In the hidden chamber of Diamond Manor the pensive Neil Diamond waits silently by the Diamond Phone. Events are Happening: whatever the Situation, he has Already Written the Song. Tragedy will always be found in the Second Verse: ask J.L. Seagull.
Now, this.
Diamond's yellow labrador retriever Spinee underwent a risky procedure at the Washington Veterinary Hospital on Friday (April 19, 2013), prompting the singer to ask his followers to send well wishes her way. Neil waits at the Yellower Cafe: the Diamond Phone WILL ring, with a question: what Song will you sing to you Puppy as He Awakes from Anesthesia? Neil contemplates the Diamond Phone: do they Not Know? Do they Not Understand? "Shilo, when I was young I used to call your name When no one else would come. Shilo, you always came and we’d play."
Spinee, Shilo" the Truth is there, Diamond says: if only I could spend every dat in the Diamond Copter hovering and helping the Dogs that people let fall behind.
Radiolab may have been a repeat, but I had not heard it before... really good.
Logic and emotion aren't the only forces that guide our decisions. This hour of Radiolab, we turn up the volume on the voices in our heads, and try to make sense of the babble. Forget free will, some important decisions could come down to a steaming cup of coffee.
My basset, Winston, loves people but barks at other dogs unless he knows them, in which case he allows them liberties. My daughter's chihuahua puppy steals food from his plate. She is shameless and faster than he is. Bassets don't move that fast unless a rabbit or lizard crosses their path.
I don't know if it's been discussed before, but our host should have a post about the future of all these posts and comments. Will they be read in the future? Will they be used in some way? After one of us cures cancer, defines the unifying theory of everything, becomes a serial killer, or the next messiah, will our comments be dug out, collected into books, analyzed, and maybe make the 2093 Best Seller List on the island of Denver, in the Colorado Bay?
I think for many of us, our blog comments may be the most extensive and detailed record of our existence on this planet after we're gone. Scary huh?
Ann doesn't fully Understand how My Purpose coincides with hers. Neil Diamond knows (of course), but since I know His Darkest Secret he will never tell.
Neil and I spend many a moment in the Dark Hours of the Night, just Two Guys on the Diamond Phone defining territorial issues amongst astral planes.
Neil Diamond has a utility Diamond-Belt, equipped with rope, duct tape, Bactine and Roofies. He will sing you "Song Sung Blue" and wait for you to turn away from your drink and then - BAM! - you're in the trunk of a 1987 Cadillac with cotton candy in your hair and a Herman's Hermits vintage tour shirt wrapped as a blindfold around your face.
In the trunk of the Cadillac Neil Diamond keeps his Special Secret Guitar Case with the Special Secret Guitar. Inside the sound-hole of the Special Secret Guitar are mementos: clippings of hair, panties, a fingertip or two. He bought the Guitar in 1971 from a roadie from the Beach Boys who swore it was originally from Charles Manson. I am, I cried.
Maybe this is not new either, but I just thought of it: A daily blog that has no subject, but is a kind of group journal. Commenters come in daily or whenever they have something to say because their day was an unusual or insightful one, and describe their personal journey through the issues in their life. The kind of stuff we mostly avoid here out of modesty, shame, humility or just assuming nobody cares. This would be blog that would basically be what many people try to do as a personal blog, but blended into a community.
"Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie."
That ship has sailed, for nothing will ever be forgotten again. We no longer need someone to care enough to record our existence, it just happens. Every one of us falls in the digital pine sap to be preserved in amber for eternity, hidden only by the forest of obscurity.
The BLT had Miracle Whip; I sent the sandwich back, then took a night-time stroll through the Park where I did not see anybody, especially those Missing Girls.
Neil Diamond keeps a collection of chronological Scrapbooks of every fan he has met, followed by an alibi of plausible deniability.
Charlie Watts made a sketch of every hotel room he stayed in on tour for the Stones. It was an odd habit, but probably reflects on his fidelity to his wife during those years.
Bill Wyman kept mental track of every woman he slept with in hotel rooms during the same period. It ran over a thousand.
Once, Neil Diamond spent the night busking on a Toronto side-street with two of the guys from Grand Funk Railroad.
Later Neil wrote a song about the experience: "It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Grand Funk Train to Cry", but that bastard Dylan stole it from him outright.
Neil Diamond would purposefully schedule his tour dates so that he would be in a town but a few days before Dylan would arrive. All it would take is one common groupie for Dylan to contract the Diamond Fever.
People do crazy things on the Road. Neil Diamond can not be expected to remember every woman he offered a limo ride to, much less where he dropped her off or why he still has her bracelet in a nightstand drawer thirty years later. Be realistic.
Neil Diamond knew the Seventies could not Last. There are only so many Free Spirits that can disappear unnoticed, after all. Some are only Denim Peace-Sign Patches in a lock box, now.
If Modern Science could go back and retroactively collect all of the DNA from all of the skin scrapings ever found beneath Neil Diamond's fingernails they could plausibly reconstruct an entire Seventies Prom of Promiscuous Girls, along with a maternal chaperon or two.
Neil Diamond could never stand Fig Newtons. Just the faintest whiff of a Fig Newton on a young girl's breath could be the difference between her meeting her Idol or Him making her Idle.
I'm wondering how come the cat went first up to the spirit in the sky, since, what is that word you use to sequential, sequentially, it was the tree that died first.
Although... The question of when does a tree die could be a matter of some dispute, given how quickly our transition from life to death takes place.
You know, I have a vague memory of this composition of yours... and maybe this was already discussed.
Neil Diamond would often ceremoniously burn the bodies of his victims in a fire pit behind Diamond Manor, while poignantly strumming an acoustic guitar.
And that is how the World got to know his song "Cracklin' Rosie."
"“It is clear the events we have seen over the past few days in Boston were an attempt to kill American citizens and terrorize a major American city,” read a Saturday statement from Sens. Lindsey Graham (R-S.C.), John McCain (R-Ariz.), Kelly Ayotte (R-N.H.) and Rep. Peter King (R-N.Y.). “The accused perpetrators of these acts were not common criminals attempting to profit from a criminal enterprise, but terrorists trying to injure, maim, and kill innocent Americans. The suspect, based upon his actions, clearly is a good candidate for enemy combatant status. We do not want this suspect to remain silent.”
'It is clear the events we have seen over the past few days in Boston were an attempt to kill American citizens and terrorize a major American city,'
[gap filled with partisan labels]
'The accused perpetrators of these acts were not common criminals attempting to profit from a criminal enterprise, but terrorists trying to injure, maim, and kill innocent Americans. The suspect, based upon his actions, clearly is a good candidate for enemy combatant status. We do not want this suspect to remain silent.
The accused perpetrators of these acts were not common criminals attempting to profit from a criminal enterprise, but terrorists trying to injure, maim, and kill innocent Americans.
I flagged this for a reason. First is the whole notion of "profit" from a criminal enterprise. Aside from the word play on profit/prophet is the whole notion of profit in other languages. Let's consider German: Profit = Gewinn. Or profit = winnings. Brutal. Utterly German.
The accused perpetraitors were trying to prophet (win) at what they were doing. I double dare someone to challenge this.
Excellent and succinct analysis of the Boston terror event and Chechen links...here...at In From the Cold, a blog that is apparently written by some sort of retired military/CIA intelligence expert.
So we'll leave traces of our existence as long as this blogdata is archived. Which is a big assumption--entropy and all that.
I don't aspire to leave monuments and memorials. I want to fade away like a whisper of smoke.
Once the people who love me die, there are random data out there...but if no one looks for my data, does it really matter? Trees falling in a forest and all that.
I don't expect anyone will be looking for me, but if they come across a data trace of a brainfart, I hope it is my exceptional vegetarian chili recipe, my kick-ass halfway-from-scratch recipe series, or some really awesome jokes and inspirational shit that I've posted.
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९८ टिप्पण्या:
Old Yellower
Many take a jaundiced view of the jaunty.
It's so yellow, it's gold.
In the hidden chamber of Diamond Manor the pensive Neil Diamond waits silently by the Diamond Phone. Events are Happening: whatever the Situation, he has Already Written the Song. Tragedy will always be found in the Second Verse: ask J.L. Seagull.
Now, this.
Diamond's yellow labrador retriever Spinee underwent a risky procedure at the Washington Veterinary Hospital on Friday (April 19, 2013), prompting the singer to ask his followers to send well wishes her way.
Neil waits at the Yellower Cafe: the Diamond Phone WILL ring, with a question: what Song will you sing to you Puppy as He Awakes from Anesthesia?
Neil contemplates the Diamond Phone: do they Not Know? Do they Not Understand?
"Shilo, when I was young
I used to call your name
When no one else would come.
Shilo, you always came and we’d play."
Spinee, Shilo" the Truth is there, Diamond says: if only I could spend every dat in the Diamond Copter hovering and helping the Dogs that people let fall behind.
The Diamnond Phone: America knows the Number.
Vodka and candy cigarettes DO interfere with correct spelling.
Chew on this, betamax.
Chickelit: thank you!
He's a bit of a modeling primadona.
Zeus' modeling session.
Hitler confesses his sins and comes back as an anti-racist! Hilarious.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lKDeyuM0-Og&feature=youtu.be
Radiolab may have been a repeat, but I had not heard it before... really good.
Logic and emotion aren't the only forces that guide our decisions. This hour of Radiolab, we turn up the volume on the voices in our heads, and try to make sense of the babble. Forget free will, some important decisions could come down to a steaming cup of coffee.
It was a blog goldmine.
Does Zeus seem to like being around Joey and Bingo? Our lab is so attuned to people that she mostly ignores other dogs.
Oh, goody.
Turns out the Russkies warned us about Tamerlane and Joker 2 years ago.
My basset, Winston, loves people but barks at other dogs unless he knows them, in which case he allows them liberties. My daughter's chihuahua puppy steals food from his plate. She is shameless and faster than he is. Bassets don't move that fast unless a rabbit or lizard crosses their path.
@beta Vodka and candy cigarettes DO interfere with correct spelling.
Figured.
Funny.
@ edutcher
Oh, goody.
Turns out the Russkies warned us about Tamerlane and Joker 2 years ago.
Figured that one too.
They'd be the ones with the nees to keep an eye on the terrorists in Chechnya.
nees = need
What happened to blogger spell check? My free trail offer run out?
I don't know if it's been discussed before, but our host should have a post about the future of all these posts and comments. Will they be read in the future? Will they be used in some way? After one of us cures cancer, defines the unifying theory of everything, becomes a serial killer, or the next messiah, will our comments be dug out, collected into books, analyzed, and maybe make the 2093 Best Seller List on the island of Denver, in the Colorado Bay?
I think for many of us, our blog comments may be the most extensive and detailed record of our existence on this planet after we're gone. Scary huh?
Especially some of the ones who just skulk through.
And, for all those mellow people out there, gunfire at CO's pot festival.
Re: "After one of us cures cancer, defines the unifying theory of everything, becomes a serial killer, or the next messiah..."
Two out of Four.
Neil Diamond has written Songs about me: I have the Diamond Phone on speed-dial.
In-between this Universe and the Next I follow the seam like a droplet of Mercury on God's Infinite Zipper, and I never feel the Teeth,
Ann doesn't fully Understand how My Purpose coincides with hers. Neil Diamond knows (of course), but since I know His Darkest Secret he will never tell.
Neil and I spend many a moment in the Dark Hours of the Night, just Two Guys on the Diamond Phone defining territorial issues amongst astral planes.
Neil Diamond has a utility Diamond-Belt, equipped with rope, duct tape, Bactine and Roofies. He will sing you "Song Sung Blue" and wait for you to turn away from your drink and then - BAM! - you're in the trunk of a 1987 Cadillac with cotton candy in your hair and a Herman's Hermits vintage tour shirt wrapped as a blindfold around your face.
I think for many of us, our blog comments may be the most extensive and detailed record of our existence on this planet after we're gone. Scary huh?
Blog history is a court of judgement with the Honorable Ann Althouse presiding.
Neil Diamond REFUSES to be a Victim.
To not be The Victim you must Write The Song. And have a Cadillac with a large trunk, preferably sound-proofed.
"I think for many of us, our blog comments may be the most extensive and detailed record of our existence on this planet after we're gone."
Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest! who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.
In the trunk of the Cadillac Neil Diamond keeps his Special Secret Guitar Case with the Special Secret Guitar. Inside the sound-hole of the Special Secret Guitar are mementos: clippings of hair, panties, a fingertip or two. He bought the Guitar in 1971 from a roadie from the Beach Boys who swore it was originally from Charles Manson. I am, I cried.
Neil Diamond has only consumed Human Flesh once.... knowingly.
Maybe this is not new either, but I just thought of it: A daily blog that has no subject, but is a kind of group journal. Commenters come in daily or whenever they have something to say because their day was an unusual or insightful one, and describe their personal journey through the issues in their life. The kind of stuff we mostly avoid here out of modesty, shame, humility or just assuming nobody cares. This would be blog that would basically be what many people try to do as a personal blog, but blended into a community.
Re: "modesty, shame, humility"
Neil Diamond understands, better than you know. Stitched into the lining of his Diamond Cape are painful memories in tiny script of blue thread.
Neil once shot an AM radio in a hotel room, but then Elvis one-upped him by shooting a TV.
It is Written in the Cape.
"Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie."
That ship has sailed, for nothing will ever be forgotten again. We no longer need someone to care enough to record our existence, it just happens. Every one of us falls in the digital pine sap to be preserved in amber for eternity, hidden only by the forest of obscurity.
I'm afraid to do a Fear music theme.
But I'm going to give it a shot.
Why?
Because the Red Sox won in dramatic fashion and Big Papy came back and asked to speak and he screwed up.
Running Scared
Betamax: Blue diamonds are rarer than yellow diamonds. Do you know why?
Neil Diamond keeps a collection of chronological Scrapbooks of every fan he has met, followed by an alibi of plausible deniability.
Wichita, 1974: never saw her, went straight to the hotel room and watched Laverne & Shirley. Ordered a BLT from room service.
Are you curious about blue and yellow?
The BLT had Miracle Whip; I sent the sandwich back, then took a night-time stroll through the Park where I did not see anybody, especially those Missing Girls.
Neil Diamond knows about Blue and Yellow: Neil Diamond senses you are setting a Trap.
Neil Diamond's Diamond-Sense is Tingling.
Fools Rush In
Toledo, 1973: after the Show I shook hands with Lee Majors and went back to my Room, a full four blocks from the later Incident.
Neil Diamond cannot help it if Neil Diamond stalkers follow him from city to city and do Terrible Things.
Neil Diamond keeps a collection of chronological Scrapbooks of every fan he has met, followed by an alibi of plausible deniability.
Charlie Watts made a sketch of every hotel room he stayed in on tour for the Stones. It was an odd habit, but probably reflects on his fidelity to his wife during those years.
Bill Wyman kept mental track of every woman he slept with in hotel rooms during the same period. It ran over a thousand.
(Don't Fear) The Reaper
Rickey Nelson looks like he's on Xanax, and about to nod off mid-croon.
Once, Neil Diamond spent the night busking on a Toronto side-street with two of the guys from Grand Funk Railroad.
Later Neil wrote a song about the experience: "It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Grand Funk Train to Cry", but that bastard Dylan stole it from him outright.
Things WILL be set square.
Baby, I'm Scared Of You
Neil Diamond would purposefully schedule his tour dates so that he would be in a town but a few days before Dylan would arrive. All it would take is one common groupie for Dylan to contract the Diamond Fever.
Bill Wyman ~ thousands of women? There has to be an afterlife or there is no justice in the universe.
People do crazy things on the Road. Neil Diamond can not be expected to remember every woman he offered a limo ride to, much less where he dropped her off or why he still has her bracelet in a nightstand drawer thirty years later. Be realistic.
Fearless Heart
I have marked Many Souls with my Words and Melody. Some I have marked harder than others.
Toledo, 1973: Lee Majors took home the fan in the yellow tube-top, not me. Just to be clear.
Neil Diamond knew the Seventies could not Last. There are only so many Free Spirits that can disappear unnoticed, after all. Some are only Denim Peace-Sign Patches in a lock box, now.
Fear (Of The Unknown)
On a Tour in the early Seventies Neil Diamond met a fan named Mandy, who came and gave without taking.
Barry Manilow found the body.
It was a Thursday.
On My Block - (Subtitulado Español)
Lem, your Don't Fear the Reaper link reminded me of Spirit in the Sky.
It's topical. A bonsai seppuku that unwittingly takes out a cat. But not to worry!
Palladian said:
What you call odious, I call honesty
I notice your change in definition.
(It's been a helluva long, inexorably going on, almost decade.)
Get it.
Barry Manilow would often ask the Diamond about "what it was like".
One night they went out together in the Cadillac but it turns out Manilow can't even tie a decent restraining knot.
Lightweight.
It is easier to snort cocaine off of a naked groupie's ass if she isn't moving much: Neil Diamond Law.
If Modern Science could go back and retroactively collect all of the DNA from all of the skin scrapings ever found beneath Neil Diamond's fingernails they could plausibly reconstruct an entire Seventies Prom of Promiscuous Girls, along with a maternal chaperon or two.
Solo Por Miedo
Nothing got a teenage girl into a Limo faster than Neil Diamond with a bag of Nutter Butters and a Promise.
Lem said...
I'm afraid to do a Fear music theme.
No Fear music theme is complete w/o Fear from 1982 on SNL. Check out the mayhem: link
Fear Of Falling
Neil Diamond could never stand Fig Newtons. Just the faintest whiff of a Fig Newton on a young girl's breath could be the difference between her meeting her Idol or Him making her Idle.
His right side is definitely his good side. Ready for my close up, Ann!
If I had a million dollars I'd buy my dog a million bones.
His right side is definitely his good side. Ready for my close up, Ann!
NY is all right if you like saxophones.
How true.
Then there was that time when Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand would hop in the Cadillac and hit the streets of LA in search of Hot Kicks.
Barbra -- now she could tie a restraining knot.
Richard Ramirez, unknowingly, took the fall.
Neil Diamond would stalk Olivia Newton-John into bars and play B-17 on the jukebox, over and over.
@Lem: Here's an original suggestion for your Fear theme given as a clue: link
Also, anything from Talking Heads' 1979 album would be appropriate (though I prefer speaking In tongues).
Neil Diamond knows: Someone controls electric guitar.
Neil Diamond once mentored David Byrne.
Qu'est Que C'est.
I'm wondering how come the cat went first up to the spirit in the sky, since, what is that word you use to sequential, sequentially, it was the tree that died first.
Although... The question of when does a tree die could be a matter of some dispute, given how quickly our transition from life to death takes place.
You know, I have a vague memory of this composition of yours... and maybe this was already discussed.
Neil Diamond would often ceremoniously burn the bodies of his victims in a fire pit behind Diamond Manor, while poignantly strumming an acoustic guitar.
And that is how the World got to know his song "Cracklin' Rosie."
Some songs come so easy: it is a Gift.
Btw, thanks for your fearless submissions to tonight's Fear theme.
Groups efforts are collective...
Oooh Noooo!!!
Shut up.. that's your fear talking.
Movement of Fear
The Fear
The Fear of being alone (Not so bad Cover)
Betamax:
Please stop lying about Neil Diamond. He is a Rock and Rock Giant.
He was America's Poet. To whit:
I am, I cried!
I am, said I.
And I am lost, and I can't even say why...
America in 3 lines. It says it all.
This song has a lot of covers... I cant sample them all... maybe you might want to... your choice
Places You Have Come to Fear the Most
My fave Neil Diamond song: Play Me
You're a whole different person when you're scared.
Don't stop Betamax, you are on a roll. Great stuff.
"“It is clear the events we have seen over the past few days in Boston were an attempt to kill American citizens and terrorize a major American city,” read a Saturday statement from Sens. Lindsey Graham (R-S.C.), John McCain (R-Ariz.), Kelly Ayotte (R-N.H.) and Rep. Peter King (R-N.Y.). “The accused perpetrators of these acts were not common criminals attempting to profit from a criminal enterprise, but terrorists trying to injure, maim, and kill innocent Americans. The suspect, based upon his actions, clearly is a good candidate for enemy combatant status. We do not want this suspect to remain silent.”
Read more: http://www.politico.com/story/2013/04/lindsey-graham-enemy-combatant-90365.html#ixzz2R4iHzgqS"
Mark their words and shared definitions .
Kelly, already? Hardly knew ye, unfortunately. Beware ye, lest silly: oh, fiddle-dee-dee.
rcommal wrote something with a gap:
'It is clear the events we have seen over the past few days in Boston were an attempt to kill American citizens and terrorize a major American city,'
[gap filled with partisan labels]
'The accused perpetrators of these acts were not common criminals attempting to profit from a criminal enterprise, but terrorists trying to injure, maim, and kill innocent Americans. The suspect, based upon his actions, clearly is a good candidate for enemy combatant status. We do not want this suspect to remain silent.
The accused perpetrators of these acts were not common criminals attempting to profit from a criminal enterprise, but terrorists trying to injure, maim, and kill innocent Americans.
I flagged this for a reason. First is the whole notion of "profit" from a criminal enterprise. Aside from the word play on profit/prophet is the whole notion of profit in other languages. Let's consider German: Profit = Gewinn. Or profit = winnings. Brutal. Utterly German.
The accused perpetraitors were trying to prophet (win) at what they were doing. I double dare someone to challenge this.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.
I'll tell where he lied--when he had this published with his name on it.
Excellent and succinct analysis of the Boston terror event and Chechen links...here...at In From the Cold, a blog that is apparently written by some sort of retired military/CIA intelligence expert.
So we'll leave traces of our existence as long as this blogdata is archived. Which is a big assumption--entropy and all that.
I don't aspire to leave monuments and memorials. I want to fade away like a whisper of smoke.
Once the people who love me die, there are random data out there...but if no one looks for my data, does it really matter? Trees falling in a forest and all that.
I don't expect anyone will be looking for me, but if they come across a data trace of a brainfart, I hope it is my exceptional vegetarian chili recipe, my kick-ass halfway-from-scratch recipe series, or some really awesome jokes and inspirational shit that I've posted.
Just like now, I'd want my data to feed, amuse, and inspire.
E lectric ba na nah
Color saturation much, madame blogress?
Miss the acid trips of the 60s?
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