Talent Sluts: NINE SALINGER PAGES (#7)

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September 9, 1929
The Post now pays the old whore $4000 a screw.
But now its because she's mastered the 40 positions.
In her youth, one was enough.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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June 2, 1933
Whoring of mind and body can be a jolly, zestful end in itself
but it is cheapened by those who find sentimental lying excuses for it.
Dawn Powell
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Page 1
He's got a lot of dough, now. He didn't use to...He used to be just a regular writer
...He wrote this terrific book of short stories...Now he's out in Hollywood...
being a prostitute. If there's one thing I hate, it's the movies.
Don't even mention them to me.
J.D. Salinger
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Footnotes
NINE SALINGER PAGES continues here
and the next Dawn Powell page is there.

As for the incestuous relationship between J. D. Salinger and  F. Scott Fitzgerald,
click here.
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E.E. Cummings: Poem + Drinking Buddy

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June 17, 1932
I drank with E.E. Cummings till five in the morning–a simply heavenly spree.
Cummings' conversation (in its drunken fantastic aspects) permits no interchange–
it is a dazzling, glittering spectacle, a parade of wonders and fantastic nonsense


October 3, 1932
An artist’s own conviction is the most convincing thing in the world
and no harder to get over than a lie.
Dawn Powell Diaries: 1931-1965



The next Dawn Powell page is here.
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Son, The Highest Cloud Is The Floor Of Heaven

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Are you sure
That’s where it is, Dad–
Do you think one cloud
Can hold us all up,
Support us, I mean?
I mean if we put
Ten people
In our treehouse, Dad,
You know there’re gonna
Fall right through the bottom
To the ground.
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Footnotes
The initial copyright holder (1968) was Suffolk County Community College.
The second copyright (1996) was issued to the Lewis Carroll School of Logic
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Moondancers: A SHORT STORY ©

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Within minutes of changing the ring tone on my cellphone to Native American bone flute,
the phone rang and it was the only Native American woman I ever knew intimately.

Coincidence? Hardly: this was divine intervention.
It was the first reward for traveling two hundred miles just to show off a piece of real estate.

We knew each other at a time when intimacy and longevity were mutually exclusive.

Oobetah’s last name may have been remembered for a week but it was almost long enough
to be a short story.

We met in the previous millennium when Jimmy Carter was president.
The intimacy lasted for all of one evening.
Her dark sultry voice, however, has been easy to recall whenever I am walking on the beach
under a misty full moon.

I changed the ringtone because I had a Monday morning drive from my Piscataway New Jersey
real estate office to Southampton New York.
For the occasion, I purchased a 5th Generation Technology Motorola H700 Bluetooth Headset.
At least a half-dozen clients were interested in a waterfront property I was showing
all the way out on the eastern end of Long Island.
The seller was a New Jersey Council woman.

Six interested clients but the first phone call–while exiting my home state–was from someone
knowledgeable about prime Long Island real estate pre-dating generational technology.

Bluetooth didn’t even have baby teeth when this white boy met that Indian girl.


“Oobetah! What a delight to hear your voice. How are you?”

“I am not doing good today but I feel slightly better because you addressed me by my birth name.
However, please call me Cindy, as in Cindy Topper.

“Paul, we met on the dance floor of the Terpsichorean TeePee. The year was 1977 and I was with
two of my cousins. You met a trio of Webeno Cherokees whose tribe sold the the disco property
to a Riverhead real estate developer. Unfortunately, that transaction did not prevent my cousins
from spending the night in a drunk tank.

“I have so many cousins that I can’t recall which two crazy ones you met but their names
might as well have been Cliche and Clichina. We were Native Americans
whose spiritual beliefs were diametrically opposite that of ‘naturalized’ Americans
who migrated from Europe.

"Some of us went so far as to call ourselves NON-Americans. But I am a classic example
of a person who, instead of fighting the American way of life, joined it.”

“Oobetah–I mean Cindy–is that why you are not doing good today?”

“Yes. I live in a gated Port Jefferson community and our Jacuzzi needs a new motor.
Yesterday, my granddaughter’s team lost the Suffolk County Soccer League championship
by the disgusting score of 8 to 0. What an embarrassment to my daughter and son-in-law!
They lost a thousand dollar bet. The child was cut-off from iPod privileges for a month.

"My husband’s Mercedes was totaled by a Budweiser truck. He needed my car to get to work.
So I was sitting on the patio with the Blackberry surfing wherever the whim blew when I found
your phone number on whitepages.com.”

“Cindy, what I best remember about that night at the Terpsichorean TeePee
was that you taught me the moondance.”

“The Moondance! I knew there was a good reason why I called you. Uhhh, hold the line. Honey?”

“Are you calling me Honey?”

“No, Paul. Ralph is my honey. He just walked in the door. We’ve been married thirty-seven years.”

“OK, I’ll hold the line.”
I ended up holding the line for twelve minutes, a painless thing to do with a Bluetooth headset.
In Monday morning rush hour traffic, that was barely enough time to make it
through the Lincoln Tunnel.

“I’m back, sorry. I lied. Everything is fine. Life is wonderful.
I knew I had a good reason for calling you.”

“What happened?”

“Ralph and I just did the moondance.”


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Footnote
MOONDANCERS is the copyrighted property of the Lewis Carroll School of Logic but...
it behooves me to connect you to a classic song by Van Morrison.
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180 Degree Weather

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Once upon a time, your talents were divine.
They treated you so fine.

You had to look down to see the stars and moon.

You were so damn good, everyone wanted to kiss your ring.
But this is the thing:

Time is an ice cold maiden who has no friends.

Then you had to survive and the only way to do so was...
to hock the ring because you could not see the future
until it ran over your legs...and there were no witnesses.


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Footnote
180 DEGREE WEATHER is the copyrighted property of the Lewis Carroll School of Logic.
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Franny In Glass Land: Nine Salinger Pages (#6)

................................Subtitle: The Footnote Is Longer Than The Quote.................................
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I am sick of just liking people.
I wish to God I could meet
somebody I could respect.
J.D. Salinger
Franny and Zooey


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FOOTNOTE
In 1969, I etched those words onto a plywood counter-top somewhere in this house.
I was not so much in agreement with what Franny said as much as being alerted
to the galactic difference between liking and respecting someone.
We sold the house in 1981.



NINE SALINGER PAGES continues here.
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Glass Land: NINE SALINGER PAGES (#5)

..........................Subtitle: Buddy, Can You Spar A Quote...........................
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Imagine a boy in a bathtub, reading a four-year-old letter with as many wrinkles as this t-shirt.

The boy is Zooey Glass and the letter was written by his brother,
Buddy Glass, who also narrates the story named for his youngest brother.

There are as many Glass siblings as there are days of the week.

The youngest girl is Franny Glass who is soundly asleep
on a living room sofa while the you is reading in the tub.

Elsewhere in Salingeria, the first born of the brood
is referred to as See More Glass

(The subtitle of that hyperlink could have been
"See More Antiquated Academic Gripes.")

The book is opened to the pages from whence come the quotes.

" " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " "
" " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " "

Cleverness was my permanent affliction, my wooden leg...As one limping man to another...
let’s be courteous and kind to each other.

Seymour once said–in a crosstown bus, of all places–that all legitimate religious study
must lead to unlearning the differences between boys and girls, animals and stones,
day and night, heat and cold.
J.D. Salinger
Franny and Zooey
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NINE SALINGER PAGES continues here.
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1947 + 1961: NINE SALINGER PAGES (#4)

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She gave me life. He gave me J.D. Salinger. With cousins like him, I didn't need a big brother.

...Photo ≈ 1947...I was two years south of being born.

But flash forward to 1961. He was a high school senior in the Bronx and I was a curious 12-year old
from the better side of the Whitestone Bridge. His bedroom was adorned with CARDINAL HAYES banners and posters of Mickey Mantle and Y. A. Tittle.

I was getting curiouser and curiouser about a baseball book on his desk.

"Who is the catcher in the rye? Is this book about Yogi Berra?"

"It's about Holden Caulfield."

"What team does he play for? The Pittsburg Pirates?
Is Smokey Burgess in the book?"

"No, Holden was just a boy. A sixteen year old boy–just like me..."

My cousin talked about the book non-stop for a half-hour...My ears grew bigger than Pinocchio's nose.


That was the day I found religion.

Had not Mr. Salinger introduced me to Scott Fitzgerald, Ring Lardner and so many other writers
with meat on their bones, the "GoodFather/GodFather of Math" pages
would have gone through the looking glass.


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Footnote
I am not a name-dropper. I smash the names against the wall and watch all the shards sparkle.
There is a limit to my hyperlinking but NINE SALINGER PAGES continues here.
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Now You See It...Or Do You?

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Alessandro Diddi
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Today Is Also SQUARE DAY...

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Today is September 25...Numerically, it is 9/25

Both numbers reside on Diagonal Boulevard of TimesTableLand...

That is, 9 = 3x3
and.....25 = 5x5

Therefore, the Square Root of today is March 5 (= 3/5)

September has three other SQUARE DAYS:
...September 1 = 9/1
...September 9 = 9/9
September 16 = 9/16

Their Square Root Days are all in March

For more SQUARE DAYS...

See you in January...

(And April...)

January is the only SQUARE DAY month to have its Square Root Days in the same month.

Life is so funny that way...
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)(*&^%$#@! National Punctuation Day !@#$%^&*()

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Be kind to a comma
Be polite to a parenthesis
Kiss an ampersand

With a pound sign
Just hold its hand
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Footnotes
Be kind to a comma is the copyrighted property of LCSoL.

The illustration was created by Richard McGuire
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Eva Gets Confused...

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This was not Adan
So Eva got confused:
Sometimes she winned
Sometimes she losed

Who is this old thing?
He's got more wrinkles
Than chocolate ice cream
Has sprinkles.

With that funny face
That he does flount
He's missing more teeth
Than milk bottles can count

Where is my Adan
So said Eva
Who just closed her eyes
And became a believa

Kisses sweeter than wine
Hugs huggier than divine
I'll keep him mine
Said she with blonde hair

I'll keep Adan, too
It's so nice to have a spare!

And her menage a trois is here.
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© Carpoo
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The Dawning of Susan B. & My Tenth Birthday

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May 17, 1959
On Greenwich Avenue an old lady stopped me and said "Excuse me but don't I know you––?"
We exchanged names––she was Katherine Anthony (granddaughter of Susan B.) and we had met
at Malcolm's [Cowley] and elsewhere. She asked what I was doing in the neighborhood
and I said I was looking for an apartment. She said "Take mine" and I said "I will."
Next day she phoned me and I went to 23 Bank Street. It was beyond belief perfect––
beautiful, four rooms––so I paid $250 down and we go June 15.

DAWN POWELL
The Diaries...1931-1965


I was born May 18, 1949...Sixty years later...I was introduced to Dawn Powell
by my girlfriend, who merely acted in the family way. That is, she was a literary pimp.

My lady's great grandfather–one hundred generations ago–was a London newsboy
who patented the Cockney holler:
"Get ya' Shakespere here...Read all about it: Macbeth and all the other great Danes...
Get ya' Shakespere here."


The next Dawn Powell page is here.
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The Best Art Department In California Is...

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...Cal State Long Beach.

This statement has been proven mathematically as follows:

+

+

+

+

= Positively Fourth Street

THE SUM TOTAL OF THIS PROOF IS south of here>>> IN THE 2-DIE-4 PHOTO GALLERY


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Footnotes
This semester two things have happened: my aging process is wearing high heel sneakers
AND the Cal State Long Beach Art Department is welcoming a new student: Sierra Swiglick.

I remember the exact place on the campus of Jefferson High School where her father,
Morris Swiglick told me "My daughter was born yesterday."
Mr. Swiglick is still teaching Chemistry at the same school I retired from nine years ago.
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Solar Flare Hair

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If I started to write about this person, it would be impossible to stop writing.
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Shangai Picasso

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Visitors look at a painting by Pablo Picasso at a preview of a Christie's auction in Shanghai
on September 24, 2013. The British auction house will hold its first auction in mainland China
on September 26 in Shanghai.

AFP PHOTO/ Peter Parks


© artdaily.org
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I Will Not Be Thrown From My Throne (CR #85)

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MUTTS
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Harriet Hilwy

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When Hillary Clinton's people rejected her application as a staffer...Harriet Hilwy said
"This is the end of the road for me!"

Then she walked away...until she reached a fork in the road...She picked up the fork
and used it to eat her French fries...

She woke from the dream.

She reached for the phone. She needed her lover's voice for comfort.
It did not matter what he said. She dialed his number.
His phone rang once. It rang twice...After the fourth ring:

I am sorry but your lover is not available at this time. He is busy dreaming about French fries.
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Footnote
This copyrighted page is a CarPoo product and is not to be confused with Carpoo Tunnel Syndrome.



CarPoo Inc. ©
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All About Sausage (NINE SALINGER PAGES #3)

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In 1937, Jerome David Salinger went to Vienna ...Not because of the CIC...
Nor the CIA...Salinger did not have Adolf Hitler in his binoculars...
He did not have binoculars...He was born on January 1, 1919...
The eighteen year old boy was in Vienna for one and only one reason...

SAUSAGE

His parents sent him there to learn the family business: specialty food imports
But Jerry was much more interested in the ankles of Viennese girls...
He preferred lacing up their ice skates to learning about Vienna sausage...

There were fifty-seven varieties of Viennese sausage but there were as many girls
as there were dreams...and twice as many ankles...with four times as much deception
when we visit the words of Before and After:

BEFORE:
I’ve asked CIC to send me to Vienna, but so far no results. I was there for a nearly a year in 1937

AFTER:
I’ve asked CIC to send me to Vienna, but so far no results. I was there for a nearly a year in 1937 and I want to put some ice skates on some Viennese girl’s feet again. That’s not much to ask of the Army.
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Two friends were reunited after one of them was eviscerated in a biography.
They met as teenagers in Vienna, the year after the son of Sol Salinger
arrived in Europe to learn the family business. The year was 1938.

They didn't meet again until 1989. Donald Hartog fulfilled his family's wishes
by making a career in the specialty food import business but Jerry never learned
diddly about sausages. (Except how to eat them.)

Yet, he did so declare...from the bottom of his heart and stomach...that
Burger King burgers were superior to McDonald's and Wendy's.

But Donald Hartog took issue with Salinger's declaration because Donald knew every-
thing there was to know about beef. And then he imported it before tripling the price.

"Jerry, when I visit you in New Hampshire, we cannot go to Burger King."

"Okay, Donald. I am willing to eat the occasional Big Mac."

"No!"

"No. What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Jerry, baby. No Burger K...no Mickey D or Wendy Do...I will only eat tofu burgers."

"Jesus Christ Almighty, Donnie. You sound just like Holden."

"Jerry?"

"What?"

"Of course I sound like Holden. Have your forgotten?"

...

...

"Now I remember. It was when we met those two Swedish girls in Vienna."

"Exactly. You said to me. 'Let's walk right into their dream.' I told them
your name was Zooey."

"Of course. Then I introduced you as 'Holden'...Holden Cornfield from Iowa."

"And I said, 'Zooey is from Glassland.' And, unfortunately, they told us they were
allergic to glass."

"But we laughed so goddam hard, two Russian girls took us home. One of them was BooBoo."

"And the other one was Walter. They were the Wiz kids of Wostoyevsky."

"It was a perfect day for bananafish."


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Footnote
NINE SALINGER PAGES continues here.
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The Salinger Muckumentary (#2)

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With all due respect to Harvey Weinstein and Shane Solerno, a documentary can be the antithesis of a factumentary when it doctors fact in the name of insatiable sensationalism. Some documentaries forsake journalistic excellence for journalistic excrement, fertilized by more than thirteen million websites.
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If you need to know about that birth certificate kind of crap, I was born "Harvey Winksting."
But my Uncle Simon was a Makeover manufacturer and changed my name to Shameless Shane Soblowme.

Next thing I remember was that the Italian boys from Bensonhurst stopped beating me up every day.
Occasionally, they would call me "Half-Truth Harvey" but I got some industrial strength truth
to send your way.

😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟

Just read what a hospitalized "soldier" wrote in a 1945 letter. He was in Germany arresting people
after Hitler smartened up and killed himself.

I’ve asked CIC to send me to Vienna, but so far no results. I was there for a nearly a year in 1937

CIC stands for the Counter-Intelligence Center...Soldier "Jerry" wrote this coded letter to super-agent
"Poppa." The super-agent was in Cuba to keep his shit-detector on a teenager named Fidel Castro.



Just like Poppa, Jerry had a four-digit IQ and a triple-A rating as a spy, so the CIA sent him to Vienna
in 1937 to get the goods on upstart Adolph. Jerry could not have been more accurate about the future
of Germany–and the world. But when he mailed his report to CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia,
he had insufficient postage. The 1937 report, which Jerry titled "World War Deuce Awaits Thee,"
became DEAD MAIL.

For more than seventy years, "World War Deuce Awaits Thee" was buried ten miles beneath somewhere
in the Appalachian Mountains. However, we have unearthed it and the manuscript, sealed in CIA-issued
wrapping paper, is in mint condition. It will be published five years from today or ten years from today,
or fifteen years from today. Depending on which comes first.

😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟😟

Elsewhere in the 1945 letter from Jerry to Poppa:

I could play Holden Caulfield myself...

Five years before the "Holden Project" was completed, good old Jerry Spylinger thought he would pick up where Mickey Rooney left off as Andy Hardy. (If and only if Andy had gone through the looking glass.)

Because Jerry remembered to use correct postage this time, the CIA declared the Holden Project
a complete success. The book brainwashed a gazillion readers into believing they were self-inflicted
with individuality whereby self-consciousness gave way to self-awareness.

Success went to Jerry's head and he went public as J. D. Salinger but his next assignment for the CIA–
in 1959–was to re-write Alice in Wonderland, the most famous "children's story" ever written:

Alice fell into a hole in Afghanistan after Humpty Dumpty sat on the World Trade Center

That project was abandoned and Jerry was retired by the CIA. His retirement gift was a former nuclear testing site in New Hampshire.

"J.D." also gave the world A Perfect Day for Bananafish and a book code-named for his adopted parents,
Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald


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Footnote
The second of NINE SALINGER PAGES was inspired by the googled subject of thirteen million websites.
For every million sites, there is one percentage of truth to this page, if and only if there is
extra credit for correct spelling.

The next Salinger page will set the record straight.
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From Jerry To Poppa, Salingerly (#1)

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The complete text of the letter is here but the highlighting/spacing of the postscript below is mine.
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My book of stories project collapsed. Which is really a good thing, and no sour grapes.

I’m still tied up with lies and affections, and to see my name on a dust jacket would postpone
any real improvement several more years.

Edmund Wilson published a kind of scrapbook of F. Scott Fitzgerald (a dirty idea), calling it “Crack Up”.

Malcolm Cowley reviewed it for the New Yorker, or reviewed Fitzgerald himself in the damn superior way
critics review dead men. It’s so easy to write a “good” review of Fitzgerald. All his shortcomings
stick out so obviously, and if a few don’t Fitzgerald himself points them out. It seems dull or critics
to lament Fitzgerald’s failure to “develop.”

It seems so apparent that anybody who would write a book like Gatsby could never possibly “develop.”

His craftsmanship, or his beauty, was only applicable to his weakness, don’t you think. I don’t believe,
as critics seems to, that “The Last Tycoon” would have been his best book.
He was getting ready to mess it up. He was getting ready to give it a Gatsby twist.
It’s just as well he didn’t finish it, I think.

Best to you.
J.

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This is the first of NINE SALINGER PAGES created by the Lone Comanche Chief
of the 147th Salinger Freak Society, sometimes known as Paul Oliverio.

The next page will deal with the letter from Jerry to Poppa.

The next Fitzgerald page is here.
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Flip, Flop, & Bonk! (CR #80)

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Yes, sir. No Sir...I am no fool. but cool cat teachers can make science sooooo...cool



M.....Mc
U..........Do
T...............nn
T....................e
S.........................ll

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Another Poem For Carol

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I once knew a bloggo named Edward
Who loved his cat and did adore her
Her name was Quesodora

But Edward diBloggo
Needed a new page:
Something written at an early age

Not about a hot tramp:
About loving a dog named Scamp
[With precision poetry, Hurray!
His professor graded him plus-plus A]

However, Queso the Cat
Was smarter than Babe Ruth's bat
When she read the bloggo
She said Oh no! Oh no! Edward must go!

He said
"My loving, adorable feline
You know I think you divine.
Today and tomorrow, You are mine.

"But sooooooooo many yesterdays ago,
I was a worthless dog
So was Scamp, you know?"

But out the window
Queso did go
Just like that...
She was wearing a yellow hat.

If you find Quesodora
Tease her with a comb
Edward was stupidly insensitive
Please send her home.
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Olivo Barbieri

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“Like everybody, I am attracted to danger,” said the 60-year-old of his artistic philosophy.
“All the difficulties you try to overcome have the same value of those you can discover.”

Olivo Barbieri approaches his work like a scientist, starting with a basic question.
For this series, it was, “How can these people go up, and down, the mountain?”
The quest led to the seven images on display...

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About That Phone Number And October 16

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FINALLY...three years in the making...I will be hosting a Poetry Night in Long Beach...Apostrophe
is the friendliest and most comfortable independently-owned book store that I know.

Smack-dab in the middle of October, on the evening of the 16th...

An aesthetically pleasing and splendid time is guaranteed for all who attend the event.
For poets who do not dot their i 's or cross their t 's, mighty applause will be yours
and a collection of dots and crosses will ours to keep. Thank you very much.

If you cannot be there, send a representative or just send money to the host. He is
humble enough to leave his name off of the flyer. His name is Paul O. Oliverio...
and if his dream come true, a Brooklyn girl from Katonah will be there.

Katonah is to Westchester County as Palos Verdes is to Los Angeles County
or Belmont Shore is to Long Beach.
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More Archival O.I. Revilo: The Eager Servant

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When her boomerang returns to the atmosphere, he is her landing platform. Her human tarmac
asks no questions and cooks whatever delights her between love affairs.

He is always there to catch her dirty laundry and run it through an extra rinse cycle.


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Footnotes
THE EAGER SERVANT is the copyrighted property of the Lewis Carroll School of Logic.

For usage of any GoodFather/GodFather copyrighted property, please direct inquiries
to this website or call 562-208-7967
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More Bad Beatles: Now Junior, Behave Yourself!

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Once upon another time, The Beatles recorded Bad Boy and it is a gross miscarriage of justice
that Larry Williams has yet to be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.



Larry Williams wrote Bad Boy, Dizzy Miss Lizzy, and Slow Down: all covered by the Beatles



Not having Larry Williams in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame is as if that venerable museum
spent an exorbitant amount of time and money to design a car but...they could only afford
to put three tires on it.

Now Junior, behave yourself. Everyone else: write a letter to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

For those in search of the next Beatles' page: click here.
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Bad Beatles

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One thing and one thing only I can say without any possibility of ever being wrong
In this whole wide world, there is no such thing as a bad Beatles song. But...



Once upon a time, they recorded Bad To Me, a song which John Lennon
wrote for Billy J. Kramer and the Dakotas.


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Footnotes
Once upon a time, the Godfather of Math strung together nine pages linking the Beatles
to the namesake of the Lewis Carroll School of Logic. The pages are subtitled (Apple #1)
through (Apple #9). They begin here...

And the next GoodFather Beatles' page is there.
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Mutual Fabrication

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A man will inflate his stature to impress an incoming miss. But a woman of professional stature
could intimidate the man by factually introducing her self as a doctor, lawyer, or Indian chief.

"I am an assistant to Bill Gates," says the man who slices cucumbers at the Microsoft cafeteria
in Seattle, Washington.

"I am a legal assistant," says the woman who is actually an attorney.

So they lie to each other in perfect counterpoint.


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Footnote
MUTUAL FABRICATION is the copyrighted property of the Lewis Carroll School of Logic.
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Headball

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A head game that is as close to handball as the spelling suggests.



The head becomes the ball and there is a wall.
The hand (optional) has to smack its head
Against the wall
Again and against.

The first one to fall
Is the winner
And qualifies for jury duty

Or becomes a cable news commentator.


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Footnote
HEADBALL is the copyrighted property of the Lewis Carroll School of Logic.
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Coming Soon: A New Beatles Album

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...................................Another Set of Beatles’ BBC Recordings Is On the Way...................................



On Air – Live at the BBC Volume 2 will be released November 11. It will feature recordings made
between March, 1962 and June, 1965. A double-disc of BBC Beatles' music was released in 1994.

"The Beatles performed 88 songs on the BBC...[Including] 36 songs they never recorded
  at Abbey Road."

The next Beatles' page is here.
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The Doors

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PARIS.- A street art work by artist Sambre inside the building known as "La Tour" in Paris,
set for demolition in 2014. Artists from all over the world occupy the building's 36 flats to create
"street Art works"...

AFP PHOTO / JOEL SAGET


© artdaily.org
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Eva Casts A Light

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When shadowboxing Adan
Was in no mood for romancing
All Eva wanted to do
Was to go out dancing

She cast her light on Adan
He naturally started prancing
Because she wanted no boxing
From her shadowy fiancé thing
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Footnotes
This copyrighted page is a CarPoo product
and is not to be confused with Carpoo Tunnel Syndrome.

The next adventure of ADAN & EVA is here.


aka  CarPeo Inc. ©
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God & The Beatles

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Blatantly believing in God requires acknowledging
the existence of the Devil.

A truly benevolent God probably prefers
we believe in neither.

God does not need people to believe in him
as much as he needs people to believe in each other.

All you need is love
- O.I. Revilo

Almost all you need is...The Beatles.

GOD  is an acronym for Group Of Deities.

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Footnotes
This page is the copyrighted property of LCSoL.

Bonus soundtrack: She's Got The Devil In Her Heart.

The next Beatles page is here. 
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The Most Dangerous Cliche...

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The most dangerous cliche for a writer is: At all costs, avoid cliches.
-O. I. Revilo
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The Rhinoceros Dilemma

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A man can look at a rhinoceros and say “There is a creature that looks as if it didn’t exist” but a rhinoceros will look at a man and barely take notice.
-O.I. Revilo
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Two Of A Kind: The Return Of Art Daily

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DRESDEN.- German visual artist Gerhard Richter stands in front of his installation "5 Scheiben" (5 disks) during a preview of the show "Gerhard Richter - Strips and Glass"...


LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

LONDON.- A member of staff poses next to a sculpture by Swiss artist Alberto Giacometti
entitled "Tete de Diego au col roule"... AFP PHOTO / CARL COURT


The other photographer is Hendrik Schmidt

                                                                                                                        

artdaily.org 



 The next Giacometti page is here.


 
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The Last Word (A Poem)

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Yesterday is Memory’s secretary.
Yesterday is its editor
Whiting out life’s drivel
But Today is Memory’s predator.

Memory rents storage space
From a temperamental landlord: the Soul.
But Today selectively reaches into
That big bottomless bowl.

Often with Truth,
Memory is holding hands.
But most of the time
They have different plans.

Now
says to Then
“Yes
“I do remember when.”

Then says
“That’s not how it was, kid!”
Now says
“What matter if a Didn’t becomes a Did?”

Memory is always on its toes
Wherefrom come one thousand sparks?
Who really knows?

The nose is Memory’s sentinel:
A certain smell recalls 1959
Sounds of music are
Encrusted on Memory’s spine.

When all the Yesterdays meet
It’s either swim or sink
But Memory’s blueprint
Is written in erasable ink.

It is everything ever (or never)
Said, done or heard
But Today is Memory’s mouthpiece
And always has the last word.
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A Tethered Truth (CR #63)

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Sometimes the weather
Changes the tether


MUTTS
Patrick McDonnell
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He Said, She Said (He/She #4) ©

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"How old are you?"

"According to what: my driver's license or my poetic license?"
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Adan & Evala: Another Shadow

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Adan shadowboxing
With the mother of Eva
He does not know
If he can believe her

Quote the shadowy lady
This is what she saidy:
"I know that when
Love does begin
A little bit of hate
Will seep in"

Right after lunch
Adan threw a punch
He felt out of joint
But had proven Mother Betty's point.


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Footnotes
This copyrighted page is a CarPoo product and is not to be confused with Carpoo Tunnel Syndrome.

The next adventure of ADAN & EVA is here.
 

CarPoo Inc. ©
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He Said, They Said (He/They #2) ©

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"Just because you dress a man in a three-piece suit, doesn't mean he has a four-star brain."

"That would only be true if our viewers didn't have a one-star brain."
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He Said...They Said...(He/They #1) ©

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"You are constantly “redesigning” the circle with nothing but straight lines."

"We are not re-designing nor are we re-inventing the circle. We are simply
  giving it a makeover."

"But why are you using only straight lines?"

"To do otherwise would adversely effect our ratings."
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McCain Accuses Obama Of Thinking

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WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—Sen. John McCain (R-Arizona) was harshly critical today
of President Obama’s nationally televised address about Syria this week, telling CNN’s Wolf Blitzer,
“The President’s decision to think before attacking another country flies in the face of American
foreign policy.”
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My Last Conversation With Father Frank

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I'd rather be here than there.

What do you mean, Father?

Cardinal Dolan always draws a big crowd and I don't want to be there
locked inside a box.

He was on Steven Colbert's show last week. Today, he is burying you!

Not exactly. Only my California nephew would make a statement like that.
The Cardinal is saying my "burial mass" in Tuckahoe and would have buried me–
as you say–if it had been arranged for me to be interred in Westchester County.

But you're being buried with Nuna and Nanootz on Long Island.

Yes, I am being laid to rest with my Mother and Father.

That's one small victory for the Oliverio family.

I wouldn't call it "small," Paul. And I'm surprised you referred to your grandfather
as "Nanootz." You once told me you thought it was Italian for "Knucklehead."

I'm sorry, Father. Please forgive me for that.

I forgive you for that...and one thousand other things but you more than made up for it
by traveling more than twenty thousand miles to visit me at the rest home.

That was not a penance, Father. That was an obligation.

Each year, from 2008 through 2011, you flew cross-country to organize family trips
with Long Island Oliverios–to visit me in the middle of Westchester County.

We loved every minute of it, Father.

But you were supposed to visit me earlier this year when you were less than an hour away.
She was going to give me the Good Shepherd portrait.
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AND THEN I AWOKE...

I immediately called Carol but did not tell her about this dream. She was getting ready to take
a train and a bus in order to attend Father Frank's burial mass. From 1981 through 1995,
he was her pastor at St. Anne's in Ossining, NY.

One hour later, I sent Carol a text:
Please say every prayer twice: once for you and once for me.

Last April, I spent five days with her in Westchester County. Visiting Father Frank was on our agenda
but due to inclement weather (and one thick Italian head), it never happened. Carol had re-drawn the
Good Shepherd portrait which was featured two pages ago.

The original–three times as large–was made for a special occasion at St. Anne's. When he saw it,
Father Frank told the artist, "I want to be buried with this portrait."

Carol attended Father Frank's wake on Tuesday. The original portrait was nowhere to be seen but my
fiancee gave the re-creation of the Good Shepherd to a church deacon who promised to place it
inside the casket.

The GoodFather of Math's first reference to the Good Shepherd accounted for the only fictional statement
on a page called FATHER wherein I credited someone named Tyrone Morse for the illustration. But it is
true that when Monsignor Oliverio was the "business manager" of St. Patrick's Cathedral,
the Catholic Church paid for the college education of reformed gangsters.

The actual illustrator, Carol Ann Robson, has an Art Degree from the Pratt Institute.

Carol would not have needed a train and a bus to attend Father Frank's burial mass if I had let her finance
a flight to New York. I would have driven us there. But instead of being three thousand miles away
from California, I am three hours away from a last conversation with my Uncle.
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