ACHING NEWS

Due to the fact that a growing portion of the news on TV in recent years is blown up as BREAKING NEWS, it’s a wonder there’s any news left in one piece. It strikes me that TV ‘journalism’ has fallen into such a decrepit condition, even Humpty Dumpty wouldn’t want to trade places with what remains of it. To those of us who fondly remember the class of Edward R. Murrow, Walter Cronkite, and the like, cable news overkill is a heart-breaking state of affairs — and heart-breaking affairs, of course, can only leave….

Yes, friends, I’m afraid this world has come to a pretty pass. My heart aches for the return of the good old days when men were men, women were women, news was news, and Presidents were a cut above a pain in the dis-ass-ter. Pardon my language, but that’s the….

What’s to do about it?

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SCREENINGS FOR ELLA

“….any day with Ella Fitzgerald is a grand day. ….that song [is] another one I hadn’t heard before.” –from a June 13 comment to my last (June 6th) post by Silver Screenings (a blog published by ‘Ruth’)

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In my reply to Ruth, I noted that with June 15 nearing (the 23rd anniversary of Ella’s death), I’d use the occasion to post a remembrance, including clips of other songs she may not have heard Ella sing. Over the years, I’ve probably done over a dozen Ella clips, including a half dozen in my April 25th post titled THE FIRST LADY OF SONG. After screening a few previous Ella posts to try to avoid repetition, hopefully the songs that follow will fall fresh on Ruth’s ‘Ella-fan-true’ ears (as opposed to mistermuse’s Elephant ears).

Let’s start with an early Ella (as ‘girl’ vocalist with Chick Webb’s Orchestra in April 1936):

Next, we turn from the swinging Ella to a more dreamy Ella:

Before you tune out, I know some of you guys aren’t fans of my kind of music (or the songbirds who warble it), so next time I’ll consider a return to posting about your (and Mexico’s) favorite tweeter of note, Donaldo el Trumpo — mean-o-while, I bid you a fond….

THE FIRST LADY OF SONG

The only thing better than singing is more singing. –Ella Fitzgerald

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Today marks the birthday (4/25/1917) of one of my all-time favorite female jazz vocalists, Ella Fitzgerald. Nearly forty years ago, I had the pleasure of seeing/hearing The First Lady of Song (as she was fittingly known) when she was appearing in San Francisco at a time I happened to be there. Her performance that night confirmed what I’d dug from decades of collecting her records and listening to her sing and interpret lyrics as only she could.

Ella, my musical muse and soulmate in song, for all the ‘spiritual’ pleasure you brought (and continue to bring) me and countless other fans over the years, this post is….

Like the Lady said at the start, the only thing better than singing is more singing (especially when It’s Wonderful singing):

I first got hooked on (and continue to love) Ella’s feel for a song as the ‘girl’ vocalist with Chick Webb’s Band in the mid-to-late 1930s. Even before reaching stardom, there was little doubt she meant it when she expressed….

….and then she became the band’s BIG attraction when her rendition of A-TISKET, A TASKET became a #1 hit in 1938. Later in her career, Ella’s vocals evolved into more of a scat-singing style, but I didn’t scat from evolving with her and echoing….

….and I hope it’s all right with you.

 

THE RAIN IN TWAIN FALLS MAINLY ON THE BRAIN

It is best to read the weather forecast before we pray for rain. –Mark Twain

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It’s funny — April is NATIONAL HUMOR MONTH, but soddenly I don’t feel very humorous. It’s coming down in buckets out there, and some of what’s in the buckets is making its way into my basement. I hope whoever’s praying for rain is satisfied — now how about praying for it to stop? It’s bad enough that Mother Nature keeps raining on my head when I go outside — I don’t need her to greet my feet as a dweller in my cellar when I go down in the dungeon.

‘s no use. No letup in sight. Keeps rainin’ all the time….

But am I going to let a reign of rain ruin what I’m doin’? No way! Others can be a Debbie Downer, despairing in the deluge. It’s in my Genes to be….

P.S. The title of this post is word play on a song from a hit 1956 Broadway musical later made into a movie starring Rex Harrison and Audrey Hepburn. Can you name the song?

 

TALK ABOUT A SITE FOR SORE….FEET

Friends, if you neglected to take advantage of TAKE A WALK IN THE PARK DAY on March 30 (not to mention WALK AROUND THINGS DAY on April 4), you can still take steps to walk the walk today, which happens to be NATIONAL WALK TO WORK DAY (if you’ve already gone to work via a conveyance other than your feet, you have my permission to walk home FROM work. Why let a technicality stand in the way of exercising your rights….and lefts.

Obviously, those of us who are retired can’t walk to work, and those who work from home should have spent the night elsewhere in order to walk to work this morning, but it’s too late to do anything about that now (just don’t let it happen again).

Now, perhaps you think that three days dedicated to walking within a span of six days is going a bit too far, but let’s face it — without something that reminds you to get off your butt, you would probably just sit there all day working or (if you’re retired) blogging, neither of which is good for your heart. So do as I do:

OK, guess I’d better quit while I’m ahead, before we get the….

TAKE A WALK IN THE PARK DAY

March 30 is TAKE A WALK IN THE PARK DAY. Notwithstanding the condition of my feet (as you can understand from my March 20 FOOT TALK post), I thought I’d prepare ahead of the event by going for a walk on my post-erior, which is parked chair-side inside a blog somewhere in my PC, waiting to be liberated. So, let’s get a head start PDQ with a song befitting the occasion:

So you see, my fellow carcass parkers: as escapism goes, that really wasn’t so hard, was it? You might even say it was a walk in the park. Let’s keep it going with this humdinger:

Of course, if you’re a man’s-best-friend-lover, you wouldn’t think of taking a walk in the park without….

Speaking of walkin’ the dog, I’ll be doggone if I didn’t forget to bring along my pooper scooper — not to mention my dog. Wait a minute — I don’t own a dog. Nonetheless, my dogs are killing me, so it’s time to switch gears and leave the rest of the walking in park. When you gotta go, you gotta go. Like post-haste.

 

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.