The Stuff I Love

Gloomy Sunday

2010-09-26T23:50:00.002-05:00

Saturday at Midwest Gypsy Swing Fest 2010

2010-08-22T09:29:00.004-05:00

Friday Night at Midwest Gypsy Swing Fest

2010-08-21T11:55:00.008-05:00

Connie Evingson - Nature Boy

2010-03-04T09:57:00.002-06:00

Lačni Franz - Praslovan

2010-01-13T00:18:00.001-06:00

Rock band from Slovenia.

Big Spender

2010-01-02T07:10:00.001-06:00

Dance sequence from Sweet Charity. Choreographer Bob Fosse.

Goldfrapp - Deer Stop

2009-11-08T23:16:00.000-06:00

And I long to go

Love started. Here

Shoot your star

Be a light

Is that

Don't you call

Deer stop bottle in a shell

Shoot a thousand stars over me

Love to come home

You've arrested a knight

Say my name,

Whisper it

Don't ever turn

I'm deliciously wired

I'm falling in a cloud

Shoot a thousand stars over

Say my name

Whisper it

A Cowboy's Work Is Never Done

2009-11-05T16:36:00.003-06:00

Alejandro Escovedo

2009-10-30T11:39:00.000-05:00

Alejandro Escovedo w/ David Pulkingham and Susan Voelz The Ark June, 2009

Angel flying too close to the ground

2009-10-22T23:57:00.000-05:00

If you had not have fallen

Then I would not have found you

Angel flying too close to the ground

And I patched up your broken wing

And hung around a while

Tried to keep your spirits up

And your fever down

I knew someday that you would fly away

For love's the greatest healer to be found

So leave me if you need to

I will still remember

Angel flying too close to the ground

Fly on, fly on past the speed of sound

I'd rather see you up

Than see you down

Leave me if you need to

I will still remember

Angel flying too close to the ground

The Ipcress File

2009-10-22T15:07:00.004-05:00

Michael Caine made his first appearance as novelist Len Deighton's bespectacled British-spy Harry Palmer in The Ipcress File. Palmer has no real love of espionage, but he doesn't really know any other life. With studied insolence, he takes on the case of locating missing doctor Radcliffe (Aubrey Richards), who has in his possession a valuable file that would prove injurious to the Free World should it fall in the wrong hands. The government also fears that Radcliffe will be brainwashed by the enemy, as has happened to two previous British scientists. While Palmer is off doing everyone else's dirty work, his superior, Nigel Green, is making a deal with duplicitous information "broker" Frank Gatliff to win Radcliffe's release. The price for this would seem to be Palmer, who is captured by the enemy and subjected to a grueling brainwashing session. Palmer escapes, whereupon he confronts a traitor in his midst in the climactic exchange of gunfire. Advertised as "The Thinking Man's Goldfinger, The Ipcress File offered a far more realistic view of the morally ambivalent world of espionage than did the like-vintage James Bond films. Music by John Berry set the standard for spy movies.

The Ipcress File(1965), Funeral in Berlin (1966) and Billion Dollar Brain (1967). Decades later, Michael Caine returned his Harry Palmer character in Harry Alan Towers' Bullet to Beijing (1995) and Midnight in St. Petersburg (1996).

Elmer's Tune

2009-10-21T14:26:00.001-05:00

Glenn Miller 's number one hit "Elmer's Tune" in 1941 was written by a mortician. Young Elmer Albrecht worked next door to Chicago's Aragon Ballroom and received permission to use one of their pianos on his lunch hours. Bandleader Dick Jurgens liked one of the melodies he heard Albrecht play and arranged it for his orchestra. Lyricist Sammy Gallop added words. The rest is history.

Here are the lyrics:

Why are the stars always winkin,' And blinkin' above?
What makes a fella' start thinkin', Of fallin' in love?
It's not the season, The reason, It's plain as the moon,
It's just Elmer's tune.

What makes a lady of eighty, Go out on the loose?
Why does a gander meander,In search of a goose?
What puts the kick, In a chicken, The magic in June?
It's just Elmer's tune.

Listen! Listen! There's a lot you're liable to be missin'.
Sing it! Swing it Any ol' way And any ol' time.
The hurdy-gurdies, The birdies, The cop on the beat,
The candy maker, The baker, The man on the street,
The city charmer, The farmer, The Man in the Moon,
All sing Elmer's tune.

The hurdy-gurdies, The birdies, The cop on the beat,
The Banker And the Man on the street
The city charmer, The farmer, The Man in the Moon,
All sing Elmer's tune.
They all sing Elmer's tune,
They all sing Elmer's tune

My favorite version is by Peggy Lee

Rashomon

2009-10-12T02:25:00.001-05:00

Rashomon (羅生門, Rashōmon?) is a 1950 Japanese film directed by Akira Kurosawa, working in close collaboration with cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa. It stars Toshirō Mifune, Takashi Shimura, Machiko Kyō, Masayuki Mori and Minoru Chiaki. The film is based on two stories by Ryūnosuke Akutagawa — ("Rashomon" provides the setting, while "In a Grove" provides the characters and plot).
Rashomon can be said to have introduced Kurosawa and Japanese cinema to Western audiences, and is considered one of his masterpieces. The film won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival, and also received an Academy Honorary Award at the 24th Academy Awards.

This is my favorite of all times. I can watch it over and over.

Benny Goodman and Peggy Lee - Why Don't You Do Right

2009-10-06T21:58:00.003-05:00

Timi Yuro - Hurt

2009-10-06T21:31:00.002-05:00

I'm so hurt to think that you lie to me
I'm hurt, way down deep inside of me
You said your love was true
And we never ever, ever part
Now you want someone new
And it breaks my heart

I'm so hurt
Much more than you ever know
Yes darling I'm so hurt
Because I still love you so
But even though you hurt me
Like nobody eles would ever do
I would never ever part hurt you

Johnnie Ray The King Of Doo Wop

2009-10-06T18:18:00.003-05:00

If your sweetheart sends a letter of goodbye
It's no secret you'll feel better if you cry
When waking from a bad dream
Don't you sometimes think it's real
But it's only false emotions that you feel

If your heartaches seem to hang around too long
And your blues keep getting bluer with each song
Remember sunshine can be found behind the cloudy skies
So let your hair down and go on and cry

If your heartaches seem to hang around too long
And your blues keep getting bluer with each song
Well now, remember sunshine can be found
Behind a cloudy sky
So let your hair down and go right on and cry

Seventh Seal

2009-10-06T01:54:00.001-05:00

Real Gypsy Songs

2009-09-29T09:51:00.004-05:00

Maria de Barros

2009-09-23T14:41:00.003-05:00

Evening With Parno Graszt

2009-09-21T10:57:00.006-05:00

Marko(tour manager) , Dusan, Josef(tambura & vocal)

Here is a good link for the listing of similar Gypsy bands:
http://www.last.fm/music/Parno+Graszt/+similar?page=1

Fab Five

2009-09-14T21:28:00.002-05:00

Week 8

Week 11

Final performance

Five moms, cloggers that put a smile on my face every time are 'America's Got Talent' finalists. I just love them, and I voted five times. Find more about Fab Five.

Latcho Drom

2009-09-04T14:13:00.005-05:00

Clip from the film "Latcho Drom", Romanian band Taraf de Haidouks.

Dorado and Tchavolo Schmitt.

I found a new baby

2009-09-03T01:35:00.002-05:00

On January 22, 1926, Clarence Williams’ Blue Five introduced “I’ve Found a New Baby.” Eight years later, in 1934, a Mills Brothers recording of the song rose to number nineteen on the pop charts. The song was on the charts again in 1939 as the Harry James Orchestra rendition rose to number fourteen.
Words and Music Jack Palmer & Spencer Williams

Clyde McCoy Orch - I Found A New Baby 1936

Midwest Gypsy Swing Fest 2009 Harmonious Wail

2009-08-31T12:34:00.007-05:00

Family Reunion

Harmonious Wail web site: http://www.wail.com/

Midwest Gypsy Swing Fest 2009 Henry & Jack

2009-08-30T10:29:00.001-05:00

Midwest Gypsy Swing Fest 2009 Alfonso Ponticelli & Friends

2009-08-29T22:18:00.007-05:00

Midwest Gypsy Swing Fest 2009 Gonzalo Bergara & Friends

2009-08-28T00:27:00.003-05:00

Gonzalo Bergara web site www.gonzalobergara.com

Midwest Gypsy Swing Fest 2009 Rumba Kings

2009-08-27T12:26:00.002-05:00

Midwest Gypsy Swing Fest 2009 Alfonso Ponticelli & Swing Gitan

2009-08-27T02:14:00.000-05:00

http://www.swinggitan.com/

Midwest Gypsy Swing Fest 2009 Robin Nolan Trio

2009-08-26T00:09:00.001-05:00

Robin Nolan's web site:
www.robinnolan.com
www.robinnolantrio.com
www.myspace.com/robinnolan

Jason Anick's web site:
www.jasonanick.com

Midwest Gypsy Swing Fest 2009 GSE Caravan

2009-08-25T00:15:00.002-05:00

GSE Caravan web site:
www.gypsyswing.com/
www.myspace.com/caravangypsyswingensemble
www.facebook.com/pages/Caravan-Gypsy-Swing-Ensemble/134142177612

Midwest Gypsy Swing Fest 2009 Camp Fire

2009-08-24T00:08:00.002-05:00

Midwest Gypsy Swing Fest 2009 Gonzalo Bergara

2009-08-23T22:20:00.018-05:00

You never saw something like this.
6th annual Midwest Gypsy Swing Fest in Madison, WI.
Gonzalo Bergara invites friends Alfonso Ponticelli and Robin Nolan to join him in closing of Friday night session. Other members of the band Kevin Nolan, Jason Anick, and Matt Rodgers get help from Tony Balog and Beau Sample. Watch the video and have fun like the musicians and audience at site.artinthebarnwi.org/
More info at www.midwestgypsyswingfest.com/ or www.wail.com/

Gonzalo Bergara web site www.gonzalobergara.com

Timeless

2009-07-19T23:27:00.000-05:00

This version of "Mas Que Nada" is a product of Will.i.am's (of the Black Eyed Peas) idea to collaborate with Sergio Mendes on Sergio’s classic 1966 track from the legendary album, “Sergio Mendes & Brasil '66.” "Mas Que Nada" is the second music video from the 2006 Sergio Mendes album, "Timeless."

Vladimir Visotsky Czar of Russian bards

2009-07-16T01:50:00.004-05:00

Parno Graszt

2009-07-03T02:27:00.017-05:00

Another great gypsy band from Hungaria Parno Graszt was formed in 1987 in Szabolcs-Szatmár-Bereg, the most authentic but under-developed area from Hungary. The Band exist of 7 musicians, and sometimes the group play with dancers from wich the age can vary from 10 to 72! Parno Graszt means ‘White Horse’. White as a symbol for purity and Horse as a symbol for Freedom.

http://www.parnograszt.hu/
http://www.myspace.com/parnograszt
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=45261875941#

LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT

2009-07-02T01:33:00.007-05:00

By Lady Dufferin

I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side
On a bright May mornin' long ago,
When first you were my bride;
The corn was springin' fresh and green.
And the lark sang loud and high—
And the red was on your lip, Mary,
And the love-light in your eye.

The place is little changed, Mary;
The day is bright as then;
The lark's loud song is in my ear,
And the corn is green again;
But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,
And your breath, warm on my cheek;
And I still keep list'nin' for the words
You nevermore will speak.

'Tis but a step down yonder lane,
And the little church stands near—
The church where we were wed, Mary;
I see the spire from here.
But the graveyard lies between, Mary,
And my step might break your rest—
For I've laid you, darling! down to sleep,
With your baby on your breast.

I'm very lonely now, Mary.
For the poor make no new friends:
But, oh, they love the better still
The few our Father sends!
And you were all I had, Mary—
My blessin' and my pride!
There's nothing left to care for now,
Since my poor Mary died.

Yours was the good, brave heart, Mary,
That still kept hoping on.
When the trust in God had left my soul,
And my arm's young strength was gone;
There was comfort ever on your lip,
And the kind look on your brow,—
I bless you, Mary, for that same,
Though you cannot hear me now.

I thank you for the patient smile
When your heart was fit to break,—
When the hunger-pain was gnawin' there,
And you hid it for my sake;
I bless you for the pleasant word,
When your heart was sad and sore,—
O, I'm thankful you are gone, Mary,
Where grief can't reach you more!

I'm biddin' you a long farewell,
My Mary—kind and true!
But I'll not forget you, darling,
In the land I'm goin' to;
They say there 's bread and work for all,
And the sun shines always there—
But I'll not forget old Ireland,
Were it fifty times as fair!

And often in those grand old woods
I'll sit, and shut my eyes,
And my heart will travel back again
To the place where Mary lies;
And I'll think I see the little stile
Where we sat side by side,
And the springin' corn, and the bright May morn,
When first you were my bride.

CARDBOX LADY

2009-07-01T12:15:00.003-05:00

Maggie Delaney-Potthoff is one of the best jazz singers in Madison, WI area. She is known for using vodka box as a percussion instrument. She designed the song "I Like To Feel My Bones".

Latcho Dives

2009-06-05T15:30:00.004-05:00

Ternipe, Hungarian Gypsy Band

2009-06-04T07:37:00.023-05:00

Known as ‘Ternipe' (meaning ‘youth') at home, Bela Lakatos & The Gypsy Youth Project is predominantly vocal but also features percussion from sticks, foot-stomping and a metal can, an acoustic guitar and mandolin. The group began by collecting traditional rural Gypsy folk songs, and many of them gathered on these research expeditions, are featured on this recording. The songs are gritty, reflecting the rural Roma experience – tales of lost love, discrimination and hardship. Their repertoire features the three predominant styles of Hungarian folk music: Ló Ko Gilji (slow ballad), Ró Vjaki Gilji (a song for the ‘stick dance' that is typically played in a 4/4 rhythm) and Khelimaski Gilji (a style that is traditionally danced either solo or in pairs, and played in a 2/3 rhythm).

Today in Hungary, there are two distinct worlds of Gypsy music: rural folk (performed almost exclusively for the Gypsy community) and ‘restaurant music' (performed primarily for tourists). This is a great introduction to a group of young musicians whose mission is to ensure the survival of Gypsy folk songs.

In 1989, Gusztav Varga (founder of the legendary Hungarian Gypsy band Kalyi Jag) teamed up with the singer and arranger Bela Lakatos and a group of young musicians who still spoke Romany as their mother tongue. Their mission was to preserve and develop traditional Hungarian music."

Clicl Play and wait a few seconds for music to start.
Ternipe "Del O Brishind"

I Wish My Baby Was Born

2009-06-01T00:40:00.001-05:00

Jaga Jaga

2009-05-07T18:34:00.020-05:00

This version is from Ramania.

Iar in vara, iar ii seara, iar o vreu amu
Again in summer, again it's evening, again I want her now
Iar ii noapte, iar ma poarta, iar la ea ma duc
Again it's night, again it carries me, again I go to her
Nu da doamne iar acas' sa nu o gasesc
Please God may she be home this time
De dorul ei innebunesc
I'm going crazy because of her longing

Merg pe strada toti sa ma vada c un brat de flori
I walk on the street for all to see me with a armful of flowers
Ma vede o baba s inca o baba, iar ma trec fiori
An old lady seems, and again an old lady, i get the chills
Nu da doamne iar acasa sa nu te gasesc
Please God let her be home this time
De dorul tau innebunesc
I am going crazy because of your longing

Incearca ah ah, incearca jaga jaga
Try ah ah, try the jaga jaga
Incearca da' nu ma chinui degeaba
Try, yes don't torment me in vain
Tu sti prea bine ca privind atat la fundul tau
You know well that looking at your behind for so long
Am sa raman la mama flacau
I'll a swain at my mom ( it means - he will never get married)
Incearca ah ah, incearca jaga jaga
Try ah ah, try the jaga jaga
Incearca da' nu ma chinui degeaba
Try, yes don't torment me in vain
Tu sti prea bine ca privind atat la fundul tau
You know well that looking at your behind for so long
Am sa raman la mama flacau
I'll a swain at my mom

Eu stiu baiete tot ma umblu pe la fete'n sat
I know boy, but I keep going to girls around the village
Dar tu vi, dar nu ti faci datoria de barbat
But you come, but you don't keep your manly duty
Tu vi cu flori cu vorbe multe toate s in zadar
You come with flowers, a lot of words, all in vain
Chiar daca n sat esti superstar
Even if u'r a superstar in the village

La prins peste toata ziua sede un pescar
a fisherman sits all day to catch fish
Cum la livada sa nu seada omu' gospodar
So how shouldn't a good householder stay in the midow
Numai eu stau fara treaba toata ziua n sat
I'm the only one staying in the village all day without any work
Ca n am barbat adevarat
cause I don't have a real man

Incearca ah ah, incearca jaga jaga
Try ah ah, try the jaga jaga
Incearca da' nu ma chinui degeaba
Try, yes don't torment me in vain
Nu te uita baiete atat de mult la fundul meu
Don't look at my behind so long boy
C ai sa ramai la mata flacau
Cause u'll remain a swain at your mom

Incearca ah ah, incearca jaga jaga
Try ah ah, try the jaga jaga
Incearca da' nu ma chinui degeaba
Try, yes don't torment me in vain
Nu te uita baiete atat de mult la fundul meu
Don't look at my behind so long boy
C ai sa ramai la mata flacau
Cause u'll remain a swain at your mom

De trei zile nu pot tine dragostea in mine
Since three days I can't keep the love inside of me
De trei zile fara tine parca nu s cuminte
Since three days without you it seems like I'm not a good boy
Nu da doamne sa te caut si sa nu te gasesc
Please God don't let that I search and don't find you
De dorul tau innebunesc
I'm going crazy because oif your longing

Iar in vara, iar ii seara, iar o vreu amu
Again in summer, again it's evening, again I want her now
Iar ii noapte, iar ma poarta, iar la ea ma duc
Again it's night, again it carries me, again I go to her
Nu da doamne iar acas' sa nu o gasesc
Please God may she be home this time ( it's not the literal translation,but it makes sense only this way)
De dorul ei innebunesc
I'm going crazy because of her longing

I love you baby yeah, i love you jaga jaga
I love you da' nu ma chinui degeaba
...yes don't torment me in vain
Tu sti prea bine ca privind atat la fundul tau
You know well that looking at your behind for so long
Am sa raman la mama flacau
I'll remain a swain at my mom
I need you baby yeah, i need you jaga jaga
I need you da' nu ma chinui degeaba
...yes don't torment me in vain
Tu sti prea bine ca privind atat la fundul tau
You know well that looking at your behind for so long
Am sa raman la mama flacau
I'll remain a swain at my mom

Incearca ah ah, incearca jaga jaga
Try ah ah, try the jaga jaga
Incearca da' nu ma chinui degeaba
Try, yes don't torment me in vain
Nu te uita baiete atat de mult la fundul meu
Don't look at my behind so long boy
C ai sa ramai la mata flacau
Cause u'll remain a swain at your mom
Incearca ah ah, incearca jaga jaga
Try ah ah, try the jaga jaga
Incearca da' nu ma chinui degeaba
Try, yes don't torment me in vain
Nu te uita baiete atat de mult la fundul meu
Don't look at my behind so long boy
C ai sa ramai la mata flacau
Cause u'll remain a swain at your mom

Serbian Disco Version.

Looks like this is the original song from Russia, made in 2002.

SARS - Budjav Lebac - MOLDY BREAD

2009-05-07T11:07:00.010-05:00

Cik pogodi sta imam za veceru,

HEY GUESS WHAT I HAVE FOR DINNER

Budjav lebac, budjav lebac.

MOLDY BREAD, MOLDY BREAD

Njam njam njam njam...

YUM, YUM, YUM, YUM

Cik pogodi sta imam za veceru,

HEY GUESS WHAT I HAVE FOR DINNER

Budjav lebac, budjav lebac.

MOLDY BREAD, MOLDY BREAD

Ajme mene joj, ajme mene joj,

OH MY OH, OH MY OH

Budjav lebac, budjav lebac.

MOLDY BREAD, MOLDY BREAD

Njam njam njam njam...

YUM, YUM, YUM, YUM

Ajme mene joj, ajme mene joj,

OH MY OH, OH MY OH

Budjav lebac, budjav lebac.

MOLDY BREAD, MOLDY BREAD

Dzemujem ja stalno ali nemam dzema,

I ALWAYS JAM IT BUT I HAVE NO JAM

Da na leba, mazem njega.

ON BREAD, TO SMEAR IT (THE JAM/JELLY)

Njam njam njam njam...

YUM, YUM, YUM, YUM

Dzemujem ja stalno ali nemam dzema,

I ALWAYS JAM IT BUT I HAVE NO JAM

Da na leba, mazem njega.

ON BREAD, TO SMEAR IT (THE JAM/JELLY)

Jos da imam malo alevu i loj,

AND IF I HAD SOME PAPRIKA POWDER AND FAT

Da na leba mecem svega. (2x)

SO I CAN PUT EVERYTHING OM BREAD

Dzaba meni dza(BA) dzaba kad je slan,

IT'S WORTHLESS TO ME, WORTH(LESS)
WORTHLESS BECAUSE IT'S SALTY

Budjav lebac, budjav lebac.

MOLDY BREAD, MOLDY BREAD

Njam njam njam njam...

YUM, YUM, YUM, YUM

Dzaba meni dza dzaba kad je slan,

IT'S WORTHLESS TO ME, WORTH(LESS)
WORTHLESS BECAUSE IT'S SALTY

Budjav lebac, budjav lebac.

MOLDY BREAD, MOLDY BREAD

Ajme mene joj, ajme mene joj,

OH MY OH, OH MY OH

Budjav lebac, budjav lebac.

MOLDY BREAD, MOLDY BREAD

Njam njam njam njam...

YUM, YUM, YUM, YUM

Ajme mene joj, ajme mene joj,

OH MY OH, OH MY OH

Budjav lebac, budjav lebac.

MOLDY BREAD, MOLDY BREAD

A kod komse uvek pun frizider svega,

THE NEIGHBOURS FRIDGE IS ALWAYS FULL OF EVERYTHING

Mortadela i Nutela.

MORTADELA AND NUTELA8

Cik pogodi sta imam za veceru,

HEY GUESS WHAT I HAVE FOR DINNER

Budjav lebac, budjav lebac.

MOLDY BREAD, MOLDY BREAD

Njam njam njam njam...

YUM, YUM, YUM, YUM

Cik pogodi sta imam za veceru,

HEY GUESS WHAT I HAVE FOR DINNER

Budjav lebac, budjav lebac.

MOLDY BREAD, MOLDY BREAD

Download mp3 file
S.A.R.S - Budjav Lebac.mp3

Minor Swing

2009-05-02T22:55:00.000-05:00

Bireli Lagrene and Friends in Vienna 2002
guitars: Dorado Schmitt, Samson Schmitt, Sylvain Luc, David Reinhardt, Stochelo Rosenberg, Tchavolo Schmidtt, Angelo Debarre
Martin Weiss violin, Richard Galliano accordion

Wonderful World shadow puppet

2009-04-14T00:54:00.001-05:00

Damien Rice - The Blower's Daughter

2009-04-06T12:33:00.003-05:00

Elenore

2009-04-03T15:41:00.004-05:00

This is my favorite Turtles song, and it's on my "Top 5 sing alongs" list of all times.

TURTLES lyrics

Gilda

2009-04-01T16:09:00.001-05:00

Vlade Divac

2009-04-01T09:35:00.007-05:00

Vlade Divac acknowledges the Arco Arena fans during Tuesday's halftime ceremony. He wore a suit, out of character for the former Kings center, but no King will ever wear No. 21 again.
http://www.sacbee.com/sports/story/1745164.html

They packed the place for Vlade Divac on Tuesday night, rose to their feet, cheering and chanting – and, yes, choking up – for the man who stood tallest for this city's NBA franchise.

His fans. His former teammates. His wife and children.

His old coaches.

"Some things you just have to do," said former Kings assistant John Wetzel and his wife, Diane, who flew in from Hawaii for No. 21's jersey retirement ceremonies. Chris Webber, Doug Christie, Scot Pollard and Peja Stojakovic were in the building. Colleen Maloof, who seldom travels these days, made the trip from L.A. Former trainer Al Biancani dropped in.

It was a grand finale for a 7-foot-1 prince of a man, a former King whose flaws and foibles only made him more human, made him seem a lot like everyone else. He was the ordinary guy who enjoyed an extraordinary life, the player who hid his cigarettes, who hated the weight room, who cried when he lost, but who wanted to stick around and play forever.

But as was noted repeatedly during the 20-minute halftime festivities, Divac, 41, was much more than a gifted, multi-faceted center. He was a virtual pushover when it came to charities, and at his flopping best when it came to kids. He was involved in numerous charities throughout his six seasons in Sacramento, most of them involving children. Most recently, he established the Humanitarian Organization Divac (HOD) – a foundation that rebuilds and refurbishes homes for refugees in his homeland.

His compassion – and his playfulness – endeared him to teammates wherever he played. There were the pranks, the one-liners, the amiable nature, and most significantly, the ability to distinguish between life and death, and life and sports.

"That guy can come in dressed like a bum and look like a king," Kings consultant Pete Carril said before the game. "He has that charisma."

It's true. He does. The building was electric long before Divac, famous for his casual attire, strolled into the darkened arena, accompanied appropriately by a recording of Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes." Pat Riley, Don Nelson and Gregg Popovich, among others, only days ago provided examples of Divac's superb court vision, his career-long search for the perfect pass; as a passing big man, they rate him in an exclusive class consisting of only Bill Walton and Arvydas Sabonis.

Remembering the good times, hours before the Kings lost another game, fans cheered and chanted "Vla-de, Vla-de, Vla-de," as Divac, in an unfamiliar suit and lavender dress shirt, his dark hair and beard close-cropped, made his way to the center of the semicircle. One by one, his former teammates, Kings co-owner Gavin Maloof and president Geoff Petrie related anecdotes and asides, until finally, Divac held the microphone.

Fearing he would break down, he spoke from a script, and then only briefly. He offered a few words in Serbian to accommodate those watching the live telecast – at approximately 5 a.m. overseas – ended with a simple, "thank you Sacramento, yours forever," and then made his way toward the Kings bench.

He embraced his successors and former teammate Bobby Jackson, bent down and grabbed his old coach, Carril, for an extended embrace. "I was going to say, 'they finally hung ya,' but I started crying," Carril said moments later, his eyes still moist. "He was something else."

Kings fans witnessed most of it, observed the very best of Vlade. The backdoor passes, the one-bounce passes, the between-the-legs passes. The scoop shots and the sweeping hooks. And, yes, the missed free throws and the flops, too.

"He put us (Kings) on the map," said injured Hornets forward Stojakovic, "and the support and love he still gets from this city is amazing. It reminds you of how special he is."
Vlade Divac, right, partied with, from left, Glen Rice, Kings announcer Grant Napear and ex-Kings teammate Scot Pollard during a concert in Belgrade, Serbia, to celebrate his retirement Sep-2007.

This is a short series of articles about Vlade Divac, by Ailene Voisin

Ailene Voisin: Divac’s legacy of good deeds started in war-torn land
By Ailene Voisin
avoisin@sacbee.com
Published: Saturday, Mar. 28, 2009 - 12:00 am | Page 1C
Last Modified: Saturday, Mar. 28, 2009 - 12:56 am
This is the first in a short series of articles about Vlade Divac, the former Kings center whose No. 21 jersey will be retired Tuesday night during halftime of the Kings-Hornets game at Arco Arena. Today: Divac's life as an adviser to the Serbian government on humanitarian and sports issues, president of the Serbian Olympic Committee, and potential political leader.
Vlade Divac left the former Yugoslavia when he was 21, two years before war fractured the Balkans and his homeland became a place he barely recognized.
Bombs destroyed buildings. Guns ended lives. Friends became enemies.
"It was a disaster," Divac said recently from his home in Belgrade. "I would come here and see my family, and I felt the biggest tragedy is the kids. They didn't ask for war. So I started my work because of them, doing what I could when I was in the NBA. A lot of them live in refugee camps, and so I start raising money to find them a place to live."
This surprises no one who has spent time with Divac. During the Kings' best days, he was the player the franchise – and everyone else, it seemed – approached for all causes and charities. He endorsed education bills, spoke at schools, sponsored after-school programs. He co-founded his Group 7 Children's Foundation with Sasha Danilovic and several other national team colleagues. He was all about the kids.
One of his more memorable fundraisers was the Christmas toy drive for Serbian youngsters that he co-sponsored with Peja Stojakovic in 1999 at a Tower Records store.
Occurring months after the U.S. bombing of Serbia, the response from area residents was overwhelming. People waited 3 1/2 hours to present a toy and receive an autograph from the two Kings. A few years later, after Divac spent one ill-fated season with the Lakers, he returned and asked Sacramentans to again contribute goods, this time for the victims of Hurricane Katrina. He drove the truck himself to Louisiana.
His good deeds throughout the years have earned him recognition within the NBA and throughout the world, and within international basketball, he is universally regarded as the game's unofficial ambassador.
So, no, none of this surprises. At age 41, he satisfies his sports craving by overseeing Serbia's Olympic committee's attempts to establish an athletics infrastructure, and admittedly, he flirts with grander thoughts.
"Everyone in Serbia says Vlade will be president someday," says Oklahoma City center Nenad Krstic, a fellow Serb. "We think he would be very good."
Divac, who in the past has derided politicians and disavowed any interest in pursuing a job in government, laughs at the notion of a lumbering 7-foot-1 giant, someone so seemingly incapable of censoring his thoughts, working the campaign trail. But then, quietly, he adds, "I want to do something that changes lives. Maybe some years in front of me. … When I was in Charlotte (playing for the Hornets), the first day of the student movement in Belgrade (in 1996), I sent them support on the Internet. That was the proudest day of my life, that those students woke up. That was when our future started to change."
His immediate concern is humanitarian, not political. After two years as an official with Real Madrid, Divac in September moved his wife, Ana, and three children to Belgrade and founded the Humanitarian Organization Divac. In partnership with the United Nations High Commission for Refugees and the Serbian government, Divac, who also is an adviser to the prime minister on humanitarian and sports affairs, coordinates efforts to replace or refurbish homes damaged in the war.
According to the Chicago-based Alex Dimitrijevic, who coordinates Divac's charitable efforts, funding is directly used for construction costs. There are no direct donations, and potential owners must retain the property for five years. The foundation has raised $1.5 million and hopes to have accommodated 100 families by the end of June.
"When you are out there, and people know you," said Divac, who also is a U.S. citizen, "it gives you a chance to do something good. This is something I thought about for a long time. What I'm trying to do, I'm trying to help my country."

Ailene Voisin: Divac keyed Kings' rise to power
ShareThis
By Ailene Voisin
avoisin@sacbee.com
Published: Sunday, Mar. 29, 2009 - 12:00 am | Page 1C
Everyone told him he was crazy. He was a coveted free agent that year, one of few available big men, and was receiving interest from some of the league's elite organizations.
So Vlade Divac signed with the Kings.
He changed everything.
In the ensuing months of the lockout-shortened 1999 season, with Divac as the physical and emotional anchor, the franchise began its metamorphosis from chronic NBA lottery participant to dynamic, multilayered team on the cusp of a championship.
Chris Webber. Rookies Jason Williams and Peja Stojakovic. Jon Barry. Corliss Williamson. Scot Pollard. Vernon Maxwell. Tariq Abdul-Wahad. Coach Rick Adelman.
Cowtown was never the same, the cowbells notwithstanding. In Divac's six years here, the Kings were perennial and entertaining contenders, a rollicking rock group collaborating on scintillating passes, backdoor cuts, symmetrical movements, lethal three-point shooting and occasionally stifling defense. The band played on from 1999 to 2004, winning division titles, and in 2002, coming within one freakish tap and Robert Horry three-pointer of reaching the NBA Finals.
"Without Vlade, the whole thing doesn't work," San Antonio Spurs coach Gregg Popovich said. "He'll always be regarded as the foundation of their glory years because he was the core. He gave them personality, the unselfishness, the thing that made that team special."
There was his generous complement of basketball gifts – Divac is one of only three players to record at least 13,000 points, 9,000 rebounds, 3,000 assists and 1,500 blocks – and then there was the man himself.
The affable, 7-foot-1 Serb who hovered in the background. The good citizen who contributed to charitable and humanitarian causes. The professional athlete accessible to all. The playful teammate who pulled more pranks than an unsupervised class of 10-year-olds.
"I lost a bet to Vlade on a road trip once," Bobby Jackson said, "and he told me I had to take my clothes off and run through the hotel lobby in my underwear, singing, 'Who Let the Dogs Out?' He would create stuff like that all the time to lighten things up, especially when we were going against the Lakers."
Ironically, Divac's NBA career began and ended with the franchise Kings fans love to hate. Yet who could have foreseen a former Laker getting traded to Charlotte and, two years later, willingly relocating to Sacramento and becoming the king of Kings?
It happened.
The early years
With the Cold War ending and the figurative walls around Eastern Europe crumbling, five of the most celebrated international stars decided to test the NBA in the historic offseason of 1989 – Divac, of the former Yugoslavia, among them.
"I was so nervous," said the native of Prijepolje, who was 21 and newly married at the time. "I thought I was going to end up between No. 5-15 (in the draft), and nobody picked me. … But it turned out to be a perfect situation with the team who got me."
The Lakers. The near-perfect franchise. Jerry West was the general manager, Pat Riley the coach, Magic Johnson the star, Divac the willing, boyish pupil. Armed with playbooks and an English dictionary, the lanky, long-limbed center impressed even the demanding Riley with his desire and persistence.
"This was big for him," Riley recalled. "It was Showtime. It was Magic. Here he was, this almost frail-looking man, who could run, who could dunk. He had big hands. And he could really pass the ball. Back then, he wasn't in the condition we wanted, and because he didn't speak any English, I used a lot of visuals, hand signals, things like that. But he understood 'Screen. Rebound. Block out.' And you could just see his potential."
Divac says Riley's strict rules, coupled with the close supervision of Magic and other veterans, lessened the culture shock and enabled him to mature quickly. "After playing for Pat," he said with a laugh, "the NBA was so easy."
At the end of the 1989-90 season, however, Riley was dismissed. He was followed by a succession of coaches – five during Divac's initial seven-year Lakers tenure, beginning with Mike Dunleavy, including Magic and ending with Del Harris.

'Sometimes the ball has eyes'
By Ailene Voisin
avoisin@sacbee.com
Published: Sunday, Mar. 29, 2009 - 12:00 am
In a career that spanned 20 years, three NBA teams and two countries, there were other lovely, artistic performances. But if asked to select one game that captured the essence and subtle brilliance of Vlade Divac, this would be it: Jan. 29, 2004. Kings against the San Antonio Spurs. The Kings, on the end of a road trip. Divac, one week shy of his 36th birthday.
Before a capacity crowd and a national TNT audience, the center scored 11 points, grabbed nine rebounds, blocked a shot, and painted the SBC Center hardwood with nine assists - passes so stunningly precise that, when prodded afterward, he succumbed to a rare and mild display of ego.
"When I make passes, sometimes the ball has eyes," a visibly excited Divac said following his club's 96-91 victory.
There was the flip pass to Peja Stojakovic that was initially disguised as a sweeping hook. The bullet pass to Brad Miller as the forward in his first year as a King broke to the basket. The over-the-shoulder, one-bouncer threaded between two defenders and into Mike Bibby's hands for a layup. The quick-hit to Bobby Jackson for the clinching three from the corner.
The league-leading Kings finished with 26 assists, the evisceration so impressive that Spurs coach Gregg Popovich revisited that Kings' performance a few months later in Belgrade.
"After that game," Popovich said, "I said to our staff 'That's the team we don't want to meet in the playoffs.' They were terrific, and Vlade was unbelievable."
After the game, the visitor's locker room was electric, every member of the Kings' traveling party absorbing, cherishing, savoring the moment. Pete Carril walked over to Divac, tapped the center on his knee, grinned, then shuffled off. Jackson leaned back in his chair, his knees encased in ice, shaking his head. Christie repeatedly pointed to his 7-foot-1, 260-pound center.
"The two teams were vying for best in the Western Conference at the time," Christie recalled, "and people were saying, 'The Kings are going to fold.' But when Vlade was rolling like he was, it was a totally different game. He dominated on a whole different level. I would have to say, from start to finish, that was one of the best games the Kings ever put together."
Kings television announcer Grant Napear recalls walking into the room and telling someone - he can't remember who - that the NBA should distribute the game tape for basketball clinics.
"That was the way the game it is supposed to be played," Napear said. "Vlade made a couple passes that were vintage Vlade. High post. Ball over his head. People cutting all around him. It was like an art form. I think he set three or four guys up for uncontested layups, and this was arguably against the best team in the league.
"If the NBA could duplicate that game, they would do it in a heartbeat. It was just beautiful to watch. And I'm still convinced that team could have won the whole thing."
In a tunnel area near the court, Phoenix Suns general manager Steve Kerr, working the game that night as an analyst for TNT, added, appropriately, "I am just amazed the way the Kings continue to dominate without a low-post game. I don't think I've ever seen that before."
At the time, Divac and Miller, who replaced Chris Webber (knee surgery) in the starting lineup, were leading all players at their positions in assists. Through late February, they were on pace to set a league record for combined assists by a frontcourt tandem. That ended when a hobbling Webber returned and was reinstated in the starting lineup in early March.

Divac: He paved way for foreign-born NBA stars
By Ailene Voisin
avoisin@sacbee.com
Published: Monday, Mar. 30, 2009 - 12:00 am | Page 4C
This is the last in a series of articles about Vlade Divac, the former Kings center whose No. 21 jersey will be retired during halftime of the Kings-Hornets game Tuesday night at Arco Arena. Today: Divac's global influence.
There were five of them, five Eastern European stars who dreamed like boisterous, boastful schoolboys, believing they could board an overseas flight, communicate while speaking very little English, join their respective teams, shred stereotypes and enjoy long, productive NBA careers.
One of them did. Vlade Divac did.
For different reasons – one of them tragic – only the youngest of the bunch, who also happened to be the tallest member of that Class of 1989, retired with a bow and to rousing applause.
Lithuania's Sarunas Marciulionis, signed by the Golden State Warriors after a vigorous recruiting battle with Atlanta, suffered a series of injuries that reduced him to journeyman status. Ukraine's Sasha Volkov broke his wrists shortly into his stay with the Hawks. Montenegro's Zarko Paspalj clashed with disciplinarian Larry Brown during their one-season pairing in San Antonio. And Croatia's Drazen Petrovic, whom Reggie Miller, Larry Bird and Chris Mullin regard as their equal as a shooter, died in an auto accident weeks after being named to the 1992-93 all-league third team.
"That was the group that demonstrated that (foreign) players could play at the highest level," NBA Commissioner David Stern said. "They're the ones who broke through, who became the precursors for what you see today."
Twenty years ago, the notion of a Petrovic, Divac, Marciulionis, Paspalj or Volkov becoming a legitimate NBA player – a possibility long championed by the league – was greeted with a collective roll of the eyes. Drazen who? Yet at the start of the current season, 75 players from 32 countries were listed on NBA rosters, the vast majority having never played for an American high school or college.
Imagine the Spurs without Tony Parker and Manu Ginobili? The Los Angeles Lakers without Pau Gasol and Sasha Vujacic? The Houston Rockets without Yao Ming and Luis Scola?
Imagine the Kings without Peja Stojakovic, Hedo Turkoglu and Divac?
While the influx of foreign-born players shows no sign of abating, Divac's imprint lingers. Now head of the Serbian Olympic Committee and a government adviser on housing for refugees, he not only is regarded as one of the game's greatest passing big men, at an imposing 7-foot-1 and 260 pounds. With his dark beard and ferocious stares, he also is remembered for gliding graciously through life, defusing tense political situations as well as locker room feuds.
"Such a sweet man," said Miami Heat president Pat Riley, Divac's first NBA coach. "He just wanted to please."
In the beginning
During her first visit to Sacramento, Divac's mother, Rada, speaking through an interpreter, said her good-natured son occasionally would deliberately lose games because he felt badly for dominating his smaller opponents. But, oh, how he loved the game. The scent of the locker room. The banter on the bus. The ball in his hands. Those intuitive, incredible passes.
At age 14, with a professional career in mind, Divac received permission from his parents to move from his hometown, Prijepolje, to Kraljevo, a larger southern Serbian city that offered a more competitive basketball environment. Soon, the lanky, long-limbed prodigy was named to Yugoslav junior and senior national teams that at various times featured future NBA players Petrovic, Toni Kukoc and Dino Radja, and was coached by the renowned Dusan Ivkovic.
"Ivkovic clearly had an impact on Vlade as far as understanding how to play basketball," Bill Walton said. "He taught Vlade how a team game flows through the center, the way to move as a unit, and how what happens away from the ball is so important. Americans think that whoever has the ball has to shoot it. That was never Vlade."
During the late 1980s, with the Balkans on the verge of civil war and the Soviet empire collapsing, Divac caught the attention of Warriors general manager Don Nelson – through his son Donnie, who was scouting overseas – and Spurs assistant Gregg Popovich.
"Donnie begged me to draft Vlade," Nelson said, "but we were signing Rooney (Marciulionis), and I was afraid to have two rookies who didn't speak English. How dumb was I?"
Popovich recalls the Spurs desperately trying to obtain an additional first-round draft pick to take the slick-passing center. Instead, Divac fell to the Lakers at No. 26.
While his NBA career evolved, with the Lakers and Charlotte Hornets, and reached a pinnacle with Sacramento, the Kings icon endured personally trying, traumatic times, including the shattered relationship with his close friend Petrovic. The Croat ended the relationship because of the war and died before the bond could be repaired.
Then in 1999, during the spring of Divac's first season with the Kings, NATO forces bombed sites throughout Serbia. Divac would arrive at games and practices with red-rimmed eyes, exhausted from all-night vigils trying to contact relatives back home.
He remembers something else from that period, though. The night the bombing started, he says, he fought tears because he was cheered during pregame introductions at Arco Arena. He received the same reaction two nights later at the Forum. One fan held up a sign that read, "Vlade, we worry about you and your family."
"You think everybody hates you," he said. "But people give me such support. It was overwhelming."
The train ride home
To celebrate his retirement and his pending return home, Divac, accompanied by his wife, Ana, and three children, was honored in September 2007, during three days of festivities throughout Serbia. There was a party at the square in Belgrade where students not long ago, and with constant encouragement from their famous center, staged a massive protest against ruler Slobodan Milosevic and his violent regime. There were private dinners, more parties, meetings with dignitaries, and a train ride to Prijepolje for the opening of a museum.
Chris Webber, Stojakovic, Scot Pollard, Glen Rice and Grant Napear participated. Kukoc appeared. So did the half-Serbian, half-Croatian Popovich.
"I went because Vlade asked me," the Spurs coach said. "I respect him to that degree. He has given so much to people over the years. And to be on that train – it was (former Yugoslav leader Josip) Tito's train – with Vlade and Toni and Ivkovic, it was incredible."
Popovich and Napear tell of residents crowding the platforms by the thousands, standing in backyards near the tracks, lifting signs and shouting Divac's name. People on rooftops, hanging out windows, hoping for a touch, a glimpse.
Divac tells of another journey, a trip last summer to Zagreb, Croatia. He went to the cemetery and to his late friend's cafe, and met with Petrovic's family and friends.
"Finally," he said, softly, "I find peace."

Mariza

2009-03-30T10:55:00.003-05:00

David Letterman's Show 11-10-2007

Primavera

Mariza will be in Madison, WI on April-08-2009, be there or .......
http://www.uniontheater.wisc.edu/season/mariza.html

Александр Розенбаум - Черный Тюльпан

2009-03-27T21:07:00.012-05:00

A few years ago I met a Russain contractor Stanislav who was working for Motorola. He was staying at the motel owned by my friend. After a few drinks I played this song from my laptop, and I was suprised when he started to cry. He told me he was 19 years old and in the Russian army in Afganistan. His best friend was wounded by a granate and died in his hands in the battle. Afganistan was the sad episode in Russian history that solved nothing.

Tu Vuo' Fa' L'Americano

2009-03-26T16:57:00.002-05:00

The Original

Sofia Was Hot!

Talented Mr. Ripley

Funny Guy Frank Caliendo

2009-03-20T11:50:00.006-05:00

Check Frenk at http://www.frankcaliendo.com

Math Magic/Tricks

2009-03-18T17:20:00.006-05:00

Trick 1: Number below 10

Step1: Think of a number below 10.
Step2: Double the number you have thought.
Step3: Add 6 with the getting result.
Step4: Half the answer, that is divide it by 2.
Step5: Take away the number you have thought from the answer, that is, subtract the answer from the number you have thought.

Answer: 3

Trick 2: Any Number

Step1: Think of any number.
Step2: Subtract the number you have thought with 1.
Step3: Multiply the result with 3.
Step4: Add 12 with the result.
Step5: Divide the answer by 3.
Step6: Add 5 with the answer.
Step7: Take away the number you have thought from the answer, that is, subtract the answer from the number you have thought.

Answer: 8

Trick 3: Any Number

Step1: Think of any number.
Step2: Multiply the number you have thought with 3.
Step3: Add 45 with the result.
Step4: Double the result.
Step5: Divide the answer by 6.
Step6: Take away the number you have thought from the answer, that is, subtract the answer from the number you have thought.

Answer: 15

Trick 4: Same 3 Digit Number

Step1: Think of any 3 digit number, but each of the digits must be the same as. Ex: 333, 666.
Step2: Add up the digits.
Step3: Divide the 3 digit number with the digits added up.

Answer: 37

Trick 5: 2 Single Digit Numbers

Step1: Think of 2 single digit numbers.
Step2: Take any one of the number among them and double it.
Step3: Add 5 with the result.
Step4: Multiply the result with 5.
Step5: Add the second number to the answer.
Step6: Subtract the answer with 4.
Step7: Subtract the answer again with 21.

Answer: 2 Single Digit Numbers.

Trick 6: 1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8

Step1: Choose a number from 1 to 6.
Step2: Multiply the number with 9.
Step3: Multiply the result with 111.
Step4: Multiply the result by 1001.
Step5: Divide the answer by 7.

Answer: All the above numbers will be present.

Trick 7: 1089

Step1: Think of a 3 digit number.
Step2: Arrange the number in descending order.
Step3: Reverse the number and subtract it with the result.
Step4: Remember it and reverse the answer mentally.
Step5: Add it with the result, you have got.

Answer: 1089

Trick 8: x7x11x13

Step1: Think of a 3 digit number.
Step2: Multiply it with x7x11x13.

Ex: Number: 456, Answer: 456456

Trick 9: x3x7x13x37

Step1: Think of a 2 digit number.
Step2: Multiply it with x3x7x13x37.

Ex: Number: 45, Answer: 454545

Trick 10: 9091

Step1: Think of a 5 digit number.
Step2: Multiply it with 11.
Step3: Multiply it with 9091.

Ex: Number: 12345, Answer: 1234512345

Everybody wants to be a Cat

2009-02-27T14:07:00.002-06:00

Another nice Disney jazz song.

Wayne Newton - Danke Schoen

2009-02-27T11:07:00.019-06:00

Kurt Schwaback and Milt Gabler wrote 'Danke Schoen' lyrics in the style of old masters like Johny Mercer ...
Music was composed by Bert Kaempfert with a jazzy kick. This was the big hit for 21 year old Wayne Newton in 1963. It became an instant Las Vegas standard.
In German, "Danke schön" is equivalent to the English "thank you very much". It literally means "Thanks pretty", similar to the English "thank you kindly." The polite response is "bitte schön," which translates roughly and literally to "you're very welcome" and "pretty please" respectively. In English, the German letter "ö" can also be written as "oe" when the umlaut is unavailable.

King Louis

2009-02-20T08:13:00.002-06:00

Click here to see the great Louis Prima as "King Louis"

The Rumba Kings

2009-02-13T07:22:00.017-06:00

For our Serbian friend Djelem, Djelem!(Teddy & Dino)

OK, I don't drink, but with this music, and The Rumba Kings: Teddy, Donny, Bobby, Dino, Sam ... I may start drinking again. Actually I had that night 4-5 beers.
The Rumba Kings are family band from Wisconsin. They play music in the style of Gypsy Kings, and also traditional Gypsy songs. This was their first gig at the Brink in Madison, and I hope they can do it again.

Bambolero

Volare & Sway

Songs from the oldcountry

From Madison - Rumba Kings

Little Baby Falls

2009-02-08T12:51:00.001-06:00

Oliver

2009-02-05T13:01:00.003-06:00

I'm not a big fan of musicals, but Oliver is on my Top 5 list. I enjoy the movie version so much, and I can still watch it over and over after 40 years. Everything in this movie is excellent starting with songs, choreography … to magnificent Ron Moody as Fagin. I still remember when I saw him for the firs time I couldn’t believe that it’s a real man and not a cartoon character. No one can repeat the way Ron is moving and walking. Check on youtube for more Oliver clips, buy DVD or if you are lucky see it live.

Click here for Oliver clips on youtube.

Courage Fail

2009-01-27T16:57:00.002-06:00

How would you react?

Mark Steyn on Multiculturalism

2009-01-22T18:42:00.002-06:00

Mark is the great thinker and very entertaining.

Names for Powers of 10

2009-01-18T16:51:00.000-06:00

Values	Zero's	Names
10⁰	0	One
10¹	1	Ten
10²	2	Hundred
10³	3	Thousand
10⁴	4	Myriad
10⁶	6	Million
10⁹	9	Billion
10¹²	12	Trillion
10¹⁵	15	Quadrillion
10¹⁸	18	Quintillion
10²¹	21	Sextillion
10²⁴	24	Septillion
10²⁷	27	Octillion
10³⁰	30	Nonillion
10³³	33	Decillion
10³⁶	36	Undecillion
10³⁹	39	Duodecillion
10⁴²	42	Tredecillion
10⁴⁵	45	Quattuordecillion
10⁴⁸	48	Quindecillion
10⁵¹	51	Sexdecillion
10⁵⁴	54	Septdecillion / Septendecillion
10⁵⁷	57	Octodecillion
10⁶⁰	60	Nondecillion / Novemdecillion
10⁶³	63	Vigintillion
10⁶⁶	66	Unvigintillion
10⁶⁹	69	Duovigintillion
10⁷²	72	Trevigintillion
10⁷⁵	75	Quattuorvigintillion
10⁷⁸	78	Quinvigintillion
10⁸¹	81	Sexvigintillion
10⁸⁴	84	Septenvigintillion
10⁸⁷	87	Octovigintillion
10⁹⁰	90	Novemvigintillionn
10⁹³	93	Trigintillion
10⁹⁶	96	Untrigintillion
10⁹⁹	99	Duotrigintillion
10¹⁰²	102	Trestrigintillion
10¹²⁰	120	Novemtrigintillion
10¹²³	123	Quadragintillion
10¹³⁸	138	Quinto-Quadragintillion
10¹⁵³	153	Quinquagintillion
10¹⁸⁰	180	Novemquinquagintillion
10¹⁸³	183	Sexagintillion
10²¹³	213	Septuagintillion
10²⁴⁰	240	Novemseptuagintillion
10²⁴³	243	Octogintillion
10²⁶¹	261	Sexoctogintillion
10²⁷³	273	Nonagintillion
10³⁰⁰	300	Novemnonagintillion
10³⁰³	303	Centillion
10³⁰⁹	309	Duocentillion
10³¹²	312	Trescentillion
10³⁵¹	351	Centumsedecillion
10³⁶⁶	366	Primo-Vigesimo-Centillion
10⁴⁰²	402	Trestrigintacentillion
10⁶⁰³	603	Ducentillion
10⁶²⁴	624	Septenducentillion
10⁹⁰³	903	Trecentillion
10²⁴²¹	2421	Sexoctingentillion
10³⁰⁰³	3003	Millillion
10^3000003	3000003	Milli-Millillion

Funny Guy

2009-01-07T17:00:00.002-06:00

Henry Hill: You're a pistol, you're really funny. You're really funny.
Tommy DeVito: What do you mean I'm funny?
Henry Hill: It's funny, you know. It's a good story, it's funny, you're a funny guy. [laughs]
Tommy DeVito: what do you mean, you mean the way I talk? What?
Henry Hill: It's just, you know. You're just funny, it's... funny, the way you tell the story and everything.
Tommy DeVito: [it becomes quiet] Funny how? What's funny about it?
Anthony Stabile: Tommy no, You got it all wrong.
Tommy DeVito: Oh, oh, Anthony. He's a big boy, he knows what he said. What did ya say? Funny how?
Henry Hill: Jus...
Tommy DeVito: What?
Henry Hill: Just... ya know... you're funny.
Tommy DeVito: You mean, let me understand this cause, ya know maybe it's me, I'm a little fucked up maybe, but I'm funny how, I mean funny like I'm a clown, I amuse you? I make you laugh, I'm here to fuckin' amuse you? What do you mean funny, funny how? How am I funny?
Henry Hill: Just... you know, how you tell the story, what?
Tommy DeVito: No, no, I don't know, you said it. How do I know? You said I'm funny. How the fuck am I funny, what the fuck is so funny about me? Tell me, tell me what's funny!
Henry Hill: [long pause] Get the fuck out of here, Tommy!
Tommy DeVito: [everyone laughs] Ya motherfucker! I almost had him, I almost had him. Ya stuttering prick ya. Frankie, was he shaking? I wonder about you sometimes, Henry. You may fold under questioning.

My Favorite Things

2008-12-29T16:39:00.015-06:00

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things

When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad

... and then came the giant and the music changed.

John Coltrane, Avant Garde Jazz, and the Evolution of “My Favorite Things” - a thesis by Scott Anderson

Angela

2008-12-17T01:00:00.008-06:00

The First Day
by Christina Rossetti

I wish I could remember the first day,
First hour, first moment of your meeting me;
If bright or dim the season it might be;
Summer or winter for aught I can say.
So, unrecorded did it slip away,
So blind was I to see and to forsee,
So dull to mark the budding of my tree
That would not blossom, yet, for many a May.

If only I could recollect it! Such
A day of days! I let it come and go
As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow.
It seemed to mean so little, meant so much!
If only now I could recall that touch,
First touch of hand in hand! - Did one but know!

Pop Corn Telephone

2008-12-08T00:17:00.003-06:00

Pop Corn téléphone portable micro-ondes
Uploaded by sassiere

Popcorn Cell Phone Trick Revealed See How Its Done

TO YOU - Walt Whitman

2008-12-06T22:39:00.000-06:00

WHOEVER you are, I fear you are walking the walks of dreams,
I fear these supposed realities are to melt from under your feet and hands;
Even now, your features, joys, speech, house, trade, manners, troubles, follies, costume, crimes, dissipate away from you,
Your true Soul and Body appear before me,
They stand forth out of affairs—out of commerce, shops, law, science, work, forms, clothes, the house, medicine, print, buying, selling, eating, drinking, suffering, dying.

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem;
I whisper with my lips close to your ear,
I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.

O I have been dilatory and dumb;
I should have made my way straight to you long ago;

I should have blabb’d nothing but you, I should have chanted nothing but you.

I will leave all, and come and make the hymns of you;
None have understood you, but I understand you;
None have done justice to you—you have not done justice to yourself;
None but have found you imperfect—I only find no imperfection in you;

None but would subordinate you—I only am he who will never consent to subordinate you;
I only am he who places over you no master, owner, better, God, beyond what waits intrinsically in yourself.

Painters have painted their swarming groups, and the centre figure of all;
From the head of the centre figure spreading a nimbus of gold-color’d light;
But I paint myriads of heads, but paint no head without its nimbus of gold-color’d light;
From my hand, from the brain of every man and woman it streams, effulgently flowing forever.

O I could sing such grandeurs and glories about you!
You have not known what you are—you have slumber’d upon yourself all your life;
Your eye-lids have been the same as closed most of the time;
What you have done returns already in mockeries;
(Your thrift, knowledge, prayers, if they do not return in mockeries, what is their return?)

The mockeries are not you;
Underneath them, and within them, I see you lurk;
I pursue you where none else has pursued you;
Silence, the desk, the flippant expression, the night, the accustom’d routine, if these conceal you from others, or from yourself, they do not conceal you from me;
The shaved face, the unsteady eye, the impure complexion, if these balk others, they do not balk me,
The pert apparel, the deform’d attitude, drunkenness, greed, premature death, all these I part aside.

There is no endowment in man or woman that is not tallied in you;
There is no virtue, no beauty, in man or woman, but as good is in you;
No pluck, no endurance in others, but as good is in you;
No pleasure waiting for others, but an equal pleasure waits for you.

As for me, I give nothing to any one, except I give the like carefully to you;
I sing the songs of the glory of none, not God, sooner than I sing the songs of the glory of you.

Whoever you are! claim your own at any hazard!
These shows of the east and west are tame, compared to you;
These immense meadows—these interminable rivers—you are immense and interminable as they;
These furies, elements, storms, motions of Nature, throes of apparent dissolution—you are he or she who is master or mistress over them,
Master or mistress in your own right over Nature, elements, pain, passion, dissolution.

The hopples fall from your ankles—you find an unfailing sufficiency;
Old or young, male or female, rude, low, rejected by the rest, whatever you are promulges itself;
Through birth, life, death, burial, the means are provided, nothing is scanted;
Through angers, losses, ambition, ignorance, ennui, what you are picks its way.

It's A Wonderful Life

2008-11-21T12:53:00.002-06:00

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

Nikola Kavaja: Hunter on Tito

2008-11-12T15:06:00.027-06:00

BELGRADE, Serbia - Nikola Kavaja, who hijacked a U.S. passenger jet in 1979 with the intention of crashing it into Yugoslav Communist Party headquarters, has died. Kavaja, 76, died of a heart attack at his home in Belgrade late Monday.

The self-declared anti-communist hijacked an American Airlines Boeing 707 in New York and flew it over the Atlantic with the aim of crashing it into the party headquarters in a high-rise in the Serbian capital, Belgrade.

He abandoned his hijack mission in Ireland, saying at the time he was not sure of the exact location of the downtown party office and did not want innocent civilians to die if the jet missed the target.

Kavaja was extradited to the U.S. and spent 18 years in a federal prison on hijack charges. He was released on parole before returning to Serbia in 1999. His parole was to expire in 2019.

Kavaja claimed in a number of interviews with Serbia's newspapers that Osama bin Laden must have "stolen" his idea of crashing jets into tall buildings during the 9/11 attack in New York and Washington.

FBI dosie
Nikola Kavaja was born in the Zeta Banate of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia in 1933, in the Old Serbia area of modern-day Montenegro to a family drawing descent from Dečani in Metohija (western Kosovo). He is best known for his anti-communist activities, including one of the first attempts to turn an airliner into a weapon.
As a child he lived in Peć, Yugoslavia. In April 1941, Nazi Germany invaded and occupied Yugoslavia and his family was split up and sent to different prison camps in Albania. In 1944 he returned to Peć to find his family. By his own account, he killed for the first time that year when he pushed a wounded German soldier into a well.

Military and intelligence career
Kavaja joined the air force and fought against the Germans. He also joined a secret Anti-communist group. In June 1953, as part of his clandestine activities, he sabotaged gas tanks at the Sombor airport. He evaded arrest, and a man who wasn't involved in the explosion was tried and executed. When his commander in the secret group was arrested, he deserted the air force. He was arrested by Yugoslav authorities while attempting to cross the border into Austria. After serving four years of an 18-and-a-half year sentence, Kavaja escaped and made it to Austria. He was detained by Austrian authorities and transferred to an American Army base.
After seven months of investigation by American authorities who suspected him of ties to the KGB, Kavaja began to carry out missions for the CIA against Yugoslavia and the USSR, including "sabotage, spying, exposing double agents, assassinations."
According to Kavaja, one of his major assignments from the CIA was to assassinate Josip Broz Tito, president of Yugoslavia. Tito traveled to Brazil and Kavaja followed, but the chance to kill the president was foiled when Tito stayed indoors for his entire stay. Kavaja followed Tito from Brazil to Chile, Mexico and the United States. Upon arrival in America, he and his companions had to be especially careful because he was wanted by the FBI, which didn't always share sources with the CIA. Kavaja claimed that in 1971 he staked out Camp David, disguised as a Maryland State Trooper, in order to kill Tito, who was visiting United States President Richard Nixon. Once again, he was foiled when Tito stayed indoors.

Freedom for the Serbian Fatherland
Kavaja was a central figure in an allegedly CIA-funded group called Freedom for the Serbian Fatherland (also known as SOPO). Kavaja claimed that this organization bombed Yugoslav embassies in Washington, D.C. and Ottawa, Canada, and consulates in New York City, Chicago, San Francisco and Toronto.
In 1978, Kavaja and "over a hundred" of his Sopo companions, including Stojilko Kajevic, were arrested in New York by American law enforcement. Kavaja was released on $250,000 bail, and after visiting his family in New York he promptly hijacked an American Airlines 727 (Flight 293 from New York City to Chicago).[2] He planned to demand Kajevic's release, then fly to Belgrade, Yugoslavia and crash into Ušće Tower, the Communist Central Committee Building. When he realized that Kajevic wouldn't be released, he let the plane's passengers go, retaining only a pilot, a co-pilot, a flight attendant and his own lawyer. He forced the crew to fly from Chicago to JFK Airport in New York City. There, he transferred to a larger plane. Initially hoping to still fly to Belgrade, on the advice of his lawyer he flew to Ireland, which didn't have an extradition agreement with the United States. Hoping for political asylum, Kavaja surrendered in Ireland and was returned to America to again face a criminal trial.
Kavaja was in prison from 1979 to 1997 and remains on parole until 2019. He violated parole by returning to Serbia; if he returns to the United States he would be arrested and returned to jail.

Arrest in 2003
Nikola Kavaja was arrested on April 1, 2003 during the investigation of Zoran Đinđić assassination.

Nikola Kavaja: Interview with an assassin

Nikola Kavaja lives in a drab, Communist-era high-rise in Belgrade, Serbia's crumbling capital. His two-room apartment is sparsely furnished: a single mattress and dresser in one room, and a scratched-up wooden desk, a couch, and a bench press in the other. The white walls are cluttered with pictures of the people who figure most strongly in his personal iconography: General Ratko Mladic, Saint Sava, Hitler, Jimmy Carter, and a young pin-up who is his current girlfriend. Guns and old military gear provide further ornamentation. A blue thermal blanket covers the street window.

By Christopher S Stewart
Sunday, 10 December 2006

Kavaja is 73, but he looks no older than 60. He adheres to a strict weight-training routine that gets him up every weekday before the sun. He is squarely built and muscular, with white hair cut to a military trim-line and a fighter's mashed-up nose. Except for the fine white thread of moustache, he is cleanly shaven. In his dress, he favours black trousers, black shirts and black combat boots.

Our conversation took place over three mornings, with classical music playing softly in the background. Kavaja spoke slowly and quietly, with an air of determined precision. At times, he paused to place his hand on his forehead in search of a long-forgotten detail. As he spoke, Kavaja stared off in the distance at nothing at all, or else looked down at his booted feet.

Stewart: You were a Second World War prisoner, a Communist soldier, a CIA hitman, a hijacker, and now a fugitive on the run (among other things). Where to begin?

Kavaja: Write down my name. N-I-K-O-L-A K-A-V-A-J-A. You can call me Nik.

Stewart: That's a start.

Kavaja: It is a long story. Do you want some schnapps?

Stewart: No thanks. I'm fine with water.

Kavaja: Water's for pussies.

Stewart: Most of the time I'd agree. But 10.30 in the morning is a little early for me to be drinking shots of schnapps.

Kavaja: It's a hello. You drink some schnapps with me. We drink together.

Stewart: OK.

Kavaja: That's better. Salud. So - I was born in Montenegro in 1933. In 1941, when Hitler attacked Yugoslavia, my father and mother and I were all transferred to separate prison camps in Albania. My brothers went to the war. In October 1944, when the Russians forced the Germans out of the Balkans, I went back to Pec to find my mother. But she wasn't there. No one was there. I had to fight for myself. The first time I killed someone was that year - a German soldier. He was heavily wounded and leaning over the top of a well. He was getting water. I walked up to him, took him by the legs and tossed him in like garbage.

Stewart: You weren't afraid?

Kavaja: My dick, was I ever afraid. I hated them. I couldn't find my family anywhere. I searched for months. Eventually, I found my mother in Vojvodina. I learned that two of my brothers were killed in the war. I joined the air-force academy. They made me a war pilot. Around that time, my brother was thrown in jail for being anti-Communist. He wasn't. But Tito was a suspicious man. Tens of thousands of military officers finished their careers in prison. They all fought for Tito and then they were thrown in jail for bullshit reasons. What kind of leader does that?

Stewart: You never liked Tito?

Kavaja: I hated him. Around that time, I became a member of an underground anti-Communist group. That's where my life really started. My commander, Milutin Abramovic, was in the air force with me in Sombor. He knew about my brothers who were imprisoned and killed. I had cousins that went to jail too. That's why he started giving me top-secret missions, I think. Because my hatred was so personal.

Stewart: What was the first job?

Kavaja: He had me paint on the walls of the military barracks "Long live the Soviet Union"; "Down with Tito"; "Down with the Communist Party". It was a test, I think. But I did it. And for me, it was funny - a what-the-fuck kind of thing, you know?

Stewart: How did Tito like your sense of humour?

Kavaja: When I wrote that, it was Saturday evening. By Sunday morning, military intelligence officers were searching for who did it. There was a huge alarm. There were 4,000 soldiers at our barracks and none of us could leave. After two or three days of investigations, they started to lock people up. They arrested a major who was in charge of security that evening, and he got seven years in prison. Two of my friends were also arrested and sentenced to jail.

Stewart: You weren't afraid you'd get caught?

Kavaja: Who would have known? I was into football and girls. It made me laugh. The big assignment came next. It was June 1953. The order was to burn the gas tanks at the airport in Sombor. I knew all of those bases like I know my room. My commander gave me some time bombs and I set them up near the tanks, which held a million gallons of petrol. I placed the bombs around the tanks and walked away. When they went off, there was a massive explosion. It was incredible. I was far away but I could see huge yellow flames in the sky. I realised it wasn't a joke anymore. I was in big shit. Police swarmed to the base and all the towns nearby. They arrested hundreds. I knew seven of them. One was a major hero. He got the death penalty. For nothing! The others died in prison.

Stewart: You didn't feel guilty at all about this?

Kavaja: Guilt? My dick. You don't know about guilt. Schnapps?

Stewart: I'm still working on this one, thanks.

Kavaja: After my commander was arrested, I was told that a lot of officers were arrested at the airport, and they also asked about me and my friend Sveto. I took my machine gun, a pistol, three grenades, a compass, binoculars, and a bag of clothes, and I became a deserter. That's a very serious thing, punishable by death. I knew they would chase us. Sveto and I decided to cross the border illegally into Austria.

To get to the border, we walked only at night. It wasn't easy terrain. There were mountains and canyons and lots of snow. We slept in the woods. Sveto got so tired he couldn't walk. So I put him on my back. Then we came to this mountain. It was covered in heavy snow, up to my waist in places, and the temperatures were below zero. It would have taken days to go over. But there was a tunnel through the mountain for trains. I decided to take a risk and go through the tunnel. I put Sveto down and he followed. The tunnel was a kilometre long. Sveto kept falling, but I pretended not to see him because I couldn't carry him anymore. Somehow we got through.

Just before we got to the border, there was a canyon. If you made one wrong step you'd fall to your death. The darkness was deep and I couldn't see much. I heard footsteps. I turned and there was a shadow moving along the mountain road. We couldn't run away because we were so tired. I aimed my machine gun in the shadow's direction. It came nearer and I saw that it was a woman. She said to us, "Bless you." She had a hood on, and I pulled back her hood and asked who she was. "I'm a teacher," she said. I asked for her documents. She was telling the truth, so I let her go. I should have killed her because I knew she was going to report us. I don't know why I didn't.

We had trouble at the border. Someone shouted stop. Then there were shots in our direction. We were in open space. Behind us were woods. We got down and fired back. The fight went on for 10 minutes. I went through two clips and threw three hand grenades. But we managed to get back into the woods and retreat to our border. I fired all but seven bullets.

We walked for an hour or so, then tried the border again. That time was worse. We got ambushed from three different directions. It was the Yugoslav People's Army, my own fucking army. They surrounded us, three of them with machine guns. The commander approached and asked where we were going. I reached into my leather jacket and said, "We were just visiting Svatko Lacovic." The commander said, 'There's no one here with that name. Where are your arms?" I said, "We don't have any. I just have gloves." When I took out the gloves, I drew my pistol, put it to his forehead, and pulled the trigger.

Stewart: What about the guys with guns?

Kavaja: I had seven bullets left. I could have taken them all. But my gun jammed. From behind, I was hit with a machine gun and I lost consciousness. Sveto just stood there. When I came to, there were 20 or so soldiers around.

We were moved to a jail on the border. One morning, they took us out and put us against a wall outside of the barracks. I thought they were going to shoot us. My legs and my hands were in chains. The commander of the division marched out all of the troops - all 5,000 of them - and gave a speech. He said: "From our Communist hands, no one will escape. These men were organising against our nation. We will spit on these traitors." After that, all of them lined up and spat on us, one at a time. One of my cousins came around four times. I couldn't believe it! Five thousand people spat on me. It was a psychological thing, a show to boost morale.

Stewart: Pour me some schnapps.

Kavaja: I don't want to talk about the trial, about being beaten up every day and every night. I was sentenced to 18 and a half years. After four years I escaped into Austria, where I was picked up and shipped to a US Army base in Stuttgart. They thought I was KGB, but after months of interviews, three intelligence officers introduced themselves and offered me political asylum.

Stewart: Is that how you started working for the CIA? How did they ask you to join them?

Kavaja: They asked me, my dick. They didn't ask. They checked me out for seven months. They thought I was KGB. I had to prove myself. I bombed some Communist buses - Yugoslavian buses - in Vienna. It was their way of testing my loyalty. They liked me because of my history. I was young and fearless and hated Communism.

So I started to work dirty jobs against Yugoslavia, against Russia - sabotage, spying, exposing double agents, assassinations. I did some very bad things, but I accepted my destiny. In 1959, I uncovered a gang of Yugoslavians smuggling arms to Algeria. They would come in dressed up like priests. I tracked them down and killed them. There were never any reports about the people who disappeared. They might as well have never lived.

Stewart: So you were like God, deciding who would and wouldn't die?

Kavaja: My superiors made the final decisions. I killed. One person is on my conscience. She was a double agent from East Germany. I was sleeping in the desert in a tent because that was the only place safe from the war. I received an order from military intelligence to kill this woman. When I got her, she didn't know what I was going to do. She was probably 23 years old. I asked for her family name and where she lived. There would be no official report - she would just disappear - and I wanted to send a message to her family and say where they could find her.

Stewart: Why her?

Kavaja: There was something about her. I just wanted to do her a favour. Even when I was in prison in the United States I dreamt about her. She was not the first one or the last one. But I felt sorry for her. She was so young. But she was a proud girl. She spat on me.

Stewart: And you shot her?

Kavaja: What do you think? I didn't rape her. I told her to walk ahead of me. And I shot her in the back.

Stewart: Did you think she deserved that?

Kavaja: I never worried about killing an innocent person. I wasn't trained to kill innocent people. I killed people on my level - soldier to soldier, agent to agent. It is not my job to think about innocence or guilt. She didn't ask for mercy. She was probably guilty. But she stays with me. No one else does.

Stewart: How were you paid?

Kavaja: By the job. For the bigger jobs, like assassinating Tito, I would be paid US$15,000. For most jobs, US$10,000. They dropped the money off at my house.

Stewart: You didn't assassinate Tito - but you tried?

Kavaja: Killing Tito was a big mission. For almost a decade, I hunted him. I was never a traitor - I wanted to save my country. That's why I was good for this mission. I was ready to give my life for it. If I died one second after I killed Tito I wouldn't care. He killed my three brothers. He destroyed my country. I went to jail. I lost everything.

In 1963 I got information that Tito was coming to North and South America for a tour. Our intelligence said it would be easier to kill him in South America because the security would be much thinner down there. Tito always travelled with his own agents, about 125 State Security Service men. These men went a few months in advance to clean up all the political dissidents. When I say clean up, I mean jail or kill. They had files on these people. Of course, they had a big file on me, too. The government wanted me dead. The State Security Service sent people to try to assassinate me. When I returned to Serbia in the 1990s, a Montenegrin man came and said to me, I was supposed to kill you in 1976 in the States, but I couldn't find you. We laughed about it.

Anyway, to kill Tito, I worked with Dragica Kacikovic and a third Serbian guy that I won't name because he is still undercover. We weren't maniacs. We didn't just decide, "Hey, we're going to go kill Tito." We got our orders from the CIA and planned it out carefully.

Rio de Janeiro was our first shot. Dragica went first. He got fake documents and travelled as a Mexican journalist with a sombrero and a video camera. I followed with the third guy. I took a Colt .45 and a .357 Magnum and I was disguised as a Catholic priest - with a long black robe and a black hat.

We had informants in the town who provided us with information. We knew Tito liked to go out on the town, eat, and see chicks. I waited for word that he was out on the town and then I would shoot him. But Brazil was not our time. Tito stayed in the house throughout his stay. He didn't move from the building for two days. We didn't see him come and we didn't see him go. One day he was there and then he was gone. Like a ghost.

Stewart: Was that a major letdown for you?

Kavaja: I didn't panic. From Brazil, I followed him to Santiago, Chile, then Mexico City. Then I got a message to come to Washington DC right away, because Tito was on his way. That was the most dangerous place for us as a group. The FBI was searching for us. They were working with the Yugoslav State Security Service.

Stewart: I thought you worked with the CIA?

Kavaja: But the CIA and the FBI didn't share informants. They were rival organisations. There were rewards for our capture from the FBI. My last attempt to kill him was 1971 at Camp David in Maryland. He was going there to visit Richard Nixon. No one can carry a gun around Camp David, but I went alone, dressed as a Maryland State Trooper. I couldn't get on the actual property, but I got up into a tree where I could see the chopper with binoculars. I had my sniper rifle with me. My thought was that at some point Tito would take a walk into the woods. He liked to take walks. It was beautiful, I thought. Who wouldn't take a walk? I waited all day and night.

Stewart: In the tree? You didn't sleep?

Kavaja: No. I couldn't kill him if I was asleep. You don't know anything about this kind of thing. Sleep! What a fucking joker.

Stewart: Did Tito ever go for a walk?

Kavaja: Never. After two days, he left. And that was it. Nothing. So I didn't get him. But I did a lot of damage to his regime and to Communism.

Stewart: You had a Serbian terrorist organisation didn't you?

Kavaja: It was a freedom group. I called it Freedom for the Serbian Fatherland - Sopo. We got money from the CIA. We bombed the Yugoslav embassies in Washington and Ottawa, and the consulates in New York, Chicago, San Francisco and Toronto. Bin Laden stole our strategies. But after that the State Department got a lot of pressure from Tito to track us down and extradite us. It was a big mess.

Stewart: Did they catch up with you?

Kavaja: Not until 1978. I was in New York on my way to a friend's house and more than 20 agents with guns ambushed me on

Third Avenue. They arrested over a hundred of us. A judge in Chicago found us guilty but delayed the sentencing for a month. I got out on $250,000 bail. The judge released everyone except for Stojilko Kajevic, who went by the name Priest. He helped me lead Sopo. The FBI thought he was the most dangerous. That was a mistake. After the trial I told Priest that I was ready to do a hijacking I'd been talking about. My plan was to land in Chicago, pick Priest up, and then fly to Belgrade and crash into the Communist Central Committee building.

Stewart: So that's what you did when you got out on bail - hijacked a plane?

Kavaja: First I returned home to see my family. One day I got a call from Priest. He said, "Send me the memorandum." I said, "For whom?" "President Carter," he said. That night, I went into my basement, where I made bombs. I made two of them built into two beer bottles. The telephone rang - this is funny - it was an FBI agent from Chicago, Al King. He said, "Hi Nik, how are you?" I told him, "I'm making a bomb for tomorrow." He thought I was joking. It was a big scandal in the trial later on. You can check the court files. It's all there. After I finished, I went upstairs. I took some long socks from my daughter's room and stuffed the bottles in my trouser legs. I put on my trousers and looked in the mirror and you couldn't see that anything was in there. I was ready. I went to sleep at around 1am.

Stewart: How could you sleep?

Kavaja: I had done a hundred more difficult operations. I never feared that I would make a mistake. I woke up at five, just like any other day. My wife woke up with me. She cooked me a steak for breakfast. That's all I eat - steaks. I said goodbye like any other morning. I had the bombs strapped to my leg and dynamite in a leather suitcase. A cab took me to the airport. I ordered a brandy at the airport bar and relaxed. I checked in and waited by security for the right moment to pass. I knew if a police officer stopped me, I would have to kill him. I was going to get on that plane. That's all that was on my mind. I saw an albino couple with a lot of camping equipment passing through security. So I went with them. They set the alarm off. The police stopped them, but not me.

I got on the plane to Chicago. It was an American Airlines 727. My seat was number 23 on the left side of the plane. Next to me was a woman from Poland who had never been to the United States. Imagine that. She has to get on my plane! We drank a brandy together. We talked. Fifteen minutes before we landed, I said goodbye to the her and went to the bathroom.

I got the bombs ready, then went to the cockpit. The stewardess asked me what I needed. I said, "Give me the key to the cabin." She was paralysed. I put my hand in her pocket, took the key, and opened the cabin. There were four pilots. They didn't hear me open the door. When one of them tried to stand up, I forced him down. His name was Mitchell. I showed them the explosives and said, "This is my plane now, I am responsible for your lives, if you make a mistake, we will all go to God."

After a few minutes, Mitchell asked me what I wanted - money or what? I told him to get me in touch with the FBI. Al King got on the line. He was absolutely crazy! He said, "Nik, you're late for court." I said, "Listen, in five minutes I'm going to fly over the courthouse. I told you last night that I was making bombs." He said, "Why do you make jokes?" I said, "You'll see me in five minutes."

I flew over the courthouse three or four times. The stewardess brought me a brandy. Eventually, we landed and I parked the plane at the far edge of the airport. There were 128 passengers and eight crew members. Hundreds of police surrounded the plane on the runway. The FBI asked me what I wanted. I said, "I want Priest." Passengers kept asking for things. One woman said she was going to give birth and I said, "What the fuck is going on? I'm not a doctor, I'm a terrorist."

The FBI sent a lawyer out to the plane to talk me out of it, but I said it was too late. Then he begged me to release the passengers. That was the riskiest moment. I worried that the FBI would attack. But I had the bomb trigger in hand and I told them not to mess around because I could blow the plane up in a second. The briefcase of dynamite was at my chest. I gave the passengers five minutes to get off. You should have seen these fat Negroes! It was hilarious. Looking at them you wouldn't expect them to be so fast. But they were off in seconds. At the end there were four people left: Mitchell, a co-pilot, my lawyer, and the stewardess.

Stewart: What about Priest?

Kavaja: Priest finally called me. But it wasn't good. He said, "Brother Nikola, I'm not coming with you." That was the most difficult moment. I sacrificed everything for this, my wife, my kids, my life. We had a deal. We were going to take the plane to Yugoslavia. It was his job to show me the building we were going to hit. I hadn't been back to Yugoslavia for decades. The Communist Central Committee building was built in the 1960s. I didn't know the land. I didn't know what to do at that point. But he got off the phone and it was over.

I told them to fuel the plane and then I told Mitchell we were leaving. There were 40 or 50 cars following the plane as we drove down the runway. Mitchell asked me what the plan was and I said, "New York." On the way, I demanded a 707, a much bigger plane, and a new crew to meet me at JFK. No one knew what I was going to do. When we landed, the 707 was there. We pulled up. I took Mitchell and the co-pilot and tied them to me. I wanted to make sure I didn't get killed on the way across and that the new pilots were not impostors. There were hundreds of police snipers. But I had this living wall around me.

After we left New York, I finally told my lawyer the plan. You should have seen his eyes. He was a baby. We flew for hours. But then I had second thoughts. I was ready to die. But I didn't know where the Central Communist building was in Belgrade. I didn't want to kill regular civilians. That was never my job. I wanted to kill Tito and the biggest symbol of the Communist Party - not go down as the guy who killed innocent people. My friend betrayed me and I lost the target.

Stewart: So you're up there with a stolen 707, a bunch of hostages, and nowhere to go.

Kavaja: I didn't want to lose my life for nothing. That was the point. But you don't have time to think. My lawyer said that Ireland didn't have an extradition agreement with the United States. I'd get political asylum, I'd be safe. So we landed there. I gave up the explosives and let everyone go. Then the negotiations started between the authorities of Ireland, my lawyer, and the States. Of course, they all betrayed me. Ireland sent me back to the US. That was it. This time it was over for real.

I was in prison from 1979 to 1997. First, I went to Marion prison in Illinois. Solitary confinement. Noriega was in the same place. I never left my cell. I had three shirts, three pairs of trousers, three towels, and two blankets from like World War One. I had a mouse friend who visited me at night. There was no regular toilet - it was in the floor and you had to be a good pilot to get everything in there. I did push-ups - thousands of them a day - and thought about my wife and kids, and I thought about Tito.

Stewart: After 20 years, they let you out.

Kavaja: Yeah. It was a long time. And I'm on parole until 2019.

Stewart: So how did you get back to Serbia?

Kavaja: I'm supposed to be in the States. But I left. I didn't ask anybody. Now I can't go back or they'd send me to prison. I can't see my wife or kids. I went to Mexico and then Brazil and then South Africa. From there, I went to Athens, then Serbia.

Stewart: How were you treated when you returned to Serbia?

Kavaja: I had a reception at a military bunker in the mountains. It was early 1999, when Kosovo was going on. They were cooking mushrooms. That shit's not for me. I only eat steak. I told them, "We need to fight on their territory. Let's go to Albania and Macedonia and fight the Albanians that way. That's the only way we are going to win." They didn't listen. A few months later, they bombed Belgrade. And the war was over.

Stewart: Do you have enemies?

Kavaja: I have lots of enemies - ex-Communists, State Security Service from Tito's day - but I'm not afraid. I have protection. And I can take care of myself. If someone wanted to assassinate me, I know how they'd do it because I was an assassin myself. See this? This is my best friend in all my life. It's a German gun from before World War Two, made in 1938. A Luger 9mm. Very good gun.

Stewart: Is it loaded?

Kavaja: Not right now.

Stewart: What's the point of having a gun under your table if it's not loaded?

Kavaja: You know nothing about guns! There are bullets in it, but they aren't engaged. I can engage it in a second. My dick. You're a silly man!

Stewart: So you're still ready to fight?

Kavaja: I'm still strong. I work out every day except Saturday and Sunday. My hands are scarred from explosives, but I can still get down on the floor and do push-ups. I do 200 push-ups, squats, like this, off the side of bed. At one time, I could do 3,000.

Stewart: How many people have you killed so far?

Kavaja: There are so many things that I can't even tell you. How many I killed is not important. I count to 17 and then stop counting.

Stewart: Seventeen?

Kavaja: It's just a number. My first kill was when I was 14 and my last was, I don't know, maybe in 1976. But I'm not going to talk about that. I probably shouldn't have said a lot of the things I said. I have my wife and kids in the United States still.

Stewart: What does it feel like to assassinate someone?

Kavaja: What the fuck?

Stewart: After such an extreme life, it must be hard to settle down and call it quits?

Kavaja: It's not over. I still fuck good. I've got a couple of young girls. You see this one here? Her tits! Her hair! I also have other jobs to do, but we won't talk about that. I have money and girls and that's a good life for me. I've got a house in Montenegro, a big apartment in Novi Sad. I got this apartment in Belgrade. I'm set up.

Stewart: I see pictures on your wall of Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini. Are they idols?

Kavaja: These are big men.

Stewart: And big murderers.

Kavaja: American presidents killed too.

Stewart: How do you think you'll be remembered?

Kavaja: Evil.

Original article can be found here

Documentary: Nikola Kavaja - Hunter on Tito (1:27)

Mad as Hell

2008-11-08T01:18:00.006-06:00

"There are no nations. There are no peoples. There are no Russians. There are no Arabs. There are no Third Worlds. There is no West. There is only one holistic system of systems! One vast and immane, interwoven, interacting multi-variant, multinational dominion of dollars! Petrol dollars, electro-dollars, multi-dollars, Reich Marks, Rins, Rubles, Pounds, and Shekels!"
"It is the international system of currency which determines the totality of life on this planet. That is the natural order of things today. That is the atomic and subatomic and galactic structure of things today. And you have meddled with the primal forces of nature, and you will atone! Am I getting through to you Mr. Beale?"
"You get up on your 21-inch screen and howl about America and democracy. There is no America. There is no democracy. There is only IBM, and ITT and AT&T and Du Pont, Dow, Union Carbide, and Exxon. Those are the nations of the world today."
"What do you think the Russians talk about in their councils of state? Karl Marx? They get out their linear programming charts, statistical decision theories, minimax solutions and compute the price-cost probabilities of their transactions and investments just like we do."
"We no longer live in a world of nations and ideologies Mr. Beale. The world is a college of corporations inexorably determined by the immutable bylaws of business. The world is a business Mr. Beale. It has been since man crawled out of the slime."
"And our children will live, Mr. Beale, to see that perfect world in which there's no war or famine, oppression or brutality. One vast and ecumenical holding company, for whom all men will work to serve a common profit in which men will hold a share of stock. All necessities provided, all anxieties tranquilized, all boredom amused."

"....At the bottom of all our terrified souls, we know that democracy is a dying giant. A sick, sick, dying, decaying political concept, writhing in it's final pain. I don't mean that the United States is finished as a world power. The United States is the richest, most advanced country in the world, light-years ahead of any other country, and the Communists won't take over the world because the Communists are deader than we are. What is finished is the idea that this great country is dedicated to the freedom and flourishing of every individual in it. It's the individual that's finished. It's the single, solitary human being that's finished. It's every single one of you out there that's finished. Because this is no longer a nation of independent individuals. It's a nation of some 200 odd million transistorized, deodorized, whiter-than-white, steel-belted bodies, totally unnecessary as human beings, and as replaceable as piston rods. Well, the time has come to say is "Dehumanization" such a bad word. Whether it's good or bad, that's what is so. The whole world is becoming humanoid. Creatures that look human but aren't. The whole world, not just us. We're just the most advanced country, so we're getting there first. The whole world's people are becoming mass produced, programmed, numbered......"

"......I don't have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad. It's a depression. Everybody's out of work or scared of losing their jobs. The dollar buys a nickel's worth. The banks are going bust. Shopkeepers keep guns under the counter. Punks are running wild in the street. Nobody anywhere seems to know what to do, and there's no end to it. We know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat. We sit watching our TV's while some local newscaster tells us that today we had 15 homicides, and 63 violent crimes, as if that's the way it's supposed to be! We know things are bad. They're worse than bad, they're crazy! It's like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don't go out anymore. We sit in the house, and slowly the world were living in is getting smaller, and all we say is, "please at least leave us alone in our living rooms. Let me have my toaster, and my TV, and my steel-belted radials, and I won't say anything, just leave us alone!" Well, I'm not gonna leave you alone. I want you to get mad! I don't want you to protest, and I don't want you to riot, and I don't want you to write to your congressman, because I wouldn't know what to tell you to write. I don't know what to do about the depression, and the inflation, the Russians, and the crime in the streets. All I know is that first you've got to get mad! You've got to say, "I'm a human being godamit! My life has value!..... So, I want you to get up now. I want all of you to get up out of your chairs. I want you to get up right now and go to the window, open it, and stick your head out and yell, I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!!"

Halloween 2008

2008-10-30T10:51:00.003-05:00

One Way Road To Heaven

2008-10-19T17:10:00.020-05:00

This is one of my personal Top Ten movies, and Robert Duvall is on my Top Five Best Actors List. I don't remember seeing him in a bad movie, or in a bad role.

"The Apostle" is a 1997 movie, written, directed and produced by Robert Duvall, who stars in the title role. It was filmed in and around Dallas, Texas, as well as in Louisiana. Duvall wrote the script in the 1980s but could not find a studio willing to film it. He eventually decided to direct and finance it himself. It was first screened at the Toronto Film Festival. The film went on to have a $21.3 million worldwide theatrical gross, with a combined production and advertising budget of $8 million.

Duvall plays main character the preacher, good man with a bad luck and temper. For his performance, Duvall was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Actor. I cut from the movie only scenes where Duvall is preaching. It's so impressive and he looks so natural in the role of preacher. I can't decide is it improvisation, or written and well executed scenes.

The major themes of The Apostle include forgiveness and accountability. Duvall sympathetically portrays Sonny as a sincere gospel preacher whose passions get the better of him. After fleeing from Texas, he re-baptizes himself -- symbolizing a fresh start -- and seeks to accomplish as much good as possible before his inevitable capture. Sonny's arrest closes the moral circle of the narrative, showing that evil acts do not go unpunished. Yet, his final sermon motivates the fledgling church to carry on a life of faith and good deeds.

An Interview with Robert Duvall at Journal of Religion and Film

"The Apostle": An Interview with Robert Duvall
by Bill Blizek and Ronald Burke

[1] The JOURNAL editors recently had the opportunity to interview Robert Duvall about his new movie, "The Apostle". The interview was especially interesting because it is so much Duvall’s own film. He wrote the script, starred as the lead character, and directed the film. When no Hollywood studio would produce it, he also turned to his own production company (Butchers Run Films), put up his own money (five million dollars), and produced the film himself.

[2] Many people have interviewed Duvall in recent months about the film and about his entire movie and stage career. We focused our interview more narrowly on the picture of religion in the film and on the morality of the lead character Duvall plays, the preacher, Eulis "Sonny" Dewey.

Some Fake; Some Great

[3] What does Duvall think of southern Christianity and revivalist preachers in general? He has a fascination for them which began more than thirty years ago when he visited a Holiness church in the small town of Hughes, Arkansas. He says that he was intrigued by the cadence, rhythms and honest faith he witnessed in the songs and tent-meetings there. For Duvall, these revivalist tent-meetings are "an important part of American culture." The preaching is "a distinct American art-form."

[4] "The best preacher I ever met," says Duvall, "was a 96 year-old black man from a little church in Hamilton, Virginia. He seemed to me more spiritual than the Dalai Lama or Mahatma Gandhi. This guy was great. He had a great cadence of preaching, a great honesty." Duvall invited a Jewish film-director friend and his Catholic wife to hear him preach. "It was terrific," Duvall recounts. "The director told me a year and a half later that he could never get the preacher entirely out of his mind. He was that impressive."

[5] "A lot of these preachers are phony, but a lot of them are not."

[6] It was from the same black preacher that Duvall borrowed an introduction and a song. The preacher ended every sermon with the same words: one day he expected, he said, to get into a little airplane. He would fly off not to London or Chicago or New York or any earthly city. He expected on that day, his last day, to fly past the sun and the stars and directly into heaven. Then the preacher would pause and the whole congregation would begin to sing, "I’ll Fly Away."

[7] That kind of borrowing, from the actual preachers and congregations of Holiness churches, is typical of the film.

Sonny is an ordinary guy

[8] What about the lead character, Sonny himself? Sometimes he seems pretty good, sometimes he is pretty bad. What was Duvall saying about Sonny?

[9] He pointed out there have been other movies about Pentecostal religions, but they never gave the people and their religion their due. Movies such as "Leap of Faith" (Steve Martin and Debra Winger) and "Elmer Gantry" (Burt Lancaster) were fakes. "They patronize," Duvall says. "They put quotation marks around the preacher. They don’t give the minister or his congregation their due."

[10] "Some religious people might ask why I would make such a movie and emphasize that this evangelical preacher has weaknesses. And my answer is that we either accept weaknesses in good people or we have to tear pages out of the bible. I would have to rip the Psalms out of the bible and never read them again. Because no one less than the greatest king of Israel, King David, the author of the Psalms, sent a man out to die in battle so that he could sleep with his wife. And that was a far more evil thing than anything Sonny would ever, ever do.

[11] "So here’s King David, the great poet of the Psalms that we laud and he did something that was far worse than anything this present preacher would do. But because this is today, and not removed romantically to the past, we judge Sonny quickly and harshly. But, you know, he’s just an ordinary guy. He did not commit premeditated murder. He didn’t go to that church social and the baseball game with the intention of killing the young preacher. It just happened. Smack!

[12] "I still wanted to show that crime doesn’t pay. He didn’t have a great lawyer, and he didn’t get off without punishment. No more than Karla Faye Tucker should have gotten off without punishment in Texas, despite what Pat Robertson might have thought. Crime does not pay. If you are saved and accept the Lord, you cannot use that as an excuse to avoid punishment.

[13] "Sonny doesn’t escape punishment. But he’s a man of action. After killing the man, guys like us would probably wait around to be caught, but Sonny takes action. He knows he’s done something wrong. It happened involuntarily, and so he leaves. He kneels at the crossroads and prays, ‘Lord, lead me.’ He abandons his car and goes off to do something to make himself better.

[14] "No, he was never a bad guy. He was a good guy. But he did something bad. So he is full of good and bad. Sonny’s a good guy; he believed he had a calling from the time he was twelve; and he errs like most characters do, you know?

[15] "He’s a kind of percentage mixture at the beginning and at the end. There’s a certain percentage chance he will do good and a percentage chance he will again err. But he knows he has erred and that he needs confession and redemption.

[16] "He’s working in the restaurant in Bayou Butte, Louisiana and he sees his new woman-friend, Toosie (Miranda Richardson), whom he has dated a couple of times. She’s together again with her family at the restaurant. That really hits him. He suffers a broken heart. Humanly, he knows he has defeated himself. He has himself sent her back to her husband, back to her family. But that "success" hurts him. He has the pain of a man losing something, his relation to Toosie. It was something he had thought might become beautiful. But he knows it’s right that she’s back with her husband and her children.

The Power of the Holy Ghost

[17] We asked what Duvall thought about the value of the Pentecostal revivalist religions. In the movie’s beginning, Sonny stops at an accident scene, finds a wrecked car, and a guy and girl lying motionless inside it. He reaches through a window, puts the girl’s hand on the boy’s, prays for them, and then her hand moves. Was there a message in that?

[18] Duvall: "Definitely. When we did it, I said to the cameraman, ‘Frame down to her.’ And so we showed her, and I put her hand on her boyfriend’s hand so we are all connected. And I wanted that look: her hand to move, to show that the power of prayer works. The healing of someone. The movement of something. God moving in mysterious ways. Exactly. This power is based on the biblical authority, ‘Where two or more are gathered in my name, I am there’. Every time I saw that I got goose pimples on my arms. That scene really tells a lot: that Sonny is doing good work and that the power of the Holy Ghost was there.

[19] "Sonny knows he is serving the Lord. He walks back over to his own car, where his mother is waiting. ‘Mama,’ he says, ‘we made news in heaven this morning, we made news in heaven!’ Yeah, that scene was meant to be there. It was the power of the Holy Ghost.

[20] "There was a guy there, a tough old Holiness church guy, watching us film. And he said later that when he heard Sonny say those words he also got chill bumps. That told me those were the right words. It meant something to those people themselves, in their churches. It was definitely meant to be there. The power of the Spirit.

[21] "The scene sets the stage for the rest of the movie. Sonny tries to help people and God can heal. God does guide the lives of individuals and does fill them with the Holy Ghost."

People’s Own Religion

[22] In "giving people their due," Duvall used many non-actors who were part of the small-town Holiness churches. What was the objective there?

[23] Duvall: "I tried to mix the non-actors with the actors. I tried to turn the whole film-making thing around as much as possible. I didn’t want to come in and tell them what to do. I wanted them to show me what they do. That is why we used non-actors with that kind of background.

[24] "The assistant director, who helps coordinates the scenes, holds the non-actors within certain limits, but within those limits their performances are a very spontaneous thing. Like those little twin boys, playing in the church aisle. How are you going to direct them? You don’t direct them. They were born into these churches. So when they want to jump up and down, they are going to jump up and down. That’s why we used so many non-actors. We tried to let the story come out from their own community.

[25] We asked Duvall about two of the most prominent characters in the church scenes, Sister Johnson and Sister Jewell. We learned that neither was a professional actor and that both exemplified the religion to which they belonged.

[26] Duvall: "One we got from one of the Holiness churches in Lafayette and one came from Shreveport. There was a state-wide convention of churches. Ed Johnson, the casting director, and I went there and watched. And the whole Louisiana mass choir -- we got them for the movie. We chose a guy who had just been confirmed as a minister and another from way out in the country in Louisiana. We tracked him down after he had been at the state convention.

[27] "And Sister Jewell, who gave testimony, that was all her own testimony. She came up with it herself. That is what the people in the Holiness churches do. So we just planned it as much as we needed. We put the camera on long lens and just let things happen. We wouldn’t say ‘Now it’s your close-up time. Are you ready?’. Instead of doing it that way, like in most movies, these people never necessarily knew when the camera was coming on them."

Off the bulldozer and accept the Lord

[28] We asked where Duvall had gotten material for the script. Again it came from the people themselves. He said he had been collecting stories and phrases for more than thirteen years, in pretty disorganized fashion. But he collected a lot of stories and phrases he used in the film.

[29] Duvall: "Yeah, I know a preacher, Paul Baggett, who was with us in the team-preaching scene (in New Boston, Texas, outside Fort Worth). He told me that years ago a guy came on a bulldozer, planning to destroy his meeting tent. So Paul took out the bible and put it in front of the bulldozer. He said, ‘Go ahead and go over my bible.’ And the guy wouldn’t do it. He had a pistol and everything, but he wouldn’t do it. Later he was saved, but the reason he was coming there with the bulldozer was because his girlfriend had already come to the tent and been saved. And so now she wouldn’t shack up with him anymore! That’s why he was so mad.

[30] "So I pieced Paul's story together with another one that reinforced it. This story was about a guy who was going to put a firebomb in a church in the Bronx. The preacher dared him to come in and the guy got down and accepted the Lord. So maybe we are all on a kind of search . . ."

Sonny’s strength

[31] We asked about Sonny’s strength. He seemed to weather so many storms and disappointments and yet come out with happiness and re-dedication.

[32] Duvall: "Yeah, he does. He sees things positively. You are the first ones to say that, but I remember way back, when I first thought of the character, I knew I wanted him to be really sanguine. I envisioned a guy who would just keep going, seeing the will of the Lord, and not be like those that might just sit on their hands.

[33] "Sonny always has one foot in really trusting what he believes in, even though he errs. If someone took your church, like Jessie took his, and if someone took your wife, like the youth minister took Jessie, it would be a hard thing to deal with. He didn’t intend to kill anybody, but it happened on the spur of the moment. ‘Oh, my God!’, he knows he’s done something wrong.

[34] ‘I gotta leave,’ he thinks; ‘what do I do?’ ‘Lord, lead me,’ he says. He still depends on the Lord, you know, even though he has sinned. So he begins an odyssey, the whole film is an odyssey journey.

Both loud and soft

[35] We saw there was a lot of shouting in the film, loud singing and Sonny shouting personally at God. And yet there also were some important moments of quiet. Did that have special meaning?

[36] Duvall: "You’re sure right. It did. Sonny shouted as loud as Job ever did. There was nothing wrong with shouting at God. I like that scene where I go through the commandments. And then I say, ‘The 11th commandment, "thou shalt not shout," (pause) does not exist!’ Yeah, I made that up. Right there. That’s the way he felt and the way these people felt.

[37] "But I wanted to make something else obvious. Sometimes these people yell and carry on, and sometimes they get quiet and are sincere. There’s that time I was sitting alone in the borrowed pup-tent. We re-edited that scene to make it clear. I am sitting there, meditating, listening for "the still, small voice" [I Kings 19] of Jesus. As it says in the bible, there is a time to ‘Go in thy closet and the Father will reward thee openly.’ There are two sides to these guys.

[38] "And then, just before I go into the church to preach with Brother Blackwell (John Beasley from Omaha), I step back. I just want a moment to myself. I got that from watching these preachers. They often want to be alone for a second. They turn around and bow their heads. And then they go to do something."

Different religions, same goal

[39] "Another thing I want to emphasize is the cultural contrast I saw between religions. By the time we were finished cutting, that was not obvious. Like Catholics have a lot of mediators, going through saints and Mary or whatever. But I love the directness of these people. They relate directly with God, not going through anything.

[40] "Protestants in general, but especially these people, say things to God directly, like I do in the film: ‘I always call you "Jesus"; you always call me "Sonny".’ ‘I’m on the devil’s hit-list; I’m gonna get on Jesus’ mailing-list!’ ‘Holy Ghost explosion,’ ‘Short-circuit the devil!’ ‘I’m a genuine Holy Ghost Jesus-filled preaching machine here this morning!’ I use those phrases in the film. I heard them from the preachers and from the people. These were their terms. God is immediate to their lives.’

[41] "Sonny sees a Catholic priest blessing fishing boats as they leave the harbor. He says, ‘You do it your way, and we do it mine. But we get it done, don't we.’ That’s the tension between religions. There are different forms and prejudices, but I wanted Sonny to show an acceptance of another religion because both were trying to achieve the same end.

[42] "Faith helps Sonny feel positive about the future. That was something I wanted to show in the movie. We all have a cradle-to-the-grave journey to make and, in between, what do you do? There’s got to be something hereafter. And I think, underneath, what Sonny wants to do is constantly to make amends so that he is ready for that day when he is called home. So that’s kind of like the underlying thing and we all think of it."

The Final Product

[43] Last of all, we wanted to know if Duvall was happy with the final product. How did the final editing go?

[44] Duvall: "Just before release, we got another opinion, and thirty minutes were cut, but the cuts stung me. We lost the ethnic points, the religious differences. Previously, things had added up and it’s so easy to mess them up. So it was a tough time for me. I had painted myself into a corner: the shorter the film the more showings you can get and the more money it would make. But some things I didn’t want to lose.

[45] "So, I sat down and addressed sixty things I didn’t like about the cuts, explaining them, and so on. Then the final version went to about two hours and fourteen minutes and it was, to my eye, like a trimming process rather than a degutting, which is what I felt before had happened. That would’ve been death. I would’ve gone crazy.

[46] "But this way I like it. It’s more trimming than slashing. Cutting here, this, that, taking a little out of the flat patter scene. Oh, it’s okay. It’s better.

[47] "But the thing about it, which is really nice, is that people understood the film. Like in New York, in hip New York, they got it. And then I was worried about the religious side, but the 700 Club wants me to talk on it. So like, you know, it’s being accepted. It is a strange crossover. Very often some of the religious miracle plays you see on television can be very corny, I find. And so simplistic. But here’s one that’s different.

[48] "Somebody said, ‘Well, maybe you’re finally showing the south the way it is instead of making L’il Abner out of it.’ And you know, that was my intention. I wouldn’t even want to go near the subject if I didn’t give people -- these people -- their due. Whether you totally agree or not, you don’t have to. There’s a lot of it I do like, a lot of it, but I want to give them their due and once again turn film-making around so that the story comes out from them. It is very important to me.

[49] "I even heard that David Denby, in the New York Review, said it was the best film ever made in America on a religious subject. He’s a guy who usually rips everything and he really ripped Tender Mercies. But he knows you can’t write those people off. You get below the Mason-Dixon line and you have some of the best music, culture, the two races, the literature, and it’s so rich, so deeply rich in many things. So why not try to get it right if you’re going to make a film of southern religion? That’s what I wanted to do."

Conversation Charlie Rose with Robert Duvall January 29, 1998

The Cowboy Code by Gene Autry

2008-10-14T01:52:00.007-05:00

“The Cowboy Code”

1. The Cowboy must never shoot first, hit a smaller man or take an unfair advantage.
2. A Cowboy must never go back on his word, or a trust confided in him.
3. A Cowboy must always tell the truth.
4. A Cowboy must be gentle with children, the elderly and small animals.
5. A Cowboy must not advocate or possess racially or religiously interolerant views and ideas.
6. A Cowboy must help people in distress.
7. A Cowboy must be a good worker.
8. A Cowboy must keep himself clean in thought, speech, action and personal habits.
9. A Cowboy must respect women, parents and his nations’ views.
10. A Cowboy is a patriot.

Four Women

2008-10-06T12:59:00.000-05:00

Nina Simone

My skin is black
My arms are long
My hair is wooly
My back is strong
Strong enough to take the pain
Its been inflicted again and again
What do they call me
My name is aunt sarah
My name is aunt sarah

My skin is yellow
My hair is long
Between two worlds
I do belong
My father was rich and white
He forced my mother late one night
What do they call me
My name is siffronia
My name is siffronia

My skin is tan
My hairs alright, its fine
My hips invite you
And my lips are like wine
Whose little girl am i?
Well yours if you have some money to buy
What do they call me
My name is sweet thing
My name is sweet thing

My skin is brown
And my manner is tough
Ill kill the first mother I see
Cos my life has been too rough
Im awfully bitter these days
Because my parents were slaves
What do they call me
My
Name
Is
Peaches

Mount Horeb Fall Festival 2008

2008-10-04T21:44:00.000-05:00

Picnic

2008-09-21T22:37:00.002-05:00

SONG BEFORE BREAKFAST

2008-09-20T21:54:00.010-05:00

by Ogden Nash

Hopeful each morning I arise
And splash the cobwebs from my eyes.
I brush my teeth and scrape my chin
And bravely at the mirror grin.

Sternly I force myself to say,
Huzza! Huzza! Another day!
Oh happy me! Oh lucky I!
Another chance with life to vie!

Another golden opportunity
To rise and shine in the community!
Another target for my aim!
Another whack at wealth and fame!

Almost I feel within me stir
A budding force of character,
Who knows, indeed, but what I might
Perhaps have altered over night?

Today may be the day, who knows,
That sees me triumph o'er my foes:
Gluttony, simony, and sloth,
And drawing on the table cloth;

Perjury, arson, envy, pride,
And renting tales of homicide;
Barratry, avarice and wrath
And blowing bubbles in the bath.

The differences this day may bring!
Perhaps I'll work like anything;
I'll travel to my tasks on foot,
And in the bank the carfare put,

And buy a haircut when I need it,
And if I get a letter, read it.
And every eve improve myself
by inching through the Five Foot Shelf.

The things I want to do I won't,
And only do the things I don't.
What lordly aspirations dawn
The while I draw my trousers on!

Oh beamish morning, big with hope
And noble tasks with which to cope,
If I should fail you, do not sorrow;
I'll be a better man tomorrow.

The Old Man of the Mountain

2008-09-15T23:17:00.022-05:00

Noun 1. old man of the mountain - whitish hairy plant with featherlike leaves and a few stout stems each bearing an especially handsome solitary large yellow flower head; mountainous regions north central United States. Synonyms: alpine sunflower, Hymenoxys grandiflora, Tetraneuris grandiflora.

The Old Man of the Mountain, also known as the great stone face, was a series of five granite Granite cliff ledges on Cannon Mountain in the White Mountains of New Hampshire New Hampshire, that, when viewed from the correct angle, appeared to be the jagged profile of a face. First discovered in 1805, the outcrop was 1,200 feet above Profile Lake, and measured 40 feet tall and 25 feet wide. It collapsed in 2003
High above the Franconia Notch gateway to northern New Hampshire there is an old man. He has been described as a relentless tyrant, a fantastic freak, and a learned philosopher, feeble and weak about the mouth and of rarest beauty, stern and solemn, one of the most remarkable wonders of the mountain world. The Old Man of the Mountain may be viewed from Interstate 93, northbound, in Franconia State Park from several cutout parking areas. The area is well marked and you will have no trouble locating the viewing areas. Southbound on Interstate 93, take Exit 2 into the Canon Mt Tramway parking lot and follow the signs for the "Old Man viewing area".

The old man of the mountain
1933 animated short in the Betty Boop series, produced by Fleischer Studios. Featuring special guests Cab Calloway and His Orchestra, the short was originally released to theaters on August 4, 1933 by Paramount Productions. Calloway, who voices all of the characters in the cartoon save for Betty herself (voiced by Mae Questel) performs all of the music in the cartoon, including three of his own songs.

The Old Man of the Mountain
The legend of Hassan-ibn-Sabbah
Rick Lewis

The legendary Old Man of the Mountain was Hassan-ibn-Sabbah, the founder and grand master of a radical Islamic sect in the 11th century. His followers were viewed as heretics by other Muslims; according to the hostile reports of their contemporaries, they ate pork and held all their women in common.

Hassan's devoted followers were prepared to follow his orders unquestioningly, even when this would result in their own certain deaths. He frequently sent them on missions to kill hostile princes, the generals of armies sent to oppose him, and anyone else of whom he disapproved. His fanatical, highly-trained and highly-disciplined killers would blend with the enemy population disguished as merchants or soldiers, awaiting their opportunity. They would then sneak into their target's encampment or palace, and dispatch him with their long daggers. They were known as Hashishin from their habit of smoking hashish, either to generate visions of paradise or to give themselves courage before their (usually fatal) missions. This is the origin of the English word “assassin”.

After earning the undying enmity of most of the rulers of central Asia, Hassan-ibn-Sabbah was forced to retreat with his followers to the inaccessible mountain fortress of Alamout, which was reputed to be impregnable. There he lived to the enormous age of ninety, dying in 1124.

Hassan was succeeded by other grand masters who, like him, used assassination as a political weapon in an attempt to impose their ideas upon Islam. In the 13th century they made the mistake of tangling with Genghis Khan, who in 1255 sent a vast army to capture Alamout, finally stamping out the sect of the Assassins.

Click here to read more how Richard I used the Old Man of the Mountain assassins to remove his opponents.

__________________________________________

After reading this article by Isaac Asimov I started to search the origin of the name "the Old Man of the Mountain". It was interesting enough so I decided to share it with you.

Assassination - Isaac Asimov,
Published in Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine, October, 1989

Assassination is defined as murder done by stealth, or from ambush, as opposed to a death in open fight, in battle, in a duel, or in a barroom brawl. Somehow, though, assassination has come to be associated with political murders, with the killing of public figures.
In fact, when a public figure is killed, a political motive is usually found for it.
For instance, Harmodius and Aristogeiton were two young Athenian lovers in 514 BC. At the time, Athens was ruled by two brothers, Hippias and Hipparehus, and the Athenians were restive under them. Apparently, Hipparchus was the hypoteneuse of a love triangle and Harmedius and Aristegeiton decided to solve the problem by killing the brothers. They managed to kill Hipparchus, but Hippias survived, grew very nervous and became tyrannical. He saw to it that Harmodius and Aristogeiton were unpleasantly executed, for instance.
Hippias was expelled in 510 B.C., and the Athenians established a democracy. Harmedius and Aris-togeiton were then made into po
litical heroes, and the murder for personal reasons became an idealistic political killing. The grateful Athenians proceeded to put up statues to them as freedom-fight-ers.
In 336 Be, Philip of Macedon was getting married to a new wife. His old wife was going to be shucked off and his son (the later Alexander the Great) was to be disinherited. At the marriage feast, Philip was killed. Everyone thinks the first wife and son planned it. Purely persona, l, but, of course, it had a political effect.
Then there are political killings. When a political figure wins big, an angry loser may decide on revenge--so Marcus Brutus kills Julius Caesar in 44 b.c., and John Wilkes Booth kills Abraham Lincoln in 1865.
But how did all this come to be called "assassination"? Well, toward the end of the eleventh century, the Seljuk Turks were doing very well. They beat the Byzantine Empire and took over most of Asia Minor. They also beat the Fatimids of Egypt and took over Syria and Palestine. The Turks and the Fatimids were both Moslems but of different varieties. The Turks were strong Sunnites, and the Fatimids were strong Shiites. The split between them came in 661, only twenty-nine years after Muhammad's death. In that year, Ali, Muhammad's son-in-law, was killed. The Shiites supported Ali, the Sunnites opposed him, and the split between them has continued ever since right down to the present day, thirteen and a half centuries later.
With the Sunnite Turks winning big, the Shiites had to do something. The Ismailis were a group of Shiite extremists and one of them, Hasan ibn al-Sabhah, seized a valley in the rough country south of the Caspian Sea (in what is now Iran, as it happens). Ringed by mountains, it was virtually impregnable, and al-Sabbah (as well as each of his successors) became known as "the Old Man of the Mountain."
His followers were trained in absolute loyalty to the Old Man. It is said that he encouraged them to chew hashish, and then explained the drug-imposed hallucinations as visions of heaven--a heaven they would enter immediately, if they fell in the line of duty.
Because of this, the followers of the Old Man of the Mountain were called "Hashishim" ("hashish-smokers"). To Europeans, this became "assassins."
The method of operation of the new sect was simple, if terrifying. They did not act against the common people, or attempt to organize armies. They organized secret agents, instead, whose mission it was to kill rulers, generals, and leaders. They struck at the heart and were virtually unstoppable, since they knew they were going to heaven the moment they were killed while engaged in this task, and therefore made no effort to get away. A killer who is not in the least interested in getting away is almost sure to succeed sooner or later. It is only the difficulty of getting away that complicates most such plans. It is because of the activities of this sect that any political killing is now called an "assassination."
The prime targets of the Assassins were, of course, the Sunnite leaders, although the killers also aimed at those Shiites who were the wrong sort. (It is hard to satisfy an extremist.) Their first great coup was the assassination of Nizam al-Mulik, the vizier Seljuk, in 1092.
He was the most capable of all the Seljuk officials and without him, the kingdom split into fragments that began fighting each other. It couldn't have happened at a worse time, for in 1096 the Crusaders were on their way. They'd have been smashed if Nizam al-Mulik still guided a united Seljuk realm.
While Crusaders and Turks fought it out bloodily, the Assassins dashed nimbly in and out, aiming at both with grim impartiality. The Turks tried to crush the Old Man of the Mountain by military force, but they were easily held off once they entangled themselves in the wild mountain ranges. And while the Assassins defended their fastness, they established subsidiary strongholds in Mseopotamia and Syria. For a century and a half they kept up a unique reign of terror, and no ruler in the Middle East could sleep in security.
What happened to the Assassins? Well, they met their match. In 1206, Genghis Khan unified the Mongol tribes of central Asia and proved to be, perhaps, the greatest military genius of all time. Out of almost nothing, he created unstoppable armies, with a spy service, with communications, with mobility that wasn't matched until the mechanized armies of the twentieth century.
In 1255, a Mongol army under Hulagu Khan, a grandson of Genghis, moved into what is now Iran en route to the great city of Baghdad. They passed the Caspian Sea and they knew all about the Old Man of the Mountain and had no intention of fooling around. Hulagu sent his army swarming into the valley and up the mountains, and simply wiped them out, stronghold after stronghold. The Mongols weren't very pleasant, hut you had to admit they got the job done.
Se you see the role played by religion. You can offer hit men money but that leaves them careful. They want to live and enjoy the money. Offer them heaven and they don't care if they live.
It's not just the Moslems. During the religious wars in Europe, the Netherlands was fighting a long war for independence from Spain. The Netherlanders were Protestant; Spain was Catholic. The Spanish king, Philip II, an extreme Catholic, offered a reward for the assassination of the Netherlandish leader, William the Silent. On July 10, 1584, William was shot by Balthasar Gerard, a Catholic extremist.
Henry III was king of France at the time. He was a Catholic, but the exigencies of polities forced him to move into alliance with Henry of Navarre, a Protestant. That was enough. On August 1, 1589, he was killed by a Catholic extremist, Jacques Clement.
Henry of Navarre eventually became king of France as Henry IV. He turned Catholic in order to qualify, but that wasn't enough. On May 14, 1610, he was killed by a Catholic extremist, Francois Ravaillac.
I don't suppose that we'll ever be able to do anything about the assassination of political leaders. Four American Presidents have been assassinated and there have been failed attempts at several others.
In 1989, however, something new was added. A religious call went out to kill the author of a book that some people found offensive. It was complete with the offer of money and premise of heaven.
Now many books are offensive. One can refuse to read them. One can denounce them. One can demonstrate against them. I can easily (all too easily) imagine books that I would find so offensive I would join · marsh against them.
But it is wrong to attempt to force people not to read it, or use force against the writer. Think what a horrible precedent that would set. Any book, any book at all, is offensive to somebody Or other. If the present threat succeeds, it will encourage future threats of the sort. Think of what a chilling effect that would have on free speech. Even the United States wouldn't remain a haven. What is the defense against fanatics? It takes only one.
Will it become necessary for writers to weigh every word? Is this going to offend the baby-carriage manufacturers? Is that going to offend the pole-vaulters?
A certain well-known Cardinal denounced the book in question and said he would recommend that Catholics not read it because it offended another religion. And of course he was against the threatened murder. However, was he doing the right thing?
Since then, there has been a threat to blow up Dante's tomb be. cause in "The Divine Comedy," he placed in Hell some individuals that are revered by other religions. Would the Cardinal suggest that his flock not read Dante? Is he going to disown the Crusaders? Is he going to disown Philip H of Spain? And how about Torquemada? I find him offensive.
In other words, where does this sort of thing stop?

If you want a friend

2008-09-15T15:02:00.012-05:00

It was then that the fox appeared.
"Good morning," said the fox.
"Good morning," the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing.
"I am right here," the voice said, "under the apple tree."
"Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added, "You are very pretty to look at."
"I am a fox," the fox said.
"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince. "I am so unhappy."
"I cannot play with you," the fox said. "I am not tamed."
"Ah! Please excuse me," said the little prince.
But, after some thought, he added:
"What does that mean--'tame'?"
"You do not live here," said the fox. "What is it that you are looking for?"
"I am looking for men," said the little prince. "What does that mean--'tame'?"
"Men," said the fox. "They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"
"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does that mean--'tame'?"
"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. "It means to establish ties."
"'To establish ties'?"
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ."
"I am beginning to understand," said the little prince. "There is a flower . . . I think that she has tamed me . . ."
"It is possible," said the fox. "On the Earth one sees all sorts of things."
"Oh, but this is not on the Earth!" said the little prince.
The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious.
"On another planet?"
"Yes."
"Are there hunters on that planet?"
"No."
"Ah, that is interesting! Are there chickens?"
"No."
"Nothing is perfect," sighed the fox.
But he came back to his idea.
"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat . . ."
The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.
"Please--tame me!" he said.
"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."
"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me . . ."
"What must I do, to tame you?" asked the little prince.
"You must be very patient," replied the fox. "First you will sit down at a little distance from me--like that--in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day . . ."
The next day the little prince came back.
"It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox. "If, for example, you come at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o'clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you . . . One must observe the proper rites . . ."
"What is a rite?" asked the little prince.
"Those also are actions too often neglected," said the fox. "They are what make one day different from other days, one hour from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they dance with the village girls. So Thursday is a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards. But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day, and I should never have any vacation at all."
So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near--
"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . ."
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added:
"Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."
The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
"You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world."
And the roses were very much embarrassed.
"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you--the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.
And he went back to meet the fox.
"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose--" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose . . ."
"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

From: “Little Princ” by Antoine de Saint Exupéry

Night at The Grumpy Troll Pub with GSE Caravan

2008-09-14T02:31:00.003-05:00

Caravan GSE At Grumpy Troll Pub, Mount Horeb, WI 9/13/2008
www.gypsyswing.com
www.myspace.com/caravangypsyswingensemble

Wild Is the Wind

2008-09-11T13:39:00.000-05:00

Johny Matis

"Wild Is the Wind" is a song written by Dimitri Tiompkin and Ned Washington. The track was originally recorded by Johnny Mathis for the 1956 film Wild Is the Wind, and later covered by Nina Simone on the album Wild Is The Wind (1966).

Nina Simone

Love me love me love me
Say you do
Let me fly away
With you
For my love is like
The wind
And wild is the wind

Give me more
Than one caress
Satisfy this
Hungriness
Let the wind
Blow through your heart
For wild is the wind

You...
Touch me...
I hear the sound
Of mandolins
You...
Kiss me...
With your kiss
My life begins
Youre spring to me
All things
To me

Dont you know youre
Life itself
Like a leaf clings
To a tree
Oh my darling,
Cling to me
For were creatures
Of the wind
And wild is the wind
So wild is the wind

Wild is the wind
Wild is the wind

David Bowie recorded a version of it in 1976 for his album Station to Station. Bowie was an admirer of Simone's style, and after meeting her in Los Angeles was inspired to record the song for Station to Station.

In 1981, an edited version was issued as a single by RCA to promote the compilation ChangesTwoBowie. Despite relations with RCA being at an all-time low (he would only record the Baal EP for the label before signing with EMI in 1983), Bowie consented to appear in a video. This was a simple affair, featuring Bowie and the musicians performing the track in a circle, filmed in monochrome by David Mallet. The single reached #24 in the UK, and Bowie would perform the track on his Serious Moonlight and 2000 tours.

Seven years later

2008-09-11T13:34:00.019-05:00

It was Wednesday seven years ago. I lived in Milwaukee, WI and worked in Kenosha 37 miles south. I was driving to work when I heard that the airliner hit a building in New York. My first thought was that every idiot can get a license today. I arrived to work. A few people were discussing the news, but no one knew what was going on. My colleague Dave Johnson saw on CNN news that another plane hit another building. We didn't understand how serious was that and we started joking about drunk pilot and ....

Two hours later my wife called me. She couldn’t get her aunt in NY on the phone. Her family is in Queens, close to Manhattan. That evening I saw it in the news. Horror... History was always some old event described in the book. That day I felt for the first time that I'm living the history.

Three buildings in the World Trade Center Complex collapsed. Excluding the 19 hijackers, 2,974 people died in the attacks. Another 24 are missing and presumed dead. The overwhelming majority of casualties were civilians, including nationals of over 90 different countries.

I still remember next few days and brave actions by President Bush, NYC Mayor Rudy Giuliani, and all New Yorkers. The New York City Fire Department lost 341 firefighters and 2 paramedics. The New York City Police Department lost 23 officers. The Port Authority Police Department lost 37 officers, as well as a K9 dog named Sirius. Private EMS units lost 8 additional EMTs and paramedics.

US responded with actions against terrorism in Afghanistan and Iraq. Popularity of President Bush went up to 83%. Today he is the one to blame for everything from hurricanes to price of oil and hard life of polar bears. For the last seven years we didn't have any terrorist attack in US.

Quote from Ann Coulter's article:
" By my count, roughly one in four books in print in the world at this very moment have the words 'Bush' and 'Lie' in their title. Barnes & Noble has been forced to add an 'I Hate Bush' section. I don't believe there are as many anti-Hitler books. As Bush has said, we have to be right 100 percent of the time, the terrorists only have to be right one time. Bush has been right 100 percent of the time for seven years -- so much so that Americans have completely forgotten about the threat of Islamic terrorism. "

BUSH 7, TERRORISTS 0

Energizer bunny has nothing on this girl

2008-09-08T19:08:00.011-05:00

OK, here's a question. What do you get when you mix Ginger Rogers, Doris Day, Lucille Ball, Drew Barrymore and energizer bunny?
Well.... it's a super star singer, dancer, actress, funny face.. the girl you have to love.
Here's a hint: Bob Hope called her once "a vitamin pill with legs."
Yes, it's amazing Betty Hutton.

I watch her videos, and wonder does she ever get tired. Can't she just stand there, look pretty and sing? She must be one of the first diagnosed with ADD. I don't think they spent any money on her choreograper. All that shaking, and jumping was so natural for Betty. It was swing era, and the jitterbug was a free (street) style of dancing. Betty was born for that. I can't stop watching her. She always leaves a smile on my face.

There was no one with more energy than Betty Hutton. She could out run Energizer Bunny. Her frantic, manic, comic style was totally unique. She was known as the "Blonde Bombshell" and "Bouncing Betty", and became the musical queen of Hollywood. She was beautiful, sexy, and a dynamo who could act, dance and sing better and certainly louder than almost anyone.

Life story that only Hollywood can make.
Betty was born Elizabeth June Thornburg in 1921 in Battle Creek, Michigan. Her father walked out when she was two and killed himself sixteen years later; her mother was a factory worker turned bootlegger turned alcoholic. When Betty was three, she and her five-year-old sister Marion began to sing for the customers, and, when Betty was eleven years old, the sisters sang in the streets and in other speakeasies for coins. They joined Vincent Lopez's band at 15. Glen Miller hired Marion Hutton away and she became lead singer of the Modernaires with the Glen Miller Orchestra. For a short while, Marion became the bigger star. In 1942 at age 21 Hutton was signed to starring role in The Fleet's. She made 14 films in 11 years during the 1940s and early 1950s, including Annie Get Your Gun for MGM in the role of Annie Oakley. Her career extended into the '60s, what with drugs, booze, bankruptcy, a failed suicide, and, eventually, God, it didn't get better. Married four times with three daughters, Hutton lived near Palm Springs, California until her death in 2007. None of her three daughters attended the funeral.

Time Magazine article, April 24, 1950

It was not an auspicious debut. Mom strummed the ukulele in the blind pig that she operated in Lansing, Mich., and out onto the floor came a skinny, freckled five-year-old named Betty June Thornburg, with her sister Marion, seven. While the speakeasy customers sipped needled beer, the blonde moppets sang and wriggled their way through Black Bottom and other favorite anthems of the year 1926.

"Mom didn't do anything real bad," recalls Betty Hutton, as larger audiences have since come to know the freckle-face. "How is a woman supposed to make her living with two kids when her husband deserted her? Mom just ran a joint on a small scale. We'd operate until the cops got wise. Then they'd move in and close us down, and we'd move somewhere else. Marion and I would entertain the customers by dancing and singing. We really lived that way until we were 12 and 14 years old . . . Things were really tough. At one time we were down to one can of beans."

When she could get it, Betty's mother, Mabel Lum Thornburg, took daytime work on the assembly lines in automobile factories at 22¢ an hour. For a time, after she and the children had begun to share a Detroit basement flat with two other families, she worked as a "tackspitter," tacking upholstery into car seats. She would come home at night "with nails in her fingers where she'd missed." Says Betty grimly: "I made up my mind then that no one—no one—would keep us like that."

No one has. Last week 29-year-old Betty Hutton was a $260,000-a-year movie star on the verge of her splashiest success. She was still going strong on the momentum she had picked up on the wrong side of the tracks. Her relentless determination to get to the top had flung her from speakeasies to street-singing to bandstands, then onto Broadway and into the startled public eye as the frenzied high priestess of a nameless chaos-with-music that has been wrongly called jitterbugging.

It has been nine years since she zoomed into Hollywood. All but bursting with vitality, she tore into her film career with a bellicose zeal and a tomboyish winsomeness that suggested a cross between one of the Furies and Little Orphan Annie. Last year, having made two duds in a row (Dream Girl and Red, Hot and Blue), she decided, probably correctly: "My career needed a jolt."

Plotting & Prayers. Within the fortnight, U.S. moviegoers will see the jolt her career has gotten: MGM's Annie Get Your Gun, 1950's biggest, costliest ($3,200,000) musical. The star: Betty Hutton. As something extra, Actress Hutton will pop up as co-star with Fred Astaire this summer in another brightly colored song & dance film, Paramount's Let's Dance. Though Hollywood's box office has been slumping, there are still surefire receipts in a lavish Technicolored musical—and not enough surefire cinemusical stars to go around. As the cinemusical girl of 1950, Betty holds just about as firm a grip on the immediate future as Hollywood can offer.

Impatient but determined, Betty had prayed, pleaded and plotted for the role of Annie from the time she saw Ethel Merman do it in the 1946 Broadway hit. She never doubted she would get it, even after M-G-M outbid Paramount, her home studio, for the film rights. With Judy Garland cast in the lead and shooting already begun, Betty still insisted on betting an M-G-M executive that she would play the part.

After 30 days of expensive shooting by two directors, MGM's Garland had a nervous breakdown, and the studio had to start again from scratch. Betty sent emissaries scurrying to MGM's Louis B. Mayer, who said: "We'd be silly to give the part to somebody on another lot." But after rummaging around among its own players, the biggest star constellation in Hollywood, M-G-M decided that it needed Betty just as badly as she needed the part.

It was a decision that audiences are likely to approve. Originally tailored to Broadway's first lady of musicomedy, Annie Get Your Gun demands a star with high-voltage showmanship and an earthy flavor. Betty Hutton, who is not remarkably pretty, by movie standards, nor a remarkably good singer or dancer, has a vividly unique personality in a town that tends to reduce beauty and talent to mass-produced patterns. Watching her in action has some of the fascination of waiting for a wildly sputtering fuse to touch off an alarmingly large firecracker.

Annie Get Your Gun breaks no new ground. But thanks to irrepressible Betty, Irving Berlin's fine ten-song score and a showmanlike production, it should leave moviegoers feeling that they have been roundly entertained. The picture sticks close to the original musicomedy book by Dorothy and Herbert Fields, takes all its music & lyrics from the original Berlin tunes. It loses a few laughs getting by the censor, as well as five of the show's lesser songs. It gains trom jettisoning a conventional romantic subplot and from the broader canvas of the screen.

Brimming with colorful costumes and extravagant, Hollywood-style Wild West shows, the film is a fictional embroidery of the romance and rivalry between Sharpshooter Annie Oakley and Crackshot Frank Butler (Broadway's Howard Keel). Annie, who can't miss anything she shoots at, eventually learns that You Can't Get a Man with a Gun. She gets him by learning how to shoot and miss.

Betty carries the show with such riotous energy and eagerness to please that she threatens to carry it too far. She plunges into her first two numbers like a bronco out of a rodeo pen, filling the screen with so much motion that it is hard to listen for the words—and impossible to ignore the singer. She lacks Ethel Merman's craftiness with comedy, but along with her unbridled vitality, she gives the role something that brassy Ethel Merman never attempted: she kindles the love story with poignancy, makes it seem something more sincere than a musicomedy plot. In a slow, sentimental number like They Say It's Wonderful, performed with breathless tenderness, she puts together the rare blend of singing and acting talent that makes lyrics carry emotion as well as melody. And, toward the end, when she bounces back into animal spirits to join Keel in Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better, her strident comic style and Berlin's flamboyant duet seem to have been made for each other.

"Hiya, Dollface!" Betty's all-out assault on an audience is a trademark that she carries into every appearance, public or private, that might conceivably make the world more Hutton-conscious and thus advance her career. Her clarionlike entrance into a restaurant ("Hiya, dollface! Hey, got my table?") is one of the digestive hazards of eating out in Hollywood. During a wartime bond tour, she stole the headlines in most of 20 cities from a trainload of more prominent stars by rushing to kiss the mayor on arrival; in one city she had to leap onto a police motorcycle to beat the rest of the troupe to City Hall.

When she is working on a picture, Betty makes it a point to be in bed by 9 p.m., turns out before 6. On the rare occasions when she is not playing to the crowd, she is likely to be quiet, moody, tortured by self-doubt. During the filming of Annie, she would telephone Director George Sidney at night: "Were you really satisfied with that take? . . . But you didn't smile at me very much. Are you sure you aren't mad at me?" Or she would telephone Sidney's wife to ask fretfully if the boss had come home in a good mood. Betty cries easily, suffers insomnia, confesses at times that her success has not brought her happiness. Once, with the candor that makes her pressagents tremble, she-blurted to an interviewer: "You know what I think I've done? I think I've loused up my life."

A Real Bad Hurt. Betty's life began on Feb. 26, 1921, in Battle Creek, Mich., "by the railroad tracks between Postum and Kellogg." She was two when her father, a railroad brakeman named Percy Thornburg, drifted off to California with another woman. Soon after, the mother took Betty and Marion to Lansing. They did not hear of Thornburg again until 1937, when he killed himself in a Los Angeles suburb and left the two girls $100 each.

"Betty was jealous of her sister right from the start," says her mother, who has since remarried and lives in Hollywood not far from Betty. "She was always in my lap, always after affection. She would stand on her head, do cartwheels, yell or do anything to attract attention away from her quieter sister." As the girls grew up, Betty envied Marion her more luxuriant hair and her pretty face.

When she was five, an older boy playfully threw Betty off the end of a pier. She hit a nail in one of the pilings and snagged her left cheek, near the eye; the scar is still faintly noticeable. "It made my inferiority complex worse," says Betty. "The kids called me 'Bad-eye Bodie' and nicknames like that, that hurt real bad. So I acted fresh and tomboyish, as if I was tougher than anybody on the block."

The family moved to Detroit when she was eight, but it was still the wrong side of the tracks. "I'd do anything to escape," says Betty. "I got broody and bad. I'd dance and sing on street corners. I never did anything real wrong, but I landed in juvenile hall sometimes." At eleven she played Mae West in a school theatrical, and began doing well on amateur nights in Detroit theaters. At 14, she became a vocalist for a band of high-school boys. At 15, tired of waiting to be discovered, she packed off with some musicians to dazzle Manhattan, which refused to be dazzled. Somebody gave her the fare to get home. After that, Betty, just past her first year in high school, went to school no more.

One night in January 1938, her future finally beckoned. Bandleader Vincent Lopez, playing in Detroit and looking for a new girl singer, saw her performing in a nightclub. He gave her the job at $65 a week, and she celebrated by eating steak for the first time—at breakfast, lunch, dinner and supper. But she soon began to worry tearfully that she was not getting over. Then, at dinner one night in Philadelphia, a trombonist in the band confided that she was going to be fired. Betty gulped three brandy-and-benedictines and went to the theater in the reckless conviction that she had nothing to lose.

That night the Hutton style burst upon a relatively powerless world. Between choruses of Dipsy Doodle, she began to throw her body around as if she had no further use for it. She mugged, turned somersaults, hopped on musicians' laps and pulled their hair, fought off imaginary adversaries, tore up sheet music, swung Lopez off his feet, made a flying tackle at the microphone. In a favorite metaphor, Betty says: "I murdered the people."

Lopez decided that his vocalist, whom he had first billed as Betty Jane, deserved a new name. A firm believer in numerology, he let the numbers lead him to "Hutton." "I tried to get a vibration that would make her a lot of money," he says. "It was a five-eight vibration. After that she did fine." By the time the band played Billy Rose's Casa Mañana, Betty had whipped her own vibrations into enough of a frenzy to dazzle Manhattan at last—and to make Rose caution her not to "tear down my theater."

The Dangerous Life. In her new glory as "America's No. 1 Jitterbug" ("As a matter of fact," she says, "I couldn't jitterbug"), Betty worked up to $175 a week for Lopez. Then she quit him, though their contract still entitled him to 20% of her earnings. She went into a Broadway revue, Two for the Show, and got rave reviews.

During the show's run, hardworking, hard-cussing Actress Hutton spared her fellow performers no more than she spared herself. She thrashed about so violently that once she catapulted off the stage and onto a drummer in the orchestra pit. In a number that required her to maul Keenan Wynn, she once toed him into a dead faint, forced him to take to protective padding. Among her later victims: Bob Hope, whose teeth caps she sent scattering over a soundstage floor during a bit of jujitsu; Cinemactor Frank Faylen, whom she knocked out with a right to the jaw when the director demanded realism; Eddie Bracken, who, in a saloon scene, caught a Hutton slap on the back that looped him over the bar and into a heap on the other side. "When they work with me," crows Betty, "they gotta get insurance policies."

After Two for the Show closed, Bandleader Lopez inadvertently helped Betty to get her next big break. She had stopped paying his 20%, and he sued her for $646.50. Betty stormed into the office of Theatrical Attorney A. L. Berman, whose clients included Buddy De Sylva, the Broadway and Hollywood producer and songwriter. While she was in the office, De Sylva telephoned Berman from California to get "someone like Betty Hutton" for a supporting role in Panama Hattie, the musicomedy he was then casting for the Manhattan stage. "Why not Hutton herself?" asked Berman. "I've got her right here." Betty won both the part and the lawsuit.

$10 Down. With her talent for a nonstop fireworks display and her brash, kid-sisterly appeal, she also won something more important: the role of De Sylva's protégée. He soon became Paramount's executive producer, a post he held for four years. One of his first decisions was to take Betty out of Panama Hattie and on to Hollywood.

During her first weeks in Hollywood, in 1941, Betty sobbed over the telephone to friends in New York about her feelings of loneliness and rejection. But Hollywood caught no glimpse of that mood. She quickly bought a mink coat (on $10 down) and a Buick convertible, sampled two apartments and then leased a penthouse—all without being quite sure how she would meet the monthly payments. At Paramount she insisted on the services of the head make-up man as well as a downstairs dressing room (just between those used by Bob Hope and Bing Crosby). She made pressagents tear up her first publicity stills and shoot another set. When she visited the music department and was asked what sort of thing she did, she leaped onto Composer Johnny Mercer's back with a wild yell: "I do something like this. Get it?" She greeted dignified Cecil B. DeMille with "Hiya, dreamboat."

On her first picture, The Fleet's In, Betty complained to De Sylva that the director and cameraman were leaving her out of things. They politely explained: "We can't keep her in the camera." De Sylva had a camera dolly rigged up and told the director to follow her all over the set if necessary. "You can't keep her quiet," he said. "You'll lose her." But as he brought Betty slowly along to starring parts, De Sylva tried to impress her with the need for channeling her energy instead of letting it run all over the lot.

Qualms & Classics. In her fourth film, and her most memorable, Betty showed convincingly that it could be done. Having asked for her to star in his The Miracle of Morgan's Creek, Writer-Director Preston Sturges exploited not only her comic verve but her unsuspected capacity for pathos in a non-musical part. Says Sturges: "She's a full-fledged actress with every talent the noun implies. She plays in musicals because the public, which can do practically nothing well, is willing to concede its entertainers only one talent."

After Miracle, Actress Hutton got choosy about her scripts for the first time. As her stature in Hollywood grew, so did her qualms over her meager education. When De Sylva asked her what she wanted for Christmas one year, she asked for good books, got a set of 100 classics, and actually started reading them. She also became irked with her "blonde bombshell" publicity and engaged Margaret ("Maggie") Ettinger, one of Hollywood's higher-powered press-agents, to give her more tone. Maggie introduced her to the right people and schooled her in how to get on with them.

In September 1945, after many a romantic attachment, Betty married a wealthy, handsome Chicago camera manufacturer named Ted Briskin, then 28. They had met in a nightclub and "it was love at first sight." Six months later they separated, and quickly reunited as Betty explained: "Ted has been after me to give up my career . . . I love Ted very dearly, but I have worked all my life to get where I am, and I can't give it up . . . Ted understands now." They had two daughters, Lindsay Diane, 3½, and Candice, 2. After another separation last year, Betty and her husband parted again three months ago. This month she got a California divorce for "mental cruelty."

Living It Up. Last week Betty was hard at what she calls "living it up." She had bought a complete new wardrobe, spent a frenzied two days in San Francisco singing for the fun of it at nightclubs she visited. Every night she was out on the town, mostly with different escorts. In the daytime she burned up excess energy by taking golf lessons. Buoyed by the raves of the movie trade press for Annie and her performance, she treated nightclubbers (including her ex-husband) at Hollywood's Mocambo to an impromptu performance of the whole score. Then she impulsively grabbed customers as dancing partners and swung half a dozen of them around the floor.

She decided in midweek to stop seeing Cinemactor Robert Sterling for a while, "because I'm not in a position to get too serious, and we were seeing each other, y'know, every five minutes." For weeks she had been showering Sterling with gifts and public displays of affection, and had had her friends trying to dig up better jobs for him. Openhandedly generous, Betty gives heavily and anonymously to charities, has given cars to her mother and her ex-secretary, once gave her hairdresser a mink coat. But she never mixes generosity with her career. De Sylva, who, after a long illness, has been trying to get back into movie production as an independent, stopped speaking to her last year. She had refused to do a picture "for him because she did not like the script.

Betty has worried some lately about her special problem of getting the right husband. "I could marry someone in the business who was higher up than me, or making more," she says thoughtfully. "But when a real man comes up against the situation where he gets second billing, he walks. I don't know how I'm going to be happy."

On Top. This side of happiness, Betty seems to have just about everything. She has far outstripped sister Marion, who borrowed the Hutton name and made her own show-business success as vocalist with Glenn Miller's orchestra and in radio and movie jobs. Betty's children have all the things she went without, including a nurse to change their beautiful dresses five times a day. After moving ten times in five years to successively grander Hollywood living quarters, she has an eleven-room ranch-style house in Brentwood

Midwest Gypsy Swing Festival

2008-08-23T01:44:00.089-05:00

From Gypsy Fest 2008

It started Friday at 7 PM in the barn.
Gonzalo Bergara (LA) with Kevin Nolan (Seattle) and John on the bass. John is the local boy from Madison, (we play in the same poker game). This three just met and played for the first time together.

Second act was Chicago Gypsy Rhythm Project with their mixture of Romanian folk and jazz. Closing act was always impressive Hot Club Of Detroit. Night continued around the camp fire with the jam session till 2 AM.

Saturday the show started at 2PM. When I arrived the outdoor activities were going on. First performances in the barn was Harmonious Wail with the guest from Chicago, guitarist Alphonso Ponticelli. Here they are with Russian Gypsy song "Dark Eyes".

Next act, Twin Cities Hot Club had a solid performance with a few classic Django's tunes.

Here I am chating with Gonzalo and Kevin.

Gonzalo was born in Argentina, so I thought he started with classical Spanish guitar, but he told me he started to play guitar when he was 13 years old and his favorites were Muddy Waters, Jimmy Rogers and other blues masters. Kevin has interesting "road history". He's an Irish lad, born in Hong Kong, than moved to Tokyo, London, Amsterdam, and now he lives and plays in Seattle and LA. In London and Amsterdam he played with his brother Robin Nolan, and now he's a member of John Jorgenson Quintet.
In the tent Gonzalo joined the Hot Club Of Detroit for the dance party.

If not on the stage musicians were joining small groups for the jam. At this one I found together memebrs of Hot Club of Detroit, and our local Madison groups Harmonious Wail, Caravan GSE, and other friends.

Gonzalo, John and Kevin had a chance to play for the second time together.

Alfonso Ponticelli and Tony Ballog are members of the Chicago band 'Swing Gitan'. They played as a duo this year, but got some help for the closing couple tunes. Alfonso is Italian origin, and Tony is Hungarian Gypsy fifth generation here in US. He plays in the best tradition of Gypsies from the old country.

Night ended with the Hot Club Of Detroit. They were even better than the last night. Accordion player was dominating the show. They had a nice version of Jobim's "Insensatez"(one of my favorite songs).

Traditionally the show continued around the campfire. I saw many happy faces, new friendships, and satisfied jazz lovers. I can't wait for the next chance to see all this guys again.
Hope you'll be there too.

Gypsy Swing

2008-08-17T15:06:00.083-05:00

Next weekend I'll be at the Fifth-annual Gypsy Swing Festival in the Madison-area Art barn. The patron saint of Gypsy Jazz is its inventor, Django Reinhardt (1910-1953), a gypsy guitarist born in Belgium who grew up in Paris playing the "musette" style of the day before he discovered American jazz through a Louis Armstrong record. Reinhardt joined forces in the 1930s with French jazz violinist extraordinaire Stephane Grappelli with the "Quintette of the Hot Club of France," creating a popular new style in the process. Today this style is still popular in Europe, and the most known are The Rosenberg Trio, and my favorite Jimmy Rosenberg.

We are lucky here in Madison, WI to have this Gypsy Swing Festival. You can find more celebration of Django's music at DjangoFest.com.
Every year at the Birdland in New York there is Django Festival DjangoBirdland.com. CD on the left was recorded 2000 and on the most tracks you can find Jimmy Rosenberg.
Click here for more clips from past years DjangoBirdlandFest

If you plan to spend next summer in France you must find time in June to attend FestivalDjangoReinhardt.com that is going on since 1968 in Samois Sur Siene. Here is 20 minutes video from 2006 festival.

Django Reinhardt Festival Samois 2007
Django Reinhardt Festival Samois 2008
Gypsy Jazz Guitars
Gypsy Swing Teachers
Gypsy Swing Artists around the world
Hot Club Internet Radio
Gypsy Jazz Encyclopedia
hotclub.no Encyclopedia
How to play Django style

Listen to Gypsy Swing samples, buy MP3 or order CD.

My Biggest Love

2008-08-14T20:00:00.014-05:00

My biggest love are my two kids Katarina (18) and Aleksandar (7)

From Katarina

Day 1

2008-08-14T19:23:00.019-05:00

Here we go. I'm starting this blog with an idea to write about things I love(like). I want to put together the list of my favorite people, books, music, cities, events ....

I decided to sign my blog with Tin Cup. You know the movie "Tin Cup" with Kevin Costner. The movie is romantic-golf comedy with swings and kisses. I like it. If you didn't see it run to Blockbusters and rent it. The main character is a good golfer and he can make amazing shots like the famous “pelican shot”.

I don’t play golf but I saw something in the final scene of the movie that reminds me on the way I go trough the life. It’s all about taking chances. Easy way is sometimes too easy and boring. ‘Tin Cup’ style is fun. Look how much the crowd loves Roy when after 12 attempts he makes the shot.

Belgrade, my home town, I left September 7, 1986.