#hail columbia
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Sixteen minutes from home. Remembering the crew of Columbia STS-107, twenty years ago today.
Colonel Rick Douglas Husband, USAF (July 12, 1957 – February 1, 2003)
Commander William Cameron McCool, USN (September 23, 1961 – February 1, 2003)
Captain David McDowell Brown, USN (April 16, 1956 – February 1, 2003)
Kalpana Chawla (March 17, 1962 – February 1, 2003)
Lieutenant Colonel Michael Phillip Anderson, USAF (December 25, 1959 – February 1, 2003)
Captain Laurel Blair Salton Clark, M.D., USN (March 10, 1961 – February 1, 2003)
Colonel Ilan Ramon, IAF (June 20, 1954 – February 1, 2003)
#hail columbia#may their memories be a blessing#STS-107#columbia#space shuttle#NASA#astronauts#rick husband#willie mccool#dave brown#kalpana chawla#kc chawla#mike anderson#michael anderson#laurel clark#ilan ramon
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Joseph Hopkinson by Thomas Sully
Joseph Hopkinson, a close friend of Napoleon’s brother Joseph, was born in Philadelphia on November 12, 1770. Hopkinson was a lawyer, musician, writer, politician and judge. He and his wife, Emily, hosted a lively salon and mentored artists and writers. One of the things Hopkinson was renowned for during his lifetime was writing “Hail Columbia.” This was the de facto national anthem of the United States for most of the 19th century. It remained a contender until 1931, when “The Star-Spangled Banner” officially gained the title. “Hail Columbia” is now the official Vice Presidential anthem. For details, see “Joseph Hopkinson, Joseph Bonaparte’s Great Friend.”
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Victoria’s HAIL THE VOID Airs Powerful New LP, ‘Memento Mori’
~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~
By Billy Goate
Artwork by Welder Wings
The record begins with a blinding stream of feedback, a swirling black hole engulfing us with screeching guitar, bruising bass, and cries forever lost. It is the portal through which we must pass to enter the unparalleled sonic world of HAIL THE VOID.
The B.C. trio caught us all off-guard with their eponymous debut in 2020, stirring quite up a sensation. We recognized they were the real deal and gave 'em a Doomie in 2021. Ripple Music picked them up around then, with the promise of issuing their next album. I couldn't have imagined a better follow-up, but Hail The Void's second full-length has done it.
The album title is in Latin, 'Memento Mori' (2023), and when translated sobers us all up: "Remember That You Die." A fitting inscription for a band whose sound is grim on the one hand, urgent on the other. Take Kirin Gudmunson's disquieted vocals of "Writing on the Wall." The doom keeps your feet firmly planted on the ground, while the singing soars like a restless ghost on a starlit night.
Elsewhere, Gudmundson's approach is bluesy ("Goldwater"), gritty & untamed ("Talking To The Dead"), and replete with bittersweet overtones ("100 Pills"). He's got one of the more formidable voices in our heavy music universe, commanding an impressive range that's somewhere in the neighborhood of the Chevelle, Aleph Null, and Chrome Ghost. Meanwhile, the instruments bring us Soundgardenesque heft, with Gudmundson on guitar, Dean Gustin on bass, and Curtis Bennet on drums.
"High and Rising" is the clear standout of the record. It begins with big, warm bass tone plucking out a riff, accompanied by the pitter patter of rain so familiar to those of us in the Pacific Northwest. The chorus is a floor stomper for damn sure. The band really pull out all of the stops on this one, and have plenty of time to cool down with the quasi-hypnotic "Serpens South" (don't miss its crafty guitar solo) and the chill, bluesy closer, "The Void."
Hail the Void's Memento Mori is quite right for a winter release, with its dark hues and stormy mood; yet the record is far from fallow. It is genuinely moving (those forlorn notes hit me right in the heart). Get your copy this weekend c/o Ripple Music, releasing February 17th in multiple vinyl editions, as well as CD and digital formats (pre-order here).
Today, Doomed & Stoned is giving you a listen to it all, in this world premiere.
Give ear...
SOME BUZZ
Emerging from the dense woodlands of British Columbia, Canada, Hail The Void have made their presence known within the underground stoner metal scene in the form of their self-titled debut album, which reached #4 on the Doom Charts for June 2020, and won them the “Best Debut Album” Doomie Award at the first annual Doomed and Stoned Awards. The band consists of Kirin Gudmundson (Vocals/Guitar), Dean Gustin (Bass), and Curtis Bennet (Drums). All three members bring their own contributions and influences to the heavy psychedelic doom metal sound Hail The Void is known for.
Released as part of a special series of releases curated by Ozzy Osbourne bassist Blasko, "Memento Mori" evolves from a towering and thunderous doom beast to a lysergic and spellbinding rock marvel reminiscent of the likes of Pink Floyd and King Crimson. Hail The Void produces a rich 8-track brimming with finely chiseled riffs, powerful build-ups and ardent vocals from frontman Kirin Gudmundson. A multi-dimensional record that should captivate fans of doom metal, classic rock and heavy psychedelia all at once!
Follow The Band
Get Their Music
#D&S Debuts#Hail The Void#Victoria#British Columbia#Canada#stoner metal#doom metal#Ripple Music#D&S Reviews#HeavyBest2023#Doomed and Stoned
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This is a big deal. No, $48,692.05 is in no way, shape or form a fair price for the many thousands of acres of traditional Chinook land that were never ceded but were taken by settlers anyway. However, the fact that this funding from the 1970 Indian Claims Commission settlement is being released to the tribe is the strongest move toward regaining recognition in years.
As a bit of background, the Chinook Indian Nation are some of the descendants of many indigenous communities who have lived in the Columbia-Pacific region and along the Columbia to the modern-day Dalles since time immemorial. They saw the arrival of the Lewis & Clark party to the Pacific Ocean in 1805, but shortly thereafter were devastated by waves of diseases like malaria and smallpox. The survivors signed a treaty to give up most of their land in 1851, but it was never ratified by the United States government. While some Chinookan people are currently part of federally recognized tribes such as the Yakama Nation, the Confederated Tribes of the Warm Springs Reservation, and the Confederated Tribes of the Grand Ronde Reservation, the Chinook Indian Nation--comprised of the Lower Chinook, Clatsop, Cathlamet, Willapa, and Wahkiakum--have remained largely unrecognized.
That changed briefly in 2001. On January 3 of that year, the Department of the Interior under the Clinton administration formally recognized the Chinook Indian Nation. In July 2002, the Bush administration revoked the federal recognition after complaints from the Quinault Indian Nation, as the Chinook would have had access to certain areas of what is now the Quinault reservation. This meant that the Chinook, once again, were denied funding and other resources given to federally recognized tribes, to include crucial healthcare funding during the COVID-19 pandemic.
The Chinook Indian Nation has been fighting legal battles to regain federal recognition ever since the revocation. The funding released to them in this month's court decision doesn't make them federally recognized, but it is a show of legitimacy in a tangled, opaque system that indigenous people across the United States have had to contend with for many decades. Here's hoping this is a crack in the wall keeping the Chinook from recognition, and that they get more good news soon.
#Chinook Indian Nation#Chinook#Chinookan people#indigenous people#indigenous Americans#indigenous rights#landback#federal recognition#Bureau of Indian Affairs#Native American#Native American rights#civil rights#United States
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Lights, camera, shit show
I was just cleaning my OL folders (all those Chinese paintings and scrolls do take a horrendous amount of space, heh) and I just stumbled upon something I completely forgot to share and discuss with you. I found this particular article during my solitaire lurking months and I remember being befuddled by it for a long time, then thought I've lost it for good.
I don't remember ever seeing it shared or discussed in here, either and if, by any slim chance, I am wrong, kindly forgive me. That professional website is now closed, but its content is still available to browse:
Anyway, there goes: https://www.studiodaily.com/2018/06/outlander-dp-stephen-mcnutt-asc-csc-saucy-scottish-show/
We discussed Terry Dresbach and her inebriated rants, Vanessa Woman's devastating impact on set as Intimacy Coordinator, RDM's jealousy and many other aspects of life on the OL set. Rumors likely to have originated there peppered our shipping trail like flickering lights in a sea of darkness. So yes, we dissected these things to death. But not Stephen McNutt's interview to Studio Daily, on June 22, 2018 - please keep in mind the date, it is essential!
Stephen McNutt is a well-established professional and a member of the American Society of Cinematographers (ASC) and the Canadian Society of Cinematographers (CSC), as he hails from British Columbia. He also has a consistent track record of previous work with RDM, both on Battlestar Galactica and Caprica (its prequel). Therefore, one has to immediately suppose he was handpicked and brought on set by the same RDM, of course: set a very low bar on your expectations, I am warning you.
By the grace of RDM, he was one of the main Directors of Photography for OL during Seasons Two and Three. IMDb is not the best source for corroborating things, because they credit him with 13 episodes in Season Two (including La Dame Blanche- he is the Blue Room guy!), but only one for Season Three (First Wife), which is completely wrong. I even had to check some opening credits on Netflix (at reduced speed, ugh), because he speaks at length of A. Malcolm, something that would have made little sense otherwise. He was there, of course: and his is a first-hand account, heavily loaded with both innuendo and TPTB bullshit, up to the point of complete incoherence.
We focus on the three final questions:
This is a study in bullshitology, right here. The question asked is very clear and very technical: how did you approach those famous love scenes?
The answer is a mumble jumble of retcon, deflections, slips and overall impossible scramble for a logical explanation. I am doing a line by line, because this is almost too good to be true:
'(...) But as far as Cat and Sammy making love (...)' : um, hello and excuse me, I thought the question was about Jamie and Claire?!? And then we are delusional and can't fucking separate, when your own henchman, the Director of Photography no less, seems to be totally unable to do so, too? Hello? Also: 'Sammy'? 'Sammy'? What. The. Total. Fuck, and I LOLed then and I am still LOLing now. Terms of endearment overheard on set - but no, here comes the 'friendship' shite, hitting the narrative fan with Mach 5 speed. Objective? Explaining in a plausible way the hugging and 'keeping warm'. And I am sorry, but this begs the question: what the hell did this man see on that set? And how many people did see the same, hence the need to release such a gratuitous lie, for pure retconning purposes?
'They are not an item at all - I think she just got married'. Oh, fuck my life, man: you are such a terrible, terrible liar! Remember, that interview was taken in June 2018: after the OZ EFH and just about when C. was gleefully answering 'oh, God forbid!' every time she was prompted by press about her marriage plans. How can somebody with a pretty high trophic level and personal rapport to both S and C be totally unaware about C's marital status at the time? How can a long time acquaintance and coworker of RDM say no both to a friend and to a current boss (same person, the worst case scenario) asking for a favor, in that particular context? It also goes to prove that the shit show plot mainlines never originated with S and C and that the Remarkable Week-end was already planned for quite some time. By TPTB. With the full knowledge of RDM.
Let's suppose Mr. McNutt was so deeply engrossed in his work as not to notice all the people who must have congratulated C on set. I mean, I know who our (spinster) colleague from Accounting is currently banging and that guy is (mercifully) not among our staff (I totally wish them well, btw). Maybe because nobody congratulated C on that fakegagement? Also, you know them well enough to confidently say 'they are not an item', but don't know she was not married at the time and state an enormity with the same confidence? What in the name of the hoo-ha did I just read, here?
'I was always in such amazement of that.' In amazement of exactly what, Mr. McNutt? Surely not a woman holding hands or keeping warm with her gay co-star on set, huh? I mean, I need the best American English dictionary, here:
Again: what the heck did this man see? What comments did he hear? Surely, 'amazement' is a very precise choice of wording, with particularly enlightening synonyms:
Hence the need to end the demonstration with a deflection: 'They would just have fun.' You know, there is no such thing as a virgin whore, Mr. McNutt: you either are in such astonishment or you think your pals, good old S and C, such a funny girl, were having, well... 'fun', what else? You can't logically have both in the same paragraph!
And there we go: 'a very collegial atmosphere on set'. The answer is pure fool's gold, if you ask me: 'Nobody goes to sit in a trailer or says they aren’t showing up that day. '
And I laughed. And I laughed. And I laughed. I really don't know what this man is talking about. I never heard McTavish telling S to get out of that trailer ('nephew'). I never read the 'two very loved-up birdies' in a trailer a-rockin' Anons. I never watched that 2015 Anglophile SDCC interview, when S mentioned listening in their shared trailer to Erasure's Oh, l'Amour and C immediately reacted ('oh, did you just admit to that?'). But unlike me, McNutt must have been legally bound by a big cojones Non-Disclosure Agreement and morally bound by loyalty towards RDM, his friend, boss and benefactor.
This. All of the above. This is the real reason for all the bullshit you've just read: explaining a real, shocking love story by socially progressive regulations, allowing the cast to be 'much more happy'. I would laugh some more, if this was not sinister and cruel, in fact.
It is Love. A deep, strong one. But the seeds of the adverse narrative were planted early and deep, forcing even decent people like this guy to lie and smear himself a bit in the process. What we see and hear now are but better worded and more refined consequences of that fateful January 2016 morning in LA. And since I am allowed the dubious luxury only a healthy distance in time allows, let me remind you a simple, fun fact about this interview who stated they were never an item:
About ten months after McNutt uttered these words, the fandom was hit by the Covfefe Pics.
I rest my case.
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the news coming from columbia and ucla is driving me insane, what the hell? now i'm thinking of the older folk who had protested (and been villified for it) during the vietnam war, or during the south african apartheid. was it maddening, later, when you were hailed as heroes and institutions got to write pieces in your 'honor'? it feels maddening right now. i think if a decade from now i hear about a memorial being erected on one of these campuses for the Palestinian people or for the student protesters, i'll go insane, i'll lose my mind.
#who cares about history books saying you were right! the time that matters is the now!#the old generation who suppressed you and silenced you will be gone by act of nature alone#of course the narrative will shift! but what about the narrative now!
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N. C. Wyeth
Yes, 'N,’ He'd Let a Roar Outer Him, An Mebbe He'd Sing, "Hail Columbia, Happy Land!”
1914
#nc wyeth#american artist#american art#american illustrators#american painter#american painting#book illustration#seascape#ocean aesthetic#sea aesthetic#aesthetic#nature aesthetic#beauty#modern art#art history#aesthetictumblr#tumblraesthetic#tumblrpic#tumblrpictures#tumblr art#tumblrstyle#artists on tumblr
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"Students from the Universal-International Pictures’ Stardom School. Keystone of the intense “study” group is San Francisco’s Clint Eastwood. On his right shoulder is Olive Sturges of Ocean Falls, British Columbia, and on his left is Deni Crayne who hails from Minneapolis."
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The Columbus myth suggests that from US independence onward, colonial settlers saw themselves as part of a world system of colonization.
"Columbia," the poetic, Latinate name used in reference to the United States from its founding throughout the nineteenth century, was based on the name of Christopher Columbus. The "Land of Columbus" was-and still is-represented by the image of a woman in sculptures and paintings, by institutions such as Columbia University, and by countless place names, including that of the national capital, the District of Columbia.
The 1798 hymn "Hail, Columbia" was the early national anthem and is now used whenever the vice president of the United States makes a public appearance, and Columbus Day is still a federal holiday despite Columbus never having set foot on the continent claimed by the United States.
— Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz, An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States
#roxanne dunbar ortiz#quote#indigenous history#genocide#slavery#christopher columbus#white supremacy#colonialism#europe
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Jeff Buckley: Grace under fire
Dave Simpson, The Guardian, 1 May 1998
Singer Jeff Buckley lived in the shadow of his father Tim's death. Dave Simpson remembers meeting the visionary of pain and loss, and hears the demo recordings of Buckley's planned second album
WHEN JEFF Buckley walked fully clothed and singing into a Memphis marina on the Mississippi river last year he closed one of the briefest, brightest chapters in rock. Bernard Butler, the former Suede guitarist, recently said: "If it wasn't for Jeff Buckley I wouldn't be doing any of this. Seeing him restored my faith in music." High praise, matched only by Led Zeppelin's high priest, Jimmy Page: "Jeff Buckley was one of the greatest losses of all."
Buckley left just one completed album, Grace, rightly hailed as a masterpiece. But the demos for what would have been his second, planned to be called My Sweetheart The Drunk, are released by Columbia this month.
Demos, because apparently Buckley was dissatisfied with the sessions (with former Television mainman Tom Verlaine) and planned to burn the recordings and start again, beginning with a rehearsal planned for the very night he died. Sketches contains some of the most stunning and intriguing rock performances ever committed to tape. It's impossible to decide which are the more affecting: the staggering soulful beauty of a song like 'Everybody Wants You', or the references to funerals, cemeteries and suicide that shadow the album; the fragile magnificence of 'Opened Once', or the album's pervasive sense of loneliness.
That Buckley could have even contemplated trashing this music is the mark either of an acute perfectionist or of an extremely disturbed mind. And is it just hindsight that gives lines like 'Witches Rave''s "I'll never make it out alive" such an eerie psychological pull?
Equally bizarrely, Buckley's mysterious demise aged 30 on May 29 1997 (he told a friend he was "going for a swim", although many have speculated it was suicide) appeared a curious twist of destiny. His natural father, sixties singer Tim Buckley, had died tragically (from a drug overdose on June 29 1975) at 28, and his son was forever stalked by the Buckley legend. "Eternal life is on my trail," Jeff once sang, knowing full well that he was carving his own myth.
I first met him in 1994, in the first flush of critical fanfare for Grace. I was sent along to get a handful of quotes for a music paper, and we ended up talking for over an hour. This was typical of Jeff. If he liked you, you were in. It didn't concern him that he had other, more important interviews scheduled and that his press officer was frantically trying to get his attention. Just as in his music, Jeff Buckley knew all the rules but routinely bent them to suit his own purposes. In conversation as on stage, he'd play up to the image he'd created — the moody, magnificent James Dean of rock — and shatter it in an instant. Expecting a tortured artist, I was surprised by his mischievous humour.
He was a bag of contradictions, someone who shaped his surroundings (as we talked, he selected Duke Ellington to play in his portable CD), whilst simultaneously claiming to be ill at ease, both with people and daily situations.
He could be remarkably, even suspiciously eloquent. He said of his voice: "I feel it and I wanna go there. Every feeling has an articulation. It's like when you get drunk or you try Ecstasy for the first time and all your secrets come tumbling out, and you say things you've never said before."
His music, he insisted, was equally natural. "Do you think about what you're doing when you're making love?" he asked, using a favourite metaphor. He was the sort of person who would flirt with a bathchair. His entire arsenal of vocal mannerisms seemed to be filched from Dean's simmering vocabulary. But it became obvious that Jeff Buckley was carrying around a set of troubles for which there were no easy answers.
Buckley's early life around California was fairly blissful, even though he was brought up by his Panamanian mother and two successive stepfathers. He picked up his grandmother's guitar aged six and learned about harmonies by singing along with his mom to the radio as it blared out tunes by Stevie Wonder and Sly Stone. His favourite record was Terry Jacks' premature-death anthem 'Seasons In The Sun'.
When Buckley was 12, his stepfather gave him a copy of Led Zeppelin's Physical Graffiti (later influences included Nina Simone, Sex Pistols and the Cocteau Twins), and Jeff began writing songs. His first, he remembered, was "something stupid about a break-up." In his teens at college in Los Angeles he penned 'Eternal Life', which included the lines: "Got my red glitter coffin, man, just need one more nail", about the rock-death myth.
Buckley moved to New York, building up a fearsome reputation as a live performer in and around East Village. By the time a reworked 'Eternal Life' and other equally harrowing but strangely beautiful songs such as 'Dream Brother' appeared in his set, many in the audiences (which often included the likes of Nick Cave) would scream in rapture. Others would find the outpourings of naked emotion so disquieting they'd leave the room.
"I'm used to being hated," he told me. "It's something I've had ever since I was a kid. It hurts, but there's nothing I can do. I'm not lying." Neither did he pull his punches. At almost the exact time as he secured a record deal, Jeff managed the potentially career-threatening feat of being seen to "diss" labelmate Bob Dylan.
"I was at A Hole In the Wall in New York, and I'd seen Dylan the night before," he revealed. "So I did an impression of him singing 'I Want You'. I did an impression of him singing 'Grace'. I talked about how he sailed through some songs and was really brilliant on others. People were shouting 'But he's still got it, right?' And I'm going: 'No. This is not Blonde On Blonde. This is him now. You guys are living in the past'."
In the audience were Bob Dylan's manager, his assistant manager, and his best friend. "Man, the next day I was in Tompkins Square Park, staring at the ground with the snow falling, wishing I was never born. My A&R man saying, 'Well, Bob feels dissed.' But I really didn't... I just... loved him so much I sent him up." Buckley wrote a personal apology — and then when Grace came out, critics hailed the "new Bob Dylan".
Around this time people began making the inevitable, if misleading musical comparisons between Jeff and Tim Buckley. Both were singer-songwriters with distinctive voices. Jeff never knew his father (he vaguely remembered their one meeting "on a beach somewhere"). He wouldn't accept that even his smouldering looks came from his father.
"I look like my mother," he insisted. "I have my own choices, and I have my own life. All I know is that the guy's dead. I had a very musical environment growing up, that didn't involve him. Maybe I was imbued with the same things, the same parts. But it ain't his voice, and it ain't my voice, and it wasn't his father's voice or his father's father before. It's just the voice that's passed down. My grandfather sang, apparently. And my grandfather on my mother's side sang! I come from a line of singers. But my choices are my choices."
Buckley's resentment was palpable. Was he angry because his father abandoned him? "It's private," he mumbled, "but I went through, and am still going through a period of trying to figure out... why? The main question you wanna answer is did he love you or not, and if so, why didn't he love you enough to..."
Stick around. He didn't need to finish the sentence. The force driving Jeff Buckley was that he never recovered from the rejection.
He clung on to other people. "All I want to do is love everyone," he sang. There was a scarcely publicised affair with Cocteau Twin Elizabeth Fraser (who once recorded his father's 'Song To The Siren'), even curious rumours concerning Marianne Faithfull. His idealism was mirrored by a profound hatred of everything he deemed false, from colonialism to MTV and supermodels. But his chief obsession was that he would somehow "fail the music".
But what if Jeff wasn't involved in music? His answer came in instalments. "I think... that I... would be... a corpse."
We met again, but the last time I saw him he seemed exhausted by the road, itching to get back into the studio. There were narcotic rumours, but his body was found clean. When the news of his death came through it seemed like a dark joke, the kind of macabre prank Buckley would have dreamt up. It wasn't.
During his life, people talked of "Tim Buckley's son", but from now on it could easily be "Jeff Buckley's father". Jeff would have laughed at that. But his powerful musical legacy will be his final vengeance.
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Pics: Inspiring HPL.
1. Irvin S. Cobb - American writer, editor, humorist & columnist hailing from Paducah, Kentucky¹.
He was the highest paid staff reporter on the NY World newspaper².
Irvin would write 60+ books & around 300 short stories.
Some of which were adapted into silent movies. And, 2 of his later tales were actually filmed, by the famed John Ford³, during the 1930s!
2. Cobb's "dark side" (horror works) of the otherwise lighthearted comedian & the story in question.
3 & 4. Comedic frontpieces(?) for books by Cobb. The 2nd even boasts an Abraham Lincoln quote!
5. Cover to Cobb's collection of other authors's short horror tales.
6. Inside art from Fishhead's ending...
1913 Addendum -
Intro: Irvin Cobb's infamous short story "Fishhead" is set in the back- wood bayous of the vast Reelfoot Lake⁴.
Plot: The tale concerns the murder of a local outcast freak by "poor whites."
With its surprise Jaws⁵-like ending, this gruesome work reminds readers of an issue of EC comics⁶!
Criticism: Lovecraft lauded Cobb for, "... Carrying on our (own) spectral tradition is the gifted... humorist, I.S. Cobb, whose works... contain some finely (made) weird (tales)."
Of the plot, Howard stated that, "Fish- head" (is) an early achievement, ... banefully effective in its portrayal of (an) unnatural... hybrid idiot & the strange fish of an isolated lake."
Lovecraft further opined, "It is (my firm) belief... that... few short stories of equal merit have been published anywhere (else)..."
Legacy: Cobb's "Fishhead" is seen as a major influence on Lovecraft's own "Shadow Over Innsmouth."
Robert M. Price⁷ noted that, "What (Howard) found revolting was the idea of interracial marriage (&) of different ethnicities mating, (thus) 'polluting' the (white? human?) gene pool."
Fishhead is supposedly "the son of a Negro father & a halfbreed Indian mother." It's never mentioned what her other half was from...
This is the same premise behind HPL's "The Shadow Over Innsmouth."
Except that Lovecraft calls them Deep Ones & has a whole city that's been 'turned'...
More when we get to this story...
Notes:
1. Paducah, as 1 out of 9 U.S. Creative Cities, is a haven for thinkers, artists & creators!
Architectural Digest recognizes this city's historic district as 1 of the most beautiful main streets in America.
There are 20 downtown blocks listed in the National Register of Historic Places!
Weird Shit: Paducah's nickname is "The Atomic City."
This was because it was once the U.S.'s only uranium plant, making atomic bombs for our Defense Department...
2. The NY World newspaper began (in 1860) as a leading voice for the US Democratic Party.
But, once under Joseph Pulitzer, it became a pioneer in "yellow journalism."
Catching readers's attention with sensational (sex, sport & scandal) news stories.
This raised their circulation past the 1 million mark!!
Best known for being among the 1st to publish daily comic strips.
They actually created "Hogan's Alley", "Everyday Movies", "Little Mary Mix- up" & "Joe Jinks!"
Merged with The NY Telegram in 1931.
Revived - online - in 2011 by Columbia U. But, hasn't had any new content since 2016...
3. John Ford was an American movie director who won Oscars for "The Informer", "The Grapes of Wrath", "How Green Was My Valley" & "The Quiet Man."
The best of his many Westerns are "The Searchers", "Stagecoach" & "My Darling Clementine."
4. Reelfoot Lake is a real lake best known for its shallowness - about 5½ feet on average.
It's located in western Tennessee &, strangely enough, no swimming is allowed there...
The lake is named after an 1800's Chickasaw warrior with a deformed leg...
Reelfoot Bayou, with its cypress trees, flows out of the lake to join the Obion River - which runs straight to the Mississippi.
5. "Jaws" is, of course, director Steven Spielberg's 1st international master- piece.
And it doesn't need any hype, from me, for you to see it again!
97% on Rotten Tomatoes!!
Enough said...
Make it so!
6. E.C. Comics was an American publisher specializing in horror, crime, dark fantasy & sci-fi comicbooks.
William Gaines printed mature tales of war, adventure, satire, etc...
Noted for its stories high quality, shock endings & progressive social awareness.
Among the themes that EC creators touched upon are: racial equality, anti- war sentiments, nuclear disarmament & even early environmentalism!
Sadly, official censorship forced EC to focus on its "Mad" magazine - which became it's greatest success!!
EC has just been revived, by Oni Press, on this past February of 2024!!
Good times guaranteed...
7. R.M. Price is an American biblical scholar, author & an authority on H.P. Lovecraft.
His works include: "Deconstructing Jesus", "The Reason Driven Life", "The New Lovecraftian Circle", "World War Cthulhu", "The Disciples of Cthulhu", "Arkham Detective Agency", "The Da Vinci Fraud", "The Apartheid State in Crisis" & more great stuff!!
Price was the editor of the greatly lamented Crypt of Cthulhu, Midnight Shambler & Eldritch Tales fanzines.
He even edited a whole series of Mythos anthologies for Chaosium.
Today, Price is editor of The Journal of Higher Criticism!
Busy little tentacle, ain't he...
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Battle Hymn of the Republic — Both musically and lyrically inspiring. Never fails to make me feel genuinely moved. I'm glad it's not the national anthem because if it was I would seem to pro-America for liking it as much as I do.
Star Spangled Banner — A good anthem. Lyrically and musically interesting. Less generic than many anthems. Very solid.
America the Beautiful — Pretty good. Many icon lines. "God mend thine every flaw" indeed...
Hail Columbia — Bad. Not compelling. Bad song.
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xxx
I'm angry in this one btw. real properly angry. I don't wanna talk about this because I know some of y'all are thiiiiis close to blocking me for not falling in line and being a good little jew and repeating the slogans thoughtlessly, but I'm so mad and scared and nobody cares at all and I wanna shut up about it so I don't lose all my goyische friends but I can't I just can't.
hm maybe people are being arrested because there is some violence and this is terrifying jewish students?? and I think the author of this article is way too kind to these students. they hail hamas as heroes. they don't think the innocent civilian hostages should be released for the crime of being israeli. they champion themselves as being antiracist when ANTISEMITISM IS AN ETHNIC PREJUDICE YOU DUMB FUCKING CHAZERS!!!
jews are terrified.
rabbis are telling us to stay home.
whenever there's an "assembly" on the uni I live by, I'm terrified it'll turn violent. I'm terrified they'll burn down or deface the clearly labelled building where the jewish org lives.
I stopped wearing my magen david because I'm terrified of my peers, my peers who are supposed to be inclusive and love everyone regardless of ethnicity, seeing that I'm jewish and harassing me or worse.
the average college campus is less safe for jews than it has been in decades.
the optics of your movement are shit. you're infested with jew haters, and no one seems to care!! no goy cares, because you all care more about hating israel than not hating jews. and hating israel turns into hating jews so, so quickly. I want palestine to be a free nation. I want this war to end. but none of you understand that as long as hamas exists peace cannot happen. none of you understand that if you hate israelis you're a fucking antisemite lol sorry. if you want every israeli dead, you want half the world's jews dead. if you don't think that makes you an antisemite, lemme give you another example. let's say you want all black americans dead (not all black people are american, in fact, less than half the world's black population are in america). are you racist? YES. same fucking logic here.
saw a video the other day where some dumbfuck was like "have you considered that all hamas knows is oppression and hatred? 🥺" THESE ARE GROWN ADULTS!! YOU RACIST FUCKING INFANTILIZING FUCKING IDIOT!! THEY ARE GROWN ADULT HUMANS AND YOU ARE TREATING THEM LIKE BABIES AND CLAIM TO BE ANTIRACIST??? if you see POC as too innocent to be bad, then you are falling for the noble savage stereotype all over again. has that stereotype historically been attributed to arab people? no. but it definitely fucking is now with the way y'all think rape and terrorism is excusable.
none of you fucking idiots see anyone involved as full humans because none of you have a goddamn piece in it. you see palestinians as innocent babies who could never rape or hurt anyone, and you see israelis as demons to be exterminated. you're racist, you're hateful, you're not helping anything, and I hope you will one day be so, so ashamed of the fear you've instilled in jews worldwide while seeing them as genociding monsters regardless of ties to israel or anything, as well as the myopic infantilizing racist way you view arab people.
and one last thing: "FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA" IS ANTISEMITIC. IT'S A SLOGAN ENDORSED BY HAMAS. IF YOU ARE CHANTING THAT OVER AND OVER AND OVER GUESS WHAT YOU'RE HAVING AN ANTISEMITIC PROTEST, SORRY. you can't reclaim that slogan, it is calling for the destruction of israel, which will lead to jewish genocide, or just a massive jewish refugee crisis if they're lucky and hamas doesn't succeed in their goal of exterminating the jews.
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Little Light
Ao3
Summary: Luke's grievances with Mumbo's death games, Joe's definition of northerners, and Hermitcraft's climate.
Content: Fluff, short & sweet; banter, friendship, any pronouns for joe hills, inspired by northern attitude, obligatory characters not CCs (except for luke, whose character Is a CC)
Pairings: Luke Carder & Joe Hills, Lucky Jumbo (Mumbo Jumbo / Luke Carder)
Notes: Happy 2 year anniversary lucky jumbo-ers! Part nine of Lucky Jumbo (part eight not yet posted; this fic works fine as a stand-alone in the LJ universe)
~
“I still don’t understand the appeal of this.”
“Were you ever into sports?”
“I’m a trading card game collector, Joe. I wasn’t into anything that had to do with physical exertion.”
“Then I wouldn’t imagine you’d be into this either.”
Luke laughed. He and Joe were seated in the grass, two chests set up next to them and holding their respective companions’ belongings. Across the way from them, Mumbo and Cleo were setting up a game of blow-up-the-end-crystal-with-eggs, the activity Luke had been calling into question. Luke had only half followed the series of events that had led to the challenge being declared- he and Mumbo had been doing their own thing when they ran into Joe and Cleo, also doing their own thing, and somehow that ended up with Luke and Joe casually playing bystander to what Luke felt was a type of war game.
“I think I’m still adjusting to living with so many adrenaline junkies.” Luke said, sighing in faux disapproval as he watched Mumbo pretend to pat the top of the highly sensitive purple bomb next to him, presumably as a way of taunting Cleo. “Adrenaline junkies who don’t even know what adrenaline is.”
“Doesn’t help that we’re not afraid of death!” Joe added cheerfully, her friendly way of reminding Luke that even if they (maybe) hailed from the same original world, she was still a hermit through-and-through.
“Don’t remind me.” Luke reassuringly placed a hand over his totem necklace, protecting him from that exact thing. “Not all of us get to forget self preservation.”
At that, Joe just grinned. Since discovering Joe knew what both dinosaurs and playing cards were, she and Luke had had a few conversations centered around Luke’s old world and what Joe knew of it. Those conversations had left Luke with two main take-aways: one, that Joe was no card game expert, and two, that Joe’s memory when it came to anywhere she’d been before (or after) Hermitcraft was- at best- hazy.
Which meant that where Luke was still unwilling to drop down more than a few blocks at a time after however long he had been on the server, Joe had shown up in Hermitcraft more or less completely ready to start respawning.
Unfair, in Luke’s (correct) opinion.
“So, Luke,” Joe said after a few minutes had passed, Mumbo and Cleo stalling out the main event in favour of practice egg throws and more attempts at intimidation, “where did you live, back in our old world? Since I’m guessing it wasn’t good ol’ Nashville, Tennessee.”
“You don’t remember what or where Australia is.”
“This is true.” Joe acknowledged. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t remember your locale! Unless it was Australia.”
Luke chuckled. “No, not Australia.” Luke assured her, taking a moment to think before he answered the actual question. His memory wasn’t poked through and torn up like Joe’s was, but that didn’t change the fact that it was rather… fuzzy.
With non-Inscryption related things, at least. Remembering the name of the country he once occupied took a minute of deep thought, but the coordinates that had led him to his doom were on the tip of his tongue without him even trying for them- not that latitudes and longitudes would tell someone who couldn’t remember all seven continents very much. “It was Canada. British Columbia- uh, Vancouver? Above the states.”
Joe accepted Luke’s jumble of locations- of varying levels of detail- with a thoughtful nod. “A northerner, then.”
“You remember cardinal directions, but not the continents?”
“What’s a bird got to do with directions?”
“I- we’ll come back to it.” Luke had learned, after an extremely complicated discussion about video games neither he nor Joe fully understood, that Joe recalling a certain term or concept didn’t always mean she really knew what it was or what it meant. “What do you think a ‘northerner’ is?”
“Someone… cold. Doesn’t see the sun much. Drinks from trees.”
Luke snorted. “That, uh, that sure is a definition there.”
Joe glanced at Luke, amused. “I take it I’ve missed the mark by a good deal?”
“More like… made some mental mistranslations.” Luke offered, also opting to turn towards Joe over continuing to watch the entertainment waste eggs. “‘Drinks from trees’ just sounds like a weird Canadians-and-maple-syrup joke, for one. And everything north of Tennessee was probably colder than you were, but that doesn’t mean we were all constantly cold. We had warm seasons too.”
“Nashville, Tennessee.” Joe corrected solemnly, as though Luke neglecting to name the city drastically changed the meaning of the sentence. “Is that why you don’t like Hermitcraft’s climate? Do you miss your northerner seasons?”
“Everyone had seasons, not just people in the north.” Luke was fairly certain that Joe was only pretending to not remember the basic idea of seasons, given her delivery of the question was akin to a comedian setting up a punchline, but he refused to let a chance to re-air one of his minecraft grievances go to waste. “And I don’t like the climate here because it’s unnatural. You have four types of weather, and three of them are just variations on each other.”
“Would you prefer we still have tornadoes?”
“Some days, Joe, I really don’t know.”
Joe laughed at Luke’s melodramatic tone. Of all the hermits, she had the best understanding of the things Luke missed about his life before Hermitcraft, but she still tended to stand with the rest of the server in their belief that Luke had some odd lifestyle preferences. “What about the sun, then? Did I at least get that right?”
“Well, given we weren’t really living in caves-”
Luke’s thought was interrupted by a sudden boom! With a jerk, he looked forward again, finding that the sound had come from one of the end crystals finally being blown up. A quick analysis of the scene found the crystal in question had been Cleo’s, with her side of the makeshift arena devoid of both it and Cleo; the undead hermit had reappeared in the bed they had put to the side for that exact reasoning, already sitting up and grumbling about Mumbo’s victory by the time Luke relocated her.
Mumbo’s end crystal was still bobbing on its stand, confirming that the match hadn’t ended in a double homicide. Luke moved his gaze from the beds on the side to his boyfriend, looking proudly victorious.
Luke couldn’t help but grin at Mumbo’s expression, how excited he looked to have (once again) won his self-invented death game. Luke knew that in a moment, Mumbo would collect himself, school his expression into one that managed to be both smug and humble, something more suitable for polite boasting. But first, there was the genuine reaction, with his bright eyes and shining moustache-smile, and Luke couldn’t look away.
“You were sayin’ something, Luke?” Joe prompted, only half-catching Luke’s attention. If Luke hadn’t been so distracted, he might’ve noticed the teasing edge to the question, Joe well-aware Luke had checked out from their conversation. “About the sun?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, northerners, very cold, never see the sun.” Luke responded without thinking, letting his brain piece together the first random segments from his former thoughts it picked up as he shoved himself to his feet. Mumbo had realized Luke was staring, his moustache-smile somehow growing even wider, and Luke was fairly certain he was required to go over and congratulate the danger-game athlete. “Listen, I have to, uh-”
Joe, who had also gotten onto her feet, waved Luke off before he could find a tactful way to phrase ‘kiss my boyfriend like it’s the only thing I know how to do.’ “I’ve got a consoling consolation speech to deliver to my fighter. You enjoy your sun, northerner.”
The fact that he was still very much being teased flew over Luke’s head with a mile of clearance, Luke offering a half-nod in acknowledgement as he hurried towards his light.
#lucky jumbo#luke carder#joe hills#mumbo jumbo#cleo's there too but only in the background#hermitcraft#inscryption#m.y funky words#joe's memory of earth is whatever makes the bit funniest <3#hope y'all enjoy!! cheers to everyone still interested and/or invested in this crack series after a whole 2 years <3333
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Jewish Students Are Bringing Their Faith to University Pro-Palestine Protests
In this reported op-ed, Jewish students on college campuses nationwide speak about holding solidarity Shabbos to call for a ceasefire in Gaza.
For more than a week, students at Columbia and neighboring Barnard have occupied the main lawn in tents. They’ve been arrested, suspended, and evicted from university housing. They’ve braced for a visit from US House Speaker Mike Johnson, who said the Ivy League school ought to send the National Guard to campus. These protesters are demanding that the university divest from companies with economic ties to or investments in Israel, and grant amnesty to demonstrators who have been punished. Similar encampments have popped up at dozens of colleges across the US, and hundreds of students have been arrested, some in violent clashes with police.
Amid this backdrop, young Jewish people who oppose the war in Gaza are finding creative ways to use their faith to resist the violence arguably being waged in their name. Just last week Columbia students organized a ceasefire seder on campus for Passover, the Jewish holiday that celebrates the liberation of Jews from bondage in Egypt. Nearly 300 people were arrested at a similar demonstration outside Senator Chuck Schumer’s house in Brooklyn.
Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP), an anti-Zionist Jewish group, has been coordinating shabbat gatherings for months, including a national Shabbat for Ceasefire initiative in February. These student-led events have brought the fight for Palestinian liberation into this holy weekly ritual for the Jewish faith. Organizers who spoke to Teen Vogue hail from a spectrum of Jewish backgrounds and upbringings: the child of a rabbi; descendants of Holocaust survivors; queer Jews; Jews of color; immigrant Jews; religious and secular Jews.
Jewish student protesters have taken pains to make sure their activism keeps the focus on Gaza, where, as of the writing of this article, more than 34,000 Palestinians have been killed and over 77,000 have been wounded, most of whom are women and children, according to the Gaza Ministry of Health. The assault on Gaza started after the October 7 attack on Israel, which left more than a thousand dead and hundreds more taken hostage by the militant group Hamas.
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The dapper and sagacious Ahmad Jamal may have looked more like a UN delegate than a jazz musician, but he was recognised as a truly great jazz artist by some of the music’s most notable pioneers. Jamal, who has died aged 92, was hailed in the 1940s and 50s by Art Tatum and Miles Davis, and more recently by McCoy Tyner and Keith Jarrett. In the 90s, when a jazz piano-trio renaissance was being led by gifted newcomers such as Brad Mehldau, Jason Moran, Geri Allen and Esbjörn Svensson, Jamal did not retire to the sidelines but played better than ever. The former Wynton Marsalis pianist and composer Eric Reed has said that Jamal is to the piano trio “what Thomas Edison was to electricity”.
He was a fascinating philosopher of contemporary music and a lifelong critic of the entertainment business, which he accused of fleecing African-American artists. Although he recognised the structural and technical distinctions of jazz and European classical music, he was adamant that there was no superiority of one over the other in what he called “the emotional dimensions”. “You have to know what the hell you’re doing,” he told me in 1996, “whether you’re playing the body of work from Europe or the body of work from Louis Armstrong.”
Jamal was born Frederick Jones in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and regarded the eclectic musical culture of his birthplace as crucial to his development. His father was an open-hearth worker in the steel mills, but his uncle Lawrence played the piano and at only three years old Jamal was copying his playing by ear. He took lessons from seven, and would recall “studying Mozart along with Art Tatum”, unaware of white society’s widespread prejudice that European music was supposed to be superior to that of African-Americans. Significant influences in his early years were the music teacher Mary Cardwell Dawson (founder of the National Negro Opera Company), and his aunt Louise, who showered him with sheet music for the popular songs of the day. Pianists Tatum, Nat King Cole and Erroll Garner were among the young “Fritz” Jones’s principal jazz influences, and he also studied piano with James Miller at Westinghouse high school.
At 17 he toured with the former Westinghouse student George Hudson’s Count Basie-influenced orchestra, worked in a song-and-dance team, and wrote one of his most enduring themes, Ahmad’s Blues, at 18. Two years later he adopted Islam, and the name Ahmad Jamal. He also joined a group called the Four Strings, which became the Three Strings with the departure of its violinist, and caught the ear of the talent-spotting producer John Hammond, who signed the trio to Columbia’s Okeh label.
The public liked Jamal’s distinctive treatments of popular songs, and so did Davis. Developing his new quintet in 1955, Davis sent his rhythm section to study Jamal’s then drummer-less group. Davis liked Jamal’s pacing and use of space (the prevailing bebop jazz style was usually hyperactive), and he noticed that Jamal’s guitarist, Ray Crawford, often tapped the body of his instrument on the fourth beat. Davis told his drummer, Philly Joe Jones, to copy the effect with a fourth-beat rimshot, which became a characteristic sound of that ultra-hip Davis ensemble. Davis began to feature Jamal’s originals and arrangements in his own output, including New Rhumba (on his 1957 Miles Ahead collaboration with Gil Evans), and Billy Boy (on 1958’s classic Milestones session).
The gifted young Chicago bassist Israel Crosby joined the trio in 1955, and the following year the percussionist Vernel Fournier – who fulfilled Jamal’s requirements for a subtle hand-drummer as well as orthodox sticks-player – replaced Crawford. The group became the house band at the Pershing Hotel in Chicago, and one night in January 1958 they recorded more than 40 tracks there. One was Poinciana, which had been a hit tune from the 1952 movie Dreamboat. Jamal modernised its Latin groove, maintained a catchy hook throughout the improvisation, and found himself with a pop hit that stayed in the charts for two years.
Eight songs from that night, including Poinciana, made up the million-selling album At the Pershing: But Not for Me. Jamal’s newfound wealth led him to branch out into club ownership by opening the Alhambra in Chicago, though the venture barely lasted a year. Crosby and Fournier left for the pianist George Shearing’s group in 1962, and Jamal recorded the Latin-influenced Macanudo album the next year, with a new trio and a full orchestra. He also explored his cultural and ancestral roots in Africa, then recorded Heat Wave in 1966 – with a new group (Jamil Nasser on bass and Frank Gant on drums) and a more contemporary feel, reflected in the funkier approach to his old piano hero Garner’s Misty.
Jamal’s knack of keeping audiences mesmerised with unexpected modulations, time changes and catchy riffs, while never losing the undercurrent of the tune, was still unmistakably intact. His trademark device of insinuating a song – through toying with its bassline or its characteristic groove, but endlessly delaying the appearance of the tune – was adopted by many later jazz pianists, including such contemporary masters as Mehldau.
In 1970 Jamal recorded Johnny Mandel’s M*A*S*H theme for the movie’s soundtrack, and with the albums Jamaica (in 1974, which included Marvin Gaye’s Trouble Man as well as M*A*S*H) and Intervals (1979, which included a Steely Dan cover), showed he was not averse to toying with pop forms and even electric pianos. But he soon returned to the jazz of his roots. In 1982 he made the live album American Classical Music (it was the term he always preferred to the word “jazz”), sustained a steady output through the decade, and with Chicago Revisited (1992) sounded as assured and inventive as ever.
Now in his 60s, Jamal began to develop a higher profile in Europe. Sessions for the Dreyfus label in France led to The Essence (issued in three parts in the 90s), and found him in full flight with the saxophonists George Coleman and Stanley Turrentine and the trumpeter Donald Byrd. In 1995 his version of Music, Music, Music and the original take of Poinciana were featured in the Clint Eastwood film The Bridges of Madison County. He made what he regarded as one of his best recordings with Live in Paris 1996 (featuring Coleman again), and returned to the city to celebrate his 70th birthday in 2000 with Coleman; he was in inspired form on what would be released as the album A l’Olympia (2001).
With the exciting James Cammack on bass and Idris Muhammad on drums, Jamal’s composing blossomed. Striking originals dominated his 2003 album In Search of Momentum, and he even made a faintly stagey but soulful foray into singing, amid a raft of virtuoso keyboard displays, on After Fajr (2005).
Jamal’s alertness to an irresistible riff, like his keyboard contemporary Herbie Hancock’s, made him a favourite with hip-hop artists, and De La Soul’s Stakes Is High and Nas’s The World Is Yours were among many unmistakable testaments to that. Mosaic Records’ nine-CD set of his game-changing work in the late 1950s and early 60s was released in 2011, his group made a spectacular live appearance in London in 2014, and his last album releases came in 2022 with Emerald City Nights: Live at the Penthouse, parts one and two, featuring live recordings made in Seattle during the 60s. A third in the series is due for release this year.
Jamal was married and divorced three times – to Virginia Wilkins, Sharifah Frazier and Laura Hess-Hay. He is survived by a daughter, Sumayah, from his second marriage, and two grandchildren.
🔔 Ahmad Jamal (Frederick Russell Jones), musician, born 2 July 1930; died 16 April 2023
Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com
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