Pocket Size Perfection

Now that Michael Jackson has left the planet will the heir to his Pop-dom please rise. Prince!!
While a Prince is a King in waiting many would argue that Prince formerly known as Rogers Nelson has in the last three decades been the rightful King of Pop and Funk and R & B and Hip Hop and Rock the list goes on.

Last night I had the good fortune of seeing this fifty two year old midget from Minnesota perform. If that sounds mean then that’s because I am racked with envy…so there.
Coming from Minnesota where snow is a minor inconvenience the thought of New York’s recent blizzard cancelling this sold out show was never an issue.
Madison Square Garden is just a snowballs throw from the Tree house and no amount of inclement weather was going dampen my spirits.

Janelle Monae opened the show with a fine set of songs and visual display that in today’s R&B world is slightly refreshing. During the change over the man himself dressed in white appeared in the crowd with his I Phone and proceeded to greet everyone he could captured on video. This was a welcome move especially for the people in the high altitude seats.

The stage was designed in his familiar logo which I have no idea what it means but as a performance space it proves effective. All round vision again is a welcome touch that serves the audience well.

Dressed in purple seated at the grand piano we began the Prince experience. A non stop juke box of hits rained down from the PA backed by a hammer jack band.
It is a spectacle to watch him shred a guitar in stilettos and produce a vocal range with such force and emotion. At one point a gold plated guitar was used to show off another round of blistering solos. Rumor has it that Prince was in need of a hip replacement, well for us mere mortals perhaps with all those splits and what not, but no sign that this rumor is justified.

There were costume changes from purple to black to red, even elevated sneakers were employed after all those heels, give the man a break. Each costume made him look younger, it just makes you sick!

As a closing thank you he allowed people from the audience to get up on stage and dance and sing while purple confetti rained down. One such person was Cyndi Lauper who despite pop tackiness has a fantastic voice.

It was a pocket sized perfection of a performance. There is no fault line, no part in the two hour show where you could point to old age creeping in, effecting dance, voice or guitar playing. Quite simply, he was disgustingly brilliant!

A Very British Cock Up

A very British cock up happened yesterday in London. The Government agreed to raise the tuition fees for students attending University (I say attend because studying for some is a trifle far fetched) this vote broke an election promise no surprises there. Cock up number one.

Protesters gathered and soon things turned ugly, as always in protests you get the thug element that are out for a jolly scrap with the local constabulary and evidence of this was clearly seen on telly. While the anger is justified they got the wrong location, their fury should have been directed at the City, the Bank of England and the Investment and Securities Companies that put country and beyond into this situation. Bonus time is around the corner so save your placards and Halloween masks and Google where those institutions are. Cock up number two.

While parts of London were burning ( I believe the Clash wrote something along those lines) the Royal protection unit saw fit to drive head on into a foaming mob in the most ostentatious car available, the Phantom VI model by Rolls Royce. Passengers on this occasion were the future King of England Charles and his most unfortunate wife Camilla the Thriller duchess of somewhere. With shouts from some “Off with their heads” missiles and paint came next, smashing a window and wiping away all smiles from the peeved royals. Cock up number three.

Caught up in the riotous spirit was a young man called Charles Gilmour (England is littered with Charlie’s it would appear) who was caught on film climbing up the Cenotaph with determined zeal. The Cenotaph is a cherished memorial to all those who died in the wars fought by Britons. One doesn’t mess with that; it would be like pissing on the Alamo or burning the Stars and Stripes. He also happens to be the son David Gilmour, singer / guitarist of the Pink Floyd who sang “We don’t need no education”.

David Gilmour is one the richest men in England and the privileged up bringing young Charlie has with his Cambridge education, expensive suits jars nicely with this act of disrespect. No doubt daddy Dave will punish him by curtailing his beer allowance and sending him to his dorm to listen to Roger Waters’s solo albums. Cock up number four.

Cheers!

Wicked Wiki

Now that Wiki leaks has disclosed the exact the location of my Tree house and divulged to the world what a safe house it has been for foreign leaders, dignitaries and dirty diplomats, I must now make other arrangements for the bachelorette party I was planning for Kate Middleton future Queen of England.

I have only just finished cleaning up after that bugger Berlusconi who got up to heinous havoc in my hammock with some borderline legal senorita. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his bum chum alpha dog Putin was spotted by Hillary Clinton binoculars bare-chested cradling a hapless Medvedev in his arms.

You could imagine the paranoia in the room when Karzai, Kim Jong-Il and Hitler Ahmadinejad sat around my scrabble board dispersing filthy commentary about Sarkozy’s wife.

The French President went to great lengths to deny claims that he pimped out Carla to any willing European leader in exchange for more favorable grain subsidies. I must admit I took pity on him here; she only managed as far as Luxemburg where she was kidnapped by Sunni militants who sold her into the Burka sex slave syndicate and has never been seen since.

And didn’t the world already know that the Saudis were funding Al-Qaeda while buying fighter jets from the Americans?

There’s was a moment of hilarity one night when I was hosting a party for Gaddafi (Daffy indeed) who turned up with his well endowed Ukrainian nurse. Apparently he is afraid of flying which translated in into altitude sickness thus spending the whole evening at the foot of my tree declaring his ego wasn’t as big as perceived because he only promoted himself to colonel.

However it was reassuring to hear that the Saudis and Israelis were pissed at the US for not wanting bomb Iran. Perhaps there will be peace between those arch enemies after all.

Honestly, where is one going to throw a good party, now those Freedom of Information do gooders have killed all the fun? And I thought mortgage bankers were the terrors. Who’s going to buy my Tree pad now?

In the words of Rodney King “Can we all just smoke a bong?”

Kings & Queens Of America

Many a peculiar thing has happened to America after finding it’s independence from Great Britain or perhaps nowadays not bad Britain or so so Britain, one being; the crowning of music ions into Kings and Queens, albeit quite some years later.

Although the passage to the new world was rough and rougher still once settled, it didn’t half produce some incredible music. By the fifties and onto present day America the Republic has apparently shed its distaste for the monarchy and embraced the regal posture of the throne.

It would be hokum to see a peanut butter and jelly sandwich swap for a cucumber sandwich as in the case of the King of Rock n Roll Elvis Presley; Or to see James Brown the King of Funk opening the Houses of Parliament. Perhaps Johnny Cash the King of Country inspecting the Trooping of the Colour would be less strange. And of course most odd to see Eminem the King of Rap to deliver the Christmas day address to the nation, as for the King of Hip Hop Jay Z to present the winning trophy at Ascot.

Horrors of horrors to have the Queen of Soul Aretha Franklin trade in ‘Freeway of Love’ for a stately minuet and Marvin Gaye the King of Soul open for the Buckingham Palace tea party with “What’s going on?”

Fancy hearing Prince Charles mumbling the Blues in front of the King of the Blues Muddy Waters and then clap out of time to the King of Folk Woody Guthrie singing “This land is our land” Prince Phillip would look equally out of sorts tooting his horn along side the King of Jazz John Coltrane.

Madonna the Queen of Pop has already claimed the throne due to the death of Lady Diana her words not mine!

And finally the man who wears gilded epaulets better than any official royal; the King of Pop Michael Jackson who wouldn’t be out place waving his white glove from the balcony of Windsor castle. All this adoption of the realm leaves me with the distinct impression that taxes haven’t been paid?

Midterm Scare

Which is more frightening Halloween or the mid term elections? Answer below.

America claims it’s the greatest democracy in the world. Hmmm…Well let’s see; it is a democracy and at times displays greatness that much is true.

But this greatness also stands shoulder to shoulder with scariness; perhaps the greatest scariness democracy in the world would be more fitting. With all its ballyhoo and pomp it is easy too want to fly to the furthest corner of the globe to escape the stench such as Hillary Clinton is doing. Her two week trip to the Far East and further is an act of skillful diplomacy in its self. Or what about a one way ticket to Mars as NASA is proposing. Or do a runner like Dennis Quaid and seek asylum in Canada.

Either way the midterms have become a cattle call for all the extremists, be it in the media, business, politics and entertainment world to behave in a fearsome manner. What happened to all that Hope? Generally countries outside the US (and sometimes habitants inside) have no real interest in the mid terms but because of the historic win two years ago with so much optimism non Americans are perplexed as such a change of heart. A quick fix was never in the mix, how could it be? This story has many chapters long and deep and affects the world at large.

While it is important to vote, it isn’t half a slog these days to walk through the minefield of crap and come to the conclusion that there is very little direction home. Clearly the country is angry and there’s a lot to be angry about but this discontent is not helped by the choice of candidates.

All indicators point to a overhauling of Congress and a middle finger squarely placed before Obama’s face. But political schizophrenia has set in. On one hand you have bile surfacing from the Tea Party brigade and on the other, the ‘Hands thrown up in the air’ despair mob.

This schism invites each to conclude that the country is ungovernable. We have candidates who don’t know the constitution, others who are homophobic, racist, fraudsters, bigots, mentally unstable and actors pretending to be retired postal workers (Samuel Jackson) I guess this is to be expected in the greatest democracy in the world where everyone is accounted for.
But wait, so much money spent but so many voting machines broken… there’s a metaphor in there somewhere I think.

So which is more frightening? The Midterms, winners receive a clove of garlic. All the houses on Elm Street are foreclosed and Freddy is out of work; and what could be more haunting than a bunch of pretenders trick or treating at your door step this weekend.

Miners, Mistresses, Wives and Videotape

In a world full of murder madness and malcontent, it is refreshing to witness an event such as the mining rescue in a Chilean desert. This wonderful unfolding story had all the hallmarks of the human condition. If this is news to you, then clearly you have been living under a rock or a pile of rocks just as the thirty three miners trapped half a mile below surface for seventy days.

The remarkable scenes of miners surfacing, one by one from the great abyss was a testament to the courage fortitude and incredible teamwork of a great many people.

Paramount to a successful conclusion, this Rock Star rescue warranted Chile’s day in the sun equitable to winning the World Cup and having the Vatican reside in Santiago. Interestingly with all our technical advancements it was the image of the winch and the wheel which brought the miners fresh rays of light. This bastion of medieval technology still serves us well in the modern age.

However the drama revealing it self top soil was far noisier than the relative quiet of the quarantined thirty three bottom soil. Seventy days underground can expose the most vital of emotions; Love… or Lust or Lies, heavens I have forgotten which. So when certain miners were being claimed by wives and mistresses one may think for a brief second, jeeper’s life down here isn’t so bad. Naturally I jest but from now on there will be a whole load of claiming. Scenes from above make the Jerry Springer show look docile, Red Cross workers have been adopting combat posture to diffuse outbreaks of documented and undocumented women.

I am sure Apple is working on an App for miners with mistresses in a half a mile radius.

The claiming will continue in the form of government compensation, TV and book offers and holidays in the sun. The psychologists employed are going to have a field day in calming the emotional upheaval while government officials’ a legal nightmare in who is entitled to what.

Ironically, may the recovery begin; in isolation away from the rolling videotape and the winding winch.

Holy Quarreling Quarans !!

Tis the season for burning, What nothing good on TV ?

Hmm…let’s see internet porn not holding your attention?

Now that the silly season is in full swing where have the grownups gone?

We would like to think just right about now the elders of good reason are going to step in and say Ok kids break’s over.

We hoped that was case with the financial meltdown two years ago.

We hoped that would be case on Capitol Hill.

We hoped that was case with Katrina, the BP oil spill and on and on.

Apparently there are no grownups in the world. Sorry kids don’t waste your time filling out student loan forms just stay were you are on Twitter, Facebook, Ping and Foursquare. Adulthood has been cancelled.

Islam is under fire, pun very much intended. Moving from the Mosque madness in Manhattan we have now landed in Gainesville Florida to a tiny congregation aptly called Dove World Outreach Center (hard to make this stuff up…really)

Here resides a Terry Jones (No not Tom Jones, keep focused) he is the pastor who wants on Saturday the eleventh of September 2010 to burn the BeJesus out of Korans.

He is unhappy with the proposed building of the mosque in nearby Ground Zero. Citing that Islam is the devil, he has arrived at the conclusion that having a bonfire of the vanities would be a fine way to wipe away all sin of the Muslim kind.

With a history of biblical stunts this would appear to be his crowning halo moment.

Naturally this has set off a firestorm of its own in the Muslim world. Various leaders of the world have been queuing up for pyrotechnics primetime speaking out against the wisdom of such an event with marginal results.

While not a fan of religion, I support the right for peoples from all corners of the earth to practice Bronze Age mythology without fear of persecution and intolerance.

But the sandpit of craziness can’t go undocumented;

I imagine freshly minted copies of the Koran by way of Amazon landing on Mr. Jones door only to find they are copies of the new memoir by Tony Blair.

Next would be trainee evangelicals scourging the Gainesville public library looking for dusty Korans.

Donald Trump has intervened wanting to buy the mosque building for an apprentice price and no doubt will put up his second Taj Mahal, but wait isn’t that Hindu or Persian… Ah the confusion!

Even Sarah Palin has chimed in, it hard to fathom her knowing what the Koran is; probly thinks we are talking about Korea.

Meanwhile such hilarity is squashed by the fact that people do lose lives over these acts of lunacy. Our impotent leaders tried to calm the waters but come out with idiotic comments such as ‘Our soldiers will be put harms way ‘Harms way! We are at bloody war, what do you think happens in war time?

But on the matter of burning things; it puzzles me that such a big and brave religion as Islam (and other rock star religions for that matter) should be so concerned with bunch of clowns setting fire to an embalmed parchment of ink. Is religion and Islam so brittle that it can’t stand up to the flames of libricide?