JAZZ FOR LAUGHS (PART 03)

My next guest in this series is a bunch
of 1930s musicians* who had a hunch
that most orchestras of that time
played less than lofty and sublime
so they formed a band whose bliss was
to fashion high-class music such as this was:

Speaking of a bunch, do you like bananas? I like bananas, no bones about it. Here’s why:

And now for a little traveling music….

Well, if you ask me, that’s taking traveling a bit too far. Why wander the world in limbo with limbs akimbo when I can settle down with a bimbo down on the Bamboo Isle?

And with that, Isle see ya next time, music lovers.

 

 

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JAZZ FOR LAUGHS (PART 01)

This post is JAZZ FOR LAUGHS — or, more to the part, the first in a series of JAZZ FOR LAUGHS posts. Just for laughs is my musical theme — when it comes to funny, I’ll stop at nothing. So, when you hear Nothing, it means something. Or Nothing At All.

So, what’s so funny about that song, you ask. Nothing. Nothing at all. But I needed a lead-in, and that’s the best I could do. Seriously. Speaking of seriously….

Well, that clip started out well, but I must admit it Peter-ed out after a while. (Did you get it — Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky “Peter-ed” out….hahahahaha.) So enough of the serious stuff. Let’s see what else drives Spike to drink….

As the horse said to the horse traitor who led him to firewater, “I’ll drunk to that” (with apologies to Dorothy Parker, who once said, “You can lead a whore to culture, but you can’t make her think.” Horticulture has had a soiled reputation ever since.).

THIS POST IS A DRAG

Having been a ‘square’ since round one of my life, I’ve never been too interested in the affairs of those of various and sundry sexual orientations. There are lots of ‘different’ people who aren’t on the same wavelength and/or don’t meet with other people’s approval, but I can’t help that — I’ve got my own problems. My mantra has been: To each his own. Live and let live. Whatever rattles your cage. Etc.

You may think the reason I’m writing this is because I have just experienced a sudden conversion and intend to become a zealot for the causes of the transsexual, transvestite, transgendered….etc. Not so. I’m still an old-fashioned, “You go your way, I’ll go mine” kind of gay — er, guy. But issues surrounding the foregoing have come increasingly to the fore in recent years, so I’m finally taking the trouble to educate myself a bit. How much time can it take to see if you can put yourself in the other guy’s/gal’s/gay’s shoes for a moment? They may not fit, but food for thought won’t make you fat.

http://www.medicaldaily.com/what-difference-between-transsexual-and-transgender-facebooks-new-version-its-complicated-271389

Then there is the biblical story of the prodi-gal son (forgive me, Father, for I have punned) as a reminder that sexual duality is nothing new. It’s been around since long before Commodus was commodious and Nero fiddled around. Would they have not been tyrants if they had been straight arrows? Isn’t that like saying a magician would not be an illusionist if he had one less rabbit in his bag of tricks? (I just pulled that one out of the hat — no doubt you can come up with a better analogy.)

And on that venture into the androgynous zone, I will close with this:

There’s a gender in your brain and a gender in your body. For 99 percent of people, those things are in alignment. For transgender people, they’re mismatched. That’s all it is. It’s not complicated, it’s not a neurosis. It’s a mix-up. It’s a birth defect, like a cleft palate.” — Chaz Bono

Who is Chaz Bono? Click on this 2009 video clip, then click where it says Watch on YouTube:

 

MER-SEA

In comments to a Jan.2 Peach of a post titled Fallen Angel, I included links to BEYOND THE SEA and LA MER (English and French versions of the same song). Diana Peach’s preternatural post & both song links can be found here: https://mythsofthemirror.com/

I bring this up because that song is just one of several ‘beautiful’ sea songs I recall, and I thought I’d take a stroll down memory lane — or should I say, memory beach. I invite you to join me….that is, if you don’t mind getting sand — as I don’t mind getting….

And now let us start our stroll:

Of course, there is more than one way to see the sea — you can join the Navy:

You say the Navy’s not your cup of sea? Then let us end our stroll like Mr. Bean, oblivious to all else, bidding glorious adieu to….

Mer-sea beaucoup.

DUBIOUS PROPOSITIONS

I’m a big fan of old sayings, but even I concede that some sayings could no more pass the proverbial smell test than a rodent could pass a spell(ing) test. They may seem innoscent enough, but smellegant isn’t the same as elegant, and you must admit that a proverb like A turd in the hand is worth two in the tush is less than elegant. Really, close encounters of the turd kind could leave you holding your nose….if not checking your rear-view mirror.

That said, are such askew old sayings any less farcical than the twisted tweets America’s Tweeter-in-Chief oft twitters? “Fake news!”…”fake news!”…”fake news!” And if ANYONE can smell (like) a rat when it comes to fake news, it is obviously President Tweety Turd.

Leaving the President’s behind for a moment, here are some classic old sayings. Can you make out the fakeout — aka smell the rat — in these venerable gems?

If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and mocks like a mocking bird, duck — it’s The Donald.

A watched pot never boils….but it may get a bit peeved.

A rolling stone gathers no animosity.

A fool and his honey are soon parted.

Faint heart ne’er won bare lady.

Oil and water don’t mix — got that, Slick?

You can’t get blood out of a turnip, but you can get honey out of two-lips.

Monkey pee pee, monkey do do (easy come, easy go).

Dead men tell no tales, but some may leave a will which does.

Friends and would-be heirs, some of the above were almost enough to make me gag, but I can assure your butt that not every old phrase strays in dubious ways. For example:

….and this:

….and this:

Oh….and I almost forgot this old saying: HAPPY NEW YEAR!

 

 

 

Z END (AT LAST)

With Z 26th letter of Z alphabet/26th post of this series, we come equally to Z end of both. This calls for Z celebration….so “Come wiz me to ze Casbah” and we make sweet music together. Z girl songs, zey may be few, but zat does not mean we need end on Z sour note.

Ah, ze Casbah in old ALGIERS — where French-turned-American actor Charles Boyer famously put the above Come to ze Casbah come-on on the beautiful Hedy Lamarr….or did he? To answer zat question, you must comme see for yourself:

http://www.tcm.com/this-month/article/121579%7C0/Algiers.html

Comme saw?

But I digress from the music, for which we turn first to beautiful American-turned-French (due to racism in America) entertainer, Josephine Baker:

We turn next to one of England’s finest (and one of my favorite) composers, Noel Coward, whose urbane, wistful lyrics graced such great songs as A ROOM WITH A VIEW and….

And now we come to the song I referred to (in reply to a comment to my previous post) as, strictly speaking, not qualified for this post….the reason being that it starts with T. However, the T is silent; for all intents and purposes, and in a pronounced way, it’s a Z song….and a rousing, joyous one it is, for “Dawn will find us laughing in the sunlight, dancing, dancing, dancing with my Tzena”:

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

This is my last post until after the holidays, as this series has been music to my ears at the expense of other demands and endeavors (once I got on a roll, I got caught up in posting every third day despite not intending such frequency). Now, before catching up becomes the impossible dream, it behooves me to hustle while I work at getting around to tackling those other endeavors….such as catching some more Zs.

If I’m too sound asleep to be ‘alarmed’ by all this by the end of the year, wake me when it’s over.

Y ME, LORD

Friends, if you Xpected an X post after my W post, U haven’t been paying attention, because as I’ve previously Xplained, X is out. Even X post facto, there is no X factor here. Y? There are no old songs with girls named X in the title, that’s Y. That’s Y U C Y here.

Now that we got that straightened out, a word to the Ys: even if I were a Ys man (or a Ys guy, for that matter), I am not Ys enough to know more than one or two Y girl songs. So let’s start with that, and then, if necessary, I’ll pray for God’s help to find another Y song.

Sorry I asked, Lord. I could have done without that last one.