Donald Trump and his infatuation with Stormy Daniels

I guess she had that "I can be bought" look, like his wives.

The Gray Lady's tendrils reach Rodney Dangerfield

My pal Rodney Dangerfield died in 2004. So, a New York Times Magazine piece on him in 2018 is perfect timing.

If you haven't kept up with the New York Times, then that's fair, because the paper doesn't keep up with the times, either. However, somebody named Alex Halberstadt decided that it's time those Times readers wake up on a Sunday morning, and along with their "bagel and a shmear" from Zabar's, understand that Rodney Dangerfield was NOT just a comedian. Time for, what does the Times call it...oh yes, a "Letter of Recommendation."

"LETTER OF RECOMMENDATION." Sort of what the Times readers need when they try and get their 4 year-old into a prestigious private kindergarten.

It's awfully nice of the New York Times to bother with a simple New York-born dead comedian. They may have "New York" in the title, but this, the newspaper offering "all the news that's fit to print," is usually international. You want to know that some woman in your neighborhood was mugged, or the deli robbed, you'll find it in the Post or the Daily News. It's in the New York Times that you'll find an article with the headline: "Nose Flute Used to Awaken Tongans."

I did NOT make that up. That was news fit to print.

As you'd expect from The Gray Lady, the piece by Alex Halberstadt is dreary and dry. So let's skip over most of the tedious drivel, such as the opening few paragraphs of this "letter of recommendation" as opposed to any kind of simple APPRECIATION...

Alex (Alexander would be too formal) Halberstadt eventually gets around to describing Dangerfield's style. To do it with simple logic or insightful language would NOT be in the style of the New York Times, so we get this:

"Most comics use the setup and punch line like a nail and hammer, but Dangerfield used them as a theremin player uses her hands, to bring forth strange, unexpected effects. Some were so masterful and odd that they transcended linear logic. My favorite joke of his — “I told my dentist my teeth were going yellow. He told me to wear a brown necktie” — barely makes sense at first. It’s a bewildering piece of misdirection. But it works as a marvel of dream logic, a joke Kafka might have liked."

Ah, Kafka. Of course. Why should a Kafka reference be confined to an appreciation of Woody Allen? Of a theremin merely to music? (PS, you did enjoy how Alex Halberstadt made the politically correct choice of writing up the theremin player as FEMALE? "...theremin player uses HER hands..."

From now on, anyone enjoying Rodney Dangerfield's one-liners can, via a verbal "letter of recommendation," now tell HER friends that the laughter comes from his "strange, unexpected effects..." and "transcended linear logic" and "bewildering...misdirection."

Here's another bit of pure New York Times revelation. Alex Halberstadt describes Rodney sitting on the couch on "The Tonight Show" and knocking off what, to most anyone including Rodney) would simply be a string of one-liners: "The effect is of a tennis pro wrong-footing his opponent. The laughter is strangled, then builds....the tendrils of comprehension are still making their way through the audience....achieving quantifiable perfection..."

Somehow, when I'd see Rodney around the neighborhood, walking into a local bodega in robe and slippers on a Sunday morning, I don't think he was expecting "quantifiable perfection" from the coffee and donut he was ordering.

When I'd see him in the local health club, he wasn't like "a tennis pro wrong-footing his opponent." He'd swim maybe a lap, then go up to the whirlpool and hope some babes would be there, and with "tendrils of comprehension," recognize him as not an old fat guy but somebody well worth chatting up and admiring.

Rodney's catch-phrase was "I don't get no respect." Getting "too much respect" didn't thrill him either. All he wanted was to get laughs, get girls, smoke some dope, and NOT be pestered or analyzed. He didn't want to hear about how he reflected the common man, or "the loser," or that his work was Chaplinesque or somehow conveyed the trope of the zeitgeist of today's hapless cogs in society's wheel. On the latter point, he'd simply ask, "Why not just say that I'm funny?"

In the end, I wondered, who IS this Alex Halberstadt, what are his comedy credentials, and why is he writing about my pal Rodney 14 years after the man died?

The bottom of the piece told me:

Alex Halberstadt is the author of the forthcoming family memoir “Young Heroes of the Soviet Union.”

Ursula K. Le Guin gets a Stephen King hack-Tweet to heaven

Well yes, I have Ursula's album.

She was one of the more quotable writers in the sci-fi field. For example:

"The exercise of imagination is dangerous to those who profit from the way things are because it has the power to show that the way things are is not permanent, not universal, not necessary.” Ursula K. (for Kroeber, her maiden name) Le Guin may have been the most famous living female sci-fi author. She gave up that title when she died the other day at 88.

Most famous sci-fi fantasy author now goes, without any question, to Jerk Growling, or whatever her name is. The one who invented Squidgy, or whatever the game is. The one who melded the tired, tired concept of a little boy hero, with the even more tired concepts of sorcery and magic.

The sci-fi fantasy world is pretty much divided into two halves -- humorless nerds, and brainless putty-brains who are awed by just about anything if it takes place on a planet with a funny name.

Speaking for both of these groups is Stephen King:

"Godspeed into the galaxy."

GODSPEED INTO THE GALAXY??? If he had died first, would Ursula have said, "May you start howling in the great haunted hotel in the sky?"

No, I think she had something called "taste."

Mags going ALL-DIGITAL into the Toilet

Dude, who flips through magazines anymore?

Like, duuuuuuuuuuuuude, anyone under 50 much prefers walkin' down the street squintin' at a teeny tiny screen and playing fidgety-fidgety with the fingertips, and scrollin' and swipin' and lah deeeeee dah.

And so FIVE more magazines are going "all digital," which is a nice way of saying "going bye bye."

The "new paradigm" is that going digital is the answer. No, it isn't. It's just the morphine drip before the plug is pulled entirely.

Bonnier is the company and the titles it owns, now going down the train, are Wakeboarding, WaterSki, Sport Diver, Dirt Rider and Baggers. Dozens of people have lost their jobs and others...are now realizing they haven't got long to search for something more secure.

Good lord, SPORT DIVER...who would be dumb enough to carry a MAGAZINE on board a boat when you have the possibility of dropping a $2,000 laptop overboard instead?

Yes, duuuuuuuuuuuuuude, I know, I know, people live online. Their hand is attached to their cellphone or their laptop or some other electronic DEVICE. It's simply the way it is.

And it is part of the new "trope" of the zeitgeist, called FREEEEE. You ever try to xerox a magazine and then hand it to somebody? No. Did you ever e-mail somebody an mp3? Ever download an entire book, movie or MAGAZINE. Hell yeah.

The big problem with digital files is they can be easily copied. Crapathetic copyright owners shrug and pray that more honest people will BUY instead of "SHARE." But more and more, people have gotten the message that "SHARING" is not STEALING.

Where have they got the message from? From the bloggers who Zippyshare everything, and the not-so-secret forums where "generous" people steal the latest magazines and books and movies and music, hoist it to Rapidgator, and expect to be paid a few pennies each time the item is downloaded. THEY deserve it for their "hard work," and fuck the staffers who are laid off or looking to the government for food stamps.

You've noticed websites whining lately, "You are using AD BLOCKER, please don't do that. We need ad revenue." The response? Screw you, I'll go find another website that has the same information. There's no shortage of Decider and Newser and Daily Beast sites around. If SPORT DIVER tries blocking people from their site, or wants people to pay...hey, there are blogs, forums and torrents happily offering the latest issue the minute it comes out.

What's the answer to the layoffs and the chaos in the world of copyright? Tougher DMCA laws. Politicians with the balls and the brains and the honesty to push aside the billionaire members of the Internet Status Quo. It's time to tell the idiots they're WRONG when the fight for stronger DMCA laws is viewed as a challenge to "freedom of speech" or "Internet Freedom" or some other ridiculous phrase.

"Keep the Internet Free" is the slogan on pirate websites. They contribute nothing to the world. They make a few nefarious people rich. They make normal "honest" citizens think they are entitled to all copyrighted material. They push the excuse that every publisher, musician, movie studio worker and janitor in a recording studio is a millionaire, and nobody is hurting.

Crapathy is when people shrug at the latest news of magazines going digital or bookstores going under, or record labels and movie companies being absorbed by some Comcast-type Internet giant. It's blinking with surprise at how well the American Dream has turned out for Bezos and Suckerberg. Oh, and that Kim Dotcom fellow, he's not in jail yet, is he? Is he the one who did the sex change after stealing government secrets, or is he the one who may have raped some women but waiting out extradition by hiding in a Banana Republic's embassy? Whatever...IT'S ALL GOOD.

Today we have strange heroes, and bad news like magazines doing digital and bookstores going under...is not such bad news at all.

Sweden, home of "Pirate Bay" suddenly needs Capitalists?

Sweden: the Birthplace of arrogant anti-copyright abuse.

"The Pirate Bay" became the most famous torrent site in the world, and is still active. It used Sweden's apathy to make a fortune. Like Assange, "The Pirate Bay" presented itself as joyous radicals, not-for-profit rebels intent on "sticking it" to the Capitalists.

Somehow, giving away everybody's copyrighted music and movies became noble. Even indie movie companies were not immune from nose-thumbing replies to takedown requests. "Please, we can barely break even if you pirate our movie the moment it's released..." Copyright owners were turned into a bunch of Oliver Twists, kicked down the stairs by laughing brutes.

News crews flocked to Sweden to interview the heroes, who chuckled and smirked and declared their love of anarchy. One of them wished he could drive his car at 100 mph anywhere he went, but was glad that he could break SOME rules via his website, the one that was make him RICH.

Now? Oh. Putin and his pals are rumbling about taking over more territory.

Sweden and Russia used to grin at each other, like Hansel and Gretel, while they used their boots to stomp over the DMCA's they burned. "The Pirate Bay" has its massive lookalikes behind the Iron Curtain. The most notorious torrents around are the work of Communists who operate with impunity in their native countries. It seems that they only get in trouble when they fly around the world to enjoy their spoils, or perhaps if some diplomat in Poland (as opposed to Croatia) puts enough pressure on somebody, or enough money in the pockets.

Suddenly SWEDEN is actually considering joining NATO?

Phil Ochs joked about Liberals: "ten degrees to the left of center in good times, ten degrees to the right of center if it affects them personally." Sweden is suddenly veering their little clown cars to the left. The closer Russian submarines patrol, and the more land the Russians decide to appropriate, and the more ethnics they cleanse, the more uncomfortable the Swedes become. Some of them even begin to think, "Gee, we're not Swiss. We're not declared neutral. Maybe we should ally ourselves with the FREEDOM FIGHTERS."

Sweden, despite the publicity, "The Pirate Bay" isn't run by FREEDOM FIGHTERS. Your ineptness in pulling Assange back for a rape trial is another sign of your crapathy. Now you're thinking about joining NATO. You're a bit like the whore who goes to a surgeon to have herself stitched back to virginity.

OH, Jean Porter - she was in an Abbott & Costello Film!

What a way to get an obit:

JEAN PORTER, appeared in ABBOTT & COSTELLO film and others...

Jean who? Got a picture. Oh, thanks:

Who knows, Jean may have been glad to sign that photo, mailed to her by some corpulent, earnest and submissively humble "film fan." Especially one who desperately needed it to completely his collection of A&C co-star autographs, which included spending way too much for a Gordon Jones on eBay.

Porter had more credits and more of a story. Born in Texas, she was a precocious ten-year old when she starred on a Saturday morning local radio show. By 12, she was in Hollywood, competing with all the other cute kids for film roles. However, it wasn't until she was a very sweet 16 that she landed some good roles and ingenue parts, and signed a deal with MGM. Bud and Lou were on loan from Universal when they made "Abbott and Costello in Hollywood" in 1945, which turned out to be her "biggie." At least, as far as trivia fans are concerned. She married director-writer Edward Dmytryk in 1948, and the marriage lasted to 1999 when he passed away.

Jean co-starred in "Cry Danger" (1951) and Bogart's "Left Hand of God" (1955), and appear in such vintage TV shows as "77 Sunset Strip" and "Sea Hunt." She did flee Hollywood for a while; her husband Edward was blacklisted for being a Communist and was being harassed by "Red Scare" politicians. The Dmytryks, like refugees, turned up in England in 1951, but eventually resigned themselves to returning home...where Edward served six months for "contempt of Congress."

Had she been able to stretch her experiences with Lou Costello and Bogart into some kind of book, she may have had fanboys lining up to buy it. Instead, she and her husband chose to write: "On Screen Acting" (credited to Edward and Jean Dmytryk).

Tasteless YouTube Stars? HEY DUDE, don't make it BAAAAD

Hey, BRO...everybody deserves a second chance. Shrug shrug. WHATEVER.

So says some guy you probably never heard of called LOGAN PAUL. If he was normal, his name would be Paul Logan. But hey, his FATHER is probably a DUUUUUDE TOOOOOO, and figured all kids now have to have a last name for a first name. It's KEWL.

Daddy PAUL, by the way, assures everyone that his fabulous son WILL BE BACK. No matter what. Whether it's on YouTube or maybe Instagram, or Reddit, or Newser or Gawker or Daily Beast or Pestboy or Asswipe or JACKASS APP or whatever new and horrific device allows no-talent morons to have a massive audience.

So, this righteous, awesome DUUUUDE was giggling and chuckling while recording a suicide victim's corpse. WHATEVER.

PS, didn't read this story before? Isn't there ALWAYS some "YOUTUBE" star doing something horrific? Or just obnoxious? Aren't there all kinds of witless maniacs ranting on YOUTUBE and making big money, laughing at people, DISSING people, opening packages to show everyone what's in the box on the latest new video game or Apple product? Aren't there opinionated twits, prattling bunnies and all kinds of tasteless fools making "Keeping up with the Kardashians" look like "Meet the Press?"

LOGAN PAUL?? He's... a Millennial. It's what they do. They've been inundated with violence and porn since they were old enough to stare at the Internet. Unlike US, who grew up in a milder time.

Millennials don't just see Davy Crockett shooting a bear. They see happy ladies send an arrow into the head of a feral cat and laugh about it on social media.

Millennials don't just see naked ladies in Playboy and Penthouse. They see invasion of privacy "CELEBJIHAD" hacked pictures of celebrities, "Revenge Porn," and with a click of "I'm over 18" (if that), perversions even DeSade never thought of.

Back in the day, we opened a newspaper and read about violence but didn't see it. Millennials check out news websites and go RIGHT to the picture of the girl with the acid-scarred face, the soldier with his guts hangout of his stomach, and the atrocity shots of a family killed by one of their own. And they LAUGH, LAUGH, LAUGH. You want to be the hit of the schoolyard today? Grab your cellphone and dial up ROTTEN dot com, and show the pictures to all your friends. HA HA HA.

So LOGAN PAUL is, come on, just reflecting the times. He deserves a second chance to be even more obnoxious. He's the real life version of what Sean Penn was in "Ridgemont High" or Owen Wilson was in almost every Owen Wilson film. A total DOUCHE. That's the world today. If you're not laughing, there's something WRONG witchooooo.

DROP MIC.

PEACE OUT.

Mort Sahl and the Morons

One thing celebrities learn very quickly about Social disease Media, is that it's loaded with MORONS.

As bad as it is being recognized by cheerful oafs on the street, or being tediously subjected to dubious unwell well-wishers at a book or memorabilia signing, it's doubly depressing to "check the Tweets."

Twitter. Facebook. "Comments" or questions running alongside your "streaming" show. It's very likely to confirm that the average "fan" is an IDIOT.

Here's Mort, the self-proclaimed last man standing, sitting for his weekly hour of streaming anecdotes at the small Throckmorton Theater. How...small? About 20 people fit into the room. How many are watching? Maybe 300 or 400. It beats not doing anything at all, which is what drives former celebrities to Social disease Media in the first place. They don't know the reality which is that they can be lost among the hoi polloi who THINK they are stars, and who can often pull far more idiots to "friend" them or "follow" them.

The idea is that while Mort talks about Haig, or recalls Stan Kenton, people watching the stream can ask questions, which will be read out loud toward the end of the show.

Well, gosh, somebody wants to know if Mort ever met Sterling Hayden. Somebody else says "Hello Mort." A few people simply keep up a running commentary, to score which jokes were funny, or to agree or disagree. If Mort was able to glance at these posts as they were coming in, he might get up, grab his cane, and walk out with surprising speed.

The sad fact with Sahl is that for all the hipsters and intellectuals and "political thinkers" who are supposed to "get" him, his audience is made up of JFK conspiracy morons and, yeah, people who are as in awe of Mort as Mort is of Stan Kenton. Which doesn't mean much, as you can see from the questions they ask.

Similarly disappointed are the comedians and wits who join Twitter to encounter mostly trolls; they get bored topping them. They also find themselves scrutinized by PC idiots who get "offended" over every joke they share.

Another disappointed group are the aging actresses from 60's and 70's TV and movies, who discover that all their mostly male fans want to do is ask what size bra they wear, or ask to see "more sexy photos," or leave a general comment like: "I'd do her even at her age."

The great thing about being on stage is that you can't see the audience. The great thing about Movies, TV and albums, is you ALSO can't see the audience and they can't ask you questions and the best approval is the royalty check. It was a lot easier to have the illusion of being a star and having intelligent fans before Social disease Media. The brightest stars are the ones who either DON'T have accounts, or assign some stooge to post for them and pretend to be them. As in, "If you do find that somebody has posted something interesting, email it to me." Response: "OK, that might be one email a month...because the average person who likes you is a moron."

The Odd Couple - TAYLOR SWIFT AND ADELE

After they stop singing the same song twelve times per album on a dozen more albums, maybe Taylor Swift and Adele will really go for laughs.

Da Nerve of Deneuve - Belle du Jour fights for Clumsy Ass-patters

You remember Catherine Deneuve? Perhaps for "Belle du Jour?"

It turns out her response to the "Me Too" movement is a gasp of "Sapristi!" Followed by a dollop of whup-ass. She feels that if some guy wants to flirt, it might NOT be "harassment," and that somebody's lack of social skills with women shouldn't automatically get him fired from a job he does well for the general public.

She might well have had the ex-Senator Al Franken in mind, the guy hounded out of office by Sen. Kirsten Jellybrain and her sanctimonious band of shrill shrikes.

Is there any question that in toppling a giant, power-mad bully like Harvey Weinstein, some much more benign and generally helpful guys have been dragged down with him? Jeffrey Tambor, who ironically had his best success in many years by sensitively playing a transgender woman, was forced to curtsy and depart in disgrace. For what? For making a move on a cast member in a clumsy way? That was about it. Al Franken joked about how pathetic he was in trying to touch some untouchable Playboy bunny, and in the course of meet and greets with THOUSANDS of women, let his hand stray to a rump or two. Charlie Rose? Being an egocentric superstar, wanted by both CBS and PBS simultaneously, he figured that walking around with his robe open was a fine way to show a woman he was available. Clumsy. Stupid. But career-ending moves? Not to Deneuve.

What is important is that the "Me Too" movement calls attention to how women should be treated and what is fair in the workplace. There's a lot of "consciousness raising" to be done about this, as some still figure that if a woman is going to paint herself up and dress to attract, she's doing what men do NOT do. So she shouldn't be surprised if she's treated the way she projects.

What detracts from "the movement" is the McCarthy-like witch-hunt hysteria of chasing men back over several decades to what they did, or might have done, in an era of sexual liberation and "free love." It was a time when Nancy Friday wrote about the "Secret Garden," and Erica Jong had a best seller that was all about sex. It was a time of "burn the bra" and let it all hang out. It was a time of acknowledging women had a sex drive too. It was a time when bawdy talk on a film set was not a crime, and when Lauren Bacall, in her autobiography, could frankly admit that she fucked the bellboy at her hotel just to keep him from constantly bothering her with his fawning, and compliments and attention. She did it out of control, not out of weakness, and wrote about it that way.

It's interesting, isn't it, that at the Golden Globes, dozens of women dressed provocatively. They showed off their curves and their plunging necklines. Men simply wore suits. So what's that mean? That women want to be treated as equals and not sexual objects, or something else?

Catherine Deneuve makes an important point in questioning how the Puritans and prudes of the world will seize on this current "Me Too" craze in order to put through agendas that might shut down a sex shop selling vibrators or make it even more difficult for a woman to choose birth control. The hysteria that banished one of the more capable senators in Congress, Al Franken, could lead to more blue-nosed nonsense that would be dangerous to both sexes.

"Did the DEVIL tell you to kill?" "No, Pat Sajak."

Yes, it IS sort of funny. But it's not. And I know from experience.

Some maniac who wanted to kill, found an excuse in something he heard Pat Sajak say. Of course. Pat Sajak was talking to HIM. The two words, "DO IT" were a clear message.

"Did the DEVIL tell you to kill?" "No, Pat Sajak." "Same thing."

You could come up with a dozen like that, if there was a late night show sick enough to put 'em in the monologue.

It's hard to resist, even when you've had experience with delusional idiots blaming celebrities.

After my bio on Bill Cosby came out, I got a bit of "fan mail." The most amusing was a kind of perfunctory letter from a kid who said he was "forced" as a school assignment to write to the author of a book. So he chose to read my book, and let me know.

The least amusing was from a guy who wanted my help in convincing Bill Cosby to STOP MONITORING HIM. STOP TORMENTING HIM. STOP FOLLOWING HIM. The chilling letter described how Cosby was using "rays" to not only keep track of him, but to penetrate his brain. It went on and on. Bill Cosby, of all people, as the source of this demented person's agony.

The more sophisticated maniac, like Charles Manson, would pick a much more "logical" thing to hang his craziness on. Like the song "Helter Skelter." But, uncomfortably, there are people who find themselves helpless or homicidal because of a Bill Cosby or a Pat Sajak.

Jerry Van Dyke - "younger brother" to the end

Funny, a while ago, Jerry Van Dyke and Tommy Smothers were co-starring in a revival of "The Sunshine Boys." Where were their brothers? How come they weren't co-starring in a revival with their famous brothers, Dick Van Dyke and Dick Smothers?

Jerry said something like, "We're appearing without our Dicks!"

The guy did have a sense of humor on his own. He did have a career on his own. I remember my friend Julie Newmar telling me how Jerry almost got the Jack Mullaney part in her series "My Living Doll." Jerry was also offered the lead on "Gilligan's Island." He eventually decided on making his starring sitcom debut on "My Mother the Car."

The show became a legendary punchline as an example of sitcom premise excess. But Jerry himself was just fine on the show. He didn't look or act so much like Dick Van Dyke that people couldn't accept him on his own. It's just that even Dick Van Dyke had his problems after that legendary sitcom went off the air. Dick had some shows fail and it took decades, and a whole new look (white hair and mustache) before he returned to TV's Top 10 in "Diagnosis Murder."

By that time, Jerry had been through a few more sitcoms (including "Accidental Family") and a long run and several Emmy nominations for "Coach." It's fair to say that there were people watching "Coach" who had never seen "The Dick Van Dyke Show," or knew that Jerry had appeared in a few episodes as Rob Petrie's eccentric sleepwalking banjo-playing younger brother.

All the above is from memory, and triggered by this unfortunate headline in the New York Post:

That headline was the most egregious today, as it chose to mention his VERY few appearances on Dick's show (what were they, two or three?) and not "Coach" or a generic identification: "Sitcom Star Jerry Van Dyke dies..." Around the country, many headlines were redundant about "Dick Van Dyke's brother Jerry Van Dyke dies..."

For some reason, Snopes got the credits right...but tossed in the name JERRY SPRINGER for some odd reason.

And so it was, that even in death, Jerry was not given the dignity of being identified for his own achievements.

REJECTED CELEBRITY AD CAMPAIGNS ... RED BUTTONS

And he didn't get a dinner...

HOW...COLD...IS IT...

NYC BLIZZARD - Neighbors Helping Neighbors

Woo hoo, what weather, huh?

Me and the neighbors were out with our shovels, digging the cars out, pulling shivering mice out of the exhaust pipes.

Oh, my, and those driveways! Uncle Spud has the Troy-Bilt Storm Tracker 2890 Snow Blower, the one with the 4-Cycle Engine, and he was kindly helping cut paths for everybody on the block, from the sidewalk to the front door. He did run over somebody's dog, but the dog was already frozen solid, and bent one of the snow blower blades. That's what you get for doin' good deeds!

While the kids were building the snowman and putting the carrot in the wrong place, some of us looked in on the Widow Flapps, to make sure she had enough Ovaltine and Depends.

Lord, we all stick together in a crisis, which does your heart good. Around here the snow doesn't melt for DAYS, so a lot of people say they will take Friday off and just stay indoors and make obscene phone calls.

And I think I saw Louis CK outside...but maybe not. Why would he have a shovel in his hand? That's not what he likes to use.

Oh. I'm not fooling anyone, am I? Trying to pretend I'm upstate, in New Jersey somewhere, in Queens or on Long Island...and showing empathy. Showing empathy is like Kim Kardashian showing her ass. BORING.

To whoever is actually in the photo above...LOCATION! LOCATION! LOCATION. You friggin' Eskimos.

THE NYC BLIZZARD - FROZEN SHARKS

I did send out a Twitter warning...

Gosh. It never happened. If you can't believe hyped up news reports what CAN you believe...

Wixen, Selectively Chooses Who To Fight For $$ - SPOTIFY

Oh, some "rights" organization is suing Spotify. WIXEN. There's no shortage of self-appointed "rights" organizations is there? "Hey, we're the RIAA. We're the IFPI. We're GEMA. We're the Harry Fox Agency. We're ASCAP. We're BMI. And...we're blind to most everything except SPOTIFY.

If you go to GOOGLE and type in "Beach Boys" and "free download" or ZIPPYSHARE you'll find yourself in the wild wonderful world of "BLOGGING." There are thousands of blogs (on Google's BLOGSPOT) where GENEROUS SHARERS are offering just about every song you can think of free. And if you can't find it on BLOGSPOT it's likely to be streaming, free, on Google's other bastard child, YOUTUBE.

So, Wixen, where's your lawsuit? Where are your takedowns and DMCA requests? You've put together 250 pages of documents and lawyers charge in BILLING HOURS, but you don't have any interest in having an intern wipe up the SHIT that is splattered all over Blogspot and YouTube? Whyzat?

PS, who the hell ARE YOU? Never heard of WIXEN before. Most places will tell you that if you want to cover a song for your album or on YouTube etc., you go to the Harry Fox agency. Suddenly WIXEN is a major music publisher? You guys represent ME and MY music? You're rattling SPOTIFY and they'll toss you some pennies to toss to ME? Or is BMI handling that for me? Or the RIAA? Excuse me, but I was never big on alphabet soup, and frankly, from what most musicians tell me, you ALL are doing a stinking job.

In the real world, there's "quality of life" issues. Fire trucks do race to the scene of a tree where a kitty is stuck on a high branch. Cops do investigate a noise complaint now and then even if it's not as important as murder. People routinely get parking tickets and speeding tickets just to let them know that they can't ALWAYS park where they please and drive at double the speed limit.

It's awfully nice that WIXEN is making a splash with their SPOTIFY lawsuit. I've got an album on SPOTIFY and I'd like to see a big royalty check someday. BUT...how about taking care of the drips? Or to put it another way, I wonder how Cary Sherman (head of the RIAA) handles a bathroom faucet that is going plink...plink...plink all night. Would he shrug and ignore it, or try and do something, or call a plumber? I hope the plumber gives Cary the "appropriate response." Which would be: "What are you complaining about? It's JUST a drip. It's hardly using up much water. If I fix it, it's whack-a-mole because it'll drip again after a while. Don't bother me unless you've got Niagara Falls over there."