That'll flat git it!

So, last installment I said I'd get down to business about Autry Inman. To be honest, there's really not all that much information on this Florence, Alabama native who started off doing the rockin' hillbilly thing and ended up punching out adult comedy LPs or squirreling around as a member of the Grand Ole Opry. He is listed in the Alabama Country Music Hall of Fame and apparently holds the record (where?) for "most songs written and recorded in a single year." He was also on the bill for Mr. Lovesick Blues' "lost" Charleston show!

The only album I own by Autry is a self-titler put out the Mountain Dew label from 1963 and is two sides of real bummer, berzerko and reluctant self-isolation. A peak on the back jacket of the LP may lend a clue as to the awkward beauty of this songwriting fool:

Autry Inman is very active in uraniam mining. Several years ago, he discovered the valuable mineral on his property and has spent a good deal of time in developing his claim. Between his mining venture, his personal appearances, Autry Inman still finds time for other things. A little known fact about Autry Inman is his tremendous success as a composer. He has written hundred of "hit" songs. These songs have been recorded by name artists both in the popular and country field.

URANIUM MINING?! Tracks that stand out as somewhat testament to Autry's possible overexposure to radiation may include "I lost you when I found you," Standing in the shadows," The darkest corner," and "We couldn't get together on the time." I don't know where I was going with that but like I said, I've yet to hear any other stuff by the guy which, in the computer age, is no excuse when I could set up some file sharing thing, but that's just too much for my attention span to manage right now. The shape of his head may also give away his hobby.

Speaking of which, it's great to read articles like this, with quotes like:

"The U.S. Army's not going to pay the bill for you to get on MySpace and YouTube," said Maj. Bruce Mumford, of Chester, Neb., who is serving as the brigade communications officer for the 4th Brigade, 1st Infantry Division, in Iraq. "Soldiers need to know what they can and cannot do, but we shouldn't be facilitating it."

I guess it's justifiably so when you take into consideration articles such as this. Normally, I don't mind getting screwed from out of nowhere, but this, among many, many other pertinent things, is really something every Joe Schmoe should get to know before blindly praising our "freedoms" and extolling the supposed virtues of this country stolen outright to begin with, while sharpening the blade of xenophobia on the bloated whetstone of fast food, strategically inefficient automobiles mass-churned during times of pre-emptive warmongering, cologne and, of course, Crocs, visors and Bud Light.

But I digress. It's not the sheeple who are to blame, if anyone is, but there painfully obviously isn't enough questioning of the total crap that parents unwittingly lay on their offspring and grind into their psyches, the same putrid one-dimensional blindfold which was laid on them when they were offspring and so on until the picture is truly gotten. And modern American "culture" does nothing but reinforce these inherently boring yet ultimately insidious "lessons."

Eff Boosh; leave me behind, robot!

What dissonance don't squirt, if not just a little?

According to my "broken glass hiccupping behind my cheek" sinuses, cheap cabernet sauvignon, among other cheap red, not to mention white, wines, has lots of histamines.
Here's two non-english links chanced upon, utilizing the "mittenmash" style of keyboard implementation, in Google image search for "d4a" as I close the blinds and sit on my own face in the lathering twilight wondering why I'm not listening to any records as I wander in the rowboat of Cort Johnson.

Since I don't have any records by Cort Johnson, and my good compatriot Matthew Huck is the only person I know personally who has a copy of either of the two LPs available by this mysterious and crazed brain, and he, Matthew, is currently on tour with Them Natives (see previous post), I am pretty much stuck with nothing to work with. And now that I am getting obviously sidetracked, observe the web presence of these rollickers before I initiate my gab about the WEIRD world of Autry Inman, soon to come..

¿Is the whole block smokin' Prozac?

Why did I have a bacchanalian urge to sop wine as the sun set on yet another precipitationless early evening? Oh, that's right, because the glares from the neighbors and passers-by compelled me to retrieve my weedwacker from the AC Temple and get to working on my hunch-over lat-cramps, which can only be achieved by using a non-professional-grade weedwacker. I sincerely believe they designed these things for people no taller than 4' 11". Why, when I get this urge do I always have the urge to call friends from far and near to talk turds and discuss things?? OH, that's right, because I'm not a fridgin' robot!
Anyway, I guess I'm going link crazzy because I guess I am guessing a lot at this attempt. And thanks to Metafilter, it would seem that I am devoid of any original material. Regardless, here's a great link to some obscure, some not so obscure musical traditions. And yet another one, which is the blog that comes up when I hit the "next blog" thing on this blog. I link it because, 1. It pretty much makes itself clear with regard to the "No Child Left Behind" malarky, which is pretty much malarky, and all those complete dullards and cretins in Washington know it too but just can't grow the mustards to take a stand while their snuggly paychecks are at stake (and provides a link). And 2. It has a link to the Phil Spector trial, which, while I'm guessing haphazardly, I could really give two plops about, but it's somewhat fascinating, in that, "I know people who have almost had that gun pulled on them by Phil" kinda way.

Getting sidetracked, I guess one of the other things I've wanted to ruminate upon is the recent scourge of bands whose contrived album / poster / promo art all include drawings or caricatures of galdanged BIRDS or DEER or some other animal. When did this cage open and the green light glow to announce to all the hipsters, "Hey, while you're wearing bandanas, or better yet, scarves around our necks where nooses should be, why don't you start doing kitschy, trendy, and ultimately terribly unoriginal artwork which centers around a bird or winged creature? Am I correct in understanding I think the most recent rash of fowl-biting started with Wolf Eyes' "Burned Mind" album, or maybe even the overnight popularity of Animal Collective? I'm speechless and directionless from this point out, so here's some creature droppings to dollop on your cowboy snap-n-hornrims yo:



Enjoy, and more later, I guess..

TOTAL SUCCESSION

So I'm actually following through for a change and distributing my advance upon this otherwise somnambulant bit-rate of an humid spell.
In other more important news, The “Exposições Gerais de Artes Plásticas”/ The General Exhibitions of Art has been blowing my pudding head to shreds. Urinate away your preconceptions of the last century, at least to the extent that the Arte Povera is concerned. Wait I have to find the radio..

Privileged Underground!

SO yeah the data is slowwwwwly streaming in, not that far off from expectation in the information age. Half the time I really don't know what is being typed here, but it's also difficult to refuse myself the opportunity to blast forth semi-anonymously from Birmingham, AL, as if that geographical admittance should warrant some recognition while I prepare to be fired from yet another job for no reason.
The image to the right was inspired by this search for yet another random image to draw attention to an otherwise and seemingly aimless blog. Please bear with me as I'm very wet behind the ears, for lack of a more corruptive cliché. I wish, at this moment, I knew what the Stuckey's is going on with it. Okay, wait. The more I read on this site, the more I realize how incredible this particular show is, especially with reference to its influence on modern art. Where am I? Wait, maybe I'll devote the next blog to this show, depending upon my attention span and the time it takes for me to realize exactly how important this stuff is.
Hody Cdap!