... you can share your new year thoughts.
(That's not this morning's sunrise, just one of my favorite sunrises of the past year. It happened on October 6th.)
৩১ ডিসেম্বর, ২০২২
At the New Year's Eve Café...
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Let me be the first to say Happy New Year to my Althousian fam.
I woke up this morning with a version of John Lennon's lyrics in my head:
So this is Christmas
And what have you done?
Another year over
And a new one just begun
Only it was:
Another year over
And what have you done?
Post 15 of 15 - Clyde's Top 10 Favorite "New" Songs of 2022
#1 - Utopia - I Just Want To Touch You (Deface The Music, 1980)
Todd Rundgren’s band Utopia made a couple of progressive rock albums in the late 1970s, then went in a completely different direction with ‘Deface The Music,’ a Beatles homage album that was a pastiche of various Beatles song influences. “I Just Want To Touch You” is a perfect example of the Beatlemania era, and this video captures it all, right down to the screaming girls in the background. Rundgren is a musical genius; we started with him at the beginning of the countdown and come full circle by finishing with him here.
Utopia - I Just Want To Touch You
Bonus song: Utopia - I Just Want To Touch You (Deface The Music, 1980)
The album version, without the screaming girls in the background. The video is a must-see, but the album version is better for listening.
Utopia - I Just Want To Touch You
I've seen his golf swing. I've listened to his speeches.
This is election fraud. Biden should be drooling on a bib in a rest home.
When I was a young man, if you had asked me what I was afraid of, I would have said, "I'm not afraid of anything." I had no awareness of any fear. It was all repressed. I didn't cry for a decade. It was just a completely rare event.
As I've gotten older, I've gotten more honest. One of the weird side-effects of becoming a pro-lifer and, if I can use this term, a "born again" Christian, a lot of my repression has just disappeared. My intellect has gotten sharper and meaner, and my emotions have gotten stronger and more powerful. Which is a mixed blessing. Emotions are dangerous but also, I think, critical to the ministry of Jesus Christ.
Outstanding game between TCU and Ann’s alma mater.
The TCU QB is from CB, Iowa.
Horned Frogs to the title game!
Wired.co.uk/article/mRNA-medicine-technology
Ah, the mainstream journalist love affair with mRNA technology continues. With an article of easily discernible lies. Starting with there’s never been a successful use of mRNA technology for anything, which includes the vaccine that isn’t for the dreaded covid. The more you pay attention to numbers, overall numbers, the more you realize it’s another coronavirus vaccine that’s backfired, making it more likely you get the disease, and each subsequent dose increases the risk even more.
Another lie- the molecule completely degrades, as if it were never in the body. At best, unproven. And there is growing evidence some of the RNA is being incorporated into cellular DNA.
Ah, but the potential of such a powerful tool! Even the article mentions mRNA was developed in the ‘90s. And it’s first “successful” deployment is two decades later? That’s because every previous attempt to use it failed. Or worse, backfired. Much as it’s doing now.
Word of advice- never submit to an mRNA shot for anything.
Reminds me of all the promises of fetal stem cells and how they were going to cure everything. Seems that all research on using fetal stem cells for anything has stopped. Seems injecting fetal stem cells from someone else into a body invariably leads to some kind of cancer. On the other hand, adult stem cells from your own body can be used in many treatments. Or if you had your umbilical cord blood frozen and stored. Maybe that should be a standard thing.
I wondered how the ice melted so fast!
Happy New Year’s Eve!
Happy New Year.
Lets hope 2023 is better than 2022.
New Year's is a weird holiday in that it's not Christian at all and has nothing to do with the Christian calendar. (As far as I know).
My Dad used to get excited about the mileage indicator in his car flipping over to 100,000. Because it wouldn't go to 100,000 and it went to zero, I think? He would be driving the car. "Kids, the speedometer is about to flip over!" I could not get excited about that damn flip over. We're in the back of the station wagon, reading comic books. "Whatever, Dad."
Anyway, that's what New Year's is like for me. Calendar flipping over. I still don't give a shit about it, to be honest.
I did get drunk a few times on New Years when I was younger. Been a couple of decades since I've been drunk.
I was kind of a hell-raiser when I was a kid. My life doesn't feel like a stereotype to me. But when I think about it, my story is so ordinary it's not even funny. Hell-raising teenager who becomes kind of a born-again Christian in middle age? I'll bet hundreds of thousands of people have a similar story. It's common as shit! But my life feels unique and different and special to me. Huh.
Don't forget to advance your calendars by a year before you go to bed!
Happy New Year's to fellow Althouse reader's.( She's the best, yes?!) I always read commenter's posts and have learned a lot by found so. So, thanks!
So far, many favorite sunrise is always tomorrow’s. Happy New Year all.
So, are we also going to see Pelosi's tax return, and what about Humper Biden?
Nappy Yew Hear. To each and every one of you.
Wishing you all a happy, healthy 2023.
Happy New Year always nice to pop into the Althouse Cafe.
Every so often a surprising recording of Bach (usually a transcription) turns up
Víkingur Ólafsson Organ Sonata 4 (transcribed) adagio
Meghan Markle tops poll of celebrities people are sick of - with her husband Prince Harry in second, Oprah third, Amber Heard fourth and James Corden fifth
British poll, I think
Best New Year's Eve ever, if Ohio State wins the Peach Bowl. It's been a surprisingly close and exciting game. Many were expecting a Georgia blowout. At halftime, OSU is leading 28 to 24.
(The.)
Happy New Year everyone.
Happy New Year to all. This is a very special watering hole in the digital wilderness, and it’s the people who make it so. Stay well, think deep thoughts, love one another, and don’t make too much noise.
I am whipping up a change.org petition for more days in the year.
Oh well, never mind.
It's like I'm back in Cleveland.
Nevertheless, Happy New Year, everyone.
May this year be better than the last.
And rhhardin, thank you for that Bach piece. Beautiful.
That's not this morning's sunrise, just one of my favorite sunrises of the past year. It happened on October 6th.
I know some beautiful babies born on that day!
Okay, so this is how I spent my New Year's Eve.
I got sidetracked on the Althouse blog again. Just a tremendous number of thoughts inspired by both Althouse and the commentators. This is a happy place for me, usually. But today I'm fighting with fucking Blogger and I'm trying to preview my posts so my links are right and not linking to the wrong damn video. And I'm trying to do all this shit quickly because I got ideas flying into my brain. I don't know if I got ADD or what. I kind of think technology has fucked with my brain a little. It's just gotten faster and faster. I've always had a quick brain and some days it's even fucking quicker. And damn if I want to take drugs to slow my brain down.
So I've got all these damn ideas and comments to make. And I accidentally deleted shit and other shit I decided is too fucking stupid to post.
Several years ago it used to be easy to post here. I would just throw my shit up on the blog, and if I read it and it was stupid I would just delete the shit out of it. And then somebody -- no idea who -- planted the fucking mustard seed in my brain that maybe it was immoral to delete things on the internet. So that's another possible sin that I got to think about.
I'm both extraverted and introverted, so I have days where I want to fuck around with humanity, and I have days where I want to rant on the internet. (Which can be dangerous because I often forget that the words on the blog that have pissed me off have come from a human being, and so I got to remind myself, all the fucking time, I am talking to a human being.
This is going to be a fucking long one, sorry about that!
The son and family were at the Frogs win at the Fiesta Bowl. It was very much like the 2011 Rose Bowl, they also attended. The Big Ten folks seem to have forgotten how that small Texas private school takes care of business. But now the local team from Athens is going to have to learn the same lesson.
Despite TV analysts, no one around here ever doubted TCU would take out Michigan. Look at what UGA did to them last year. But the finals may be questionable here. The dawgs had several key players injured tonight. And they face the Fearsome Frogs.
And then I got the urge to post on the Althouse blog, so I did that. And I'm trying to write and edit and post something good. This is what I like to do. It doesn't pay me anything, so I can't do it forever. But it's Saturday and I can do it today.
Oops, I lost track of time, forgot to go to my workout.
Then, while I was trying to say something serious about Christ, I get an early morning phone call from my father and he wants to have breakfast. And then I was like, "oh shit, I got to walk my dog."
We have a great breakfast, awesome conversation, it was really nice. My father's 81 and he's slowing down quite a bit. I don't know how much more I can enjoy these times with him. So that was a good one.
He asks me if I want to watch the Clemson-Tennessee game. I say no.
The rest of my afternoon is on the Althouse blog. I'm posting things, destroying things, fighting with Blogger. This is my canvas, this is my artistic process. On this day. Other days I'm goofing off or working for money or stressing about babies being killed, or whatever is on my mind.
I miss lunch. I didn't even miss it, actually, I didn't think about it. Hours pass.
My father calls me and tells me that the Georgia game is tonight. "It is?! I thought it was Tuesday." Georgia is playing for the national championship. I went to Georgia. I really want to see this game. The damn thing has already started.
While I'm driving to my parents' cottage, I'm thinking about other things I want to say, I should have said, etc. etc. And then I have a moment of panic when I'm like, "What road am I on? Am I on the wrong fucking road? Again?" And then I realized I was on the right road, so that was good.
Let me check and see how Blogger thinks about this length so far. I think we're okay. This is turning into a fucking book. Or at least a bad short story.
madAsHell said...
I've seen his golf swing. I've listened to his speeches.
This is election fraud.
TFG did indeed spend his time playing golf, giving campaign speeches, and engaging in election fraud, just to mention a few of his time-wasting activities. Happily, he didn't get re-elected.
When I get to my parents' house, they are both falling asleep. My mom has zero interest in the football game (she used to pretend when she was younger, I think). She's playing games on her iPad. My father wants to spend time with me but he's also falling asleep in his chair and he won't go to bed.
So it's Saturday night, 8:30 p.m., New Year's Eve, and I am trying to focus on the Georgia game. My parents are both asleep. My mom goes to bed. My father refuses to get out of his chair, and he's asleep, too. I leave at halftime.
I don't have cable. I have zero interest in cable, or hundreds of channels. Hundreds of channels are like hundreds of thoughts. Annoying as shit! But it's active, busy, and kind of fun, too. (Definitely not boring).
If I want to watch the game, I got to go to a bar. It's a nice thing about church, or bars, or other gathering places. You meet people and have human connections. I'm trying to woo two millennials simultaneously. Historically, I've been a one-woman guy, even in my fantasy life, more or less. Through a strange and fortuitous set of events, I'm trying to woo two women who are dramatically younger than me. Since we're still at the celibate stage, I'm not cheating on anybody.
One of them is a bartender at one bar (32 years younger than me). And the other one is a waitress at another bar (25 years younger than me). You know those guys who talk about a "one in a million" girl? That's what I want. Sometimes my prayer requests are very specific.
I pick one of the bars, and it's closed.
I actually prayed for a sign from God on the way to the bar, so this cracked me up.
Looking for signs from God keeps life strange and wonderful and mysterious, and it's very interesting for people who have a mind for that sort of thing. It's hard to explain to people. My life is a lot stranger and more mysterious than it was 20 years ago.
Anyway, I still want to see the end of the UGA game! And I notice another bar down the street that is open (and packed). So I go to that one instead.
The music is super loud.
When I was a kid, I would pretend that super loud music was fine, I loved it. Actually it was kind of annoying, but I wanted to be cool and not object to rock, you know. (When I was in film school, I ran into a music professor who mocked the shit out of rock music. Just mocked the fuck out of it. As a possible consequence, I am slowly but surely gaining an appreciation for jazz and classical music).
Almost everybody in the bar is tattooed, except for me. The music is super loud, and kind of annoying. I'm trying to watch the game. Some band is singing about how they are not homophobic. I am also not homophobic, so I kind of like this song. It's too fucking loud, though.
90% of the girls at this bar look like punk rockers. Leather skirts. Tattoos. Nose rings. I've decided to give up on my tattoo bigotry. (My parents hate tattoos and if I end up with my tattooed millennial, I might have to take a firm stand and say some shit to them about tattoo bigotry and how they better not say shit to her about it). On the other hand, I hate her fucking nose ring, because whenever I see that nose ring, my mind goes "bugger, bugger, bugger" and I'm not sure that's going to work. If I was a nose-rubbing Eskimo, maybe I could develop a healthy sexual fetish for nose rubbing. I spend some time thinking about how the hell I'm going to get her to stop wearing that damn nose ring. When I get worked up and irritated about one of my fantasy Millennials, I switch my mind to the other one, or some other topic.
You know that Motown song, Too Many Fish in the Sea? It's a girl song but it's definitely got a point.
It's 4:00 am, I got to go to bed.
Georgia won the game. It was kind of miraculous. I was stomping around, excited, clapping hard, yelling. It's kind of fun being a fan (short for "fanatic").
Quick thought on Johnny Rotten
Want to get this out before I fall asleep
The whole idea of achieving fame and/or notoriety by "shocking" people is profoundly stupid.
It's a bottomless pit of despair that just goes down, down, down.
For instance, if the Sex Pistols want to "shock" the world, or the UK, or whoever...
you sing a song about fucking a baby.
I'm not even going to do the lyrics. It's easy and fucking stupid to be evil. Truly.
So here's a question.
If the Sex Pistols pro-life song isn't "shocking" in the evil way of being the most degrading fucking possible song, what motivated that song?
He's imagining that he's the baby who's being killed. That's not sadism. That's not shocking, either, not in the way conservatives or religious people use the word.
Ready for this?
It's empathetic. It's sensitive. It's nice. Yeah, Johnny Rotten, your song is fucking nice! You shocking bastard.
Happy New Years to Althouse, Meade and fellows commenters! The most enjoyable read on the internet. Kudos to our hostess for permitting, make that, encouraging all points of view. Who else does that?
Happy, Happy New Years everyone!! I wasn't going to post anything today, but this one caught my eye. HOW can you say this is NOT a mental issue?? Absolutely, NOTHING surprised me anymore.
https://www.americanthinker.com/blog/2022/12/disturbed_to_the_nth_degree_men_now_inserting_frozen_tomato_paste_cubes_for_a_mock_fem_cycle.html
Happy New Year all.
One of the bonuses found here are new music sources. Bach is always a treat.
Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels did Too Many Fish In The Sea in 1967. The most under rated male rock singer alive. http://www.mitchryder.net/
Here's a treat
https://youtu.be/M1F0lBnsnkE
Thanks for the music.
There were more stupid rules during the dempanic than I care to recall, but I think my favorite was grocery stores aisles labeled one way. Of all the idiotic ideas these tyrants came up with, this one wins the Nobel prize for ignorance (read: settled science). A close second would permitting Lowe's and Home Depot to remain open, but closing their lawn and garden departments.
And then we have The Atlantic in in October 2022 requesting a pandemic amnesty.
https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2022/10/covid-response-forgiveness/671879/
okay
"bugger bugger bugger" at 2:55 AM should read
"booger booger booger"
add dyslexia to my master list of self-diagnosed possible mental illnesses that I don't want to have
I got zero sleep last night. Up all night.
Kind of strange but not too bad.
Happy New Year to everyone but Gadfly.
I think that if Michigan doesn’t try a trick play to score a TD in the opening minutes, if they just take the gimme 3 or just do some smash-mouth football with a running play, they win. But we’ll never know.
Yesterday morning half the teams in the college championship playoffs were from the Big Ten. This morning there are zero.
So far the Big Ten’s record in this season’s college bowl games is 4-2 with three games being played tomorrow.
Beautiful, rhhardin.
The bugger/booger relationship is obvious; it would be interesting to know when they diverged. Few Americans know 'bugger' in the Victorian schoolboy sense; I wonder if "booger' is an Americanism itself.
Bach and boogers. The sort of juxtaposition that makes this place the GOAT among all-night windmills.
Here at my computer I can listen to great music and probe for nasal nuggets at the same time.
10 minutes ago I was in a suit, in a Bojangles, eating mediocre chicken with really good gravy.
The Episcopalians at my church do not have service on January 1, apparently, and me and two other people in the parking lot missed the memo.
Why am I in a suit? Okay. I got a suit for Christmas because I had a nightmare that I was at my Dad's funeral and everybody was dressed better than I was. I had to talk my parents into the suit, apparently suits are expensive. I have no idea because I don't buy suits.
My selfish plan was to never ever wear the suit, except to funerals. Then, last night, some damn person on the Althouse blog -- I will name no names because I don't remember and I'm too fucking tired to look it up -- planted a mustard seed bomb in my brain, talking about fashion. (And I'm not blaming the dead lady because that's not fair).
And then a metaphorical light bulb went off in my bedroom (keeping me from falling asleep, son of a bitch!)
This insight that popped into my brain, this revelation, was that I need to wear my suit to church all the time. Small thing? Sure. Was I convinced this was a message right from God? Hell yes, I was convinced. I didn't even stop to ponder it. I just put on my suit.
Listen, people have been telling me for decades that I need to dress better. Hot women, ugly women, old women, my mom, my father, my brother, random gay people, the mass media, Althouse, the Kardashians, Camille Paglia, law professors, film school professors, artists, celebrities, everybody but the homeless and the hillbillies have been telling me that I need to dress better. I am 55 years old and I speak the truth when I say: I don't give a shit about fashion, and I never have. Ask anybody.
A couple of months ago, my 80-year-old father and I had breakfast together in a restaurant. The next time I saw the restaurant manager, he asked me, "Was that your father?" I said, "Yes.
He asked me, "Is your father an attorney?"
I said, "No." And then, because I thought it was kind of strange, I added, "I actually used to be an attorney."
He didn't give a shit about me. Had no interest at all.
So I asked my Dad, "Why did he think you were an attorney?"
I was focused on the word attorney. My father does not look like an attorney. He looks like a money guy. He looks like a banker, or a financial advisor. That's because he was a banker, and a financial advisor. (And he's happy in his work). But the damn restaurant guy -- great omelets but the manager is kind of a crank -- thought my dad was an attorney and I was some bum off the street.
That's a shallow fucking analysis!
Anyway, my father answered the question.
"I was wearing a suit."
It seemed obvious to me, in retrospect. All my life, I've been fighting authority. I've never actually tried to be an authority before. That's new shit for me.
People look up to people wearing suits. I should put on a suit and impress people who are shallow and glib.
It's stupid. But it's true.
So that simple and obvious insight hit me like a ton of bricks on my head at 8 in the morning after a whole night of insomnia. "Wear a suit! Wear a suit! Holy fuck! All I need to do is wear a suit!" I didn't even think about it. I put that suit on like I was James Fucking Bond. (That dumb fucker -- I wish humanity would think about a "license to kill" for FBI agents for 10 fucking seconds)
A license to kill is stupid as shit. That's what Roe v. Wade is, all you dumb fucks. It's a license to kill issued to women and their doctors. Do you like that shit? Or not?
Tell the truth! Christ commands it!
I've been stressing, really stressing, over Roe v. Wade. Maybe you noticed. Some people think I'm a faker, or maybe dramatizing a little. I don't give a shit if you believe me or not. I know the truth. Abortion stresses me out. And Christ's teachings on how you fight evil stress me out even more.
I've been taking the Bible seriously, which means I've been wondering if I need to give all my money to the poor, or flip over the tables in the temple, upset my entire family, all my friends, the entire world, apparently. Trying to follow Christ is a stressful thing to do if you take it seriously. You follow Christ all the way, you're going to end up dead a lot quicker than if you don't follow Christ. Anyway, stress.
So I put my suit on and I had a song in my heart and I was so happy, not tired at all, filled with enthusiasm and zest and pure bliss, really.
Wear a suit. It was so easy and I missed it. Men are always going big and women are always going little. I've been going too big! Bring it down, bring it down, bring it down. So I was so happy. I'd rediscovered my optimism and my next step.
The suit! A suit makes a difference! I honestly felt like I had a real breakthrough. I had a sense of relief and a strong feeling that I was on my way.
And I drove over to my church and it was closed for the holiday.
"Wear a suit."
I bought a suit (grey three-piece) to get married in. I think I may have worn it afterwards to a wedding and/or a funeral; I wore the jacket by itself on the rare occasions when nice attire was required.
One of the last newspaper obits I read (before canceling the rag) quoted the deceased: Don't dress up for my funeral, because I surely would not have dressed up for yours.
"Church closed for the holiday." That says it all. (Always check the website first!)
Of all the idiotic ideas these tyrants came up with, this one wins the Nobel prize for ignorance (read: settled science).
While that was dumb, Jay Inslee (Asshole-WA) takes the cake.
He shut down private building/home construction, yet allowed government and low-income housing construction to continue.
Message for Sarah Silverman if she shows up on the Althouse blog
I am a fan.
I would like to have dinner with you.
If you don't want to have dinner with me, that's cool.
I like babies. Ask anybody.
You have a ticking clock. I do not have a ticking clock. This is very unfair. Do not yell at me for this. I didn't do it.
If you are spiritual or holy, we can wait until you are 100. That's fine with me. But if you're worldly, you better speed up your shit.
I am not your mother but I sound like her, right?
Hey happy New Year everyone!
@Saint Croix, regarding the suit. There’s a story from several years ago about two Washington-area jurisdictions that had a major dispute that left the two sides at each other’s throats. Finally the two sides agreed to arbitration. The arbitrator met with the two sides in a large conference room. He walked in, stood at one end of the table, put down his briefing materials, and ordered everyone in a three piece suit to leave the building. No exceptions. After they left there was no one in the room from either side who was a lawyer, just engineers and people directly involved with the issue. The agreement was reached in less than an hour.
The story may be apocryphal, but there’s a reason why it seems so highly plausible.
Sarah Silverman?
Dude, you can do better.
Sarah Silverman?
Dude, you can do better.
That's true, Narr. There's not a doubt in my mind. It's true. There are a lot of women better than Sarah Silverman. Millions of them, maybe.
I'll let you in on a little secret, though.
She can do better than me!
One of the problems of too many choices is that all that optionality can make people fucking miserable.
Watch Witness some time.
You'd think women in New York would have more sexual happiness than small time Amish ladies.
I'd be willing to bet those Amish girls are rocking it with secret bliss.
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