I was in my thirties when I learned that Meredith Hunter, the fellow who’d been stabbed to death, had been black, and certainly no innocent, peaceful hippie.
That’s an inconvenient detail normally race-obsessed Baby Boomers skim over when they can.
Meredith had also (and here perceptions differ) pulled a gun, prompting an Angel or Angels to kill him in “self-defense” (although “multiple stab wounds” normally aren’t helpful in winning such cases…)
KSAN did a four-hour broadcast about the concert the next day, “crowdsourcing” opinion on what happened at a time when talking back to the media/celebrities was less commonplace or possible to do as it is now:
I find The Clash funnier than Lowe does, however. It’s what saves them from being entirely horrible doctrinaire bores. The captions in Before and After alone are quite clever. It’s too bad they didn’t show that side of themselves more often, but I think they were afraid of turning into A Hard Day’s Night or The Monkees TV show if they did.
And “Should I Stay…” is not a representative Clash song (which is why it was a hit.)
[T]he “hate speech” police in our media, who are quick to pounce on any real or fabricated racial or “homophobic” gaffe by politicians, celebrities, or common citizens, have hypocritically ignored the Mandela/Zuma genocide endorsements — or have attempted to exonerate them of any malice with lame excuses about the songs being mere cultural/political slogans.
Daniel Greenfield: Mandela’s Death Gives Western Liberals Permission to Stop ‘Caring’ About South Africa
Spotted by Laura Rosen Cohen:
Even as the mourning for Mandela goes on, one child is raped every three minutes in South Africa and three children are murdered every day. If there is anything that the world ought to mourn, not only today, but every day, it is a horrifying reality in which a South African woman is more likely to be raped than to learn to read, a quarter of the men admit to having raped and men with AIDS believe that they can find a cure by raping a baby. Troubling facts like these defy the easy inspiration of the happy ending. They remind us that history does not stop the way that a film script does. There is no moment when the crowd cheers, the camera pans up and the audience is free to leave the theater and look no further because the story has ended.”
Which means I have to go over this again for the thick-headed:
Please don’t tell me that these awful men need more “education.”
Let’s pretend for a moment that you have a chronic, incurable disease AND that, bizarrely enough, raping a baby really would cure you.
So: Would you do it?
I’m hoping the answer is “no.”
It’s not about “education,” it’s about basic morality, and being able to control one’s own savage impulses — something too many Africans seem unable or unwilling to do.
As Bob Dylan’s “Newport” guitar goes on the auction block today…
I want [my daughter] to feel the way I felt—and still feel—listening to Bob Dylan. I can’t imagine my life, if those feelings hadn’t existed. They seemed to connect me to something much bigger than myself. But she doesn’t want to feel the way I felt listening to Dylan any more than I wanted to feel the way my father felt listening to Benny Goodman.
As Wired’s Kevin Kelly notes, “Two hundred years ago, 70 percent of American workers lived on the farm. Today automation has eliminated all but 1 percent of their jobs, replacing them (and their work animals) with machines.”
While some hippies and agrarian poets may disagree, most people wouldn’t say we’d be better off if seven out of ten people still did backbreaking labor on farms.
That doesn’t mean the transition to a society fueled by robot slaves won’t be painful. The Luddites destroyed cotton mills for a reason. Figuring out ways to get the young and the poor into the job market really is a vital political, economic, and moral challenge.
These atheists have always wanted to play God. We used to call them racists and fought on behalf of the minorities they oppressed. Then they coopted the word and now it’s them calling us racists. Now they can destroy all the blacks, gays, race mixers, writers, and artists who stand in their way. The bad guys haven’t changed. They just use different words. Crusaders for equality pretend they’re ruining lives for the greater good, but it’s still only rich white people fucking over the vulnerable.
If there is actual evidence of his attempting to pervert the course of justice, then absolutely he should face criminal charges. But if there is any such evidence, there has been no indication of it so far.
To be clear, to the best of my knowledge, Ward 21 Councillor “Fiasco” Joe Mihevc has never had sexual relations with a farm animal…
Specifically, a gang of the finest songwriters, producers, arrangers, session musicians, with four very talented vocalists in the spotlight – some of whom were more adept at playing instruments and songwriting than the other spotlight vocalist(s) colleagues. That’s my polite way of saying Mike Nesmith is absolutely wonderful, without diminishing the others’ contributions.
The Monkees and Sex Pistols both illustrate a cosmic artistic law that dictates “fake” art can sometimes spawn great art.
In The Monkees’ case, Ed Driscoll notes that this ersatz corporate bubblegum band indirectly financed the filming of Easy Rider and Five Easy Pieces. One member (crusty Liquid Paper heir Mike Nesmith) became the Ernie Kovacs of what we now call music videos.
(This law is illustrated equally well by The Godfather, a quickie airport novel written to pay off the author’s gambling debts that inspired a couple of cinematic masterworks. The book is still considered a Mafia Bible by real-life mobsters who apparently don’t know or care that Mario Puzo, who knew nothing of authentic Cosa Nostra rituals, pretty much made them up.)
The cobalt-60 was found, removed from its casing, in a rural area near the town of Hueypoxtla about 25 miles from where the truck was stolen. Jimenez suspected that curiosity got the better of the thieves and they opened the box. So far the carjackers have not been arrested, but authorities expect they will not live long.
“The people who handled it will have severe problems with radiation,” he said. “They will, without a doubt, die.”
I’ll ask again — if America is so evil, how the hell an obviously gay (and insane) black guy who wore makeup and hairspray, banged on a piano and screamed about loving either teenaged girls or Jesus wasn’t either locked up or lynched — but became (if not rich, alas) pretty damned famous, and is still alive at a ripe old age?
Once upon a time there was a piano-pounding R&B “shouter” from the South who would take the stage sporting a six-inch pompadour, rhinestone shades, brocaded shirts, heavy lipstick, and heavier jewelry—and his name was not Little Richard. In style, image, and performance mayhem, Esquerita taught Richard Penniman how to be Little Richard. Thus, there is more than a little selective memory when Little Richard routinely proclaims himself the “originator” and a dose of hypocrisy when he periodically claims that Prince stole his act. (…)
Some have attempted to re-dress history’s shortcomings. Mick Jones, of the Clash fame, recorded a tribute song to Esquerita in 1988 with Big Audio Dynamite in which he described his subject as “Black Flash Gordon Rocket ‘58”. The Cramps and other punkabilly acts have also either openly cited Esquerita as a source of influence or have adopted his camp charms or rambunctious methods.