LIPS SERVICE

The title of today’s post is LIPS SERVICE — as distinguished from ROOM SERVICE — although I’m informed there are major hot-els and inns, both in-and-outside of iniquitous areas, where hot lips can be ordered (what one might call inn-clusive room service).

And then there’s Major Hot Lips Houlihan, which may be a stretch (what one might call post thematic stretch syndrome), but hopefully you can use the exercise as much as I can use the connection:

Coincidently (speaking of seeking hot lips), Robert HOOKER was the author of the novel MASH, on which the movie of that name (1970) and TV series M*A*S*H (1972-83) were based. HOOKER, born 2/1/1924, was the pen name of Korean War Army surgeon H. Robert Hornberger Jr. A very Happy upcoming Birthday to you, good sir, wherever you are.

Two years before “Hot Lips” creator Hooker was born, this red hot song was conceived by composer/orchestra leader Henry Busse:

So you see, friends, this post is not just paying lip service to LIPS SERVICE. This lips service is a hip service because it’s a ‘sound’ follow-up to last week’s THE KISSING POST. It’s in the groove. It’s on record.

Will my next post continue along the lines of this post and THE KISSING POST?

My lips are sealed.

 

 

 

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THE KISSING POST

I am in favor of preserving the French habit of kissing ladies’ hands–after all, one must start somewhere. –Sacha Guitry, French actor, playwright and film maker

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The title of today’s post is THE KISSING POST– not to be confused with THE HITCHING POST, which would be a post about the ceremony of getting hitched (after kissing went to the hand-kisser’s head). Alternatively, THE HITCHING POST could be a post about a post to which you tether your horse….as opposed to your spouse (pardon my horse play).

Be that as it may, it may interest you to know that anthropologists believe kissing is a learned behavior. But they believe above all in science, so what competence could anthropologists possibly have in the field of kissing….with the likely exception of Parisian anthropologists, who are said to have French kissing down to an art….in the interest of science? C’est une bonne planque!*

Knowing that many of my readers are serious about science, you would no doubt like to know where I came up with what “it may interest you to know” — so, just so you know:

https://people.howstuffworks.com/kissing2.htm

As for the romantic barbarians among you, far be it from me to kiss you off. Kiss on!

*Nice work if you can get it!

I’LL MEET YOU AT THE OLD CAMP MEETING

It has been some time since I devoted a post to one of my passions, namely CLASSIC JAZZ, so what say we ramble on down to the old camp meeting and get some jazz religion? If you’re not a classic jazz lover, perhaps it’s because you’ve never been exposed or open to the sound of America’s own indigenous music, with its roots in late 19th century ragtime, gospel and blues, among other influences. So I’m making it my mission (and New Year’s resolution) to deliver you from that sin of omission in your musical faith upbringing.

One of the greatest pioneering jazzmen was New Orleans-born Joseph “King” Oliver, mentor of Louis Armstrong, who made a number of historic jazz records beginning in 1923, including CAMP MEETING BLUES. Here is the beginning of that primitive recording, which transitions beautifully (after 37 seconds) into the PERUNA JAZZMEN’s 1988 faithful-to-the-original rendering:

Next, we turn to an even more recent rendering of an even older Camp Meeting song:

:

Our last Camp Meeting is a Swing era classic from another king, the King of Swing, Benny Goodman:

Now that you have seen the light, go and sin no more.

Amen.

Oh….and Happy New Year!

 

OH, THE JOY! OH, THE JOY!

“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.” –Aldous Huxley

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I consider myself to be both a lover of ‘adult’ music and a pretty fair writer, but I’ve never felt capable of being an authoritative writer about music. For example, when I listen to music that moves me, I’m at a loss for words to express why it does so — case in point, the joy of re-experiencing this clip which I’d posted once before (OH, THE JOY! on 7/21/15):

I’ve played this clip several times, and it draws me in every time. Why? Is it the power of the music, the build-up of the way it’s staged, my identification with the gathering crowd, especially the children, reacting like they can’t resist the allure of beckoning Christmas or birthday presents? Beats me.

Speaking of Christmas and birthdays, Dec. 16 is the birthday not only of ODE TO JOY composer LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN, but of another composer (as well as playwright, singer, actor, etc.) whose sophisticated songs are always like Christmas presents to my ears, NOEL COWARD. Here, from the 1933 Academy Award-winning best picture CAVALCADE, is one of my favorite Noel Coward songs:

But wait — there’s more! What’s more, I saved it more or less as the best(?) for last. I refer to none other than YOSEMITE SAM, who made his entrance into the world in STAGE DOOR CARTOON on Dec. 16, 1944. So, without further ado, I present for your listening pleasure, my man Sam performing a looney tune which is, without question, the most magnum opus of merry melodies since Ode To Joy (eat your heart out, Ludwig):

So, if you were born tomorrow (Dec. 16) and haven’t yet joined your birthday brothers in pursuing musical fame and fortune, I hope you will take note and give it a shot.

That’s all, folks!

SCAT!

Wait — don’t scat! Stay where you are and let scat come to you — scat singing, that is — and who better to lay the scat on you than two of the best: Mel Tormé, whose birthday (9/13/25) we celebrate this month, and the First Lady of Scat, Ella Fitzgerald:

Man, if that didn’t knock your socks off, you’d better put your shoes on and scat back to Squaresville, because you’re just not with it! To say scat singing is little more than vocal jazz improvisation with nonsense words is like saying The Donald is just improvising when he lets loose with nonsense tweets (to use a reverse perverse metaphor).

So, who was the cat who ‘invented’ scat? There seems to be no definitive answer, but some say it began 2/26/26 when Louis Armstrong supposedly forgot the words to this song and began improvising a little more than halfway through the recording:

Let’s wrap it up with this recent scat-iteration (which, I kid you not, ends with tweets):

And now you can scat! Come back any time.

IT’S REIGNING CATS AND DOGS

This morning’s newspaper brings news of “another copycat slinking in on Rabbit Hash’s paw-litical scene.” As long-time readers may recall from my posts of 7/27/17 and earlier, Rabbit Hash is a small canine-run KY town on the banks of the Ohio River, not far from…

Now It seems that the small village of Omena, Michigan, has elected as mayor a feline named Sweet Tart (not to mention two dogs and a goat elected to lesser offices), and has received no small amount of pub in the bargain:

Friends, I’m not saying that the Kentucky town is trying to hog all the attention for having an animal mayor, but one gets the impression that Rabbit Hash feels Omena is horning in on their territory. Bobbi Kayser, ex-exec secretary and campaign manager to the former mayor, border collie Lucy Lou (who ran on the slogan “The Bitch You Can Count On”), admitted as much in the news article. “It all started here in Rabbit Hash–a tradition that Rabbit Hash could claim as its own. Now, we can’t. I’m a bit resentful. I’ve heard that in addition to the cat in Michigan, down south there is a donkey serving as mayor.”

Personally, I have a bigger problem with the jackass serving in the oval office, who yesterday referred to former White House counsel John Dean as a “rat” for his part in exposing Watergate. Unlike the Lyin’ King, Sweet Tart wasn’t born on Easy Street — as a kitten, she was found abandoned and half-starved alongside a trail near Omena in 2009. So I say “Lighten Up, Rabbit Hash” and “Good for Sweet Tart!” Just because people get jealous and fight like cats and dogs, doesn’t mean animals should lower themselves to human standards.

 

WHEEL OF MISFORTUNE

When misfortune comes, take it like a man–blame it on your wife. –Evan Esar

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Many of us suffer an unanticipated misfortune at some point in our lives. It could be the missed fortune of being left out of the will of a rich cousin you loved like a brother (until the ungrateful s.o.b. left every cent he had to his actual brother)….or it could be distress under duress, like your mistress taking egress, leaving you in a mess, no less, with your wife. Or, if you are a wife, perhaps you got wind of, not only the mistress on the side, but the ‘steady at the ready’ and the ‘wench on the bench’ (otherwise known as having too many loins in the fire). Yes, friends, misfortune is an ill wind which blows no good…

Now, far be it from mistermuse to blame his misfortunes on his wife. As a matter of tact, if it weren’t for my wife, I don’t know what I would do (or is it, wouldn’t do?). Yes, friends, mistermuse has been a sappily married man for 49 years, 10 months, and 13 days now, and I can honestly say it doesn’t seem like a day over 49 years, 10 months, and 12 days.

That said, game on. Let’s see what other men have had to say on the subject:

Wives are people who feel that they don’t dance enough. –Groucho Marx

How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who treats her as if she were a perfectly natural being? –Oscar Wilde

If Presidents can’t do it to their wives, they do it to their countries. –Mel Brooks

No matter how happily married a woman may be, it always pleases her to discover that there is a nice man who wishes she were not. –H. L. Mencken

My advice to you is get married: if you find a good wife you’ll be happy; if not, you’ll become a philosopher. –Socrates

Some wives are like fishermen: they think the best ones got away. –Evan Esar

I’ve had bad luck with both my wives. The first one left me and the second one didn’t. –Patrick Murray

A man placed an ad in the classifieds: “Wife wanted.” Next day he received over a hundred replies: “You can have mine.” –Anonymous

NOTE: The last quote is absolutely NOT mine!