Primetime Pantomime

Sunday evening is normally reserved for Masterpiece Theater, a delicate Pinot Noir and remonstrating oneself for being absent from church.
 
Sitting through hours of the Grammys is normally deemed unsafe and falls under the category of ‘don’t try this at home ‘
 
But the highlights got me so lathered up I couldn’t resist a righteous rant on such a putrid affair.
 
The first couple of music, Bey and Jay put on a display so nonsensical that there and then I should have gone back for a second bottle. 

How in the world does an angel like Beyonce with everything going for her, bend so low in order to compete with Miley Cyrus?
 
But apparently I am owed some savage punishment for my sins (many I hear you say) and boy was it punishing!
 
I am all for gay marriage and all, but really does it have to be under a Moonie laced service with Madonna / Joan Rivers as the high priestess? Open your Heart? Say a Little Prayer more like!
 
And you know it’s all over when Ring Starr sings better than Paul McCartney, and Queenie Eye? WTF was that? 

If Paul, Madonna and Joan Rivers want to swap faces, please don’t do it in public.

And whose brilliant idea was it to have China’s Liberace Lang Lang playing with the Monsters of Morons Metallica. 
Lang Lang playing with his elbows would have been more preferable, Oh wait he was.
 
Taylor Swift had five minutes worth of song to find a melody but alas couldn’t achieve one.
 
And then from the heavens came Pink bellowing louder than Church Bells evidently desperate for a Cirque du Soleil audition.
 
Clearly the Cruise liner had come into port when Chicago and Robin Thicke teamed up; I really did think I was on the Love Boat.
 
Lou Reed perhaps would feel thankful not to be included in this Primetime pantomime, for there was little in the way of recognizing his contribution to music; nor the greatest male singer ever to sing, Ritchie Havens.
 
However there were some triumphs; Daft Punk winning and getting people to dance (remember that)
Stevie Wonder's inclusion was a breath of fresh air, at least he can still sing and the wonderful Nile Rodgers reminding us how to groove with style.

Young newcomer ‘Lordes’ broke through with an atmospheric song called Royals.

And country singer Kasey Musgrave’s, who can write a good song, and raise the roof without raising her voice gave us hope that not all is doomed.

Oh and Kanye West was nowhere near the building…

Sadly the great Pete Seeger has passed away, while no one would wish to see him in a pair of cut off’s, he represented so much about music that we have lost.
 
He once said there are plenty great songs never played on the radio. And this can be said for TV as well.

Now where did I put my corkscrew and Bible?

Power of Seduction

Zut Alors don’t you just love the French sometimes, once in a while their haughtiness becomes so endearing,it does merit a rest bite from the hackneyed proceedings of Congress. 

If you want a mild distraction from the gridlock of American politics, look across the pond and get a loada of the latest Gallic gossip.
 
French President François Hollande seems to be in a spot of bother, concerning revelations of an affair outside of an affair (very French). 

Hollande has never been married, but has sired four children with Ségolène Royal a famed socialist who ran for National office against Nicolas Sarkozy.
 
It was his current mistress (probably ex by week’s end) Valérie Trierweiler who while politically aligned supported Ségolène’s rival adding vixen venom into the mix.
 
Valérie Trierweiler known as the Rottweiler in polite society is a columnist at the top French magazine Paris Match. 

This makes a busy schedule being a commenter and first Lady of France, but in recent interviews marginalized the need for marriage (maybe a rethink there).
 
So onto Julie Gayet, an eighteen year younger version of Trierweiler weighing in at a nubile 41years young to Hollander’s 59 years old. 
She has managed to steal the affections France’s top baguette according to Closer magazine.
 
What separates French affairs from let’s say American affairs, is the almost cinematic charm of clandestine activities. 

Reports surface that President Hollande would arrive on his scooter to the apartment of Julie the actress.
This could be a scene out of a Francois Truffaut film, compared with Bill Clinton, who couldn’t be bothered to walk over the Oval room’s carpet for his night of cigars.
 
While Hollande’s approval rating is hovering in between Obama and Congress, the latest French poll among women would you believe indicates a healthy leg up!
 
This must suggest that France wants a diversion from a gloomy economy or that Rottweiler is a calculating cow ripe for comeuppance, or Hollande, not exactly a Renoir painting can be ‘Aimé par les dames’ then there lies the fortitude of hope for the last in line for good looks.
 
Recent developments (uncertain whether related to the scandal) draw upon Gallic character with joyful hilarity.
 
A truck full of horse manure was dumped outside the French National Assembly. No doubt the SWAT team was alerted for fly removal, but just imagine if that were to happen at the steps of Capitol Hill?
 
The power of seduction might get you 'femmes intelligentes chaudes', but also it can get you into a whole pile of shit!

Frank The Pope

Frank the Pope is a star let it be said, after nine months as Catholic in Chief he has charmed even born again Atheists to sing his praises. 

With an almost avoidance of below pelvis issues he has neatly charted a course of everyman humanities.
 
This can only be a good thing considering the straight jacket mentality of retiree Benedict XVI's Ratzinger. 

While the traditionalists cite cherry picking Catholicism and warn of deep schisms they must be at least relieved that the conversation has move away from derriere kissed choirboys and financial inappropriate at the Vatican Bank.
 
Frank the Pope clearly realizes that in order to keep and expand the flock he has to reset a more inclusive and realistic agenda if the Holy See is to remain more than just a tourist site. 

If you don’t go out into the crowd and meet the faithful how can they have any faith in you? 

If you don’t talk about poverty and refer to split level social divide then Bronze Age doctrine means nothing (if it ever did in the first place, whoops couldn't resist).
 
Is this a clever ploy to divert attention away from some of the heinous crimes and misdemeanors of the past? If so it seems to be working. 

However there appears to be a genuine quality about Frank that transcends religion of any brand, a fundamental goodness that radiates and allows for the skeptic to soften somewhat. 

Whether this continues only time will tell, it would be perplexing for such a redux to occur when so much rides on the modernization of the Church of Rome. 

If they don’t want to be the Microsoft of religion then they have to reinvent and rejuvenate.


Hallelujah