IN HONOR OF PRIDE MONTH:
TOM ROBINSON BAND

Tom Robinson Band is the best punk band most Yanks have never heard of. 

Their debut single, the radio-friendly "2-4-6-8 Motorway," peaked at number five on the UK charts in October 1977. This is their appearance on Top of the Pops that same year. 

Note the pink triangle badge on Tom Robinson's shirt. It was a brave statement in 1977, especially on a mainstream primetime show like TotP. But it wasn't just a statement of support for the gay community; it was a declaration of the singer's identity. As the narrator of the band's 1978 documentary quaintly puts it, Tom Robinson "freely admits he is homosexual."  

TRB's next single, "Glad to be Gay," peaked at number 18 in the UK. Wikipedia says the song has been called "Britain's national gay anthem," which is funny because I don't think it's what millennial and Gen Z kids would consider an anthem. The song is slow, acerbic, and angry--not the kind of feel-good "YAAAS QUEEN" sort of thing you get nowadays with Sam Smith and Lizzo--but it only makes it that much more powerful. Would the irony-deficient youngsters of today agree? 

But their best song, "Power in the Darkness," goes even further. In the documentary (posted below, see part 3 for this particular clip) there is an epic live performance of this track:

Power in the darkness
Frightening lies from the other side
Power in the darkness
Stand up and fight for your rights 

Freedom, we're talking 'bout your freedom
Freedom to choose what you do with your body
Freedom to believe what you like
Freedom for brothers to love one another
Freedom for black and white
Freedom from harassment, intimidation
Freedom for the mother and wife
Freedom from Big Brother's interrogation
Freedom to live your own life, I'm talking 'bout 

Power in the darkness
Frightening lies from the other side
Power in the darkness
Stand up and fight for your rights

At this point in the song, Tom "interrupts" Danny Kustow's guitar solo and approaches the mic, having donned a tweed sport coat and a large rubber nose. Now the nose might look problematic these days with its antisemitic connotations and all, but it's soon clear that the singer is mocking toffee-nosed conservative types who were then (and now) railing against gays, immigrants, people of color, the poor, and basically anyone outside the mainstream, while extolling the virtues of traditional morals, law and order, Christian values, et cetera. (SOUND FAMILIAR?!)

"Shut up! Stop this bloody noise at once! Good grief, I said shut up, you bunch of long-haired hippie communist perverts! This noise level in this hall is unacceptably loud, these damn speaker things. We've been measuring them with a decibel meter; you young people will be deaf by the time you're 30. (crowd cheers) The Oxford Distressed Gentlefolks Association, just over the road, has been severely upset by the vase vibrating on the mantelpiece. (crowd cheers) Shut up! Have you no respect for your elders and betters anymore? Be quiet. Good grief, look at you. I thought Oxford was the seat of learning. Look like you could do with a good bath, some of you. Do you mean to say you paid money to come and listen to this drivel? Good God. 

"What we need to do is see a return to the traditional British values. Bring back the cane at the grammar schools. Church on Sundays. A spell in the army would do you all a lot of good. National Service. We need to see a return to discipline, obedience, morality, virtue, and freedom."

And the song continues.... 

What we want is
Freedom from the reds and the blacks and the criminals
Prostitutes, pansies and punks
Football hooligans, juvenile delinquents
Lesbians and left wing scum
Freedom from the n------ and the P---- and the unions
Freedom from the Gypsies and the Jews
Freedom from longhaired layabouts and students
Freedom from the likes of you (whips off rubber nose) ....and me

Power in the darkness
Frightening lies from the other side
Power in the darkness
Stand up and fight for your rights

The entire documentary runs about 45 minutes and is broken up into four parts on YouTube. I highly recommend it. 

FIGHT FASCISM!

By now, everyone knows about the mass shooting at the outlet mall in Allen, Texas....although by the time I post this, it may well be forgotten and the national news cycle will have moved on to the next tragedy. But since I'm a resident of Collin County (the shooting happened two miles from our house), I thought I'd take this chance to provide a little backstory on some of the local politicians involved in this shitshow. 

So just sit right back and you're hear a tale, the tale of what I like to call: 

THE SLUT, THE ISIS BRIDE, AND THE SLAPHEADED "CHRISTIAN"

In early 2022, we were bombarded by TV ads extolling the virtues of Van Taylor, a Republican congressman running for reelection in our district, and trashing his (Republican) opponent, Keith Self. Around the same time, we began receiving dozens of mailers per week urging us to vote for Taylor in the upcoming runoff election that March, mailers that also made sure to point out that Keith Self was a mean old poo-poo doodyhead. They were coming so fast and furious that it started to get comical, and I had fun marking up the flyers and decorating the house with some of the more outlandish ones. 

I ended up tossing them out eventually, but I did manage to scrounge up one that didn't make it into the recycling bin. Sadly, it's not one of Van Taylor's funnier campaign mailers, but you get the idea:

"Keith Self writes his emails in Comic Sans! Keith Self tips ten percent at restaurants! 

Keith Self was the second shooter on the grassy knoll!"

"Excuse me officer, do these trousers make my butt look big?"

"Alone, bad. Friend, good. 

Friend, GOOD!"

Normal politics stuff, really, but wait! Ready for a hackneyed, totally predictable plot twist? Here it is! Van Taylor's greatest nemesis was not Keith Self, who ***spoiler alert*** went on to handily beat Taylor and win his seat in the election. No, Van Taylor's real enemy was---duh, duh, DUN!---his own penis! Yes, the calls were coming from INSIDE HIS PANTS!!! Tale as old as time....for Van Taylor was just your typical garden variety slut. 

But his side piece wasn't one of the usual suspects, like a campaign aide or a secretary. Taylor went for something more exotic, 'cause he's a man who lives on the edge. He had to go and hook up with Tania Joya, reformed religious extremist and the ex-wife of a white guy from Texas who converted to Islam and became "the highest-ranking American in ISIS." (Now that's a bloke you want to bring home to mom!) 

So yeah, not only did Van Taylor step in it, he tracked it all over the house and then stepped in it again. 

Naturally, The Daily Mail was all over this shit. Taylor's paramour (and "former ISIS bride") had this to say about her fling with the disgraced congressman:

"He didn't take me on a single date in eight months. He was like, no, I'm too famous, everywhere I go I get harassed." (Well smell you, Harry Styles!) Joya also talked about Taylor's sexual appetites: "For me it was making love, but for him it was just sex....four, five times a night, he was all over me." ('Scuse me while I fetch ye olde barf bucket.) 

"I'm not much of a man by the light of day, 

but by night I'm one hell of a love-ahhh."

But Joya wasn't the one who ran to the media to spill the beans about her affair with Taylor. Instead, she sought out a homeschooling Republican "supermom" named Suzanne Harp, who "arranged" the interview between Joya and The Daily Mail. Would it surprise you to know that Harp ALSO happened to be vying for Van Taylor's congressional seat? In fact, she was touted by her campaign as "the conservative, pro-Trump, America First candidate." 

Ugh, you can almost smell the MAGAtry wafting through the screen.

Although she was erroneously named in The Daily Mail as "Suzanne Hart," Harp at least got to insert herself into the drama and score some more brownie points with Dear Leader Trump, which I'm sure thrilled her to no end. 

Seriously, there are NO sympathetic players in this entire farce. Zero, zip, zilch, none. Which brings me to last Saturday's mass shooting. 

I'm not even going to name that dead fuckface shooter, since posthumous notoriety was one of his goals. I will say that it's been amusing to watch Fox News and other conservative outlets tie themselves in knots trying to argue that there's no way the killer could've been a right-wing nut and of course the shooting had to be gang-related, simply because the dude was Hispanic. Well, bullshit. White supremacy reaches far and wide, and today's neo-Nazis are all too happy to accept acolytes who don't fit the stereotypical "master race" ideal, as long as they're willing to help further the cause. I know it, Fox News knows it, even the idiot QAnons know it. 

When news broke about the mass shooting Saturday, John and I turned on the TV to check out the reports on the latest violent rampage in the only economically advanced nation in the world where this sort of thing happens regularly.  

That's when Keith Self popped up on CNN to offer his two cents. John and I were like, hey, it's that guy! Up to that point, we'd never heard him speak; we'd only known him as a big, bald, static character from Van Taylor's endless campaign ads. Then he opened his gob, and we suddenly loathed him as much as VT did. 

Keith Self started in with the usual, "What a terrible tragedy, thoughts and prayers, yadda, yadda, yadda," bullshit. And then this happened:

PAULA REID: "You know congressman, that is a common refrain after mass shootings, but many people argue that prayers are not cutting it. Prayers are not preventing the next mass shooting. What is your response to that criticism?" 

KS: "Well, those are people that don't believe in an almighty God who has, who is absolutely in control of our lives. I'm a Christian, I believe that He is."

Translation: "Let's not kid ourselves. We all know that, as a Texas Republican lawmaker, my ass is bought and paid for by my true Lord and Savior, the NRA. As a matter of fact, I'd drop to my knees and suck off Wayne LaPierre in the town square at high noon if need be, just to keep that sweet gun money rolling in. But since I'm on national TV, I'll take this chance to throw my Evangelical base a bone and proclaim that the only logical solution to gun violence is MORE JESUS. Now, praise the Lord and pass the ammunition. Hallelujah!"

So that was the story of a man named Taylor, who fucked a former religious fanatic and flushed his political career down the crapper, thus paving the way for an even worse type of fanatic to swoop in and take over.

And they all lived miserably ever after!  

THE END

(....or is it?)

HULU'S CANDY VS. THE OTHER ONE

Fine, I'll admit it: once in a while I'll give in and watch a sensationalistic "ripped from the headlines" miniseries on streaming. Last summer I caught the Hulu miniseries Candy, based on the true story of the Texas church lady who got bored with her marriage, had an affair with another church lady's husband, and.......things didn't end well. 

As shows like that go, it was entertaining, and the acting was surprisingly good. I especially appreciated how they nailed the look and feel of middle America in 1980, when even healthy 30-year-old adults looked like they were pushing 55 because the hairstyles, clothes, and eyewear of the time made everyone appear all middle-aged and dowdy.  

Jessica Biel in Candy

Now there's another miniseries about the Betty Gore murder, HBO's Love & Death. Even before I tried to watch it, I knew it would be inferior to Candy. First of all, what a generic title. I know, I know, it's an allusion to the famous article that inspired the book (see above), but still. Second of all (if I may continue whining), it's the same title as one of my favorite Woody Allen movies. Of course, I'm sure the show's target audience isn't aware of Allen's 1975 parody of Russian war novels, but I am, dammit. I even own it on DVD.

Watch this one instead.
 

Then there's the poster: a wet Elizabeth Olsen gazing beatifically at the camera. I'm sorry, I can't get behind Elizabeth Olsen, and it's not just because her nose job bugs me. 

Hypocritical of me, I realize.

Lastly, this promotional still looks like it's from one of John Waters' lesser satires, a la Serial Mom. 

I tried to watch the premier over the weekend. I wanted to like it, I really did. But the opening scene featured the key characters sitting around, vomiting exposition at each other, and I hate that. Long story short, I only made it 20 minutes before I gave up completely.

Maybe I'll try again with it at some point. But probably not.

And now for an embarrassing confession: John and I drove by Betty Gore's old house to rubberneck. 

The address is public (unfortunately for the current owners) but the house is fairly difficult to find, so there's that. We passed by a couple in another car who seemed to be circling the block for the exact same reason we were. Really embarrassing. 

I took a half-assed photo. 

So, that happened.

IT'S OSCAR NIGHT!
WWWSS?*

 

*Who Would Will Smith Slap?

Of course we know who he slapped at last year's Oscars, but WWWSS this year? Oh wait, Will Smith is banned from the Oscars for like 10 years or something due to his violent assholery. Oopsie! Sorry, bitch. Maybe you and the wife can order in some Door Dash and console yourself with a Jada Pinkett film festival. May I recommend Jason's Lyric, Woo, and Set It Off? (Not being sarcastic here, I actually enjoyed those films when I saw them 25+ years ago.) 

I have to say, as fucked up as the whole asinine incident was, that pic above of The Infamous Slap kinda cracks me up. The way Will's flinging his hand back makes him look sooooooo nelly, which I'm sure was NOT his intention, since he was all hopped up on that rage-y macho alpha male He-Man bullshit. But seriously, check out his hand. Will Smith couldn't have looked more ridiculous if he'd marched up there and thwacked Chris Rock across the face with a pair of white gloves. "Sir, you go too far! Pistols at dawn!"

And then the Academy went and gave WS the Oscar anyway! And for King Richard? WTF was the thinking behind that film? "Hey, you know Venus and Serena Williams? Let's make a biopic! But maybe not about them. Hold on, I know! Let's make a movie about their dad! BRILLIANT!" Oy, like tennis isn't boring enough. The only sport more boring than tennis is golf, which, come to think of it, Will Smith also made a golf movie back in the day, The Legend of Bagger Vance. I didn't see that one either, because it looked dull as a dog's arse. But Will--for real--stop making movies about boring sports. And dumb futuristic sci-fi flicks with your untalented offspring. And earnest manipulative tear-jerkers with your untalented offspring. Also? Your wife is a tiresome self-righteous hag who loves the smell of her own farts. But you already know that.

So okay, since Will Smith is banished from the premises, who will administer the onstage bitch-slap at tonight's ceremony? Place your bets! I'm guessing the entire cast of Everything Everywhere All At Once will storm the stage if nominees Michelle Yeoh, Stephanie Hsu, Ke Huy Quan, and Jamie Lee Curtis all end up getting the shaft. Although wouldn't it be amusing if Stephanie Hsu--Best Supporting Actress nominee for EEAAO--won over Jamie Lee, also a Best Supporting Actress nominee for EEAAO? Especially given the way JLC has been campaigning her ass off with her over-the-top Michelle Yeoh worship and all that cringey grandstanding? I swear, she's morphed into a character from (her real-life husband!) Christopher Guest's movie, For Your Consideration, which I maintain is his greatest film. I mean, I liked Waiting for Guffman and Best In Show, but IMHO For Your Consideration (and A Mighty Wind, for that matter) are criminally underappreciated. 

"I love that you did all this work, and it will serve you well. But not on this movie."

A part of me wants to believe that Jamie Lee actually is trolling everyone with all these overwrought interviews and bizarre antics during this award season, as an homage to the sort of characters her husband writes. 

For instance, did anyone catch this performance piece?

Gee, do you think she's grateful to MICHELLE YEOH? I couldn't quite tell. If only she'd cleared that up. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, terrified that Jamie Lee Curtis doesn't adequately appreciate MICHELLE YEOH. Does she fully grasp all the contributions that MICHELLE YEOH has made to humanity? I mean, come on! MICHELLE FUCKING YEOH, BITCHES!

I read a funny tweet pitching an idea for the next Halloween installment: It should open with Michael Myers repeatedly stabbing MICHELLE YEOH, while Laurie Strode stands by shrieking, "MICHELLE YEOH! MICHELLE YEOH! MICHELLE YEOH!" Cut to the next scene with Laurie in a padded cell, rocking back and forth, softly murmuring "Michelle Yeoh, Michelle Yeoh, Michelle Yeoh....."

Now THERE'S your Oscar-bait! 

I'M EVERY WOMAN, IT'S ALL IN ME....

Yes, I tried the AI photo thing. My friend Misty put me up to it, but honestly I didn't need much convincing. This shit is fabulous! 

You have to submit a ton of pictures for the AI thing to really work its magic, which was initially a problem for me. You see, I had rhinoplasty back in April and most of the photos I have of myself are pre-nose job. I remedied this by making sure I uploaded a shot of my new profile, which seemed to work, as the AI program was able to incorporate my brand spankin' new, bought-and-paid-for schnozzle into most of the images. (Don't worry, I won't be writing a post detailing my rhinoplasty journey.* Nobody cares about anyone else's nose; it's only meaningful to the person who has the procedure. Well, and their plastic surgeon, hopefully.)

1940's Me.
John says it looks like a postage stamp.
I think I kinda look like a blonde version
of the Sun-maid Raisins girl. 

Ancient Greek Me.
This one is John's favorite, probably because
I look vaguely like a wood sprite.

Ottoman Bride Me. Random, but I like it.

Cyborg Me. I thought this would be John's favorite, 
since he's a big sci-fi guy.

1950s Chic Me. 
Not gonna lie, this set rules.

1950s Me, the non-chic version. 
They used my old nose here, but whatever.
I still like it. 

WWII Nurse Me. I think the uniform is cool,
but what the hell is going on with my mouth? 
I have never made that face before in my life.

Egyptian Queen Me.
YASSS QUEEN!!!

1970s Me, looking very Gloria Steinem.
I dig it, but where are my eyebrows? 

Okay, I fucking LOVE this one.

1980's Punk Me. My absolute favorite.

 
*Question: has anyone else noticed that everything is a "journey" now? It's all, "my pregnancy journey," "my weight-loss journey," "my colonoscopy journey," "my ingrown toenail journey," et cetera. The fucking Oprah-speak is everywhere these days. I wish George Carlin were still alive, because I'd love to hear his rant about this. He was so good at deconstructing and skewering that sort of bullshit. 

As long as I'm showing off pictures (and since I don't have much else to post at the moment), here are some paintings I did this year.

Stevie was my inspiration, although I didn't attempt to capture her floofiness.

I really enjoy painting fruit. I can see why it's a popular subject for artists.

Watermelon, watermelon.

This one is titled: There's a Moon in the Sky (Called the Moon).

Sabrina is a freelance art critic.

Below is my latest work, painted two nights ago when I randomly woke up at 2:30am completely wide awake and realized I wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon. Inspiration struck, and I had a sudden urge to paint the Colorforms logo. I loved Colorforms. They were one of my favorite toys as a little kid, and they kept my sister and me entertained on many a long car trip back in the day. 

If you're unfamiliar with the creators of Colorforms, read about them here. It's one of the best starving artist success stories ever. The guy who ended up designing the logo itself was also quite interesting, a graphic artist from New York who also did the logos for IBM, ABC (the network), UPS, and tons of others. Brilliant dude. 

Anyhoo, here's my stab at recreating the Colorforms logo. It took me a lot longer than I anticipated; the hardest part was getting the proportions exactly right, which I think I did. It's still not perfect, but fine for a spontaneous, wee-hours-of-the-morning project.

And because lately I've been ending all my posts with videos, here is a random sampling of songs that I listened to a lot in 2022, according to Spotify:

As you can see, I kinda got into Habibi this year. They're rather brilliant. 

     

 ADVENTURES IN SCAMBAITING PART VIII:
EAT A DICK, ELON

With apologies to the late Warren Zevon:

Poor, poor, pitiful me

Poor, poor, pitiful me

These fake accounts won't let me be

Lord have mercy on me

Woe is me

Well, this one was certainly topical, I'll say that for him. Here's a hint: which famous shithead has been stinking up the news cycle over the past two weeks?

If your answer was THIS jackhole:

Congrats! You win a blue checkmark.

Use it in good health.

I was in a shitty, morose mood yesterday morning, having just learned of Andy Taylor's stage four cancer diagnosis. I was so psyched about Duran Duran's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction, and looking forward to watching Andy rock out with his former bandmates on the November 19th broadcast. Being blindsided with that horrible news about Andy sucked big time. And when I noticed I had an IG message from "creativeelon," well....I was a bit bitey, to say the least.

 

^^^^^ Yeah, this fuckface actually tried to call me through IG. Declined!

Guess I pissed him off. 

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Well, whatever. Time for some self-care, as the youngsters say. This song does it for me.