Friday, August 29, 2014
* We had a flood last night.
* About 12 or 13 years ago, I signed up for tribe.net, and then promptly forgot about it. Today I got my first friend request.
Kyu Sakamoto (Sakamoto Kyu in Japanese) was born Hisashi Oshima (Oshima Hisashi in Japanese) on 10 November 1941 in Kawasaki City, Kanagawa Prefecture. He made his show business debut in 1960.
His biggest hit, Ue o Muite Aruko (I Look Up When I Walk; Sukiyaki in the West), was released in Japan in 1961. After its release in the U.S. in 1963, the song's earnestness and melodic beauty proved irresistible despite its incomprehensible lyrics. Against all odds, on 15 June 1963, the song ousted Leslie Gore's It's My Party to become the No. 1 popular song in the U.S. (After three weeks at No. 1 on the Billboard chart, Sukiyaki was deposed by Easier Said Than Done by The Essex.) To this date, Sukiyaki remains the biggest international hit by a Japanese popular singer.
Posted by: Marie at 10:24 PM |
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Some are watching it from the wings
It looked like someone stretched pink gauze across the sky.
Somebody should bottle this and sell it in January.
* The Time That Washington Burned. (Thanks, Rich Miller.)
No one expected that the British infantry would march 50 miles inland to storm the capital. It was too far off, and they would have to slog through woods and dense thickets and brush to achieve their goal. No one even knew their target. There was speculation that they might swing toward Baltimore, Annapolis, or even sites further south.
A lull. We were not short of things to trouble us: the major had been hit in the chest by a shell splinter. We had exhausted our rations, there was scarcely half a bottle of water left per man; ammunition was scarce! Suddenly, over on our left, we heard the sounds of numerous tanks moving! The Canadians! At last! We looked for the green flares. Nothing! We came down to earth: they were German tanks advancing on us.
* 1953: Another St. Louis Summer:
The smellscape, also unmitigated by air-conditioning, was different, too. The heat and humidity would distill the pungent aromas of the fermenting hops in the breweries into an olfactory miasma that settled like a fog over the city. Adding to this yeasty mix were the St. Louis National Stockyards, whose thick, loamy, gamey smells—ripening manure, blood, rancid fats from the slaughterhouse—filled your nostrils. Breathe deeply and you recoiled as the stench hit the bottom of your brain, a reptile memory suddenly brought alive.
The experimental road originally was divided into 63 sections ranging from 100 to 250 feet each. Twenty-two sections were brick, 17 asphalt and 24 concrete, “several thicknesses of each type being used so that the capacity of each section, measured in terms of weight and number of trucks, will be plainly obvious.”
Posted by: Marie at 8:48 PM |
Saturday, August 23, 2014
Embarrassed by the crowd
DeLorean in the wild. Also, through the windshield. And, yes, if you don't already know, the license plate is accurate.
* "Without the government, there would be no crime." -- Howard Weitzman in his closing argument, without putting on a defense, in the trial of John DeLorean.
* The man.
* I felt he found my letters and read each one out loud.......... (Fugees, with Fugees ending, so be warned.)
Posted by: Marie at 9:48 PM |
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
Guitar player gets restless
Illinois Supreme Court.
* CapitolFax discussion on decriminalization versus legalization versus whatever it is were doing now on marijuana: Not nearly enough. It should go without saying, but here it is anyway: read the comments.
* And then the rains came (Springfield photos).
Overflow into wells would be pumped into the storm-sewer system once the heaviest rain has moved out, Moll said. Three wells and storage pipe would have capacity for 6,360 cubic feet, or 47,500 gallons, of water. Plans are to install wells at all underpasses included in rail consolidation.
Throughout the ages, man has tried to make water do what man wants water to do. But, we always, eventually find out water's gonna do what water wants to do.
* Daughter's Film Tells Story of the 'Chicago' Guitarist You Don't Remember. (I'm sorry to say, the only rock concert I ever fell asleep at was Chicago.)
* And his coat is torn and frayed......
Posted by: Marie at 10:43 PM |
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
It is early August. A black man is shot by a white policeman. And the effect on the community is of "a lit match in a tin of gasoline."
No, this is not Ferguson, Mo. This was Harlem in August 1943, a period that James Baldwin writes about in the essay that gives its title to his seminal collection, Notes of a Native Son.
Posted by: Marie at 9:16 PM |