Leftovers & Links #61

Gerard Broulard and Kathie Hilton were 1970s-era porn stars who met on a movie set, and fell in love after fucking. I’d never heard of either of them until today, and never seen their work, but it's art, of course. And ain't it delightful when people have a good time living out-of-the-ordinary lives?

Broulard and Hilton had a long-term open relationship and friendship, and decades later, a marriage that lasted until their deaths, and it’s all a beautiful and downright wholesome story that could be the best Hallmark movie ever.

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Court won’t stop Texas abortion ban, but lets clinics sue

This is the ruling that overturns Roe v Wade — not explicitly, but that’s the intent, and that will be the effect. The headline’s last four words, “but lets clinics sue,” mean nothing, because the clinics’ lawsuits will be heard in the savagely right-wing 5th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals, which has already upheld the obviously-unconstitutional Texas abortion ban — twice.

It's a decision that will kill people and ruin lives, as what's left of America grows shittier and crueler.

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One-word newscast:

Good news:

• Starbucks

Bad news:

• Covid

Stupid news:

• Money

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An ode to getting old…

See all the old-time hippies limping around town, getting old, and dying. Remember when we were lean, motivated, and vibrant, fresh-faced young people? What happened? When we were young we didn't think about growing old, working on our gardening projects out in the hills then letting loose on the dance floor with stoned smiles on our faces...

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The idea is, if you hold something in a precarious grip as you’re falling asleep, it will fall when you drift away, and the racket will awaken you again — but you’ve spent a few moments in the hypnagogia (N1) sleep state, so you’ll be momentarily brilliant. Sounds nuts, you might say, but here’s a study that suggests it’s true.

I'm not going to try this strategy — sleep is too elusive for me to intentionally wake myself almost instantly — but we all know that good ideas (and sometimes bad) can spring from dreams.

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The US has somehow convinced a very gullible British judge that its prisons are humane, but still had to promise to imprison Julian Assange in Australia.

The ruling doesn’t extradite Assange to the US, but it makes his extradition much more likely.

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Despite being created for television, the Monkees were a real band, and made some real music. Michael Nesmith was largely why — he’s the Monkee who chaffed loudest at being told they couldn’t record their own songs. And I must mention Head, the bizarre and trippy Monkees movie half-written by Jack Nicholson, that's well worth seeing if you haven't.

There was more to Nesmith than being a Monkee, though. There was Elephant Parts, Repo Man, Tapeheads, and maybe Timerider (I haven’t seen it, but always meant to). There was First National Band. He created PopClips, the 1980 TV show that inspired the creation of MTV.

And I wouldn’t know, but I suppose it’s possible he was also a human with dreams and aspirations, failures and foibles, loves and an occasional broken heart, like the rest of us. I’ll always remember him in his winter cap, though.

Sleep soundly, Michael Nesmith.

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Christopher Becker, long ago of Factsheet Five, writes wistfully about the zine culture of the 1990s, and nails it. Of course he nails it — he was there, he was part of it.

Sometimes I see zines for sale online and they are very well produced, serious affairs for $10 or more. And you pay for them using an online pay service. And it comes as a PDF download. While they are not overpriced as payment for someone’s labor—and I’m glad someone can be recognized for their work and maybe even make some money off their passion—it does seem like a far cry from the immediacy and personal nature of zines in the ‘90s. There was something undeniably real and human about writing your address on a piece of paper, sending cash in an envelope, and then licking a stamp to send some small part of your body through the mail in exchange for a zine...

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As I was proofing the next bit (yes, I actually proofread this slop) it began to sound familiar, so I searched and found that I’d written sorta the same rant a couple of months ago. Oh well — this version is better, so I’m printing it.

Hey, it’s a lot of work squeezing words that make sense out of my brain, so I’m not putting them back in. That would be like un-squeezing a pimple.

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I believe in conspiracy theories, absolutely. There, I said it.

I don’t believe Lee Harvey Oswald worked alone in killing JFK, and I have my doubts about hijackers with boxcutters on 9/11/2001. I don’t know ‘the truth’ of such matters, though, and neither do any of the fools who talk and read and write about it all the time. We’ll never know the truth. I’ve accepted that, and moved on.

Unlike the QAnon idiots, I don’t believe that everything in every newspaper and every statement from every corporate or government leader is a lie. I try to apply some skeptical common sense.

But — hello? Only a fool doesn’t believe that the rich and powerful control almost everything in the world, that they’re up to no good and never announce it. When even two rich bastards are up to no good together, that’s a conspiracy, so yeah, the elites are plotting against us, constantly and everywhere. It's all a conspiracy!

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Like the last name 'Hitler', the first name 'Adolph' has gone out of fashion, but I work at an insurance company that deals with some very old people, so we still see an Adolph now and then. Saw a new policy for an Adolph this week, though, who was born in 1971 — to a family of idiots, of course.

After the last famous Adolph, only an idiot or a Nazi would do that to a child.

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Volvo developed the three-point safety belt, then waived the patent to allow other automakers to use the design.

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Am I a little crazy, or a little sane? Does wondering about it make me more sane, or less? Does sanity even exist, as a precious commodity, scarce like albino bats or hobos with healthy teeth?

Got sanity? Maybe, around here somewhere…

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Mystery links — Like life itself, there’s no knowing where you’re going:

—①—

—②—

—③—

Sing along with Doug:
Joanne, by Michael Nesmith & the First National Band
Sincere tip 'o the hat:
Linden Arden • BoingBoing
Captain Hampockets • Follow Me Here
John the Basket • LiarTownUSA
Messy Nessy Chick • National Zero
Ran Prieur • Vintage Everyday
Voenix Rising
Extra special thanks:
Clayton Barnes • Becky Jo
Name Withheld • Dave S.
12/11/2021
Leftovers & Links