Bo Diddley RIP

I just spent some time listening to Bo Diddley and his influences on Sirius Disorder (Channel 70). It's amazing how much the "Bo Diddley Beat" is incorporated into our core, and how much he defined rock and roll. Who do you love?

Just updated blog settings and "widgets"

Well, I thought I'd add some new tricks to this blog. I put in place some "hacks" I read about from Blogger's blog. Some of these are really slick -- Blogger is proving to be the best platform for blogs (at least for me) since I would rather focus on content than form.

Cyber Echoes

On the one hand, I know no one is reading this as yet. Echoes in cyberspace. On the other hand, to write entries as if these were private musings is to invite disaster (not that my private musings merit disaster, but you never know...) The one time I slip and unintentionally slight some group or another, or someone or another, is the time these writings show up on Page One.

Personally, I am of the opinion that we should expect whatever we do to be fully in public view. It is not desirable, but on the other hand, I'm not hiding anything from anybody. As Lynyrd Skynyrd says (or, really, J. J. Cale): "I ain't hiding from nobody/ Nobody's hiding from me." I always thought of that being a great line. What is bliss, really? Not living in fear of being caught, and not obsessing over catching anyone else. Peace, in other words. If you are living totally in peace, who cares what people see?

Flight of the Queen Bee

This poem by EB White was published in The New Yorker in 1945. This is one of my favorite poems -- funny, but with stiletto-sharp social commentary.


SONG OF THE QUEEN BEE
EB White

"The breeding of the bee, says a United States Department of
Agriculture bulletin on artificial insemination, "has always
been handicapped by the fact that the queen mates in the air
with whatever drone she encounters."

When the air is wine and the wind is free
And morning sits on the lovely lea
And sunlight ripples on every tree,
Then love in the air is the thing for me--
I'm a bee,
I'm a ravishing, rollicking, young queen bee,
That's me.

I wish to state that I think it's great,
Oh, it's simply rare in the upper air,
It's the place to pair
With a bee.
Let old geneticists plot and plan,
They're stuffy people, to a man;
Let gossips whisper behind their fan.
(Oh, she does?
Buzz, buzz, buzz!)

My nuptial flight is sheer delight;
I'm a giddy girl who likes to swirl,
To fly and soar
And fly some more,
I'm a bee.
And I wish to state that I'll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.

There's a kind of a wild and glad elation
In the natural way of insemination;
Who thinks that love is a handicap
Is a fuddydud and a common sap,
For I am a queen and I am a bee,
I'm devil-may-care and I'm fancy-free,
The test tube doesn't appeal to me,
Not me,
I'm a bee.
And I'm here to state that I'll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.

Let mares and cows, by calculating,
Improve themselves with loveless mating,
Let groundlings breed in the modern fashion,
I'll stick to the air and the grand old passion;
I may be small and I'm just a bee
But I won't have Science improving me,
Not me,
I'm a bee.
On a day that's fair with a wind that's free,
Any old drone is the lad for me.

I have no flair for love moderne,
It's far too studied, far too stern,
I'm just a bee--I'm wild, I'm free,
That's me.
I can't afford to be too choosy;
In every queen there's a touch of floozy,
And it's simply rare
In the upper air
And I wish to state
That I'll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.

Man is a fool for the latest movement,
He broods and broods on race improvement;
What boots it to improve a bee
If it means the end of ecstasy?
(He ought to be there
On a day that's fair
Oh, it's simply rare
For a bee.)
Man's so wise he is growing foolish,
Some of his schemes are downright ghoulish;
He owns a bomb that'll end creation
And he wants to change the sex relation,
He thinks that love is a handicap,
He's a fuddydud, he's a simple sap;
Man is a meddler, man's a boob,
He looks for love in the depths of a tube,
His restless mind is forever ranging,
He thinks he's advancing as long as he's changing,
He cracks the atom, he racks his skull,
Man is meddlesome, man is dull,
Man is busy instead of idle,
Man is alarmingly suicidal,
Me, I'm a bee.

I am a bee and I simply love it,
I am a bee and I'm darned glad of it,
I am a bee, I know about love:
You go upstairs, you go above,
You do not pause to dine or sup,
The sky won't wait--it's a long trip up;
You rise, you soar, you take the blue,
It's you and me, kid, me and you,
It's everything, it's the nearest drone,
It's never a thing that you find alone.
I'm a bee,
I'm free.

If any old farmer can keep and hive me,
Then any old drone may catch and wive me;
I'm sorry for creatures who cannot pair
On a gorgeous day in the upper air,
I'm sorry for cows who have to boast
Of affairs they've had by parcel post,
I'm sorry for man with his plots and guile,
His test-tube manner, his test-tube smile;
I'll multiply and I'll increase
As I always have--by mere caprice;
For I am a queen and I am a bee,
I'm devil-may-care and I'm fancy-free,
Love-in-air is the thing for me,
Oh, it's simply rare
In the beautiful air;
And I wish top state
That I'll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.

Religious Nuts

We're not going to get anywhere if we continue to repudiate people for saying or believing stupid things. This country was built by religious nuts with guns. We should celebrate the Rev Wrights and Rev Hagees and Minister Farrakhans of the world - they spice up the place and keep out complacency.

Blip

Even if we are only a blip on the edge of the universe, we are the only blip.