ezra - good 241 Duke Ellington - Perdido (1960 Version) 242 Bob Dylan - Rambling, Gambling Willie 243 Big Bad Voodoo Daddy - sAve my soul 244 Le Roux - So Fired Up 245 Concrete Blonde - The Vampire song 246 Boozoo Chavis - Zydeco Mardi Gras 247 Idris Muhammad - Piece of mind 248 Les Hooper - Back in Blue Orleans 249 Doug Kershaw - Cajun stripper 250 DOWN - Witchtripper 251 Soilent Green - So hatred 252 Professional Longhair - Big chief 253 Willie Nelson - City Of New Orleans 254 Tom Waits - Whistlin' Past The Graveyard 255 Brian Fallon - sleepwalkers 256 Patsy - Count It On Down 257 Into the Moat - The Siege Of Orleans 258 Bruce Cockburn - Down To The Delta 259 Jello Biafra · the Raunch and Soul All-Stars - Fannie Mae 260 Exhorder - Asunder 261 Cane Hill - Too Far Gone 262 The Slackers - peculiar 263 Crowbar - A Breed Apart 264 COC - Wiseblood 265 Necrophagia - Embalmed Yet I Breathe 266 EYEHATEGOD - Fake What's Yours 333 Alan Vega - Bye Bye Bayou 666 DOWN - Stone the crow

I don’t beads by the way! Hit play here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC182dTlE-Gii6ZOO5ZrN1Z1T

#new orleans #New Orleans playlist #NOLA #NOLA playlist #Louisiana #corrosion of conformity #Alan Vega #necrophagia #New Orleans songs #mardi gras #Mardi Gras songs #crowbar #eyehategod

38 notes · View notes

sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years

Text

Tennessee Lovin’ (AldoxFem!Reader)

Requested by @tealaquinn

@inglourious-imagines @owba-chan @war-obsessed @tealaquinn @struggling-bee

Let me know if you wanna be added to the basterds or OUATIH taglist :)

You'd just come home from a mission. Well...what you called home. A hidden orchard in the middle of nowhere, where the basterds safely and secretly pitched up their tents in rows. They set up a fire between a circle of logs...which they called a living room.

There you all usually ate and drank, and well...lived together.

As they passed around the sandwiches and liquor...you excused yourself. You claimed you weren't really hungry.

Oddly enough, you didn't even stay for the usual racket: A royal rumble regarding baseball. Or the austere argument between Wicki and Hugo: Austria vs Germany. Or the New York nuances narrated by Omar and Smitty. Or the cheeky Chicago humor Hirschberg tended to charge with.

That was usually your favorite part of the war's basterdized days...

And yet you slipped away.

You stood in your tent, your left hand was shaking. The searing pain had subsided....which worried you. It was replaced by a numbingly freezing sensation.

You were about to take your glove off when you heard footsteps approaching.

You turned around, and kept your hands behind your back.

"Sir..." You smiled when you saw Aldo.

He narrowed his eyes, spotting your hands behind your back. He half-joked, trying to get a smile out of you, though he was really worried about you. "Ya didn't even salute..." He shook his head, "So don't you go an' 'sir' me."

You rolled your eyes and sighed, "Fine. Aldo. That better?"

Aldo may have been a hillbilly bootlegging basterd, but he was a smart man. And he knew you all too well. "Lemme see your hand."

"What?? I....There's....But I-"

He reached his hand out, and gestured for you to put your hand over his. "Come on. That's an order."

"You're not really gonna pull that rank card on me, are ya?"

He narrowed his eyes, "Look, Y/n... Just cause I love ya don't mean I ain't still your goddamn lieutenant."

You sighed, and quickly flashed your hand at him. "Now you see it, now you don't."

"Come on, lemme see it, L/n."

You frowned, unamused, "Oh ho ho...Last names now, huh?"

"Rank's next. Come on."

You rolled your eyes, as you held out your hand, "I don't see what the big deal's about anyway." You held out your hand, still covered in your blood-soaked glove.

Aldo's eyes widened. He took your hand in both of his, and carefully pulled the glove off, though it was sticking because of old blood, "Jesus, what the fuck?! Ah hell, y/n!!!" He looked at the deep and possibly infected wound on the palm of your hand.

"What? It's not that bad....it's just a....just a flesh wound..."

"Just a...." He muttered under his breath 'for fuck's sake just a flesh wound.' He took a breath trying to control himself, but...ultimately couldn't. "THERE'S A PIECE OF A BULLET IN YOUR FUCKIN' HAND GODDAMN IT."

"Yeah...and...?"

He shut his eyes trying to get himself together, but he couldn't help but feel a bit betrayed. "Were you not going to tell me?"

You were frank..." Nope."

"And...why the hell not?"

You could tell he was losing his mind over you getting hurt. "This..." You gestured at him with your other hand. "This is why."

You turned around, and took your hand from his. You picked up a bottle of vodka, pulled the cork out with your teeth, spat it out, and took a drink straight out of the bottle.

You then reached for some tweezers, part of a set of makeshift medical supplies you'd already laid out, and sanitized to the best of your abilities.

"Whooooaaaa." Aldo took both the tweezers and the alcohol from you. "We're doin' this the right way."

"No. I'm doing this the right way."

He planted his hand against his face, and muttered, "Oh for the love of..."

He took your hand. And he poured alcohol over it. It was tough love...and it killed him to see you squirm under the burning pain that he'd just caused you, but he needed to clean it.

"First of all, we can't afford 'flesh wounds' out here, and we sure as hell can't afford botched hack jobs."

He took your trembling, bleeding hand, and looked back at you, trying to lower his voice, "Lemme help you, Y/n..."

You looked up at his eyes. His blue, lovin' eyes...

Apart from that moment, he would never ever hurt you...

You knew that from the way he held your hand. It was an old, familiar feeling. Somehow his rough, calloused hands were still gentle enough to love after all he'd been through.

He sat you down on your cot, and he sat by you. He took his time, made sure he properly disinfected, cleaned, and treated your wound to the best of his ability.

Aldo handed you the vodka just before he pulled the bullet out. The second he did, you practically screamed into the bottle.

It broke his heart to have to hurt you like that, but he'd rather do it than let you hurt yourself.

He stitched your hand up, and wrapped it carefully.

When it was all over, he softly kissed over the bandage. "That better?"

You sighed a little, blushing out of embarassment and soft love as he gently held your hand and rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

He eyed your hand, having pictured a ring on your finger countless times, in daydreams and in sleepless nights. It was a specific ring. One he'd seen just before he shipped out, in a tiny dusty antique shop in Maynardville, Tennessee. 'Bernadette's Antiques'. It been there since the civil war. The old lady who ran it, 'Little Bernie,' was the original owner's granddaughter. She seemed to be ahundred years old to him...but she promised to hold that ring. The most beautiful ring that penniless bootlegger from the Smokey Mountains had ever seen. She'd hold it for him till he got back, till he had a girl to give it to.

Then he met you...

He hoped he'd get that chance some day...

Until then, holding you was enough.

Aldo kissed you softly, though his lips were jagged from the cold wind and long mission. "Get some rest, I'll be back."

He left the tent with a sigh, knowing the boys will be making jokes about the scream, implying it was the good kind of scream.

But anyway...Aldo was dead set on getting you something to eat, so he was fine with being the butt of a few jokes if it meant he got to do something for you.

But everyone was silent...highly uncharacteristic of them. Still, Aldo thought they should know. "For the millionth fucken time, one of you's kept a fucking gunshot hidden from me, an' you know I had orders against that! Y/n got a bullet in the hand, and-"

Wicki tossed the butt of his cigarette into the fire, "We know."

"You knew and didn't tell me?" Aldo felt completely betrayed. They knew how much Aldo cared about you.

Smitty nodded, "Yup."

"May I ask what in hell would make you do some stupid fucken thing like that?!"

"Umm..." Hirschberg glanced over at the others, hoping one of them would speak up.

"Well ya see, sir...." Smitty clasped his hands together, wishing someone else found the right way to word it.

"Uh..." Donny patted his pat a few times against the ground, trying to avoid eye contact.

Aldo put his hands on his hips, "Spit it out, goddamn it!" Hugo looked at everyone else, then back down at his cigarette, unbothered. What went on between you and Aldo was none of his business...that would be defense if it ever became his turn to explain.

Omar cleared his throat, "Frankly sir....we're a little more scared of Y/n than we are of you....if...if it's not too bold to say..."

Aldo squinted at them. He opened his mouth, about to chew the basterds out, but he stopped mid breath.

He nodded...

"Yeah...I get it." He chuckled a little.

A wave of relief flowed over the boys who started to joke around again as Aldo took some food for you.

He came back to the tent, and set some food down for you. He pulled you in his arms, and smiled down at you, "That's enough excitement for a day, darlin'."

You smirked a little, then pouted your lip a little, "That ain't like you at all, Aldo." You winked at him as he laughed, and swayed wth you in his arms. He planted a kiss at the top of your head, and rested his cheek there for a moment or two.

You rested your head on his chest for a while, then he stepped back a little, holding your hands in his, being extra careful with your wound.

"I'm sorry about snappin atcha earlier...I just don't want nothin' to happen to you, darlin'... I really don't know where I'd be without you."

You smiled softly at Aldo, and let him know everything was alright.

"Come on, baby."

The worry faded from his face as you wrapped your arms around him, and kissed him. He smiled softly at you, a way he never really smiled at anyone else before he met you... He was right, though. It had been a long day.

He was tired too.

But that didn't mean there wasn't time for some of his trademark Tennessee lovin'.

The notorious Aldo the Apache was known across the front as a ruthless nazi-scalping basterd... But there was something about him only you knew: he was a cuddler.

So he kept his protective arms around you as you fell asleep.

It was hard to love in war: There weren't a lot of moments.

But when there were, Aldo made sure each one of them counted.

#aldo raine #aldo the apache #aldo raine x reader #Inglourious Basterds #inglourious basterds imagine

97 notes · View notes

papermoonloveslucy · 4 years

Text

LOOK! TV: TURN ON OR TURN OFF?

September 7, 1971

The September 7, 1971 issue of LOOK Magazine (volume 35, number 18) dedicated their entire issue to the medium of television. Inside, there is a feature titled “Lucille Ball, the Star That Never Sets...” by Laura Bergquist on page 54.

The photograph on the cover is slightly distorted to give it the look of an image through a TV screen. The shot was taken by Douglas Bergquist in January 1971.

The issue presents a variety of viewpoints about the state of television. Is it ‘tired’ or is there an infusion of new energy to take it into the new decade? John Kronenberger writes an article that asks if cable television is the future. Hindsight tells us that it was not only the future, but is now the past.

“Lucille Ball, the Star That Never Sets...” by Laura Bergquist.

Bergquist first interviewed Lucille Ball in 1956 for the Christmas issue of Look.

The photograph is by Douglas Kirkland, a Canadian-born photographer, who not coincidentally, also took the photograph used on the cover. This shot was taken in the garden of Ball’s home in June 1971. At age 24, Kirkland was hired as a staff photographer for Look magazine and became famous for his 1961 photos of Marilyn Monroe taken for Look's 25th anniversary issue. He later joined the staff of Life magazine.

Bergquist launches the article talking about her friend Sally, who is besot with watching Lucille Ball reruns, preferring Lucy over the news. Under the headline, she sums up the purpose of her interview: “Sorry, Sally. But Lucy is a serious, unfunny lady. So how come she’s a top clown of the fickle tube for twenty years, seen at home 11 times weekly and in 77 countries?”

LUCILLE BALL: THE STAR THAT NEVER SETS...

(Lucille Ball’s quotes are in BOLD. Footnote numbers are in parentheses.)

My neighbor Sally, nine, turns out to be a real Lucy freak. Though she likes vintage-house-wife I Love Lucy best, she'll watch Lucille Ball 11 times a week, if permitted. That's how often Madame Comedy Champ of the Tube, come 20 years this October, can be caught on my local box. Ten reruns, plus the current Here's Lucy on Monday night, CBS prime time. Friends, that's 330 weekly minutes of Lucy, which should be rank overexposure. Did you know that even the U.S. man-on-the-moon walkers slipped in ratings, second time around?

Quel mystery. Variety last fall announced that old-fashioned sitcoms and broad slapstick comedy are passé, given today's hip audiences. With one big exception - Lucy. When the third Lucy format went on in '68, reincarnating Miss Ball as a widowed secretary (with her real-life son, Desi Jr., now 18, and Lucie Jr., 20), Women's Wear Daily said not only were the kids no talent, but the show was "treacle." "One giant marshmallow," quoth the Hollywood Reporter, "impeccably professional, violence-free, non-controversial . . . 100% escapism."

Miss Ball: "Listen, that's a good review. I usually get OK personal notices, but the show gets knocked regular."

So why does Sally, like all the kids on my block, love slapstick, non-relevant Lucy? "Because she's always scheming and getting into trouble like I do, and then wriggling her way out of it." A 44-year-old Long Island housewife: "Of course I watch. I should watch the news?" When the British Royal Family finally unbent for a TV documentary, what was the tribe watching come box-time? Lucy, over protests from Prince Philip. (1)

"I've been a baby-sitter for three generations," says Miss Ball briskly. "Kids watch me during the day [she outpulls most kiddy shows]. Women and older men at night. Teen-agers, no. They look at Mod Squad. Intellectuals, they read books or listen to records.... You know I even get fan mail from China?" MAINLAND CHINA? "Hong Kong, isn't that China?" No. "Where is it anyway?"

The Statistics on the Lucy Industry are numbing. In recent years, she has run in 77 countries abroad, including the rich sheikhdom of Kuwait, and Japan, where, dubbed in Japanese yet, she's been a long-distance runner for 12 years. Where are all those funny people of yesteryear - Jackie Gleason, the Smothers Brothers, Sid Caesar, the Beverly Hillbillies - old reliables like Ed Sullivan, Red Skelton? Gone, all gone, form the live tube - except for reruns dumped by sponsors, out of fashion, murdered in the ratings.

Even this interview is a rerun. Fifteen years ago, I sat in Miss Ball's old-timey movie-star mansion in Beverly Hills, wondering how much longer, oh Lord, could Lucy last? She has a different husband, a genial stand-up comic of the fast-gag Milton Berle school, Bronx-born Gary Morton, 49. He replaced Desi Arnaz, her volatile Cuban spouse (and costar and partner) of 20 years, who lives quietly in Mexico's Baja California, alongside a pool shaped like a guitar, with a second redhead wife. "Ever been here before?" asks Gary, now her executive producer, who's brightened the house decor. "Used to be funeral-parlor gray, right?"

Otherwise, the lady, like her show, seems preserved in amber. Though newly 60, she could be Sally's great-grandmother. Of a Saturday, she's unwinding from a murderous four-day workweek. Her pink-orange-fireball hair is up in rollers. Her black-and-blue Rolls-Royce, inherited from her friend, the late Hedda Hopper, is parked in the driveway. But in attitude and opinion, she comes across Madame Middle America, despite the shrewd show-biz exterior. Good egg. Believer in hard work, discipline, Norman Vincent Peale. Deadeye Dickstraight, she talks astonishingly unfunny - about Vietnam, Women's Lib, about which she feels dimly, marriage to Latins, books she toted up to her new condominium hideaway in Snowmass, Colo. "Snow" is her new-old passion, a throwback to her small-town Eastern childhood. For the first time in family memory, this lifelong workhorse actually relaxed in that 9,700-foot altitude for four months this year, learning to ski, reading Pepys, Thoreau, Shirley MacLaine's autobiography, "37 goddamned scripts, and all those Irvings" (Stone, Wallace, etc.). She had scouted for a mountain retreat far away from any gambling. Why? Is she against gambling? "No, I'm a sucker. I can't stay away from the tables."

From yellowing notes, I reel off an analysis by an early scriptwriter. Perhaps she comes by her comic genius because of some "early maladjustment in life, so you see commonplace things as unusual? To get even, to cover the hurt, you play back the unhappy as funny?"

Forget any deep-dish theorizing. "Listen, honey," says Miss B, drilling me with those big blue peepers, "you've been talking to me for four, five hours. Have you heard me say anything funny? I tell you I don't think funny. That's the difference between a wit and a comedian. My daughter Lucie thinks funny. So does Steve Allen, Buddy Hackett, Betty Grable."

BETTY GRABLE THINKS FUNNY? "Yeah. Dean Martin has a curly mind. oh, I can tell a funny story about something that happened to me. But I'm more of a hardworking hack with an instinct for timing, who knows the mechanics of comedy. I picked it up by osmosis, on radio and movie lots [she made 75 flicks] working with Bob Hope, Bert Lahr, the Marx Brothers, the Three Stooges - didn't learn a thing from them except when to duck. Buster Keaton taught me about props. OK, I'm waiting."

Well, I hedge, I caught Miss Ball in a few funny capers on the Universal lot this week. Like one day, in her star bungalow, she throws a quick-energy lunch in the blender - four almonds, wild honey, water, six-year-old Korean ginseng roots, plus her own medicine, liver extract. "AAAGH," she gags, then peers in the mirror at her hair, which is a normal working fright wig, "Gawd," she moans, "it looks as if I'd poked my finger into an electric-light socket!" No boffo line, but her pantomimed horror makes me laugh out loud. Working, she is fearless - dangling from high wires, coping with wild beasts. She talks of animals she's worked with, chimps, bears, lions, tigers. "I love 'em all, especially the chimps, but you can't trust their fright or panic. Like that baby elephant who gave a press job to a guest actress." (2) What's a press job? "Honey, once an elephant puts his head down, he keeps marching, right through walls." Miss Ball puts her own head down, crooks an arm for a trunk, and voila, is an elephant. Funny as hell. So off-camera she's no great wit, but then is Chaplin?

Four days a week, through the Thursday night filming before a live audience, she labors like some hungry Depression starlet. Monday a.m., she sits at the head of a conference table, lined by 12 staffers, editing the script. Madame Executive Tycoon in charge of everything, overseeing things Desi used to do. Also the haus-frau, constantly opening windows for fresh air and emptying ashtrays. She wears black horn-rims, three packs of ciggies are at the ready. "Do I have to ask for a raise again?" she impatiently drills the writers, "I've done that 400 times." "QUIET!" she yells during rehearsal, perching in a high director's chair, a la Cecil B. DeMille. "Isn't somebody around here supposed to yell quiet?" She frets about the new set. "Those aisles - they're a mile and a half wide. What for?" The audience is too far away, she won't get the feedback from their laughs are her life's blood. (Once I hear Gary Morton on the phone, in his British-antiqued executive office, saying: "We need your laugh, honey. Go down to the set and laugh; that's an order.")

That physical quality about her comedy, a la the old silent movies or vaudeville - which were the big amusements of her youth - seems to transcend any language. (A Moscow acting school, I was told, shows old Lucy clips as lessons in comic timing.) So what did she learn from that great Buster Keaton?

"At Metro, I kept being held back by show-girl-glamour typing. I always wanted to do comedy. Buster Keaton, a friend of director Eddy Sedgwick, spotted something in me when I was doing a movie called DuBarry - what the hell was the name? - and kept nagging the moguls about what I could do. Now a great forte of mine is props. He taught me all about 'em. Attention to detail, that's all it is. He was around when I went out on a vaudeville tour with Desi with a loaded prop." What's that? "Real Rube Goldberg stuff. A cello loaded with the whole act - a seat to perch on, a violin bow, a plunger, a whistle, a horn. Honey, if you noodge it, you've lost the act. Keaton taught me your prop is your jewel case. Never entrust it to a stagehand. Never let it out of your sight when you travel, rehearse with it all week." Ever noodge it? "Gawd, yes. Happened at the old Roxy in New York. I was supposed to run down that seven-mile aisle when some maniac sprang my prop by leaping out and yelling 'I'm that woman's mother! She's letting me starve.'" What did you do? "Ad-libbed it, and I am one lousy ad-libber."

After 20 years, isn't she weary of playing the Lucy character? "No, I'm a rooter, I look for ruts. My cousin Cleo [now producer of Here's Lucy] is always prodding me to move. She once said Lucy was my security blanket. Maybe. I'm not erudite in any way, like Cleo. But why should I change? Last year was big TV relevant year, and I made sure my show wasn't relevant. Lucy deals in fundamental, everyday things exaggerated, with a happy ending. She has a basic childishness that hopefully most of us never lose. That's why she cries a lot like a kid - the WAAH act - instead of getting drunk."

Aha! Is Lucy the guileful child-woman, conniving forever against male authority - whether husband or nagging boss - particularly FEMALE? ("None of us watch the show," sniffed a Women's Libber I know, "but she must be an Aunt Tom." Still, I ponder, hasn't that always been the essence of comedy, the little poor-soul man - or woman - up against the biggies?)

"I certainly hope so. You trying to con me into talking about Women's Lib? I don't know the meaning of it. I never had anything to squawk about. I don't know what they're asking for that I don't have already. Equal pay for equal work, that's OK. The suffragettes rightly pressed a hard case - and when roles like Carry Nation come along, they ask me to play them, perhaps because I have the physical vitality. But they're kind of a laughingstock, aren't they? Like that girl who gave her parents 40 whacks with an ax? Didn't Carry Nation ax things, was she a Prohibitionist or what?" (3)

She'd just said nix to playing Sabina, in the movie of Thornton Wilder's The Skin of Our Teeth. Why? "I didn't understand it." She turned down The Manchurian Candidate for the same reason. "Got that Oh Dad, Poor Dad script the same week and thought I'd gone loony." If she makes another movie, she'll play Lillian Russell in Diamond Jim with Jackie Gleason, "a nice, nostalgic courtship story that won't tax anyone's nerves." (4)

Is Miss Ball warmed by the comeback of old stars in non-taxing Broadway nostalgia shows like No, No, Nanette? (5)

"Listen, I studied that audience. I saw people in their 60's and 70's enjoying themselves. That had to be nostalgia. The 30's and 40's smiled indulgently, that Ruby Keeler is up there on the stage alive, not dead. For the below 30's, it's pure camp. I don't put it down, but it’s not warm, working nostalgia, but the feeling 'Ye gods, anything but today'

"Maybe I'm more concerned about things that I realize. I told you politics is definitely not on my agenda - I got burned bad, back in the '40's signing a damned petition as a favor. (6) Just say the word 'politician,' and I think of chicanery. Too many subversive angles today. But I must be one of millions who are so fed up, depressed, sobbing inside, about the news...the atrocities, the dead, the running down of America. You can't obliterate the news, but the baddest dream is that you feels so helpless.

"I was sitting in this very chair one night, flipping the dial, and came to Combat! There were soldiers crouching in bushes, a helicopter hovering overhead. Nothing happening, so I make like a director, yelling, 'Move it! This take is too LONG!' It turned out to be a news show from Vietnam. That shook me. There I was criticizing the director, and real blood was dripping off my screen... That drug scene bugs me. It's ridiculous, self-indulgent. We're supposed to be grateful if the kids aren't on drugs. They're destroying us from within, getting at our youth in the colleges. OK, kids have to protest, but how can they accomplish anything if they're physically shot?

"One of the reasons I'm still working is that people seem grateful that Lucy is there, the same character and unchanging view. There's so much chaos in this world, that's important. Many people, not only shut-ins, depend on the tube, too much so - they look for favorites they can count on. Older people loved Lawrence Welk. They associated his music with their youth. Now he's gone. It's not fair. (7) They shouldn't have taken off those bucolic comedies; that left a big dent in some folks' lives. Maybe we're not getting messages anymore from the clergy, the politicians, so TV does the preaching. But as an entertainer, I don't believe in messages.

"Some Mr. Jones is always asking why am I still working - as if it were some crime or neurotic. OK, I'll say it's for my kids. But I like a routine life, I like to work. I come from an old New England family in which everyone worked. My grandparents were homesteaders in New York and Ohio. My mother worked all her life - during the Depression in a factory."

What does she think of the new "relevant" comedy like All in the Family? "I don't know... It's good to bring prejudice out in the open. People do think that way, but why glorify it? Those not necessarily young may not catch the moral. That show doesn't go full circle for me."

Full circle?

"You have to suffer a little when you do wrong. That prejudiced character doesn't pay a penance. Does he ever reverse a feeling? I'm for believability, but I'm tired of hearing 'pig,' 'wop,' 'Polack' said unkindly. Me, I have to have an on-the-nose moral. Years ago, the Romans let humans be eaten by lions, while they laughed and drank - that was entertainment. But I’m tired of the ugly. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing, that's my idea of entertainment. Anything Richard Burton does is heaven. Easy Rider scared me at first because I knew how it could influence kids. But at least that movie came full circle. They led a life of nothing and they got nothing. Doris Day, I believe in her. Elaine May? A kook, but a great talent. Barbra Streisand? A brilliant technician."

On her old ten-minute daily interview radio show, (8) she once asked Barbra, like any star-struck civilian: How does it feel to be only 21, a big recording artist and star of the Broadway hit Funny Girl? "Not much," said Barbra. "That cool really flustered Lucille. It violated everything she believes in," says cousin Cleo Smith, who grew up with Miss B in small-town Celoron, N.Y. "For her, nothing ever came easy. She didn't marry until she was 30, or become a really big star until she was 40. She's still so hard on herself, sets such rigorous standards for herself as an actress and parent. She honestly believes in all the old maxims, that a stitch in time saves nine, etc. She's literal-minded, a bit like Scarlett O'Hara. Does what needs doing today, and to hell with tomorrow."

Her self-made wealth a few years ago was reckoned at $50 to $100 million. After her divorce, she reluctantly took over the presidency of the Desilu studio and sold it six years later to the conglomerate Gulf & Western for nearly $18 million. Does that make her the biggest lady tycoon in Hollywood? (The 179 original I Love Lucy reruns now belong, incidentally, to a CBS syndicate; her second Lucy Show, to Paramount. She owns only the current Here's Lucy - OK, go that straight?)

"Hah! Like Sinatra, I owe about three and a half million bucks all the time. That figure is ridiculous. All my money is working. I lost a helluva lot in the stock market last year and haven't recouped it. It's an illusion that people in show biz are really rich. The really filthy rich are the little old ladies in Boston, the old folks in Pasadena, who've had dough for years and haven't been seen since."

The divorce from Desi Arnaz can still set her brooding. "It was the worst period of my life. I really hit the bottom of despair - anything form there on had to be up. Neither Desi nor I has been the same since, physically or mentally, though we're very friendly, ridiculously so. Nobody knows how hard I tried to make that marriage work, thinking all the trouble must be my fault. I did everything I could to right that ship, trotting to psychiatrists. I hate failure, and that divorce was a Number One failure in my eyes... Anything in excess drives me crazy. He'd build a home anyplace he was, and then never be around to enjoy it. I was so idealistic, I thought that with two beautiful babies, and a beautiful business, what more could any man want? Freedom, he said, but he had that. People don't know what a job he did building that Desilu empire, what a great director and brilliant executive he was yet he let it all go....Maybe Latins have an instinct for self-destruction..."

Was that the conflict, a Latin temperament married to an old-fashioned American female? "It has a helluva lot to do with getting into it and getting out. The charm. But they keep up a big facade and don't follow through. No, the machismo didn't bother me, I like to play games too.

"Desi and I had made an agreement that if either of us wanted to pull out of Desilu, the other could buy. I wanted to go to Switzerland with the kids, anywhere to run away, but he wanted out. The I found out that for five years, our empire had taken a nose dive, and if I wanted to get my money back, I had to rebuild it first. For the first time in my life, I was absolutely terrified - I'd never run any show or a big studio. When I came back from doing the musical Wildcat on Broadway, I was so sick, so beat, I just sat in that backyard, numb, for a year. I'd had pneumonia, mononucleosis, staph, osteomyletis. Lost 22 pounds. Friends told me the best thing I could do physically, psychologically, was go back to work, but could I revive Lucy without Desi, my old writers, the old crew?"

You didn't like being a woman executive? "I hated it. I used to cry so much - and I'm not a crier - because I had to let someone go or make decisions I didn't understand. There were always two sides to every question, and trouble was I could see both sides. No one realizes how run-down Desilu was. The finks and sycophants making $70,000 a year, they were easy to clean out. Then during the CBS Jim Aubrey regime, I couldn't sell the new pilots we made - Dan Dailey, Donald O'Connor, Ethel Merman. I couldn't sell anything but me." (9)

Was it tough to be a woman bossing men? "Yeah. It puts men in a bad spot. I could read their minds, unfortunately, wondering who is this female making this decision, not realizing that maybe I'd consulted six experts first. I'm all wrong as an executive, I feel out of place. I have too many antennae out, I'm too easily hurt and intimidated. But I can make quick surgical incisions. I've learned that much about authority - give people enough rope to hand themselves, stand back, let them work, but warm them first. Creative people you have to give special leeway to, and often it doesn't pay off. Me, I'm workative, not creative. I can fix - what I call 'naturalize.' I'm a good editor, I can naturalize dialogue, find an easier way to do a show mechanically.

But I didn't make the same marriage mistake twice. Gary digs what my life is, why I have to work. We have tranquility. We want the same things, take care of what we have."

She shows me Gary's dressing room, closets hung with shirts and jackets - by the dozen. "My husband is a clothes and car nut, but it's a harmless vice. Better than booze or chasing women, right?" (His cars include a 1927 Model T Ford, a Mercedes-Benz 300 SL, an Astin Martin, a Rolls-Royce convertible.)

"Anyone married to me has an uphill climb. Gary and I coped by anticipating. We knew we should be separated eight, nine months a year, so he tapered off his act, found other thing to do - making investments, building things. He plays the golf circuit, Palm Springs, Pebble Beach, and tolerantly lets me stay at Snowmass for weeks. Sun just doesn't agree with me. He didn't come into the business for five years. I didn't want to put him in a position in which he would be ridiculed. I could tell that he was grasping things - casting, story line. I said, 'You've been a big help to me. You should be paid for it.' "

On a Friday night, I dine with the Mortons. Dinner is served around 6:30, just like in my Midwest hometown. Lucille is still fretting about this week's show - "over-rehearsed; because there were so many props, the fun had gone out of it." Gary, just home from unwinding his own way - golfing with Milton Berle, Joey Bishop - asks if I'd like something to drink with dinner? Coke or ginger ale? "No? I think we have wine." No high living in this house, but the spareribs are superb. "Laura asked me an interesting question," he tells his wife. "Like isn't there a conflict when a husband in the same business - comedy - marries a superstar? I told her I'd never thought of it before."

They met the summer when Lucille was rehearsing Wildcat, and he was a stand-up comic at Radio City Music Hall, seven days a week. "We both came up the hard way," he says. "I got started in World War II, clowning for USO shows. I've been in show biz for 30 years and can appreciate what she goes through. Lucy can't run company by herself. Maybe with me around, when she walks on the set, her mind is at peace. I pop in from time to time, on conferences, rehearsals. I can tell from her if things are going well, if the laughter is there. She's a thoroughbred, very honest with me, a friend to whom I can talk about anything. She never leaves me out of her life; that's important for a man. Do you know how many bets were lost about our marriage lasting? It's been nearly ten years now, and I've slept on the couch only once."

Past dinner, we adjourn promptly to the living room, and a private showing of Little Murders. It's not a pretty movie of urban American life, and Lucy talks back indignantly to the screen. (10) The flick she rally like was George Plimpton's Paper Lion, with the Detroit Lions, which she booked under the illusion it was an animal picture. "At the end, 12 of us here stood up and cheered, and I wrote every last Lion a fan note. You know that picture hardly made a dime?"

On a house tout, I'd noted the Norman Rockwell and Andrew Wyeth albums in the living room, and a memo scotch-taped to her bathroom wall: "Get Smart with N.V.P."

N.V.P. Is that Norman Vincent Peale, her old friend and spiritual mentor? "Yes. He marred me and Gary. I still adhere to his way of thinking because he preaches a day-to-day religion that I can understand. Something workable, not allegory. Like how do you get up in the morning and just get through the day?

"Dr. Peale taught me the art of selfishness. All it means is doing what's right for you, not being a burden to others. When I was in Wildcat, he dropped around one night saying, 'I hear you're very ill, and working too hard.' 'Work never hurt anybody,' I protested. But he reminded me I had two beautiful children to bring up, and if I was in bad shape, how could I do it? I've learned you don't rake more leaves than you can get into the wheelbarrow. I've always been moderate, but I was too spread around, trying to please too many people. You don't become callous, but you conserve your energies."

What about her kids? Passing a newsstand, I'd noted a rash of fan mags blazoned with headlines about Desi Jr., something of a teen-age idol, and at 18 a spitting image of old pop. (A rock star at 12, he'd recently garnered very good notices indeed for a movie role in Red Sky at Morning.) "Why Lucille Ball's Son Is So Bitter About His Own Mother," read the El Trasho covers. "Patty Duke Begs Desi Jr. To Believe Her: 'You Made Me Pregnant.' " Does the imbroglio bother this on-the-nose moralist?

"I worked for years for a quiet personal life and to have to personally impinged on, with no recourse, is hard. I brought Patty to the house, feeling very maternal about her, saying look at this clever girl, what a big talent she is. Now, I can thank her for useless notoriety. She's living in some fantastic dreamworld, and we're the victims of it. Desi being the tender age of 17 when they met, she used him. She hasn't proved or asked for anything. I asked Desi if he wanted to marry her and he said no. My daughter helped outfit the baby, which Patty brought to the house, but did she ever say thank you?

"Desi's going to CIA this fall." Not the CIA? No, the new California Institute of the Arts, where he'll study music. "Yes, he's very much like his father, too much sometimes - I just hope he has Desi's business acumen. I'm glad he didn't choose UCLA or Berkeley or a school full of nonconformists. Lucie just now wants marriage and babies - maybe she'll go on to college later.

"I took the kids out of school deliberately. Desi was at Beverly Hills High, Lucie at Immaculate Heart."

Why? "I didn't like the scene - it was the usual - pregnant girls, drugs." That goes on at Immaculate Heart? Sure. "A lot of girls who boarded there were unhappy misfits, and Lucie was already working in the nunnery. All the friends she brought home were the rejected. I'm that way myself."

Did they mind, well, your stage-managing their lives? "No, they were as sick of that weird high school scene as I was. I made them a proposition - told them to think it over for a month, while I was in Monaco. Do you want to be on the show? I told them the salary would be scale, that most would be put in trust. They'd be tutored and not able to graduate with their classes. They both thought they were going to the coast, but working with a tutor, they really got turned on by books for the first time. They wanted to be in show business, and I wanted to keep an eye on them."

Of course her show is nepotism, she grants. "Cleo thought a long time before becoming the producer, wondering if it wasn’t overdoing family. Nobody seems to be suffering from it, I told her." Thursday night show time is like a tense Broadway opening night. Gary Morton, in stylish crested blazer, warms up the audience, heavy with out-of-town tourists. "Lucy started out with another fellow, can't remember his name.... What is home without a mother? A place to bring girls." Lucille bursts out onstage, exuding the old MGM glamour, fireball hair ablaze, eyelashes inches long, in aquamarine-cum-rhinestone kaftan. "For God's sake," she implores, "laugh it up! We want to hear from you... Gary, have you introduced my mom?" Indeed he has. Loyal, durable, 79-year-old Desiree "DeDe" Ball, her hair pink as Lucille's, has missed few of the 409 Lucy shows filmed to date, and is on hand as usual with 19 personal guests. Gary also asks for big hands for Cleo, and her husband Cecil Smith, TV critic for the LA Times, who has also appeared on the show. (11)

One day Desi Jr. wanders on the set, just back from visiting his father in Mexico. He'd gone with Patty Duke and the baby. The young man does have Latin charm, and apparently talent. I ask him a fan-mag query: Is it rough to be the spin-off of such famous show-biz parents?

"Well, I grew up with kids like Dean Martin, Jr., and Tony Martin, Jr., and we had a lot in common." What? "We all had houses in Palm Springs." Any generational problem with Mom? "She's found the thing she's best at, and sticks to it. As long as she has Snowmass, she has an escape, some reality. I realize she lives half in a man's world, and that must be tough on a woman. My father - he worked hard for years, and then he'd had it. This is silly, weird, he felt. He aged more in ten years than he had in 40. I'm like him. I feel life is very short. He's had major operations recently, and he's changed a lot."

Patty Duke is six years older than Desi Jr., paralleling the six-year age gap that separated parents Lucy and Desi. "Patty is a lot like my mother, the same drive, and strong will, a perfectionist...But I'm never going to get married. Marriage is unrealistic, expecting you to devote a whole life unselfishly to just one person. Do you know people age unbelievably when they marry? From what I've seen, 85 percent of married couples are miserable; 14 percent, just average; one percent, happy." (12)

His mother's own childhood, in little Celoron, an outspring of Jamestown, N.Y., was oh-so-different from her kids'. "She was always a wild, tempestuous, exciting child," say Cleo, "doing things that worried people, plotting and scheming, though she knew she'd get in trouble." Interesting, because that's one basic of the Lucy format, Miss B forever finagling second bananas like Vivian Vance into co-trouble. "One summer, she conned me into running away. It was only to nearby Fredonia, but in her sneaky way she really wanted to catch up to a groovy high school principal who was teaching there. He played it very cool, calling Mom and telling her we were staying overnight in a boarding house. On his advice, when we got home, DeDe acted as if we hadn't been away. That devastated Lucille, no reaction, nothing."

The classic Lucy story line also has her conniving against male authority, whether husband or boss, now played by Gale Gordon. "I need a strong father or husband figure as catalyst. I have to be an inadequate somebody, because I don't want the authority for Lucy. Every damned movie script sent me seems to cast me as a lady with authority, like Eve Arden or Roz Russell, but that's not me.

"No, I don't remember my own father," says Miss Ball. "He was a telephone lineman who died of typhoid at 25, when I was about three. I do remember everything that day, though. Hanging out the window, begging to play with the kids next door who had measles... The doctor coming, my mother weeping. I remember a bird that flew in the window, a picture that fell off the wall.

"My brother Fred [who was born after her father's death] was always very, very good. He never did anything wrong - he was too much to bear. I was always in trouble, a real pain in the ass. I suppose I wasn't much fun to be around." To this day, says Cleo, Lucille suspects Fred is her mother's favorite, even though DeDe has devoted her whole life to this daughter.

Family ties were always fierce-strong. After her father's death, "We lived with my mother's parents, for a while. Grandpa Hunt was a marvelous jack-of-all-trades, a woodturner, eye doctor, mailman, bon vivant, hotel owner. [And also an old-fashioned Populist-Socialist.] He met my grandmother, Flora Belle, a real pioneer woman and pillar of the family, when she was a maid in his hotel. She was a nurse and midwife, an orphan who brought up four pairs of twin sisters and brothers all by herself. He took us to vaudeville every Saturday and to the local amusement park. When Grandma died at 51, all us kids had to pitch in, making beds, cooking.

"Yeah, I guess I am real mid-America, growing up as a mix of French-Scotch-Irish-English, living on credit like everyone else, paying $1.25 a week to the insurance man, buying furniture on time. But it was a good, full life. Grandpa took us camping, fishing, picking mushrooms, made us bobsleds. We always had goodies. I had the first boyish bob in town and the first open galoshes.

"My mother then married Ed Peterson, a handsome-ugly man, very well-read. He was good to me and Freddy but he drank too much. He was the first to point out the magic of the stage. A monologist came to town on the Chautauqua circuit. He just sat onstage with a pitcher of water and light bulb and made us laugh and cry for two hours. For me, this was pure magic. When I was about seven, Ed and mother moved to Detroit, leaving me with his old-fashioned Swedish parents, who were very strict. I had to be in bed at 6:30, hearing all the other kids playing outside in the summer daylight. Maybe it wasn't that traumatic, but I realize now it was a bad time for me. I felt as if I'd been deserted. I got my imagination to working, and read trillions of books."

The adult Lucille, talking to interviewers, used to go on and on about her "unhappy" childhood, little realizing that she was reflecting on her mother, to whom she is passionately devoted. "Just how long do you think you lived with the Petersons?" asked DeDe one day in a confrontation. "Three YEARS? Well I tell you it was more like three weeks."

"I left home at 15, much too early, desperate to break into the big wide world. Looking for work in New York show biz was ugly, without any leads or friends or training other than high school operettas and plays and Sunday school pageants. I was very shy and reticent, believe it or not, and I kept running home every five minutes. I got thrown in with older Shubert and Ziegfeld dollies and, believe me, they were a mean, closed corporation. I don't understand kids today who get easily discouraged and yap about doing their own thing. Don't they know what hard work is? Where are their morals? I always knew when I did wrong, and paid penance."

Yet she was venturesome enough to sit in on some recent Synanon group-therapy sessions for drug addicts. "They wanted me to raise some money, and I wanted to find out what it was about. The games were fascinating, wonderful, until I couldn't take it any more. The other participants kept bugging me: What are you here for? Are your children drug addicts? I had to start making up problems."

For two decades, she's been risking her neck in those murderous ratings, outlasting long-ago competitors like Fulton Sheen, and now up against such pleasers as pro football and Rowan and Martin. (13)

Suppose the ratings drop, what would she do?

No idea. "Might take a trip on the Inland Waterway form Boston to Florida. In my deal with Universal, I can make specials, other movies, TV pilots. I wouldn't have to ski 'spooked' at Snowmass." What's that? "Honey, I have to be careful. If I break a leg 500 people are out of work. (14) I'd be happy in some branch of acting with some modicum of appreciation. Listen, it never occurred to me, in life that I'd fail ever, because I always appreciated small successes. I never had a big fixed goal. When I was running Desilu, it drove me wild when people asked, 'Aren't you proud to own the old RKO studio where you once worked as a starlet?' What $50-a-week starlet ever walked around a lot saying, 'I want to own this studio'?

"I don't know what you've been driving at, what's your story line? But it's been interesting, talking."

FOOTNOTES: HINDSIGHT IS 20/20

(1) This refers to a rare 1969 BBC documentary about Britain’s royal family that gave the public an inside look at the life of the Windsors. In one scene, the family was watching television, and on the screen was “I Love Lucy”, much to the chagrin of Prince Philip. Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip were mentioned on the series, especially in the episode “Lucy Meets the Queen” (ILL S5;E15).

(2) Lucy is referring to a 1967 episode of “The Lucy Show” titled “Lucy The Babysitter” (TLS S5;E16) in which Lucy Carmichael babysits three rambunctious chimps for their parents, played by Jonathan Hole and Mary Wickes. In the final moments of the show, Wickes reveals a fourth sibling - a baby elephant! The animal went wild and pushed Wickes (what Ball described as a “press job”) into one of the prop trees. The trainer had to physically subdue the elephant to get it away from Wickes, who injured her arm. The final cut ends with the entrance of the baby elephant.

(3) Lucy is conflating (probably intentionally) the stories of real-life prohibitionist Carrie Nation (1846-1911), who famously hacked up bars and whisky barrels with an axe, and Lizzie Bordon (1860-1927), who famously hacked up her parents with an axe. (Photo from the 1962 TV special “The Good Years” starring Lucille Ball and Henry Fonda.)

(4) There was never a film version of Thornton Wilder’s play Skin Of Our Teeth which was on Broadway in 1942 starring Tallulah Bankhead as Sabina, the role offered to Ball. There were several television adaptations; one in Australia in 1959; one in England the same year starring Vivian Leigh as Sabina; one in the USA in 1955 starring Mary Martin (above) as Sabina; and a filmed version of a stage production starring Blair Brown as Sabina in 1983. Although it is possible that Lucille Ball might have been considered for the role of the sexy housemaid Sabina in 1955, the article says that the role was “just” offered to her, so it probably refers to a 1971 project that never materialized. Wilder’s story tracks a typical American family from New Jersey from the ice age through the apocalypse.

(5) In 1971, there was a popular revival of the 1925 musical comedy No, No, Nanette on Broadway. The cast featured veteran screen star Ruby Keeler and included Helen Gallagher (playing a character named Lucille, coincidentally), Bobby Van, Jack Gilford, Patsy Kelly and Susan Watson. Busby Berkeley, nearing the end of his career, was credited as supervising the production, although his name was his primary contribution to the show. The 1971 production was well-reviewed and ran for 861 performances. It sparked interest in the revival of similar musicals from the 1920s and 1930s. The original 1925 cast featured Charles Winninger, who played Barney Kurtz, Fred’s old vaudeville partner on “I Love Lucy.” In that same episode (above), they sing a song from the musical, "Peach on the Beach” by Vincent Youmans and Otto Harbach. Like the revue in the episode, the musical is set in Atlantic City, New Jersey.

(6) Lucy is referring to her 1936 affidavit of registration to join the Communist Party. Lucille said she signed it to appease her elderly grandfather. The cavalier act caught up with Ball in 1953, when zealous red-hunting Senator Joe McCarthy tried to purge America of suspected Communists. Although many careers were ruined, Ball escaped virtually unscathed.

(7) The popular big band music series “The Lawrence Welk Show” (1955) was unceremoniously canceled in 1971 by ABC, in an attempt to attract younger audiences. What Lucy doesn’t mention is that four days after this magazine was published, the show began running brand new shows in syndication, which continued until 1982. Welk, despite not being much of an actor, played himself on “Here’s Lucy” (above) in January 1970.

(8) “Let’s Talk To Lucy” was a short daily radio program aired on CBS Radio from September 1964 to June 1964. Most interviews (including Streisand’s) were spread over multiple installments.

(9) To showcase possible new series (pilots) Desilu and CBS aired “Vacation Playhouse” (1963-67) during the summer when “The Lucy Show” was on hiatus. This would often be the only airing of Lucy’s passion projects. “Papa GI” with Dan Dailey as an army sergeant in Korea who has his hands full with two orphans who want him to adopt them. The pilot was aired in June 1964 but it was not picked up for production. “Maggie Brown” had Ethel Merman playing a widow trying to raise a daughter and run a nightclub which is next to a Marine Corps base. The pilot aired in September 1963, but went unsold. “The Hoofer” starring Donald O’Connor and Soupy Sales as former vaudevillians aired its pilot in August 1966. No sale!

(10) Little Murders (1971) was a black comedy based on the play of the same name by Jules Feiffer. The film is about a young nihilistic New Yorker (Elliott Gould) coping with pervasive urban violence, obscene phone calls, rusty water pipes, electrical blackouts, paranoia and ethnic-racial conflict during a typical summer of the 1970s. Definitely not Lucille Ball’s style of comedy! Paper Lion (1968) was a sports comedy about George Plimpton (Alan Alda) pretending to be a member of the Detroit Lions football team for a Sports Illustrated article.

(11) Cecil Smith appeared in “Lucy Meets the Burtons” (HL S3;E1) in 1970 playing himself, a member of the Hollywood Press with a dozen other real-life writers. The casting was a way to get better coverage of the episode (featuring power couple Dick Burton, Liz Taylor, and her remarkable diamond ring). The gambit worked and the episode was the most viewed of the entire series.

(12) Desi Jr.’s 1971 views on marriage did not last. He married actress Linda Purl in 1980, but they divorced in 1981. In October 1987, Arnaz married dancer Amy Laura Bargiel. Ten years later they purchased the Boulder Theatre in Boulder City, Nevada and restored it. They lived in Boulder with their daughter, Haley. Amy died of cancer in 2015, at the age of 63.

(13) From 1952 to 1957, Catholic Bishop Fulton J. Sheen hosted the inspirational program “Life Is Worth Living”, winning an Emmy Award in 1953, alongside winners Lucille Ball and “I Love Lucy.” “Here’s Lucy” was programmed up against “Monday Night Football” on ABC and “Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In” on NBC. Instead of ignoring her competition, Ball embraced them by featuring stories about football and incorporating many of the catch phrases and guest stars from “Laugh-In.”

(14) Lucy spoke too soon! Just a few months after this interview was published Ball did indeed have a skiing accident in Snowmass and broke her leg. With season five’s first shooting date approaching, Ball was faced with either ending the series or re-write the scripts so that Lucy Carter would be in a leg cast. She chose the latter, even incorporating actual footage of herself on the Snowmass slopes (above) into "Lucy’s Big Break” (HL S5;E1).

Elsewhere in the Issue...

“This Was Our Life” by Gene Shalit includes images of Lucille Ball in the collage illustration.

A week after this issue of Look hit the stands, the fourth season of “Here’s Lucy” kicked off with guest star Flip Wilson and a parody of Gone With the Wind. Three days later, Ball guest-starred on his show.

Not to be outdone, LOOK’s rival LIFE also devoted an entire issue to television, on news stands just three days later.

Naturally, “I Love Lucy” didn’t escape mention! I’m not sure why the show’s run is bifurcated: 1952-55, 1956-57. Actually, the show began in 1951 and ran continually until 1957.

Click here for more about Look, Life and Time!

7 notes · View notes

rubyrockz · 4 years

Text

At the Mountains of Sweetness raw thoughts

⁃ Summer is almost over ⁃ Was it always the Bel baby? It thought it was the baby bel ⁃ Jets funeral at the tree ⁃ That farmer is suspicious ⁃ Chocolate as dirt, that’s funny ⁃ Oh that poor gumdrop man ⁃ I like siobhans jacket. ⁃ They all rolled 8s and 9s for their insight, that’s slterrible ⁃ Liam taking about Preston at someone else’s funeral! ⁃ Is Jets ghost in Ruby’s shadow??? ⁃ Sending sprinkle to Jet, oh I’m crying ⁃ I loved sprinkle but the licorice viper!!! ⁃ Caramelinda blaming Theo like everyone feared she would. (I know, it’s grief, and she’s lashing out, and I don’t blame her, not really but it just sucks for both parties) ⁃ Ruby is straight up an emotionless robotic killer ⁃ Is Liam’s weird noise thing Preston but as a hog now? ⁃ Ruby’s shadow is infected ⁃ Ruby has dark vision now?? ⁃ Oh look I’m crying again. The shadow forehead thing is so sad. ⁃ COUNTRY ROADS TAKE ME HOME ⁃ Climbing is difficult to y’all ⁃ GOOEY ⁃ Long live the queen! ⁃ Is it Emily??? ⁃ That little boy stabs everyone ⁃ Candian Hillbillies ⁃ I KNEW IT ⁃ Tbh I thought gooey might be her at first. ⁃ Oh she’s hot ⁃ SHES A GHEE ⁃ SHES STILL PLAYING A “BASTARD” ⁃ Ice cream=Candy+Milk ⁃ Could frost whip stop the whole war??? ⁃ Ruby is going to get jealous of Saccarinas ability ⁃ Emily’s new PC may grow on me, but not sure I like her just yet? ⁃ I feel bad for the rocks. Just lost a daughter and now found a new one ⁃ Invisible bitches

⁃ Sibling bickering just isn’t the same when you’re twin is dead

⁃ Is Liam a seed guy? More about this at later.

-Okay, I think Saccarina has grown on me. I like her. Espeiclaly the potential for Ruby & her to bond later on.

⁃ Don’t trust the sugar plum fairy. ⁃ Jawbone canon lover confirmed ⁃ Cumulous likes chickens.

#a crown of candy #dimension 20 #dimension 20 acoc #acoc #acoc spoilers #a crown of candy spoilers #episode 11

15 notes · View notes

alienshea · 5 years

Text

And now, for no absolute reason, I will give every Gorillaz song from the main 6 studio albums my rating from 1-10

Self-Titled

Re-Hash: 7.5/10

Bopping tune, 2D doing his own backup vocals make me swoon, Noodle is great as always, no one really knows what the lyrics are but they’re valid

5/4: 6/10

Better than average,not the best song i’ve ever heard but still pretty good, kinda uncomfy with Noodle screaming about someone turning her dad on, drumbeat makes me wanna dance, wished they couldve made the music video

Tomorrow Comes Today: 7/10

The kind of song that gets stuck in your head all day, love the overall sad tone, music video makes me laugh now bc that one murdoc gif, makes me cry when i have depressive episodes

New Genius (Brother): 7.5/10

Love 2D’s voice in it, lyrics hit home a little bit for me, have never skipped this song tbh, overall pretty good song

Clint Eastwood: 8.5/10

I literally know all the words, I love the rap, iconic, there’s a reason it’s popular, Del is everything

Man Research (Clapper): 3/10

oooo boy i’m gonna get shit for this one, i always skip this song, i can’t stand the whole “yeah yeah” thing, the only great part about this song is the “tHiS Is a bReAkFaSt ClUuUuuUB!”

Punk: 6.5/10

gets me turnt, toooooo short, tbh i like any song where 2D yells

Sound Check (Gravity): 9/10

looooove this song, gives me body chills when the drums kick in, love the deep ass voice, overall emo kid bop

Double Bass: 8/10

nice jam, I like listening to this when I do homework or art, relaxing

Rock The House: 8/10

legit makes me get up and dance, great rhythm, music video is beautiful

19/2000: 9/10

amazing bop, gets me pumped, iconic af, first gorillaz song i ever heard and first music video i ever saw, n o o d l e

Latin Simone: 7/10

I don’t speak spanish so i cant really sing along, love the feel of it, will listen on repeat, prefer the english version but im biased

Starshine: 6.5/10

idk I don’t really listen to this one, not a bad song i just wouldn’t play it on repeat or actively look for it, i do like the vocals

Slow Country: 8.5/10

love the feeling this song gives me, kinda like im just floating, super chill song to get high to, have never skipped this song, i like the lyrics

M1A1: 8/10

super fun song to sing along with, honestly the best song they couldve ever chosen to start a concert, he s c r e a m

OVERALL SCORE FOR SELF-TITLED: 7.5 (rounded up)

Demon Days

Last Living Souls: 9/10

absolute favourite song on the album, breakdown gives me chills, constantly changing it’s tune and i love it, the basssss <3

Kids With Guns: 6/10

I love singing the chorus, great song to have in the background, chill af

O Green World: 7.5/10

i love the instrumental of this one, vocals give me chills, kinda wish you could hear the singing more tho

Dirty Harry: 6.5/10

bopping beat, i love the rap part, overall not really the type of song i’d play on repeat but not bad

Feel Good Inc: 8/10

first and foremost the fucking bass of this song is the reason i’m learning bass, chorus gives me chills, kinda overused but i understand

El Manana: 6/10

kind of a meh song for me personally, not a bad one just not the greatest

Every Planet We Reach Is Dead: 9/10

banger, the reason im also learning guitar, vocals are on point, has made me cry before

November Has Come: 7/10

love the chorus, rap is kinda meh for me, i like the beat

All Alone: 5/10

not really a song i listen to, i like the bloopy noises

White Light: 4/10

I always skip this one tbh, better than man research but not by much

DARE: 6.5/10

this song haunts my dreams, its like the best kind of elevator music, on another note you fucking go noodle

Fire Coming Out Of The Monkey’s Head: 7.5/10

I WANNA BE A COWBOY BABY, narrative is really fucking good tho

Don’t Get Lost In Heaven: 8/10

beautiful, usually dont like gospel-esque music but i love this, gives me chills

Demon Days: 6.5/10

not my favourite tbh, meh for me

OVERALL SCORE FOR DEMON DAYS: 6.5 (rounded up)

Plastic Beach

Welcome to the World of the Plastic Beach: 7.5/10

i love snoop dogg, also this song gives me good vibes

White Flag: 5/10

ehhhh not a fan of this one, i usually skip it, i like the orchestra tho

Rhinestones Eyes: 8.5/10

i fucking love this song, great tune great vocals, i never skip it, i even got my boyfriend to start loving this song even tho he doesnt really like gorillaz

Stylo: 9/10

jesus this song, makes my heart hurt, i absoultely long singing along to this, his voiceeeee, bobby womack!

Superfast Jellyfish: 8.5/10

quirky af, i love de la soul in this one a lot, have never skipped this

Empire Ants: 9/10

so beautiful, has made me cry, both of their voices are so soft and lovely ugh

Glitter Freeze: 6/10

starts off strong but when it starts sounding like a drill i usually yeet out

Some Kind Of Nature: 8/10

used to be my favourite until i started listening to the album more, 2d’s part is so soulful omg

On Melancholy Hill: 8.5/10

so sad and amazing, music video is probably my favourite, is me and my best mate’s “song”

Broken: 9/10

ugh beautiful, i know all the words and always sing them loud af, has never skipped this song, honestly is everything

Sweepstakes: 5.5/10

not a big fan, i usually skip this one, not a horrible song just not for me

Plastic Beach: 7.5/10

love it, better at the beginning than the end, still a bop

To Binge: 10/10

WHEEEW BOY, i love this song, its so sad and amazing and gay jesus christ, the best thing murdoc has ever done

Cloud of Unknowing: 7/10

soulful and beautiful, again bobby womack!!

Pirate Jet: 7/10

i love the tune bc it gets me feeling ~spooky~, lyrics dont really make sense but thats okay

OVERALL SCORE FOR PLASTIC BEACH: 7.5 (rounded up)

The Fall

Phoner to Arizona: 8/10

gets me bopping and grooving, great music to play in the background while writing or doing art, my go to for when i draw or need background sound while I relax

Revolving Doors: 9.5/10

OOF, it so sad and it makes me feel things, i scream the lyrics errytime

Hillbilly Man: 10/10

fell in love with this the second I heard it, has been my favourite song of all time for over 2 years now, will never skip it in my life, i yearn to learn the guitar

Detroit: 6.5/10

generally a good happy bop, usually play it as background sound

Shy-Town: 6/10

nice to the ear, i don’t really like the prerecorded vocals of 2D but when Damon sung it live it sounds much better

Little Pink Plastic Bags: 8/10

i love it ugh, relaxing af, will never skip

The Joplin Spider: 9/10

big love for this song, its just soooo goooood

The Parish Of Space Dust: 7.5/10

big cowboy energy, sounds so sweet, 2D’s voice is unnnf

The Snake In Dallas: 7/10

good for when you wanna party but you’re depressed and can only stay in bed, love the little robotic sounds

Amarillo: 9.5/10

i meeeean what can i say, this song is so sad and gay and beautiful, ive cried while listening it this, will never skip

The Speak It Mountains: 7.5/10

this track is really weird and creepy and kind of not a song but i adore it anyway

Aspen Forest: 8/10

beautiful sounds, the piano is so soothing, will play this on repeat while i zone out

Bobby In Phoenix: 9/10

i wanna cry every single time i hear this bobby come back

California and the Slipping of the Sun: 7.5/10

this song so so pretty and i cry every time ugh, he sounds so fed up im sorry pretty boy

Seattle Yodel: ???

what

OVERALL SCORE FOR THE FALL: 8 (rounded down)

Humanz

Ascension: 8.5/10

absolute banger, i get pumped everytime this comes on, skys falling bb

Strobelite: 7.5/10

i used to hate this song but then the music video came out and i tried it again and now i love it dont @ me

Saturnz Barz: 9/10

theres so much i could say about this song ans the mv unf

Momentz: 9/10

banger, i dance like a maniac every time i hear it, will never skip

Submission: 8/10

gives me a good chance to work on high notes, makes my skin tingly

Charger: 8.5/10

2D’s voice is so griity and i can help myself

Andromeda: 8.5/10

I’ve never skipped this song, has made me cry, makes me dance

Busted And Blue: 9/10

has made me cry several times, vocals are everything, will never skip

Carnival: 7/10

is a bop, don’t really listen to it much anymore but it’s alright

Let Me Out: 8/10

i love it, one of my favourites to rap with

Sex Murder Party: 4/10

ehhh dont like this one, i always skip it

She’s My Collar: 8.5/10

i dont want to admit the things 2D’s voice in this makes me wanna do

Hallelujah Money: 7.5/10

hated this at first, grew to love, very soothing

We Got The Power: 9.5/10

gets me FUCKING PUMPED, we do got the power fuckers

OVERALL SCORE FOR HUMANZ: 8.5 (rounded down)

The Now Now

Humility: 8.5/10

summer bop, makes me wanna dance, have never skipped

Tranz: 9.5/10

i love singing along to this bc it makes me feel sexy oops, always screams the lyrics

Hollywood: 7/10

not a huge fan of this but ill listen to it, favourite part is the chorus, also snoop doggy dogg

Kansas: 9/10

oof this song makes me cry, i always scream this

Sorcererz: 7.5/10

ooo them vocals thooo, makes me relaxed

Idaho: 8.5/10

i love this song sm, one of my favourites of all time to sing, i wanna learn the guitar for this

Lake Zurich: 8/10

I love to listen to this while relaxing or writing, makes me wanna dance, COWBELL

Magic City: 8.5

always dancing to this, billboards on the moooon

Fireflies: 10/10

yall saw this coming, i always cry, its so somber, in close competition w HillBilly Man for my all time favourite

One Percent: 6.5/10

only song on the album i would skip and it isnt even that bad

Souk Eye: 10/10

its so gay and sad i love it sm

OVERALL SCORE FOR THE NOW NOW: 8.5 (rounded up)

So after months of me saying i’d rate the songs in order I finally did! Now keep in my the overall scores are averages, my personal rating for each album is:

Self-Titled: 8/10

Demon Days: 7/10

Plastic Beach: 8.5/10

The Fall: 8/10

Humanz: 7.5/10

The Now Now: 9/10

thanks for reading, i did this so i wouldn’t have to write an essay oops! <3

#my post #long post #like really long #this took me 2 hours #gorillaz #demon days #plastic beach #the fall #humanz #the now now #song analysis #album analysis

84 notes · View notes

ledenews · 3 months

Text

Santorine: A Question of Ethics On Election Day

During the last week, I had gentlemen I respect ask me detailed questions about the ethics of Republican candidates who will likely appear high on the ballot in our upcoming election. My friend from Texas is a highly ethical man who spent a large part of his career in Alaska. He’s nearly a generation older than I and was highly successful in a business that demanded you do as you say, and where appearances and reputation are key. He sent me a link to a Wall Street Journal article with the headline, “Gov. Jim Justice is Beloved in West Virginia. Just Not by His Creditors”. My initial impression was this could be a political “hit piece,” crafted to discredit the Governor’s campaign for the United States Senate. Unfortunately, it was a well-written and researched article based on fact. Before we open that Pandora’s box of “ethics,” I need to publicly state that I like the politician that is “Big Jim” Justice and I’m going to support his campaign for Senate. I’ll forgive his silver platter of bull dung offering to our Legislature since he was a Democrat then. Yes, I cringed when he held up the wrong end of Baby Dog and suggested a Hollywood actor kiss his dog’s “hiney.” Both were memorable bits of political theater. I think those of us who are concerned with rebuilding our state image know that neither stunt helped one little bit. Those hateful “elites” on both coasts are doing everything they can to paint West Virginia as a little bit backward and full of toothless hillbillies whose family tree is a wreath. Those of us who call the Mountain State home know this is a falsehood perpetuated by haters who live in polluted, crowded cities overrun by illegals while we enjoy nature’s splendor in a beautiful state that offers quite literally everything. Our country’s senators and representatives often arrive and depart in this area of the U.S. Capitol. I’m a lifelong student of Organizational Dynamics, which is the study of how a manager commands a company and the various strategies they execute. With rare exceptions, we know leaders show the way and that people have a strong desire to please their superiors. The string of creditor lawsuits against Justice’s various enterprises in the energy sector and in hospitality show the leadership of those entities are making ethically challenged decisions that reflect badly on ownership. Even if the ownership is in the Governor’s Mansion. Jim Justice put his stamp on all of his companies. Even if he is not there on a daily basis, his business “DNA” is effectively running the store and will for the next half-decade. While there are business failures, the real failure is one of ethics. Those compromises are made to satisfy the man at the top. There is an old Russian proverb that, “The body always rots from the head.” When it comes to business practices, this is an absolute. Right or wrong, it looks bad. Fellow West Virginians may forgive him for his transgressions, but we all know it’s going to have a negative effect on those who are considering moving to our great state. We are all looking for that shining city on the hill where truth and honor are the rules of the day. Our compromise is one of pragmatism. We need a fighter who will defend our way of life in D.C. and push back on the “NO COAL” and “NO NATURAL GAS” extremists. Big Jim is likely that fighter. Emotional support Baby Dog and warts and all. I just wish he would listen to his public relations people and build what the marketing types would call a “better brand promise.” I recently accepted a lunch invitation from a well-respected man who spent his entire career in this community. A lifelong Republican, he feels like he is sitting on a razor’s edge because of some of the actions of the 45th President of these United States, Donald J. Trump. He was looking to talk with and understand the reasoning of someone who, in their heart of hearts, believed the 2020 election was “stolen” from Trump. Regardless of what you may think, I’m not, and have never been, that guy. Do I believe that the Democrats outspent us in 2020? Yes, they did. Former President Donald J. Trump is once again the leading candidate for the GOP nomination. Did they do a better job of “Electioneering” than our beloved Grand Old Party did? The results speak for themselves. Do I believe the will of the people was served by the 2020 General Election? No, I do not. There is a practical concern that keeps us from going back and looking too closely at the pile of excrement that was the 2020 election. We would tear this nation apart “undoing” that dreadful election. Trump’s many actions, some of which were nebulous by design, strayed way too close to an ethical line in the sand. A line that once crossed, is permanent. I’m going to line up and vote for the nominee of my party, and at this juncture, I would be very surprised if it’s someone other than Donald J. Trump. Donald Trump is a New Yorker. He’s brash, outspoken, likes to hear himself talk, and tells meandering stories with wild tangents.I grew up in New Jersey, around many like him. I “grok in fullness” who and what he is as a person. I know if provided the opportunity, I would have an excellent time with him over dinner. But we are talking about demonstrated morality and the application thereof - ethics. A disturbing number of Americans question this of both candidates. Presidential elections are binary affairs - you have two major choices, pick one. Yes, there is a “Libertarian” option who, depending on what year it is, will siphon votes from one of the two major party candidates. This year, there may be a “No Labels” candidate, but the real choice comes down to two competing old white men. One who has us embroiled in conflicts throughout the world and whose actions have killed many of our country’s fighting men and women. The other is hated by the people who think the current plagiarizer is better than the former womanizer. Of course, they don’t know why they hate him, but they are told to do so. I can’t believe, in the greatest nation in the world, the only choice we have is among two ethically compromised old men. But, so, it will be in November. Like many others, I’ll hold my nose and pull the lever for Trump, mostly because what we have seen from the other guy stinks worse. The culture we have allowed to hijack our political system insists that “we win at any cost.” The price is our morality and ethics. We have sold out the founders. The price is far too high. Read the full article

0 notes

nikib3577 · 6 years

Text

A Message from The King: Aloha

With his black pompadour, his unique voice, and his shaky leg, Elvis Presley dominated the music industry from 1956 to 1960, and then again from 1968 until his death in 1977. It’s been over 40 years since his sudden passing, yet Presley still has a massive following. What is it about Elvis that keeps drawing us to him? 1973’s passion-filled Aloha from Hawaii concert summarizes Elvis’ remarkable place in history, and in our hearts.

The lights dim to black, and the band starts to play Also Sprach Zarathustra. The energy from the audience is palpable. Many have traveled from distant places to see this, and now the moment is here. The music crescendos, and suddenly, there he is. Elvis Presley, the King of Rock and Roll. He grabs his guitar, and takes his place behind the microphone stand, beginning the high energy C.C Rider. This is followed by Burning Love, then the mood changes with Something and You Gave Me a Mountain, a gospel song. Throughout the concert Elvis switches from upbeat to slower songs, then back again and performs them all superbly. Covers such as My Way and I’ll Remember You bring familiar songs with a slight twist of Elvis, some may argue they are better than the originals. Classic Elvis songs (also technically covers) Blue Suede Shoes and Hound Dog throw us back to the early days of rock n’ roll, when Presley was a much more controversial figure.

During Elvis’ first performance in 1954, the rhythm of the music and nerves caused his legs to shake, the movement accentuated by his wide-legged pants. The girls went wild. Scotty Moore, Elvis’ guitarist in the early days, stated, "His movement was a natural thing, but he was also very conscious of what got a reaction. He'd do something one time and then he would expand on it real quick." Elvis’ singing style also received much criticism. Country DJs refused to play his music because he sounded “too much like a black artist” (rhythm and blues-y), and R&B DJs said he sounded “too hillbilly”. Presley’s black hair swooped up into a pompadour came from his truck driving days, before he became a famous singer. The length and style of his hair was seen as rebellious during a time the flat top cut was popular. All of these attributes, his movement, his voice, and his appearance, contributed to his superstar status in the late 1950s. In 1973, Elvis still sports his trademark black hair, shaky legs, and individual voice.

Towards the end of Aloha from Hawaii, Elvis delivers his version of An American Trilogy. Beginning softly with “Dixie”, Presley sounds almost prayerful. As we progress, the song builds into the “Battle Hymn of the Republic” segment, then backs away into “All My Trials” before exploding into Battle Hymn of the Republic again. The passion exhibited is awe-inspiring. There are several moments where Elvis turns his back entirely to the audience, the intimacy shown between the band and the performer sets our hearts on fire. The power Elvis gives to this performance is preserved solely for the gospel songs, and shows us a different side from the charismatic man we see during Suspicious Minds. During Suspicious Minds Elvis teases the audience with low side lunges, his movements are accentuated by the drums. He switches one line of lyric for “I hope this suit don’t tear up, baby!”, giving us his boyish grin. Presley is the master of getting reactions from his audience. He throws scarves and kisses the ladies of the crowd. Even his gem studded belt and cape are thrown into the audience. Elvis wears a white jumpsuit, studded with red, gold, and blue semi-precious stones shaped as eagles, that cost $65,000 to make. His belt is secured by a massive buckle, decorated with the same eagle. This iconic costume will be the one people remember, and wear for many Halloweens to come. Elvis is tanned and fit, in better shape than we’ve seen in the year prior. He’s on top of the world again, making the next 4 years that much more tragic.

The song You Gave Me A Mountain speaks of trying times, of a divorce, and of losing a child. These lines are sung with genuine heartache, as Elvis’ divorce has recently been announced. This concert marks the beginning of the end. During the next 4 years, struggles with weight and drugs become more apparent. On August 16, 1977 the King of Rock and Roll loses his battle.

Aloha from Hawaii shows us the whole of Elvis. From songs and movements from his early days, to the struggles of his last. And in between Presley shows us exactly how he got his legendary status. His uncomparable voice, unequaled charisma, and unbridled passion rightly bestow him the unequivocal title “King of Rock and Roll”.

#elvis presley #aloha from hawaii

11 notes · View notes

cardest · 3 years

Text

Tennessee playlist

I’m going to Memphis! This is the mighty Tennessee - Memphis & Nashville playlist. You can’t tell the story of rock n roll without mentioning Memphis. Mississippi and Nashville, such a great history of music in this region. Chuck D hits things off with the ultimate introduction. Hit play here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1_X9nesbW37-9FNLiJWOQ1f

This playlist has it all. Soul, blues and rock n roll. We take a journey back to the beginning of country as well, with Nashville and finish up at Dollywood. Hope you dig it.

Tennessee - Mississippi - Arkansas

001 Henry Rollins & Chuck D - Rise Above 002 Clutch - Devil & Me 003 Paul Simon - Graceland 004 Isaac Hayes - Memphis Trax 005 Scott Walker - Thats How I Got to Memphis 006 AC/DC - let there be rock 007 Johnny Cash - Country Boy 008 Chuck Berry - Back To Memphis 009 Jay Reatard - Gree, Money, Useless Children 010 Lukah - Black Dragon 011 King Curtis - Memphis Soul Stew 012 Rosetta Howard & the Harlem Hamfats - Delta Bound 013 Nots - In Glass 014 Pere Ubu - Memphis 015 Loretta Lynn - The Pill 016 Howlin Wolf - Smokestack Lightnin 017 Rory Gallagher - The Mississippi Sheiks 018 Crime and the City Solution - Streets Of West Memphis 019 River City Tanlines - Met You Before 020 Johnny Cash - Going To Memphis 021 Al Green - Get Back Baby 022 Kim Salmon & The Surrealists - The Zipper 023 Booker T & the MG - Melting Pot 024 Pussycat - Mississippi 025 Boswell Sisters - Roll On, Mississippi, Roll On 026 Aretha Franklin - Muddy Water 027 The Cramps - Garbageman 028 HASH REDACTOR - Good Sense 029 Optic Sink - Personified 030 Angry Angles - Blockhead 031 Big Star - Thirteen 032 Memphis Jug Band - Going Back to Memphis 033 North Mississippi AllStars - K.C. Jones (On The Road Again) 034 Bass Drum Of Death - Bad Reputation 035 Today Is the Day - The Devil's Blood 036 Walk the Line Soundtrack- Get Rhythm 037 Jack White - Temporary Ground 038 Jerry Lee Lewis - A Damn Good Country Song 039 The Homemade Jamz Blues Band - Rumors 040 Saving Abel - Pine Mountain (The Dance of the Poor Proud Man) 041 The Oxford Circle - Foolish Woman 042 Bobbie Gentry - Greyhound Goin' Somewhere 043 Reigning Sound - A Little More Time 044 NINA SIMONE - MISSISSIPPI GODDAM! 045 Laurie Anderson - Hiawatha 046 Glen Campbell - Burning Bridges 047 Dolly Parton - Hillbilly Willy 048 Elvis Presley - Guitar Man 049 Blue Oyster Cult - Divine Wind 050 Sammy Hagar - Halfway To Memphis 051 Izzy Stradlin - Memphis 052 Johnny Cash - Run Softly, Blue River 053 Iron Horse - Unchained 054 The Cramps - Human Fly 055 Faces - Memphis 056 Jack Oblivian - Rat City 057 The Cooters - Bustin' Loose 058 Mott the Hoople - All The Way From Memphis 059 Dusty Springfield - Breakfast in Bed 060 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Tupelo 061 Chicago - Blues In The Night 062 Crossin Dixon - Guitar Slinger 063 Strummin' With The Devil - And the Cradle Will Rock 064 Stray Cats - Can't Go Back to Memphis 065 Elvis Presley - Suspicious Minds 066 Suzi Quatro - Can't Trust Love 067 Lost Sounds - There's Nothing 068 Ike & Tina Turner ~ River Deep, Mountain High 069 Neil Diamond - Memphis Flyer 070 Julien Baker - hardline 071 The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion - Memphis Soul Typecast 072 Isaac Hayes - Groove-A-Thon 073 Otis Clay - Trying To Live My Life Without You 074 Tim McGraw - Don't Mention Memphis 075 Eric Burdon & War - Blues For Memphis Slim 076 Homemade Jamz Blues Band - Blues Train 077 Sweet Knives - I DON'T WANNA DIE 078 Cream - Four Until Late 079 Grateful Dead - Golden Road 080 Huey Lewis and the NEWS - Function At The Junction 081 The Cramps - I Was A Teenage Werewolf 082 Jesse Winchester_ The Brand New Tennessee Waltz 083 Dorsey Burnette - Tall Oak Tree 084 Field Music - Time In Joy 085 Jay Reatard - Blood Visions 086 The Rolling Stones - Honky Tonk Women 087 Quintron & Miss Pussycat - Block the comet 088 Al Green - Let's Stay Together 089 The Mountain Goats - Getting Into Knives 090 Johnny Cash - Tennessee Flat Top Box 091 Robert Pete Williams & Robert â€œGuitar" J. Welch - Mississippi Heavy Water Blues 092 MARY JAMES - MAKE THE DEVIL LEAVE ME ALONE 093 Ministry - Mississippi Queen 094 U.S. Bombs - Rocks in Memphis 095 Nazareth - Jet Lag 096 The Bar-Kays - Holy Ghost 097 Ty Segall - Despoiler Of Cadaver 098 His Hero Is Gone - Like Weeds 099 Jerry Lee Lewis - Memphis Beat 100 Generation X = King Rocker 101 The Doobie Brothers - Wild Ride 102 Bad Company - Whiskey Bottle 103 Black Stone Cherry - When The Weight Comes Down 104 Buddy Miles - Memphis Train 105 Memphis Slim - Rockin' The House (Beer Drinkin' Woman) 106 David Clayton Thomas - Wish The World Would Come to Memphis 107 Lost Sounds - Better Than Somethings 108 Alice Cooper - Ubangi Stomp 109 Tom Waits - Don't Go Into The Barn 110 Hank Snow - Music Makin' Mama From Memphis 111 Phil Ochs - Heres to the State of Misssippi 112 Reigning Sound - Your Love Is A Fine Thing 113 Pixies - Letter to Memphis 114 Bob Dylan - Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again 115 The Colorblind James Experience - Considering A Move To Memphis 116 B.B.King - Rock Me Baby 117 Carla Thomas - B-A-B-Y 118 Aquarian Blood - A Love That Leads To War 119 Nights Like These - Scavenger's Daughter 120 Rufus Thomas - Walking the Dog 121 Clutch - The House That Peterbilt 122 Lyal Strickland - O Arkansas 123 Don Bryant - How Do I Get There 124 The Sensational Barnes Brothers - Trying To Go Home 125 Squirrel Nut Zippers - Memphis Exorcism 126 Faster Pussycat - Tattoo 127 The Rolling Stones - Memphis Tennessee 128 Alcatrazz - Sons And Lovers 129 Evil Army - Violence And War 130 Deep Purple - Somebody Stole My Guitar (Purpendicular 11) 131 Dwight Yoakam - Guitars, Cadillacs 132 UFO - Natural Thing 133 Thunderbridge Bluegrass Boys - Tennessee 134 Confederate Railroad - Queen of Memphis 135 The Box Tops - The Letter 136 Jerry Lee Lewis - Night Train To Memphis 137 Reverend John Wilkins - Trouble 138 Phil Lynott - Kings Call (feat. Mark Knopfler) 139 Old Crow Medicine Show - Motel in Memphis 140 Candy Lee- Here in Arkansas 141 Pharoah Sanders - You've Got To Have Freedom 142 Molly Hatchet - Mississippi Moon Dog 143 Rwake - Crooked Rivers 144 CARL PERKINS & PAUL SIMON - A Mile Out Of Memphis 145 Eddie Floyd - Knock On Wood 146 Al Green - Talk to me 147 Mush - Eat the Etiquette 148 PJ Harvey - Memphis 149 EX-CULT - Clinical Study 150 Isaac Hayes - Mans Temptation 151 Lil’ Jon & Eastside Boyz - Rep Yo City 152 Rufus Wainwright - Memphis Skyline 153 Stray Cats - 18 Miles to Memphis 154 Amasa Hines - Earth and Sky 155 Joe Henderson - Back Road 156 Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash - Memphis Woman 157 Norma Jean - Memphis Will Be Laid To Waste 158 Fess Parker - Ballad of Davy Crockett 159 Assjack - Redneck Ride 160 Brother Andy & His Big Damn Mouth - Social Lube 161 The Replacements - Alex Chilton 162 Ann Peebles - The handwriting is on the wall 163 The Highwaymen - Big River 164 The Cult - Memphis Hip Shake 165 STEVE EARLE - Hillbilly Highway 166 The BO-KEYS featuring OTIS CLAY -Got To Get Back 167 Rush - Tom Sawyer 168 Class Of '55: Memphis Rock & Roll Homecoming - Birth Of Rock And Roll 169 Hank Williams Jr - Memphis Belle 170 Sam Moore & Dave Prater - Soul Man 171 Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark - Bloc Bloc Bloc 172 Kenny Rogers & The First Edition - Just Dropped In 173 Linda Heck - pictures of dead people 174 Carla Thomas - Sugar 175 Three Mafia 6 - Mystic Stylez 176 Osborne Brothers- Rocky Top 177 The Beverly Hillbillies Theme Song 178 Wilson Pickett - Barefootin' 179 Dolly Parton - Jolene 180 Charlie Daniels - long haired country boy 181 The Civil Wars - From This Valley 182 Jill Jack - Gettin' On In Memphis (The Elvis Song) 183 Huckleberry Finn and His Friends - Opening title 184 Dead Cross - Skin of a Redneck 185 Johnny Cash - I Never Picked Cotton 186 Old Crow Medicine Show - Wagon Wheel 187 Isaac Hayes - That love feeling 188 Aretha Franklin - I say a little prayer 189 Little Milton - What Do You Do When You Love Somebody 190 Howlin' Wolf - Spoonful 191 Weird Al" Yankovic - Money For Nothing / Beverly Hillbillies 192 The Oblivians - I'll Be Gone 193 OT Sykes - Stone crush on you 194 The Mad Lads - Come closer to me 195 The Box Tops - Choo Choo train 196 Bobby Blue Bland - dreamer 197 Wanda Jackson - Rip It Up 198 Junior Parker - Love Ain't Nothin' but a Business Goin' On 199 The Nightingales ft. Tommy Tate - Just a Little Overcome 200 The Louvin Brothers - Satan is real 201 Overture "Big River" - (1985 Original Broadway Cast) 202 Ike & Tina Turner - Shake 203 Playa Fly - fly shit 204 Adia Victoria - Different Kind Of Love 205 Grateful Dead - Tennessee Jed 206 Red Hot Chili Peppers - Backwoods 207 Otis Redding - Tennessee Waltz 208 Nashville Pussy - The Late Great USA 209 The Paperhead - The true poet 210 Tomahawk - South Paw 211 Night Beats - Her Cold Cold Heart 212 Forest of Tygers - human monster 213 LOSS - All Grows on Tears 214 Charlie McCoy - Wayfaring Stranger 215 Dick Stusso - Modern Music 216 Eddie Noack - Aint the Reaping Ever Done 217 Jason & the Scorchers - Greetings From Nashville 218 Jasmin Kaset and Quichenight - A Single Right Word 219 Gospel Keynotes - Give Me My Flowers 220 WEEN - Scrape the Mucus off My Brain 221 Shannon Shaw - Broke My Own 222 The Jesus Lizard - Blue Shot 223 Eddy Arnold - Tennessee Stud 224 Clutch - Pure Rock Fury 225 Today Is The Day - Who Is The Black Angel? 226 Hank Williams Jnr - Tennessee River 227 The Dead Weather - Bone House 228 Every Mother's Nightmare - Long Haired Country Boy 229 Motley Crue - She goes down 230 Waylon Jennings - Tennessee 231 Dolly Parton - Down On Music Row 232 Jello Biafra & Mojo Nixon - Lets Go Burn Ole Nashville Down 233 The Byrds - Nashville West 234 Sharon Van Etten - Every Time the Sun Comes Up 235 Bill Anderson ~ More Than A Bedroom Thing 236 Dottie West - Route 65 To Nashville 237 Intruder - The Martyr 238 Johnny Cash - Smiling Bill McCall 239 Lynard Skynyrd - Workin For MCA 240 The Everly Brothers - Nashville Blues 241 Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazlewood - Elusive Dreams 242 Nashville Bluegrass Band - Im Gonna Love You 243 Ringo Starr - No-No Song 244 Hank Williams - Hey, Good Lookin' 245 The Lovin Spoonful - Nashville Cats 246 They Might Be Giants - James K. Polk 247 Commander Cody - Back To Tennessee 248 Wanda Jackson - Shakin' All Over 249 Nitty Gritty Dirt Band - Grand Ole Opry Song 250 Tomahawk - Flashback 251 Megadeth - Dystopia 252 Dolly Parton - Train, Train 253 The Clovers - One Mint Julep 254 Trampled By Turtles - Whiskey 255 Tom T. Hall - Nashville is a Groovy Little Town 256 Muddy Waters - I am the blues 257 Foo Fighters - Congregation 258 Pavement - Strings Of Nashville 259 Joe Ely - Tennessees Not The State Im In 260 Waylon Jennings - Nashville Bum 261 The Charmels - As Long As I Got You 262 Eve Maret - Do my thing 263 SABATON - 82nd All the Way 264 Halfway To Hazard - Welcome To Nashville 265 Nashville Pussy - Go Motherfucker Go 266 Indigo Girls - Nashville 267 Snarls - Walk In The Woods 268 Steeler - Cold Day in Hell 269 Strummin' With The Devil - Jamies Cryin' 270 spazz gummo love theme 271 The Cramps - Cornfed Dames 272 Saxon - Solid Ball Of Rock 273 Al Green - Tired of Being Alone 274 Soul Friction - It's Out Of My Hands 275 Today Is the Day - Wheelin' 276 Jackie Lynn - Odessa 277 The Jesus Lizard - Nub 278 Bully - Where To Start 279 Sonny Boy Williamson II - Lonesome Cabin 280 Tomahawk - God hates a coward 281 The Louvin Brothers - Knoxville Girl 282 Tom Waits - Jitterbug Boys 283 The Evil Dead Soundtrack - Bridge Out 284 Wanda Jackson - Thunder On The Mountain 285 Elvis Presley - Where Do I Go From Here 286 Booker T & the MGs - Back Home 287 Ezra Furman & the Harpoons - American Highway 288 Joe Ely - dream camera 289 Assjack - Tennessee Driver 290 Nashville Pussy - We Want A War 291 Dwight Yoakam - A Thousand Miles From Nowhere 292 Hank Williams, Jr. - Knoxville Courthouse Blues 293 ZZ Top - My Head's in Mississippi 294 Nitty Gritty Dirt Band - Honky Tonkin' 295 Dead Weather - Die by the Drop 296 The Black Belles - What can I do 297 Dolly Parton - Cowgirl And The Dandy 298 The Secret Sisters - I've Got a Feeling 299 Justin Townes Earle - Aint Got No Money 300 Tomahawk - M.E.A.T 301 Jex Thoth - The Places You Walk 302 Bill Carter - Road To Nowhere 303 Bill Dees (Roy Orbison back vocals) - Tennesse Owns My Soul 304 Karen Elson - The Ghost Who Walks 305 The Who - Whiskey Man 306 Hank Williams III - Crazed Country Rebel 307 The Lost Sounds - I Get Nervous 308 Big Star - September Gurls 309 ZZ Top - Whiskey n Mama 310 Johnny Cash - God's Gonna Cut You Down 666 Isaac Hayes - Hyperbolicsyllablecsesquedalymistic

Hit play: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1_X9nesbW37-9FNLiJWOQ1f

31 notes · View notes

unsettlingshortstories · 4 years

Text

A Good Man Is Hard to Find

Flannery O'Connor (1953)

THE GRANDMOTHER didn't want to go to Florida. She wanted to visit some of her connections in east Tennessee and she was seizing at every chance to change Bailey's mind. Bailey was the son she lived with, her only boy. He was sitting on the edge of his chair at the table, bent over the orange sports section of the Journal. "Now look here, Bailey," she said, "see here, read this," and she stood with one hand on her thin hip and the other rattling the newspaper at his bald head. "Here this fellow that calls himself The Misfit is aloose from the Federal Pen and headed toward Florida and you read here what it says he did to these people. Just you read it. I wouldn't take my children in any direction with a criminal like that aloose in it. I couldn't answer to my conscience if I did."

Bailey didn't look up from his reading so she wheeled around then and faced the children's mother, a young woman in slacks, whose face was as broad and innocent as a cabbage and was tied around with a green head-kerchief that had two points on the top like rabbit's ears. She was sitting on the sofa, feeding the baby his apricots out of a jar. "The children have been to Florida before," the old lady said. "You all ought to take them somewhere else for a change so they would see different parts of the world and be broad. They never have been to east Tennessee."

The children's mother didn't seem to hear her but the eight-year-old boy, John Wesley, a stocky child with glasses, said, "If you don't want to go to Florida, why dontcha stay at home?" He and the little girl, June Star, were reading the funny papers on the floor.

"She wouldn't stay at home to be queen for a day," June Star said without raising her yellow head.

"Yes and what would you do if this fellow, The Misfit, caught you?" the grandmother asked.

"I'd smack his face," John Wesley said.

"She wouldn't stay at home for a million bucks," June Star said. "Afraid she'd miss something. She has to go everywhere we go."

"All right, Miss," the grandmother said. "Just remember that the next time you want me to curl your hair."

June Star said her hair was naturally curly.

The next morning the grandmother was the first one in the car, ready to go. She had her big black valise that looked like the head of a hippopotamus in one corner, and underneath it she was hiding a basket with Pitty Sing, the cat, in it. She didn't intend for the cat to be left alone in the house for three days because he would miss her too much and she was afraid he might brush against one of the gas burners and accidentally asphyxiate himself. Her son, Bailey, didn't like to arrive at a motel with a cat.

She sat in the middle of the back seat with John Wesley and June Star on either side of her. Bailey and the children's mother and the baby sat in front and they left Atlanta at eight forty-five with the mileage on the car at 55890. The grandmother wrote this down because she thought it would be interesting to say how many miles they had been when they got back. It took them twenty minutes to reach the outskirts of the city.

The old lady settled herself comfortably, removing her white cotton gloves and putting them up with her purse on the shelf in front of the back window. The children's mother still had on slacks and still had her head tied up in a green kerchief, but the grandmother had on a navy blue straw sailor hat with a bunch of white violets on the brim and a navy blue dress with a small white dot in the print. Her collars and cuffs were white organdy trimmed with lace and at her neckline she had pinned a purple spray of cloth violets containing a sachet. In case of an accident, anyone seeing her dead on the highway would know at once that she was a lady.

She said she thought it was going to be a good day for driving, neither too hot nor too cold, and she cautioned Bailey that the speed limit was fifty-five miles an hour and that the patrolmen hid themselves behind billboards and small clumps of trees and sped out after you before you had a chance to slow down. She pointed out interesting details of the scenery: Stone Mountain; the blue granite that in some places came up to both sides of the highway; the brilliant red clay banks slightly streaked with purple; and the various crops that made rows of green lace-work on the ground. The trees were full of silver-white sunlight and the meanest of them sparkled. The children were reading comic magazines and their mother had gone back to sleep.

"Let's go through Georgia fast so we won't have to look at it much," John Wesley said.

"If I were a little boy," said the grandmother, "I wouldn't talk about my native state that way. Tennessee has the mountains and Georgia has the hills."

"Tennessee is just a hillbilly dumping ground," John Wesley said, "and Georgia is a lousy state too."

"You said it," June Star said.

"In my time," said the grandmother, folding her thin veined fingers, "children were more respectful of their native states and their parents and everything else. People did right then. Oh look at the cute little pickaninny!" she said and pointed to a Negro child standing in the door of a shack. "Wouldn't that make a picture, now?" she asked and they all turned and looked at the little Negro out of the back window. He waved.

"He didn't have any britches on," June Star said.

"He probably didn't have any," the grandmother explained. "Little niggers in the country don't have things like we do. If I could paint, I'd paint that picture," she said.

The children exchanged comic books.

The grandmother offered to hold the baby and the children's mother passed him over the front seat to her. She set him on her knee and bounced him and told him about the things they were passing. She rolled her eyes and screwed up her mouth and stuck her leathery thin face into his smooth bland one. Occasionally he gave her a faraway smile. They passed a large cotton field with five or six graves fenced in the middle of it, like a small island. "Look at the graveyard!" the grandmother said, pointing it out. "That was the old family burying ground. That belonged to the plantation."

"Where's the plantation?" John Wesley asked.

"Gone With the Wind," said the grandmother. "Ha. Ha."

When the children finished all the comic books they had brought, they opened the lunch and ate it. The grandmother ate a peanut butter sandwich and an olive and would not let the children throw the box and the paper napkins out the window. When there was nothing else to do they played a game by choosing a cloud and making the other two guess what shape it suggested. John Wesley took one the shape of a cow and June Star guessed a cow and John Wesley said, no, an automobile, and June Star said he didn't play fair, and they began to slap each other over the grandmother.

The grandmother said she would tell them a story if they would keep quiet. When she told a story, she rolled her eyes and waved her head and was very dramatic. She said once when she was a maiden lady she had been courted by a Mr. Edgar Atkins Teagarden from Jasper, Georgia. She said he was a very good-looking man and a gentleman and that he brought her a watermelon every Saturday afternoon with his initials cut in it, E. A. T. Well, one Saturday, she said, Mr. Teagarden brought the watermelon and there was nobody at home and he left it on the front porch and returned in his buggy to Jasper, but she never got the watermelon, she said, because a nigger boy ate it when he saw the initials, E. A. T.! This story tickled John Wesley's funny bone and he giggled and giggled but June Star didn't think it was any good. She said she wouldn't marry a man that just brought her a watermelon on Saturday. The grandmother said she would have done well to marry Mr. Teagarden because he was a gentleman and had bought Coca-Cola stock when it first came out and that he had died only a few years ago, a very wealthy man.

They stopped at The Tower for barbecued sandwiches. The Tower was a part stucco and part wood filling station and dance hall set in a clearing outside of Timothy. A fat man named Red Sammy Butts ran it and there were signs stuck here and there on the building and for miles up and down the highway saying, TRY RED SAMMY'S FAMOUS BARBECUE. NONE LIKE FAMOUS RED SAMMY'S! RED SAM! THE FAT BOY WITH THE HAPPY LAUGH. A VETERAN! RED SAMMY'S YOUR MAN!

Red Sammy was lying on the bare ground outside The Tower with his head under a truck while a gray monkey about a foot high, chained to a small chinaberry tree, chattered nearby. The monkey sprang back into the tree and got on the highest limb as soon as he saw the children jump out of the car and run toward him.

Inside, The Tower was a long dark room with a counter at one end and tables at the other and dancing space in the middle. They all sat down at a board table next to the nickelodeon and Red Sam's wife, a tall burnt-brown woman with hair and eyes lighter than her skin, came and took their order. The children's mother put a dime in the machine and played "The Tennessee Waltz," and the grandmother said that tune always made her want to dance. She asked Bailey if he would like to dance but he only glared at her. He didn't have a naturally sunny disposition like she did and trips made him nervous. The grandmother's brown eyes were very bright. She swayed her head from side to side and pretended she was dancing in her chair. June Star said play something she could tap to so the children's mother put in another dime and played a fast number and June Star stepped out onto the dance floor and did her tap routine.

"Ain't she cute?" Red Sam's wife said, leaning over the counter. "Would you like to come be my little girl?"

"No I certainly wouldn't," June Star said. "I wouldn't live in a broken-down place like this for a minion bucks!" and she ran back to the table.

"Ain't she cute?" the woman repeated, stretching her mouth politely.

"Arn't you ashamed?" hissed the grandmother.

Red Sam came in and told his wife to quit lounging on the counter and hurry up with these people's order. His khaki trousers reached just to his hip bones and his stomach hung over them like a sack of meal swaying under his shirt. He came over and sat down at a table nearby and let out a combination sigh and yodel. "You can't win," he said. "You can't win," and he wiped his sweating red face off with a gray handkerchief. "These days you don't know who to trust," he said. "Ain't that the truth?"

"People are certainly not nice like they used to be," said the grandmother.

"Two fellers come in here last week," Red Sammy said, "driving a Chrysler. It was a old beat-up car but it was a good one and these boys looked all right to me. Said they worked at the mill and you know I let them fellers charge the gas they bought? Now why did I do that?"

"Because you're a good man!" the grandmother said at once.

"Yes'm, I suppose so," Red Sam said as if he were struck with this answer.

His wife brought the orders, carrying the five plates all at once without a tray, two in each hand and one balanced on her arm. "It isn't a soul in this green world of God's that you can trust," she said. "And I don't count nobody out of that, not nobody," she repeated, looking at Red Sammy.

"Did you read about that criminal, The Misfit, that's escaped?" asked the grandmother.

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he didn't attact this place right here," said the woman. "If he hears about it being here,I wouldn't be none surprised to see him. If he hears it's two cent in the cash register, I wouldn't be a tall surprised if he . . ."

"That'll do," Red Sam said. "Go bring these people their Co'-Colas," and the woman went off to get the rest of the order.

"A good man is hard to find," Red Sammy said. "Every- thing is getting terrible. I remember the day you could go off and leave your screen door unlatched. Not no more."

He and the grandmother discussed better times. The old lady said that in her opinion Europe was entirely to blame for the way things were now. She said the way Europe acted you would think we were made of money and Red Sam said it was no use talking about it, she was exactly right. The children ran outside into the white sunlight and looked at the monkey in the lacy chinaberry tree. He was busy catching fleas on himself and biting each one carefully between his teeth as if it were a delicacy.

They drove off again into the hot afternoon. The grand- mother took cat naps and woke up every few minutes with her own snoring. Outside of Toombsboro she woke up and recalled an old plantation that she had visited in this neighborhood once when she was a young lady. She said the house had six white columns across the front and that there was an avenue of oaks leading up to it and two little wooden trellis arbors on either side in front where you sat down with your suitor after a stroll in the garden. She recalled exactly which road to turn off to get to it. She knew that Bailey would not be willing to lose any time looking at an old house, but the more she talked about it, the more she wanted to see it once again and find out if the little twin arbors were still standing. "There was a secret panel in this house," she said craftily, not telling the truth but wishing that she were, "and the story went that all the family silver was hidden in it when Sherman came through but it was never found . . ."

"Hey!" John Wesley said. "Let's go see it! We'll find it! We'll poke all the woodwork and find it! Who lives there? Where do you turn off at? Hey Pop, can't we turn off there?"

"We never have seen a house with a secret panel!" June Star shrieked. "Let's go to the house with the secret panel! Hey Pop, can't we go see the house with the secret panel!"

"It's not far from here, I know," the grandmother said. "It wouldn't take over twenty minutes."

Bailey was looking straight ahead. His jaw was as rigid as a horseshoe. "No," he said.

The children began to yell and scream that they wanted to see the house with the secret panel. John Wesley kicked the back of the front seat and June Star hung over her mother's shoulder and whined desperately into her ear that they never had any fun even on their vacation, that they could never do what THEY wanted to do. The baby began to scream and John Wesley kicked the back of the seat so hard that his father could feel the blows in his kidney.

"All right!" he shouted and drew the car to a stop at the side of the road. "Will you all shut up? Will you all just shut up for one second? If you don't shut up, we won't go anywhere.

"It would be very educational for them," the grandmother murmured.

"All right," Bailey said, "but get this: this is the only time we're going to stop for anything like this. This is the one and only time."

"The dirt road that you have to turn down is about a mile back," the grandmother directed. "I marked it when we passed."

"A dirt road," Bailey groaned.

After they had turned around and were headed toward the dirt road, the grandmother recalled other points about the house, the beautiful glass over the front doorway and the candle-lamp in the hall. John Wesley said that the secret panel was probably in the fireplace.

"You can't go inside this house," Bailey said. "You don't know who lives there."

"While you all talk to the people in front, I'll run around behind and get in a window," John Wesley suggested.

"We'll all stay in the car," his mother said. They turned onto the dirt road and the car raced roughly along in a swirl of pink dust. The grandmother recalled the times when there were no paved roads and thirty miles was a day's journey. The dirt road was hilly and there were sudden washes in it and sharp curves on dangerous embankments. All at once they would be on a hill, looking down over the blue tops of trees for miles around, then the next minute, they would be in a red depression with the dust-coated trees looking down on them.

"This place had better turn up in a minute," Bailey said, "or I'm going to turn around."

The road looked as if no one had traveled on it in months.

"It's not much farther," the grandmother said and just as she said it, a horrible thought came to her. The thought was so embarrassing that she turned red in the face and her eyes dilated and her feet jumped up, upsetting her valise in the corner. The instant the valise moved, the newspaper top she had over the basket under it rose with a snarl and Pitty Sing, the cat, sprang onto Bailey's shoulder.

The children were thrown to the floor and their mother, clutching the baby, was thrown out the door onto the ground; the old lady was thrown into the front seat. The car turned over once and landed right-side-up in a gulch off the side of the road. Bailey remained in the driver's seat with the cat-gray-striped with a broad white face and an orange nose-clinging to his neck like a caterpillar.

As soon as the children saw they could move their arms and legs, they scrambled out of the car, shouting, "We've had an ACCIDENT!" The grandmother was curled up under the dashboard, hoping she was injured so that Bailey's wrath would not come down on her all at once. The horrible thought she had had before the accident was that the house she had remembered so vividly was not in Georgia but in Tennessee.

Bailey removed the cat from his neck with both hands and flung it out the window against the side of a pine tree. Then he got out of the car and started looking for the children's mother. She was sitting against the side of the red gutted ditch, holding the screaming baby, but she only had a cut down her face and a broken shoulder. "We've had an ACCIDENT!" the children screamed in a frenzy of delight.

"But nobody's killed," June Star said with disappointment as the grandmother limped out of the car, her hat still pinned to her head but the broken front brim standing up at a jaunty angle and the violet spray hanging off the side. They all sat down in the ditch, except the children, to recover from the shock. They were all shaking.

"Maybe a car will come along," said the children's mother hoarsely.

"I believe I have injured an organ," said the grandmother, pressing her side, but no one answered her. Bailey's teeth were clattering. He had on a yellow sport shirt with bright blue parrots designed in it and his face was as yellow as the l shirt. The grandmother decided that she would not mention that the house was in Tennessee.

The road was about ten feet above and they could see only the tops of the trees on the other side of it. Behind the ditch they were sitting in there were more woods, tall and dark and deep. In a few minutes they saw a car some distance away on top of a hill, coming slowly as if the occupants were watching them. The grandmother stood up and waved both arms dramatically to attract their attention. The car continued to come on slowly, disappeared around a bend and appeared again, moving even slower, on top of the hill they had gone over. It was a big black battered hearse-like automobile. There were three men in it.

It came to a stop just over them and for some minutes, the driver looked down with a steady expressionless gaze to where they were sitting, and didn't speak. Then he turned his head and muttered something to the other two and they got out. One was a fat boy in black trousers and a red sweat shirt with a silver stallion embossed on the front of it. He moved around on the right side of them and stood staring, his mouth partly open in a kind of loose grin. The other had on khaki pants and a blue striped coat and a gray hat pulled down very low, hiding most of his face. He came around slowly on the left side. Neither spoke.

The driver got out of the car and stood by the side of it, looking down at them. He was an older man than the other two. His hair was just beginning to gray and he wore silver- rimmed spectacles that gave him a scholarly look. He had a long creased face and didn't have on any shirt or undershirt. He had on blue jeans that were too tight for him and was holding a black hat and a gun. The two boys also had guns.

"We've had an ACCIDENT!" the children screamed.

The grandmother had the peculiar feeling that the bespectacled man was someone she knew. His face was as familiar to her as if she had known him au her life but she could not recall who he was. He moved away from the car and began to come down the embankment, placing his feet carefully so that he wouldn't slip. He had on tan and white shoes and no socks, and his ankles were red and thin. "Good afternoon," he said. "I see you all had you a little spill."

"We turned over twice!" said the grandmother.

"Once"," he corrected. "We seen it happen. Try their car and see will it run, Hiram," he said quietly to the boy with the gray hat.

"What you got that gun for?" John Wesley asked. "Whatcha gonna do with that gun?"

"Lady," the man said to the children's mother, "would you mind calling them children to sit down by you? Children make me nervous. I want all you all to sit down right together there where you're at."

"What are you telling US what to do for?" June Star asked.

Behind them the line of woods gaped like a dark open mouth. "Come here," said their mother.

"Look here now," Bailey began suddenly, "we're in a predicament! We're in . . ."

The grandmother shrieked. She scrambled to her feet and stood staring. "You're The Misfit!" she said. "I recognized you at once!"

"Yes'm," the man said, smiling slightly as if he were pleased in spite of himself to be known, "but it would have been better for all of you, lady, if you hadn't of reckernized me."

Bailey turned his head sharply and said something to his mother that shocked even the children. The old lady began to cry and The Misfit reddened.

"Lady," he said, "don't you get upset. Sometimes a man says things he don't mean. I don't reckon he meant to talk to you thataway."

"You wouldn't shoot a lady, would you?" the grandmother said and removed a clean handkerchief from her cuff and began to slap at her eyes with it.

The Misfit pointed the toe of his shoe into the ground and made a little hole and then covered it up again. "I would hate to have to," he said.

"Listen," the grandmother almost screamed, "I know you're a good man. You don't look a bit like you have com- mon blood. I know you must come from nice people!"

"Yes mam," he said, "finest people in the world." When he smiled he showed a row of strong white teeth. "God never made a finer woman than my mother and my daddy's heart was pure gold," he said. The boy with the red sweat shirt had come around behind them and was standing with his gun at his hip. The Misfit squatted down on the ground. "Watch them children, Bobby Lee," he said. "You know they make me nervous." He looked at the six of them huddled together in front of him and he seemed to be embarrassed as if he couldn't think of anything to say. "Ain't a cloud in the sky," he remarked, looking up at it. "Don't see no sun but don't see no cloud neither."

"Yes, it's a beautiful day," said the grandmother. "Listen," she said, "you shouldn't call yourself The Misfit because I know you're a good man at heart. I can just look at you and tell "

"Hush!" Bailey yelled. "Hush! Everybody shut up and let me handle this!" He was squatting in the position of a runner about to sprint forward but he didn't move.

"I ‘prechate that, lady," The Misfit said and drew a little circle in the ground with the butt of his gun.

"It'll take a half a hour to fix this here car," Hiram called, looking over the raised hood of it.

"Well, first you and Bobby Lee get him and that little boy to step over yonder with you," The Misfit said, pointing to Bailey and John Wesley. "The boys want to ast you some- thing," he said to Bailey. "Would you mind stepping back in them woods there with them?"

"Listen," Bailey began, "we're in a terrible predicament! Nobody realizes what this is," and his voice cracked. His eyes were as blue and intense as the parrots in his shirt and he remained perfectly still.

The grandmother reached up to adjust her hat brim as if she were going to the woods with him but it came off in her hand. She stood staring at it and after a second she let it fall on the ground. Hiram pulled Bailey up by the arm as if he were assisting an old man. John Wesley caught hold of his father's hand and Bobby Lee followed. They went off toward the woods and just as they reached the dark edge, Bailey turned and supporting himself against a gray naked pine trunk, he shouted, "I'll be back in a minute, Mamma, wait on me!"

"Come back this instant!" his mother shrilled but they all disappeared into the woods.

"Bailey Boy!" the grandmother called in a tragic voice but she found she was looking at The Misfit squatting on the ground in front of her. "I just know you're a good man," she said desperately. "You're not a bit common!"

"Nome, I ain't a good man," The Misfit said after a second as if he had considered her statement carefully, "but I ain't the worst in the world neither. My daddy said I was a different breed of dog from my brothers and sisters. 'You know,' Daddy said, 'it's some that can live their whole life out without asking about it and it's others has to know why it is, and this boy is one of the latters. He's going to be into every- thing!'" He put on his black hat and looked up suddenly and then away deep into the woods as if he were embarrassed again. "I'm sorry I don't have on a shirt before you ladies," he said, hunching his shoulders slightly. "We buried our clothes that we had on when we escaped and we're just making do until we can get better. We borrowed these from some folks we met," he explained.

"That's perfectly all right," the grandmother said. "Maybe Bailey has an extra shirt in his suitcase."

"I'll look and see terrectly," The Misfit said.

"Where are they taking him?" the children's mother screamed.

"Daddy was a card himself," The Misfit said. "You couldn't put anything over on him. He never got in trouble with the Authorities though. Just had the knack of handling them."

"You could be honest too if you'd only try," said the grandmother. "Think how wonderful it would be to settle down and live a comfortable life and not have to think about some- body chasing you all the time."

The Misfit kept scratching in the ground with the butt of his gun as if he were thinking about it. "Yes'm, somebody is always after you," he murmured.

The grandmother noticed how thin his shoulder blades were just behind-his hat because she was standing up looking down on him. "Do you ever pray?" she asked.

He shook his head. All she saw was the black hat wiggle between his shoulder blades. "Nome," he said.

There was a pistol shot from the woods, followed closely by another. Then silence. The old lady's head jerked around. She could hear the wind move through the tree tops like a long satisfied insuck of breath. "Bailey Boy!" she called.

"I was a gospel singer for a while," The Misfit said. "I been most everything. Been in the arm service, both land and sea, at home and abroad, been twict married, been an undertaker, been with the railroads, plowed Mother Earth, been in a tornado, seen a man burnt alive oncet," and he looked up at the children's mother and the little girl who were sitting close together, their faces white and their eyes glassy; "I even seen a woman flogged," he said.

"Pray, pray," the grandmother began, "pray, pray . . ."

"I never was a bad boy that I remember of," The Misfit said in an almost dreamy voice, "but somewheres along the line I done something wrong and got sent to the penitentiary. I was buried alive," and he looked up and held her attention to him by a steady stare.

"That's when you should have started to pray," she said "What did you do to get sent to the penitentiary that first time?"

"Turn to the right, it was a wall," The Misfit said, looking up again at the cloudless sky. "Turn to the left, it was a wall. Look up it was a ceiling, look down it was a floor. I forget what I done, lady. I set there and set there, trying to remember what it was I done and I ain't recalled it to this day. Oncet in a while, I would think it was coming to me, but it never come."

"Maybe they put you in by mistake," the old lady said vaguely.

"Nome," he said. "It wasn't no mistake. They had the papers on me."

"You must have stolen something," she said.

The Misfit sneered slightly. "Nobody had nothing I wanted," he said. "It was a head-doctor at the penitentiary said what I had done was kill my daddy but I known that for a lie. My daddy died in nineteen ought nineteen of the epidemic flu and I never had a thing to do with it. He was buried in the Mount Hopewell Baptist churchyard and you can go there and see for yourself."

"If you would pray," the old lady said, "Jesus would help you."

"That's right," The Misfit said.

"Well then, why don't you pray?" she asked trembling with delight suddenly.

"I don't want no hep," he said. "I'm doing all right by myself."

Bobby Lee and Hiram came ambling back from the woods. Bobby Lee was dragging a yellow shirt with bright blue parrots in it.

"Thow me that shirt, Bobby Lee," The Misfit said. The shirt came flying at him and landed on his shoulder and he put it on. The grandmother couldn't name what the shirt reminded her of. "No, lady," The Misfit said while he was buttoning it up, "I found out the crime don't matter. You can do one thing or you can do another, kill a man or take a tire off his car, because sooner or later you're going to forget what it was you done and just be punished for it."

The children's mother had begun to make heaving noises as if she couldn't get her breath. "Lady," he asked, "would you and that little girl like to step off yonder with Bobby Lee and Hiram and join your husband?"

"Yes, thank you," the mother said faintly. Her left arm dangled helplessly and she was holding the baby, who had gone to sleep, in the other. "Hep that lady up, Hiram," The Misfit said as she struggled to climb out of the ditch, "and Bobby Lee, you hold onto that little girl's hand."

"I don't want to hold hands with him," June Star said. "He reminds me of a pig."

The fat boy blushed and laughed and caught her by the arm and pulled her off into the woods after Hiram and her mother.

Alone with The Misfit, the grandmother found that she had lost her voice. There was not a cloud in the sky nor any sun. There was nothing around her but woods. She wanted to tell him that he must pray. She opened and closed her mouth several times before anything came out. Finally she found herself saying, "Jesus. Jesus," meaning, Jesus will help you, but the way she was saying it, it sounded as if she might be cursing.

"Yes'm," The Misfit said as if he agreed. "Jesus shown everything off balance. It was the same case with Him as with me except He hadn't committed any crime and they could prove I had committed one because they had the papers on me. Of course," he said, "they never shown me my papers. That's why I sign myself now. I said long ago, you get you a signature and sign everything you do and keep a copy of it. Then you'll know what you done and you can hold up the crime to the punishment and see do they match and in the end you'll have something to prove you ain't been treated right. I call myself The Misfit," he said, "because I can't make what all I done wrong fit what all I gone through in punishment."

There was a piercing scream from the woods, followed closely by a pistol report. "Does it seem right to you, lady, that one is punished a heap and another ain't punished at all?"

"Jesus!" the old lady cried. "You've got good blood! I know you wouldn't shoot a lady! I know you come from nice people! Pray! Jesus, you ought not to shoot a lady. I'll give you all the money I've got!"

"Lady," The Misfit said, looking beyond her far into the woods, "there never was a body that give the undertaker a tip."

There were two more pistol reports and the grandmother raised her head like a parched old turkey hen crying for water and called, "Bailey Boy, Bailey Boy!" as if her heart would break.

"Jesus was the only One that ever raised the dead," The Misfit continued, "and He shouldn't have done it. He shown everything off balance. If He did what He said, then it's nothing for you to do but thow away everything and follow Him, and if He didn't, then it's nothing for you to do but enjoy the few minutes you got left the best way you can-by killing somebody or burning down his house or doing some other meanness to him. No pleasure but meanness," he said and his voice had become almost a snarl.

"Maybe He didn't raise the dead," the old lady mumbled, not knowing what she was saying and feeling so dizzy that she sank down in the ditch with her legs twisted under her.

"I wasn't there so I can't say He didn't," The Misfit said. "I wisht I had of been there," he said, hitting the ground with his fist. "It ain't right I wasn't there because if I had of been there I would of known. Listen lady," he said in a high voice, "if I had of been there I would of known and I wouldn't be like I am now." His voice seemed about to crack and the grandmother's head cleared for an instant. She saw the man's face twisted close to her own as if he were going to cry and she murmured, "Why you're one of my babies. You're one of my own children!" She reached out and touched him on the shoulder. The Misfit sprang back as if a snake had bitten him and shot her three times through the chest. Then he put his gun down on the ground and took off his glasses and began to clean them.

Hiram and Bobby Lee returned from the woods and stood over the ditch, looking down at the grandmother who half sat and half lay in a puddle of blood with her legs crossed under her like a child's and her face smiling up at the cloudless sky.

Without his glasses, The Misfit's eyes were red-rimmed and pale and defenseless-looking. "Take her off and thow her where you shown the others," he said, picking up the cat that was rubbing itself against his leg.

"She was a talker, wasn't she?" Bobby Lee said, sliding down the ditch with a yodel.

"She would of been a good woman," The Misfit said, "if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life."

"Some fun!" Bobby Lee said.

"Shut up, Bobby Lee" The Misfit said. "It's no real pleasure in life."

0 notes

resonanteye · 4 years

Photo

via https://is.gd/IEusfG

horror movie talk with LFR

My friend Lucy F. R. has really great taste in movies.

I don’t say that lightly. You all know (if you’ve been reading me a while) how fussy I am about horror/weirdshit and how many movies I’ve watched. It’s my actual hobby, unrelated to anything else I do, purely for enjoyment. It’s hard for me to find people to talk about movies with, really- my uncle, who first introduced me to horror movies, and weird cinema, and one or two friends. So I’m really happy to have a conversation here about movies with someone.

Sal doesn’t take any shit from no man. (Beyond the Valley of the Ultravixens)

(R: me, L:them)

R: you’re on a grimy southern/grind horror kick right now. But what genre do you like best? What feeling are you after?

LFR: Horror is my favorite genre, I just get very into specific branches. I always want to end up saying to myself “this is a GOOD movie”.

R: What’s the best of the batch you’ve been into recently?

LFR:The Dunwich Horror (the 70’s one), Ghost Galleon, House By The Cemetery, Werewolves On Wheels, and Tourist Trap.

R: Tell me about Werewolves on Wheels. I just watched Dog Soldiers again, and I’ve been on a werewolf kick.

(Swamp Water)

LFR: Wait, you haven’t seen it? It’s about a small biker gang that are on their way to the desert and come across a monastery that they think is abandoned but come to find out it’s not and a mysterious cult interacts with them. The cult takes one of the biker girls and puts her in a ritual. The bikers take her back from them and go back on the road, but don’t know that ~one~ of them is now a werewolf at night.

R: People reading might not have seen it. I usually try to explain a little when I start talking about stuff, especially the lists I make.

I feel like this could turn into a list?

I saw a short film recently also with a werewolf- soldiers are in WWII, surrounded by Nazis in an old police station. There’s a woman in a cell that’s locked herself in and they get stuck in there with her. She’s a werewolf and they turn so they can beat the Nazis.

I feel like- the older werewolf stuff, I think 60s to early 80s, a lot of it was hippie panic. Manson references.

I felt like Werewolves on Wheels is also backlash on feminism, like a lot of gory stuff from that time.

LFR: It felt like a backlash on feminism and hippies.

(Vamp)

R: with werewolves and vampires there’s the whole homophobic/transphobic thing too. “secret monsters” and all that.

what movies would you compare it to? what’s close to it, in feeling?

LFR: In feeling as in how it made me feel while watching it for the first time: Texas Chainsaw Massacre, House Of 1,000 Corpses, Ghost Galleon. I just know it’s a movie that I’ll recommend to everyone and watch over and over.

Aesthetics and mood-wise: Warriors, Clockwork Orange, Hammer Film movies.

R:yeah it’s got that grit to it. easy rider/warriors. I actually haven’t seen Ghost Galleon. Rip it up for me a little.

LFR: Oh man, so

I get really into bands and for the past few years I always look up what my favorite band member’s favorite movies are, or movies that feel like the music genre. So recently I’ve just been super into doom and stoner metal, naturally I’ve been listening to a lot of Electric Wizard. I asked a bunch of doom metal fb groups “what’s the most doom metal movie you’ve seen” and eventually I somehow found Ghost Galleon. It’s a movie that is not good. Very low budget. Like Ed Wood status. But it’s REALLY good.

These swim suit models go out on a shoot and stumble across a ship that should not be afloat still and is completely abandoned. They get stuck on the ship so friends come looking for them. But the ship’s crew is a satanic cult and they come alive and, to keep from spoiling, all hell breaks loose. And it’s THE most doom metal movie you will ever watch. It has it all- mood, aesthetic, and story wise.

R:so bad, it’s incredible. sounds perfect.

LFR: it’s on prime.

R: FUCK YEAH

you guys are always using my prime and my Netflix and my Hulu. you think this is a costume? this is a way of life

R:when I started watching musician friends’ recommendations I ended up discovering Green Room.

The last time before that, it was Pighunt, which is to this day one of my favorite movies.

LFR: You told me to watch that one years ago. I recommend it to basically anyone who will listen to me.

R:it’s like the least sexist least racist southern-USA monster movie ever made.

LFR:Les Claypool’s roll in that has forever changed how I see him. When I saw Primus all I could see him as was a hillbilly preacher.

R: yep completely.

let’s talk about art horror. the weird shit. seen anything good there lately?

(The Horde)

LFR:The Girl On The Third Floor. It was weird and a little comical, but I enjoyed it. I Am The Pretty Thing Living In The House is REALLY good but it’s a little weird and a major slow burn. And, Society, but that’s more body horror than art house horror.

R:Society is a classic. Body horror and class war. So amazing. I thought I am the pretty thing was a lot of fluff- I understand the drive to slow-burn right now, it’s nostalgic. But I think it’s one of the movies where they went too far into the slow burn.

If I’m going to wait 90 minutes, that girl better taste some damn butter. You know?

LFR: I can see why but I also saw it as more of a classic gothic horror story so the pace didn’t bother me too much.

R:I kind of got tired of Gothic horror at some point. The slow burn. I think I was too interested in French and Korean extreme and gore for a minute.

LFR: I’m a sucker for gothic horror and black and white universal monsters.

R:I liked Late Phases- that kind of straddled the line for me really well. Which brings us back to werewolves, strangely enough.

I have been seeing more elderly characters in movies, which I like a lot.

LFR: I love creepy old women and demonic children in films. I feel like The Visit sparked people’s interest in elderly characters in horror.

R: yes! I agree. I really like variety- diversity. ” 5 teenagers on a road trip ” movies… it gets tiring. Bland.

not to mention that there’s actually Black people and elderly women in movies now.

LFR: Road trip gone wrong horror is good but, you gotta do it right.

R:tell me about one that you think gets it right.

LFR: The original Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It paved the way.

R: it did pave the way. that there were pockets of deep weird hate in this country- I think the suburbs were really shocked by it. but if you grew up in bumfuck nowhere it was less shocking.

I think Dead End is the ultimate “road trip gone wrong” movie. Urban legend plot, Ray Wise, Lin Shaye. Just incredible pacing.

LFR: I haven’t seen that one, I’ll have to watch it.

R:oh, you’re going to love it.

I feel like the Hills Have Eyes deserves a mention here. though it’s more a “trapped on purpose” movie than a road trip.

LFR: That’s a “vacation gone wrong” horror movie, and it’s definitely one of the best ones. Vacation and road trip movies are two different branches of a genre to me.

R:I think of them as “wrong turn” vs “bad directions”. like they stumbled into trouble is one genre. they were purposely hunted/trapped, is another.

LFR:Yes, exactly!

R: like a vacation movie that’s a trap- hills have eyes a vacation movie that’s an accident- Jurassic Park

Texas chainsaw massacre is both a road trip and a vacation, an accident and a trap.

tell me about a movie that’s got a plot hole, or has kept you thinking afterward, lately. for me it’s been resolution/the endless, and residue. residue in particular. how do they keep that book? why such a dumb ending? resolution/endless bugs me and I have to watch it again- time loops force me to do math, and I end up a little obsessed with figuring out timelines.

(Requiem for a Vampire)

LFR:Horror wise, 3 From Hell. I keep thinking about how different of a movie it originally was going to be. But also, still, HOW did they survive the shoot out from Devil’s Rejects just… miraculously??? And how come this new Firefly brother was never mentioned previously whatsoever??

R:OMG yes. I couldn’t. I got too wrapped up in plot holes to enjoy it!

LFR:I still enjoyed it for what it was but yeah, I was like WAIT WHAT??? every ten minutes.

R:what about not-horror?

LFR: Picnic At Hanging Rock.

We’ve come for the crites.

R: oh yeah. that’s the kind of movie you think hard about the rest of the day. what’s your theory on the ending?

man I just went to find a photo from it and they made a show? what the hell.

have you seen The Fields? It’s set where I grew up, it’s got…a vibe. Stuck with me.

LFR: Honestly? I can’t come up with a theory on what happened. It just really feels like they simply vanished.

I haven’t seen it. Tell me about it.

(The Fields)

R: There’s a menacing thing in the cornfields. A kid has shitty parents and is sent to stay with family. The farm is in the middle of all cornfields… there’s an abandoned little amusement park that lures him. It’s based on an actual place- a tiny amusement park that flooded and was shut down. it’s still there abandoned, right next to the town I grew up in!

cornfields are extremely creepy. it’s so easy to get lost in them.

The main characters- it’s got all the bad mountain people shit going on, abuse, drinking, violence, and then more because of the presence in the fields. pretty good stuff.

not a slow burn. a medium burn.

LFR:I’m definitely watching it

R: you’ll like it. big Jughead mood.

(and then I got tired and they I think did too, so that’s all for today)

I hope I get to do this again soon: I fuckin LOVE to talk horror.

Not your baby.

If you want to support LFR in some way, wear a mask, stay the fuck home, support BLM and trans rights, and get your government reps to continue unemployment payments for gig AND other workers. Seriously.

#halloween #horror #horror art #horror movies #interview with the artist #morbid art #movie reviews #weird #deep thoughts #journal #learning #love #macabre #posts with lists in them #reviews #true stories

0 notes

readbykena-blog · 6 years

Text

13 years - 305 books

I am an avid reader and friends frequently ask me what I am reading. Here I will try and post a brief review of each book I read. To begin with here is a list of books I have read over the last 13 years. Feel free to ask me any questions.

2017: (22)

-Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

-Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell

-Corporate Communication, Theory & Practice by Joep Cornelissen

-Mariette in Ecstasy by Ron Hansen

-Where'd You Go Bernadette by Maria Semple

-A Long Walk to Water by Linda Sue Park

-Hillbilly Elegy by J.D. Vance

-Theorizing Crisis Communication by Timothy Sallow and Matthew Seeger

-Infamous Scribblers: The Founding Fathers and the Rowdy Beginnings of American Journalism by Eric Burns

-The Global Public Relations Handbook by Krishnamurthy Sriramesh and Dejan Vercic

-The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

-When My Name was Keoko by Linda Sue Park

-The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales by Oliver Sacks

- Introducing Communication Research by Donald Treadwell

- We are never meeting in real life by Samantha Irby

- Ethics in Public Relations by Kathy Fitzpatrick and Carolyn Bronstein

- The Gene: An Intimate History by Siddhartha Mukherjee

- Freedom by Jonathan Franzen

- Origin by Dan Brown

- What Happened by Hillary Rodham Clinton

- Social Media Communication by Jeremy Harris Lipshultz

- A Long Walk to Freedom by Nelson Mandela

2016: (20)

-A Renegade History of the United States by Thaddeus Russell

-Being Mortal by Atul Gawande

-The Underground Abductor by Nathan Hale

-Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote

-The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros

-The Other Wes Moore by Wes Moore

-The Speechwriter by Barton Swaim

- In Cold Blood by Truman Capote

-The Aviator's Wife by Melanie Benjamin

-The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah

-But What If We're Wrong by Chuck Klosterman

-Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

-Brewster by Mark Slouka

-Rosemary The Hidden Kennedy Daughter by Kate Clifford Larson

-The Light Between Oceans by M.L. Stedman

-The Diary of a Nobody by George and Weedon Grossmith

-Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

-The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mohsin Hamid

-The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

-A Man Called Ove by Frederick Backman

2015: (29)

-All The Truth Is Out by Matt Bai

-Double Down by Mark Halperin and John Heilemann

-The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri

-Dad is Fat by Jim Gaffigan

-Yes Please by Amy Poehler

-A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest J. Gaines

-All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

-The Girls of Atomic City by Denise Kiernan

-The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

-To Have and Have Not by Ernest Hemingway

-In Our Time by Ernest Hemingway

-A Country Doctor by Franz Kafka

-The Garden of Eden by Ernest Hemingway

-Persuading Scientists by Hamid Ghanadan

-The Splendid Things We Planned by Blake Bailey

-Modern Romance by Aziz Ansari

-A Heartbreaking Word of Staggering Genius by David Eggers

-Polio, An American Story by David Oshinsky

-The Naked and the Dead by Norman Mailer

-Go Set A Watchman by Harper Lee

-One Summer America, 1927 by Bill Bryson

-Brain on Fire by Susannah Catalan

-The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

-The Making of Modern Medicine by Michael Bliss

-People I Want to Punch in the Throat by Jen Mann

-Internal Medicine by Terrence Holt

-The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri

-The Five Dysfunctions of a Team by Patrick Lencioni

-The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd

2014: (10)

-David and Goliath by Malcolm Gladwell

-Why Grizzly Bears Should Wear Underpants by The Oatmeal

-Under the Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer

-Wild by Sheryl Strayed

-Stiff by Mary Roach

-An Abundance of Katherines by John Green

-Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi

-Dataclysm by Christian Rudder

-Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracey Kidder

-Columbine by Dave Cullen

2013: (13)

-The Next Best Thing by Jennifer Weiner

-The Path Between The Seas by David McCullough

-Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls by David Sedaris

-I Wear the Black Hat by Chuck Klosterman

-Dreams from My Father by Barack Obama

-A Hologram For The King by Dave Eggers

-Inferno by Dan Brown

-The Orphan Master's Son by Adam Johnson

-Heads in Beds by Jacob Tomsky

-Monkey Mind by Daniel Smith

-The Brief Wondrous Live of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz

-Truth in Advertising by John Kenny

-The Cell Game by Alex Prud'Homme

2012: (16)

-Walden by Henry David Thoreau

-Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau

-The Visible Man by Chuck Klosterman

-Overtreated By Shannon Brownlee

-Listen To Your Heart by Fern Michaels (TERRIBLE BOOK!)

-The Ten, Make That Nine Habits of Very Organized People. Make That Ten, by Steve Martin

-The Pleasure of My Company by Steve Martin

-Baby Proof by Emily Giffen

-Natural Experiments of History by Jared Diamond

-The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein

-The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander

-Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson

-Secrets of The Baby Whisperer by Tracy Hogg

-A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson

-The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

-Flight Behavior by Barbara Kingsolver

2011: (20)

-Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson

-I Feel Bad About My Neck by Nora Ephron

-Tinkers by Paul Harding

-How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie

-What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell

-The Jungle by Upton Sinclair

-The Emperor of All Maladies by Siddhartha Mukherjee

-An Object of Beauty by Steve Martin

-Tea Time For the Traditionally Built by Alexander McCall Smith

-Bossypants by Tina Fey

-The Pearl by John Steinbeck

-Summer Sisters by Judy Blume

-Crucial Conversations by Kerry Patterson, Joseph Grenny, Ron McMillian and Al Switzler

-Beautiful Boy by David Sheff

-The Paris Wife by Paula McLain

-Of Thee I Zing by Laura Ingraham

-A Dog's Purpose by W. Bruce Cameron

-Rules of Civility by Amor Towles

-The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot

-Trust Me I'm Dr. Ozzy by Ozzy Osbourne

2010: (26)

- History's Worst Decisions and the people who made them by Stephen Weir

- Junky by William S. Burroughs

- One Fifth Avenue by Candace Bushnell

- Killing Yourself to Live by Chuck Klosterman

- Food Rules by Michael Pollan

- Noah's Compass by Anne Tyler

- Breathing Lessons by Anne Tyler

- Drive by Daniel Pink

-The Help by Kathryn Stockett

-The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson

-US Americans Talk About Love Edited by John Bowe

-For You Mom, Finally by Ruth Reichl

-The Financial Lives of the Poets by Jess Walter

-Cowboys Are My Weakness by Pam Houston

-The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson

-Barrel Fever by David Sedaris

-You Are Not a Stranger Here by Adam Haslett

-Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck

-The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

-The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest by Stieg Larsson

-I'm a Stranger Here Myself by Bill Bryson

-The Heretic's Daughter by Kathleen Kent

-Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk by David Sedaris and Ian Falconer

-Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller

-A Girl Named Zippy by Haven Kimmel

2009: (22)

• Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell

• Remember Me? By Sophie Kinsella

• A Long Way Gone, memoirs of a boy soldier by Ishmael Beah

• Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher

• Slummy Mummy by Fiona Neill

• Born on a Blue Day by Daniel Tammet

• Crawfish Mountain by Ken Wells

• My Horizontal Life by Chelsea Handler

• Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee

• A Fraction of the Whole by Steve Toltz

• Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse

• Mistakes Were Made, by Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson

• Gertrude by Herman Hesse

• The Sportswriter by Richard Ford

- Born to Run by Christopher McDougall

- The Almost Moon by Alice Sebold

- Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

- When You are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris

- Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris

- Bright-Sided by Barbara Ehrenreich

-The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown

-Super Freakonomics by Levitt and Dubner

2008: (21)

• The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama

• Inside the Minds, The Art of Public Relations by CEOs

• Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

• Savage Inequalities by Jonathan Kozol

• The Pig Did It by Joseph Caldwell

• The Known World by Edward P. Jones

• Dark Roots by Cate Kennedy

• East of Eden by John Steinbeck

• Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susan

• Wired by Bob Woodward

• One Pill Makes You Smaller by Lisa Dierbeck

• A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley

• Secrets of the Baby Whisperer by Tracy Hogg

• Pound for Pound by F.X. Toole

• All the Way Home by David Giffels

• Bonk by Mary Roach

• In Patagonia by Bruce Chatwin

• Then We Came To The End by Joshua Ferris

• The Sea by John Banville

• Downtown Owl by Chuck Klosterman

• Female Chauvinist Pigs, Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture by Ariel Levy

2007: (28)

• Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

• 1984 by George Orwell

• What Ifs? Of American History edited by Robert Cowley

• The Executioner’s Song by Norman Mailer

• Rabbit, run by John Updike

• Life of Pi by Yann Martel

• The Armies of the Night by Norman Mailer

• Pigtopia by Kitty Fitzgerald

• FiSH by Stephen Lundin, Harry Paul and John Christensen

• The Witness for the Prosecution and Other Stories by Agatha Christie

• 1776 by David McCullough

• Summer at Tiffany by Marjorie Hart

• Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

• Absurdistan by Gary Shteyngart

• Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen

• Fall on Your Knees by Ann-Marie MacDonald

• Prodigal Summer by Barbara Kingsolver

• Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis

• The Memory Keeper’s Daughter by Kim Edwards

• Men at Arms by Evelyn Waugh

• A Dog Year by Jon Katz

• 1491 New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus by Charles Mann

• IV by Chuck Klosterman

• Devil in the Details by Jennifer Traig

• The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith

• The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan

• Born Standing Up by Steve Martin

• No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy

2006: (27)

• Collapse, How societies choose to fail or succeed by Jared Diamond

• The World is Flat by Thomas Friedman

• Freakonomics by Levitt & Dubner

• Harry and Ike by Steve Neal

• State of Denial by Bob Woodward

• Crossroads in American History by James McPherson & Alan Brinkley

• The Lexus & The Olive Tree by Thomas Friedman

• The Lessons of History by Will & Ariel Durant

• Strategery by Bill Sammon

• Still Life With Woodpecker by Tom Robbins

• Japanese Canadian Redress, The Toronto Story

• The Untold Story of the Yom Kippur War by Howard Blum

• The Sheltering Sky by Paul Bowles

• Cat Among the Pigeons by Agatha Christie

• Red Weather by Pauls Toutonghi

• Wifey by Judy Blume

• Frantic Transmissions to and from LA by Kate Braverman

• Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs

• Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald

• A Handful of Dust by Evelyn Waugh

• The Shipping News by Annie Proulx

• The Curious Incident of the dog in the Night-time by Mark Hadden

• A Million Little Pieces by James Frey

• Marley & Me by John Grogan

• The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

• Lipstick Jungle by Candace Bushnell

• Boni y Tigre by Kathrin Sander

2005: (51)

• Guns, Germs, And Steel by Jared Diamond

• The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell

• Blink by Malcolm Gladwell

• Sex, Drugs, And Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman

• The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf

• A Room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf

• Mary Magdalene by Lynn Picknett

• Hell's Angels by Hunter S. Thompson

• The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe

• Bob Dylan Chronicles Volumn 1 by Bob Dylan

• Smashed by Koren Zailckas

• Culture Shock Costa Rica by Claire Wallerstein

• The Know-It-All by A.J. Jacobs

• Dress Your Family in Corduroy & Denim by David Sedaris

• Naked Pictures of Famous People by Jon Stewart

• All the President's Men by Bernstein & Woodward

• The Final Days by Bob Woodward & Carl Bernstein

• The Secret Man by Bob Woodward

• Shadow (5 Pres. & the Legacy of Watergate by Bob Woodward

• All Politics is Local, by Tip O'Neill

• What's the Matter With Kansas? (How Conservatives Won the Heart of America) by Thomas Frank

• Don't think of an Elephant by George Lakoff

• Confessions of a Political Junkie by Hunter S. Thompson

• America The Book by Jon Stuart

• One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey

• The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett

• Tortilla Flat by John Steinbeck

• Cannery Row by John Steinbeck

• Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

• The Call of the Wild and White Fang by Jack London

• Animal Farm by Goerge Orwell

• Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnecut

• The Stranger by Albert Camus

• Empire Falls by Richard Russo

• The Great Fire by Shirly Hazzard

• A Patchwork Planet by Anne Tyler

• The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison

• Skirt and the Fiddle by Tristian Egolf

• Drive Like Hell by Dallas Hudgens

• The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown

• Angels & Demons by Dan Brown

• Deception Point by Dan Brown

• Digital Fortress by Dan Brown

• The Ship of Brides by Jojo Moyers

• Angry Housewives by Lorna Landvik

• The Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield

• Loving Che by Ana Menendez

• Wolves in Chic Clothing by Carrie Karasyov & Jill Kargman

• Citizen Girl by Emma McLaughlin & Nicola Kraus

• And Sister by Sophie Kinsella

• Trading Up by Candace Bushnell

4 notes · View notes

weirdpaul · 7 years

Text

Every Band I’ve Ever Seen Live!

Abdominal Snowmen

Abysme

Action Camp

The Afghan Whigs

Alabaster Box

Alan Astor

Alaska

Algebra Suicide

Align Alike

Allegheny Rhythm Rangers

Allies

Alpha Control Group

Alzo Boszormenyi

AM/FM

America Hearts

Amoeba Knievel

Anita Fix

Annie and the Bombers

An Offhand Way

The Anti-Psychotics

The Antiques

The Antiquities

The Aquabats

Assassinate Caesar!

Atom and His Package

Atomic Mosquitos

ATS

Auk Theater

Automatic Matty P

Aydin

Baby Bird

Baby Shakes

Bad Fathers

Bang Bang Lulu

BaggyPantsRich

Bald Mountain Band

The Bassturd

Bastard Bearded Irishmen

The Bastards of Fate

Bastro

Bat Zuppel

The Beagle Brothers

Beard Science

Bearsuit

Beasters

Beat Happening

The Bedspins

Ben Blanchard

Bennett-Blanchard

The Benquick

Big Mouth Strikes Again Billy Castle

Billy Catfish

The Billy Nayer Show

Birdcloud

Birthday Suits

The Blandinas

Blast Off 3.0

The Bloated Sluts

Bloodbaby

Bloodless Cooties

Bloody Incisors

The Bloody Seamen

Blue Chair

Blue Oyster Cult

Blue Skies Collapse

Blunderbuss

Bob Log III

Bobby Conn

James Bogacz

Bomb Banks

Boom River

Bootsy Collins

Bottomless Pit

Bowhunter

Bradford Reed and the Amazing Pencilina

Brain Handle

Brass Chariot

Brass Panda

Braz Cubas

Brewer's Row

Broke Boland & the Dirty Pickles

Brown Angel

BS2000

Buddy Nutt

The Bumps

The Burndowns

Burning Cacti

Burnout War Cry

Butter Kings

Butthole Lipstick

The Buzzcocks

C-Money and Karl Kash

Cactus Wheelhouse

Camp PP

Canasta

Candy Machine Guns

Canned Hamm

Captain Catfeesh

Casino Bulldogs

Casy Stelitano

Catnip Coma

The Causey Way

Caustic Christ

The Ceiling Stares

Celebration

Centipede E'est

Cex

Channel Scorpion News

Charlie Anteater

Charlie Slick

The Cheats

Chestnut Station

Chet Vincent

Child Bite

Children of October

Choke City

Chris Leo

Chrome Moses

Churchbuilder

Chux Beta

City Dwelling Nature Seekers

The City Steps

The Claymores

The Clearing

Cloaca

Clownvis Presley

Cobalt Black

The Cocktails

The Code

Colin and the Shots

Colombian Express

Combustible Three

Concrete Elite

CooCoo Rockin' Time

The Copyrights

Corpus Christi

Cougars

Crank Radio

Creta Bourzia

Crisis in America

The Crow Flies

Crucial Unit

Crunk Witch

Cryptorchid Chipmunk

Curses and Kisses

Daily Grind

Daiquiri

Daniel Johnston

Danielson

Dark Lingo

Darren Keen

Dave Bernabo

David Liebe Hart

Dead City Dealers

Dean Cercone

Death of Samantha

Decaffeinated Grapefruit

Decision Way All-Stars

The Degenerettes

Demander

Deral Fenderson

Derek Deprator Band

Derica

Dethlehem

Developer

The Devil Dogs

The Devil is Electric

The Devil's Jukebox

Devin Russian

Devo

Die Kruezen

Dirtbag Diary

The Dirty Charms

Dirty Fences

Dirty Sunshine

Dirty Weekend

Discuss

Disrobe

Divine Seven

Divorce

Do Crimes

Don Caballero

Don Capicola

Dollar Shots

Donora

Doog

Dookie Houser Emcee

The Douglass Brothers

Down By Law

Downside

The Dozal Brothers

DQE

Drink Tax

The Dripp Brothers

Drug Dealer

Duckmandu

Duke of Uke

The Dumplings

Duo!

Dwarf Fortress

Ear to Ear

Earlimart

Earls of Industry

Ec8tor

Echolalia

Edie Sedgewick

Ed's Redeeming Qualities

Eggs

8 Cylinder

Eighty Eight Magnum

'85 Flood

El Boxeo

El Grosso

Electric Grandmother

The Elemental

Elephant Bones

Elf Power

Eli “Paperboy” Reed

Elliott Sussman

Elsinore

Ember Schrag

The Emergency

Emerson Jay

Emily Jo Fabiszewski

Endless Mike and the Beagle Club

Eoley Mullulay

Erectus Monotone

Eric and the Electric MP3 Player

Erika Carey & the Calamities

The Eruptions

Eskimo '88

Estelle

Eugene Chadbourne/Jimmy Carl Black

Euphonic Brew

Everyone Everywhere

Evolution Control Committee

Ezra Lbs

Face Down in Shit

Falon

Fancytramp

Fangs of the Panda Fat White Family

Fate of Icarus

Jerry Fels and the Jerry Fels

Fezzwig

The Fife and Forth

The Fingers

Fire & Sex

The Fireworks

First Into Space

First Jason

First Person Singular

The Fizzies

Flaming Lips

The Fletch-heads

Flotation Device

Flotilla Way

Folk Implosion

The Forbidden Five

Forgotten Nobody

Four Dead Flowers

The Four Roses

Four Seasons Boys

Frank Barone

French Toast

Fry Jones

Gadgits

The Garden

The Garment District

Gary Musisko

Gary Twoman

Gentleman Auction House

George Willard

German Shepherd Ghost Road

Gil Mantera's Party Dream

Girl Talk

Girl Trouble

Glad Girls

Go Pills

Go Pillx

The Goblins

The Goonies

Goonland

The Goops

The Gothees

Grand Buffet

Grand Piano

Granola Explosion

Grant Valdes

Gravel

The Graveyard Rockers

Great Ants

Greg Cislon

Groundwater Mafia

The Grow Ops

Grumpy

Guided By Voices

Guru Guru

Guyliners

Half Japanese

Happy Flowers

Har Mar Superstar

HARM

Hard Money

Harry and the Potters

Heaven & Hell

Heavy Cream

The Hecklers

Height

The Heiz

Helmet

Hell Yeah the Hellcats

The Helper T-Cells

The Heretics

The Hidden Twin

The Hi-Frequencies

The Hillbilly Varmints

The Hips

The Hodag

Hogwind

The Homostupids

The Hope Harveys

Hot Dog Forest

Hot Mess

Hotness

Houdini's Psychic Theater

House of Assassins

Household Stories

Hovland

Howard Jones

HTML

The Human Brains

Hungry Bill

Hurra Torpedo

I am the Lost Sea

I Speak Tree

Ian Semasko

Ice Capades

Icon Gallery

In the Wake of Giants The Independents

Instead of Sleeping

International Espionage

The Invisible Nothings

Irene Moon

Ivenfaint

J. Marinelli

Jack in Irons

Jack Medicine

Jack Sabbith

Jackson

Jad Fair

Jake and the Jakeman

Jam Messengers

Jana Bates

Jandek

Jane's Addiction

The Jasons

The Jealous Zealots

Jefferson Golfcart

Jericho Theory

The Jim Dandies

Jody Perigo & Laura Totten

Joe Jack Talcum

Joe Landes

Joey Molinaro

Johnny and the Razorblades

Johnny Locomotive & the Engineers

The Johnsons

Jonathan Hape

Jonathan Richman

Jonny Cohen

Joybox

JPS Brown

Judas Priest

The Juicy Girls

Juno Vega

Jupiter's Girlfriend

K-Hun

Kafka Romance Dissolver

Kalon

Karl Hendricks

Kazimier

Kevin Finn

Khaled

Kick Old Man

Kick the Can

Kill Or Be Killed

Kind of Like Spitting

King Karcass

King Kong

King Missile

kingdom Of Not

Kisswhistle

Kitty Pryde and the Shadowcats

Koala-T

Kracfive AllStars

The Kyle Sowashes

The Lady and the Monsters

Landing Strip

Landmonster!

Laura Kahl

Lavacola

Le Cachot

The Left Turns

Leonard Cohen Ensemble One

Leo's Operation

Les Georges Leningrad

The Lesser Apes

Let Them Eat Cake

Libre Duo

Life in Bed

The Limbs

Living Praise Choir

Liz and the Bandits

The Lobster Quadrille

Loose Interpretation

The Lopez

Lord Grunge

Lorelei

Lorenzo's Oil

Los Swamp Monsters

Lost Weekend

Lou Barlow

The Love Drunks

Lover 29

Lunachicks

Lung Mountain

Lydia Lunch

Mac Sabbath

Magic Wolf

Magnolia Electric Co.

Maguillacutty

The Main Events

The Make-up

Mama Spell

Man Found Dead

Manherringbone

Manhole

Margo Van Hoy

Mark Mallman

Marshmallow Pop Orchestra

Marumari

Marvin Dioxide

Massif

Master Mechanic

Maurice Rickard

Maxi-Pads

McCarthy Commission

MC Cliff B

MC Habitat

Meatballs/Fluxus

Mecca Normal

Medium Ugly

Meeting of Important People

Meisha

Meltdown

The Melvins

Bill Merante

The Meridians

Microwaves

Middle Children

Midge Cricket

Midnight Creeps

Midnite Snake

Mike Dillon Band

Mike Maimone

Mike Tamburo

Mikey C

Milagres

The Minders

Mindless Chaos

Miniature Giant

Miniature Table Concerts

Miss Massive Snowflake

Missile Toe

Missing Pilots

Modern Life

Modern Vending

Modey Lemon

Moldies and Monsters

The Molecules

Molesuit Choir

A Moment of Clarity

Mommy's Little Monster

Moonlight Motel

Moons of Saturn

Mortis

MOTO

Motorhead

The Motorpsychos

Mr. Funky

Mr. T Experience

MSC

The Muckrakers

Mud City Manglers

Murder of Bridges

Murphy's Law

Mustache Required

Mutant Mountain Boys

My Boyfriend the Pilot

My Captain, My Sea

My Dad is Dead

My Niece Denise

My Prodi

My Sexiest Mistake

My Superhero

The Name of This Band is Not Talking Heads

Nanako

Narse

Byron Nash and Plan B

Nathaniel Seer

The National Rifle

Nautical Almanac

The Need

Negative Reaction

Neighbors

Neil Hamburger

Nest

The New Alcindors

Newband

Nicholas Megalis

Night and the City

Night Shall Eat These Boys and Girls

Night Terror

The Noble Brats

Nobunny

Noctuelles

Northern Bushmen

The Northern Spy

Nosotros

Nox Boys

NRBQ

O Lendario Chucrobillyman

O.C. Feef

Oakley Hall

Octopus, Inc.

Odin Heed and the Headwinch

Ohmu

The Ohsees

On Vinyl

Only Flesh

The OPD

Orvill Rex

Ouais

Overseas

Owl Style

The Pacifist Femmes

PAK

Paleface

Pam Hanlin

Pancreatic Aardvarks

Parvulus Infectus

Patrick Elkins

Paul Green Rock Academy

Paul Kotheimer

Paul Labrise and the Trees

Paul Lynde 451

Paul Tabachnek

Pete Bush and the Hoi Polloi

Pete Donnelly

Pfunkt

The Phantom Maggots

Phat Free

Phat Man Dee

The Phone Calls

Phred Rainey

Piasa

Picasso Trigger

Pierogi Pizza

Pig Iron

Pikadori

Pinche Gringo

Pitchin' Woo

Pleaseeasaur

The Pleasureheads

Poingly

The Polyatomic

Polvo

Ponytail

Poopy Necroponde's Burgee Boys

The Pork Torta

Porno Tongue

Pox

PPDB

Presque Vu

Pretty Girls Make Graves

Professor Purple

Proto-martyr

Psycho-a-go-go

Puma Barrier

Quaranteened

R. Stevie Moore

The Radio Beats

Radio 4

Rainy Day Regatta

The Ramones

Rapscallionz

Ray Zen

Reason and Eos

Red Vs. Black

The Red Western

Refried Boogie

Reo Speedwagon

Requiem

The Residents

The Resistables

Rex Morgan M.D. Trio

The Rhodora

Rick Bach

River Is To Train

RJ Myato

Xylen Roberts

Robin Vote

Rocket From the Tombs

Rocketsled

The Roger 6

The Rogers Sisters

Rollins Band

Rot Shit

Roulette Waves

Round Black Ghosts

Royal City

The Ruins

Run DMC

The Sablowskis

Sad Tropics

Salt Chuck Mary

Sam Goodwill

Samuel Locke Ward & The Boo Hoos

Santa Inferno

Satanic Bat

Satyr/Elfheim

Savage Lines

Says She

The SB

Scandal

Science is Dead

Scott Demian

Scott Fry

The Scratch n Sniffs

Scrawl

Seam

Seas We Fear To Sail

Season Finale

Sebadoh

Secret Paper Moon

The Seeing Eyeballs

The Semi-Supervillains

Senator Flux

Sewercide

The Sewing Machine War

SFX

Sheer Mag

Shitappa Oyabun

Shonen Knife

The Show is the Rainbow

Sick Ridiculous and the Sick Ridiculous

Signifiers

Silbia Han

Silkworm

The Silver Eagle Band

Sissy Baby Boys

Skinless/Boneless

The Skirt Tasters

Slant 6

Slate Dump

Sleeping in Class

SleepyV

Slices

The Slow Reel

Sludgehammer

Smokey Bellows

The Smugglers

Sneaky Mike

Sodastream

Soft Sickle

Solarburn

Son of Bitch

Song of Zarathustra

Songs About Robots Sorry I'm Dead

Soul Excursion

Sounding Rockets

South Ken

South Sea Sneak

Sovron Court

Spacefish

Sparrow

Special Ed

The Speeds

Spidercake

Spoon

Sports Metaphors

Spudboys

Spynda, Pace and Kress

Star fk Radium

The Stars

Stars of the Dogon

Steady Matt

Stephen Foster and the Awesomes

Steve Boyle

Steve Malkmus

Steve Whitten

Sticky Pink Chew

Stone Temple Pilots

Jim Storch

Stuck in Standby

Styles For Modern Living

Styx

Subdevil

Sugar Daddy

The Suicide Dolls

Summer Erickson

Summer Lungs

Super Fun Time Awesome Party Band

Superchunk

Supersystem

The Surface Dwellers

Sweet Icing

Sweet Nothing

Take No Damage

TBA

Tecumseh EQs

Ted Leo + Pharmacists

Telecorps

Telefonics

Telesys

The Telethons

Television

Terror, Inc.

Testament

The Test Patterns

Thee 50's High Teens

Thee Speaking Canaries

They Might Be Jerks

Thin Sketch

Things That Aren't There Anymore

Third Class

.38 Special

This Present Expression

Three Day Stubble

The Thunder Chickens

Thee Starry Eyes

Tianna and the Cliffhangers

TigerHorseSheepPigCow

Tilt

The Tinklers

Tonks and the Aurors

Torus

Treeline Freeline

The Tree Three

Triggers

Tron Ate My Baby

Truckasaurus

True Love Always

Truxon

TsuShiMamiRie

Tub Ring

Tulpa

Tusklord

TV John

2020K

Uke and Tuba

Ukebox

Ukiah

Ukulady Liz

Ultimate VAG

Ume

Uni Sami

Universal Congress Of

Unlikely Japan

The Upholsterers

Upskirts

Vale and Year

Vampire Nation

Vampire Weekend at Bernies

Vehicle Flips

Vel

The Velcats

Velvet Monkeys

Vequinox

Videohippos

Viewers Like You

Village of Dead Roads

The Viragos

The Visitations

The Vivians

Von Ludendork

Vox Robotica

Wake

Wallace's Fallen Obelisk Kidz

The Wasps Nest and Valerie Kuehne

The Waxwings

WE are the Asteroid

We are the Dead

We Came From Space

The Weasels

Weird Al Yankovic

Werewolves

Wesley Willis

Western Pennsylvania

The Whipped Cream Explosion

The White Stripes

Will Simmons & Turdburglar

William Wesley and the Tiny Sockets

Wimp Factor 14

The Winterbrief

The Wire Riots

The Working Poor

Workshop

Wyld Stalyns

The Wynkataug Monks

X.13

The X Brothers

Asher Yatzar

The Youngstown Tramps

Your Favorite Assassin

Yung Ka

Z-Man

Za Dharsh

The Zambonis

Zigtebra

Zelazowa

The Zou

Zubat and the Bees' Knees

The Zvills

5 notes · View notes