Krazy Kat Goes a Wooing. George Herriman

Krazy Kat from 1916, the Great War was raging, daring young men in flying machines were zooming through the sky, Krazy is in love with Ignatz mouse, and Ignatz responds by throwing bricks....

Gary Rith posted Felix the cat on his blog, which reminded me just how much I love these oldies.
When I was a kid, I always had interesting stuff in my schoolbag, like a miniature steam engine, a gyroscope, a telescope..... I was famous for it, being a collector of eclectica, a romancer of rivets, my bag was known as Felix's magic bag... (no, I was Not known as Felix...) (um... sometimes they called me The Professor, other times? oh. well, ya know... My favourite book was "The Wind in the Willows", and I was the Mole).

Felix Saves the Day

Yes, I know it's politically incorrect. But this was 1922.

Word of the day. Rotoscoping. No, I'm not going to explain or spoon feed you with a link. ( you can use google if you need to)
This little movie shows several very clever examples of rotoscoping. Hollywood does it with computers now.

In The Kitchen, by Penelope Shuttle

IN THE KITCHEN

A jug of water
has its own lustrous turmoil

The ironing board thanks god
for its two good strong legs and sturdy back

The new fridge hums like a maniac
with helpfulness

I am trying to love the world
back to normal

The chair recites its stand-alone prayer
again and again

The table leaves no stone unturned
The clock votes for the separate burial of hearts

I am trying to love the world
and all its 8,000 identifiable languages

With the forgetfulness of a potter
I’m trying to get the seas back on the maps
where they belong

secured to their rivers

The kettle alone knows the good he does,
Here in the kitchen, loving the world,
Steadfastly loving

See how easy it is, he whistles

"Eve of Destruction"

In 1965...... Vietnam: 3,500 U.S. marines are the first to arrive there.
Rioting in Selma Alabama, beatings, hatred, murder, Malcolm X assassinated in Manhattan, civil rights marches, U.S. troops sent to Dominican Republic, "for the stated purpose of protecting U.S. citizens and preventing an alleged Communist takeover of the country", China and Taiwan clash at the Battle of Yong Ding, Australian infantry battalion joins US troops in Vietnam, the draft in the US increases from 17,000 to 35,000 per month, 18 year olds can not vote or drink alcohol, but they can be given a gun and sent to war against their will. Gemini 4 spends four days in orbit, first u.s. spacewalk, (cosmonaut Alexei Leonov was first, a few months earlier, 12 minutes outside the Voshkod capsule). Rioting in Algeria, Mariner 4 sails past mars. The Beatles play the first ever stadium concers, Shea Stadium. Pakistan and India declare war on each other, Chinese troops sent in force to the Chinese/Indian border. The cuban missile crisis is not long ago, kids are taught to "duck and cover", (remember, if you hear the sirens warning of imminent nuclear attack, get under your schooldesk)...

Against this world background, a nineteen year old, Phil Sloan writes "Eve of Destruction".

"The eastern world, it is exploding
Violence flarin’, bullets loadin’
You’re old enough to kill, but not for votin’
You don’t believe in war, but what’s that gun you’re totin’
And even the Jordan River has bodies floatin’

But you tell me
Over and over and over again, my friend
Ah, you don’t believe
We’re on the eve
of destruction.

Don’t you understand what I’m tryin’ to say
Can’t you feel the fears I’m feelin’ today?
If the button is pushed, there’s no runnin’ away
There’ll be no one to save, with the world in a grave
Take a look around ya boy, it's bound to scare ya boy.

And you tell me
Over and over and over again, my friend
Ah, you don’t believe
We’re on the eve
of destruction.

Yeah, my blood’s so mad feels like coagulatin’
I’m sitting here just contemplatin’
I can’t twist the truth, it knows no regulatin'.
Handful of senators don’t pass legislation
And marches alone can’t bring integration
When human respect is disintegratin’
This whole crazy world is just too frustratin’

And you tell me
Over and over and over again, my friend
Ah, you don’t believe
We’re on the eve
of destruction.

Think of all the hate there is in Red China
Then take a look around to Selma, Alabama
You may leave here for 4 days in space
But when you return, it’s the same old place
The poundin’ of the drums, the pride and disgrace
You can bury your dead, but don’t leave a trace
Hate your next-door neighbor, but don’t forget to say grace
And… tell me over and over and over and over again, my friend
You don’t believe
We’re on the eve
Of destruction
Mm, no no, you don’t believe
We’re on the eve
of destruction."

"Eve" is a Viet-Nam guntruck, believed to be the only one surviving, in the US Museum of Military Transport, Fort Eustis, Virginia.

Lou Adler:
I'd heard the first Dylan album with electrified instruments. This is strange, but it's really true: I gave Phil Sloan a pair of boots and a hat and a copy of the Dylan album, and a week later he came back with ten songs, including "Eve of Destruction." It was a natural feel for him - he's a great mimic. Anyway I was afraid of the song. I didn't know if we could get it played (on the radio). But the next night I went to Ciro's, where the Byrds were playing. It was the beginning of the freak period.... there was this subculture that no one in L.A. knew about, not even me, and it was growing. The Byrds were the leaders of the cult, and the place was jam-packed, spilling out on to the street. ln the middle of it was this guy in furs, with long hair, and dancing; I thought he looked like a leader of a movement. Terry Melcher told me that he was Barry McGuire, and that he'd sung with the New Christy Minstrels. A week later we cut the record and it sold six million. I didn't think it was a copy of anything. It was the first rock'n'roll protest song and Sloan laid it down in very simple terms, not like the folk people were doing. If you listen to the song today, it holds up all the way - it's the same problems. It's certainly an honest feeling, from a 16 year old. Melody Maker, Feb 5, 1972, p. 43; reprinted in Dave Laing, "Troubadours and Stars," in Dave Laing, et. al., The Electric Muse: The Story of Folk into Rock, London, 1975, pp. 58-59."

McGuire also mentioned that "Eve of
Destruction" was recorded in one take on a Thursday morning
(from words scrawled on a crumpled piece of paper), and he got a
call from the record company at 7:00 the following Monday morning,
telling him to turn on the radio - his song was playing. The
recording includes an "ahhh" where McGuire couldn't
read the words.

Read Phil Sloan's explanation. 

"One last thing. The media frenzy over the song tore me up and seemed to tear the country apart. I was an enemy of the people to some and a hero to others, but I was still only 20 years old and nobody really was looking. I have felt it was a love song and written as a prayer because, to cure an ill you need to know what is sick.
In my youthful zeal I hadn't realized that this would be taken as an attack on The System!
Examples: The media headlined the song as everything that is wrong with the youth culture. First, show the song is just a hack song to make money and therefore no reason to deal with its questions. Prove the 19-year old writer is a communist dupe. Attack the singer as a parrot for the writers word. The media claimed that the song would frighten little children. I had hoped thru this song to open a dialogue with Congress and the people.

The media banned me from all national television shows.

Oddly enough they didn't ban Barry. The United States felt under threat. So any positive press on me or Barry was considered un-patriotic. A great deal of madness, as I remember it! I told the press it was a love song. A love song to and for humanity, that's all.
It ruined Barry's career as an artist and in a year I would be driven out of the music business too."

Skydiving in High Heels.

This was on The Sisterhood of the Pointy Heel's blog. However, I don't think anyone goes there any more, and updates are few and far. I think the sistahs are too busy polishing their nails, these days.

I think it's my duty to bring it to the attention of a few more people...
In case you were wondering, it's an advert for a washing machine.

There's something not quite right about it though. because elsewhere on the internet, I saw the reality of naked skydiving, which caused me to wince... Ladies, look away now, if you don't want to be haunted by the horror of concave boobies!

Yes. I took the picture away. I got bored with the thousands of visitors who just came to look at that picture. In a way, this was my most popular post. Because of one picture. Go away. seek it elsewhere.

Okay: experiment continues. I'm timing Bing and Google against each other, to see Ohh, well, never mind....
Here it is again......

As for the men... You think dogs wag their tails a lot?

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgh!

 

A Puzzling Jug

In my archive of pots from way-back, but unfinished, is this puzzle jug. Ever since potters began to play with clay, they were playing tricks too. A puzzle jug challenges the drinker to drink the contents without spilling, or lose a wager. This one says "Here Gentlemen, come try your skill, I'll hold a wager if you will, That you can't drink this liquor all, without you spill, or let some fall."
If you tip it as normal to your lips, there are pierced holes that will spill. The clue is in those spouts along the rim. The rim is tubular, as is the handle....... But you still have to contend with a number of holes that have to be stopped with fingertips before you can suck the liquid up.
I wish my lettering was neater. Ummm, on the other hand I'm inordinately proud that I managed to make a pulled handle that works.... It took a lot of experimenting before I got it right.

These are from the nineteenth century. Buckley, Flintshire, Wales.

Denholme, Yorkshire.

Liverpool, tin-glazed, 19th century.

A Jug

I think I can out-procrastinate most people. This pot, I made in about 1992?, I plan to fire it some day.

Builders had started on a new housing development a quarter of a mile away, the digger buckets were cutting into smooth yellow clay... I hooked my trailer up, went to visit, asked for a grab of that clay, and took it home. 24 hours later, I had this. I did fire some samples, this one escaped, it's in a store of largely forgotten stuff, long story.... which I'll miss out altogether.
It's a baluster jug, loosely based on mediaeval stuff, hence the unfinished foot.

Mick Casson, "The Craft of the Potter" (BBC-1974)

In 1976, the BBC made a series called "The Craft of the Potter", it was presented by the late Michael Casson, (1925-2003), a truly lovely man, a man so enthusiastic about his craft that it was impossible not to smile in his company, I had the good fortune to meet him several times, but never had the money, nor the good sense to buy one of his characteristic jugs.
The jug, or pitcher, in particular, what he called a "harvest jug" is the form which I think he most loved. Everything about him seemed larger than life, he'd make a jug with swift, sure movements, coat it with slip, and with a deft swipe of the thumb, a decoration would appear.
Mick always seemed to be wearing a smock, as loved by cornish fishermen, he always looked, to me, like a mediaeval character, the bearded character we'd see in the margin of some illuminated text, or the peasant potter carved in some cathedral.
Okay. I confess, I wanted a smock like that too, then I'd look like a "real" potter.
There was a book to go with the T.V. series, I have a copy, the series seems to no longer be available from the BBC, the last version I can see is on video cassettes, and the five 25 minute programs were available as part of the BBC's educational resources at the bargain price.... wait for it....... of £625:00. ($919:00) I'll bet they didn't exactly fly off the shelves! So far I've only found one fragment on youtube. Somebody out there must have it.

Ha! just noticed he says his wheelhead "batts" (circular discs on which the clay is thrown) are made of asbestos. It will be asbestos-cement, we had those at college too; funny how we are so paranoid these days about asbestos, yet in the seventies it was everywhere. If it really is as bad as we are told, then I'll definitely die of it, because in my school we used asbestos mats in the chemistry lab, asbestos mittens too, the pipes were lagged with asbestos insulation, my kiln had asbestos cloth under its wiring connectors..... It was everywhere, still is.