Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Hottest Old Man TV Journalist of All Time


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After 13 days of living in my new, wonderful, cozy, studio apartment (I couldn’t be happier! The luxuries of living alone continue to astound me…) I finally got some shit set up, including my Mega Monster Entertainment Tower: stereo, huge speakers, TV, VCR/DVD player and record player. *sigh* Boy, was that a joyous relief. Also, I acquired a TV antennea from Erica (who is in ISRAEL right now, for med school. I miss her already). With this newfound apparatus I am actually getting TELEVISION in my own home! This is a FIRST in over a year (before that I had cable, but my senior year of college was just antennae reception). Last night I felt like a kid watching the Howdy Doody Show or better yet, Ed Sullivan for the first time in the mid-1950s.


It felt absurd, but I felt vaguely guilty, like, I had lived without TV in my place of living for so long (of course, I watch TV at my dad’s and other locales) it felt like I was doing something naughty. Like, I had lived a good, moral life without TV (oh, wouldn’t Lady Madge be proud!? ha!) why do I “need” it now?


I also felt some major connectedness to the world, at large. I delighted in what I saw first: it was channel 9 with the Detroit Tigers playing (beating) the Oakland A’s (I know the A’s killed our poor Twins, but it’s where my Mom and her family come from, so I have this…connection thing). Just to have baseball on TV in October felt very traditional and comforting… then I realized I got 11, and most wonderful of all, channel 17! What was on but the bloody BBC news! FUCK YES. That also meant that I would be seeing my most favorite journalist/TV personality/interviewer of all time, Mr. Charlie Rose, at 10:30 pm.

I sat back in my chair and felt wholly American. I was watching TV and feeling ever so guilty and depressed about the war. Rose had on Niall Ferguson, a hot, brilliant Brit professor and author who just put out a book, The War of the World: Twentieth-Century Conflict and the Decline of the West (London / New York : Penguin Press, 2006) It was horribly depressing, of course, but it felt great to watch their conversation and learn a few nuggets of info. The whole EMPIRE thing. Charlie, talking bout how Ferguson’s book takes note that yes, the US is a fucking EMPIRE and we need to face it and own up to it. As for Iraq… The latest I saw this morning:


'Huge rise' in Iraqi death tolls

An estimated 655,000 Iraqis have died since 2003 who might still be alive but for the US-led invasion, according to a survey by a US university.


Last night, Rose has this lil’ smile on his face and he says, “Do you think our leaders could have benefited from taking a look at history, before the invasion of Iraq?” And Ferguson responds with a similar, knowing, wary smile, and discusses the eerie, comical example of “history repeating itself” as he mentioned what took place in 1917. At that time, British General Frederick Stanley Maude led the infamous “March on Baghdad.” Ferguson pulls out one of his quotes, (roughly) “We are not here as conquerors, we are here to liberate!” Hmmmmmmmmm, 1917, huh? Check this out: The Proclamation of Baghdad.

In the US of A, TV learning is fun! And depressing! What a fucking mixed bag to have the ol’ TV back in my life…. I feel OK about it. Especially since I only have 6 or so channels. heh. Of course, waking up this morning and hearing that it was about 35 fucking degrees was a nice slap in the face. brrrrrrr.

I think I might nix MPR *and* TV in the morning, and just stick to the ol’ iTunes Shuffle recipe. Yesterday I heard “Misty Water” by the Kinks and had a revelation. I had never paid attention to the lyrics before (I’d say I’m a very casual Kinks fan, I know why they were important, I know that Ray Davies’ lyrics are Uber-British and clever and all that.) But I had never heard how crazygreat the lyrics are! To my debouched ears, they sound like they’re about mysticism and drugs and sex. I swear...

Misty Water

By the town of Straight and Narrow,
There's a dark and misty place.
Everything is hazy,
So the people are afraid.

All except Maria's daughters,
Who believe in misty ways.
Everything is lovely,
In a misty morning glaze.

I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne Maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.

I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne Maria and her daughters,
Take a sip of misty water.

Though Maria is not lovely,
She's the lady of my dreams.
'Cause I see my lady,
Through a misty, silky screen.

And in seeing is believing,
But I can't believe my eyes.
Everything is lovely,
In a misty paradise.

I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne Maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.

They like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne Maria and her daughters,
Take a sip of misty water.

I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne Maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.

They like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne Maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.

I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne Maria and her daughters...


Just allows for crazy interpretation, if you ask me. I love that shit. Also, the music is just kick-ass, it starts kinda twee and story-telling-like and then there’s this fucking righteous lil’ raw guitar break down that sounds like a kid in his garage banging out simple power chords. It is super sexy and turned me on a lot. So, I emailed Jeremy and asked him how to go about getting into the Kinks—properly. He responded quickly, in great detail. I expect nothing less from Mr. Sunshine Bores the Daylights Outta Me.

Expect me to be into the Kinks on a whole different level. It’s a-comin’.

1 comment:

Kate said...

Ray Davies and Charlie Rose in one post. You're a gal after my own heart.