We’ve looked at Stephanie Beacham before (here), but why not a continuation?
And of more recent vintage:
She may be past her prime, so to speak, but even her post-prime still keeps up with the youngins.
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The REAL Desert Island Discs
You all know the premise: you’re stuck on a deserted island somewhere, and all you have for entertainment is a wind-up (or solar-powered) record- or CD player and a few records. Which records would you choose to have? (The most common number of records allowed is eight or ten.)
If the assumption is that you’re going to be marooned there for a lengthy period of time, e.g. ten years, then I have to say that after a year or so (maybe sooner), you’re going to be using those albums as Frisbees because no matter how much you love them, you’ll be heartily sick of their contents.
So I’m going to expand the concept because it’s still a nice way to decide your favorite albums — and I’m going to stipulate albums because forget singles: that assumes you’d only be marooned for a couple-three weeks.
Here, then, are the parameters:
Ten composers, singers or groups. Examples: Beethoven, Elvis Presley, Rolling Stones. It can be any mix of the above — all bands, all singers, whatever. But only ten.
Specify up to five albums for each selection. Assume 45-50 minutes of music per album.
So you’ll have a maximum of fifty albums allowed. (For the pedantic, we can allow CDs to ensure that they’ll last however long you’re marooned.) But no carrying over: if you can’t think of five but only three, that’s what you get. I will allow only ONE compilation album, in total.
To give everyone the idea, here are my choices:
Songbird No More
My generation of musicians seems to be dropping like flies. Now it’s Bonnie Tyler, at age 75. (And by the way, hers is a lovely story.)
Yeah, it’s a heartache, which has a special place in my memory because I used to sing it (complete with her breathy rasp).
Or there’s Total Eclipse, of course.
R.I.P.
Quote Of The Day
From Reader Mike S.:
“Bloody High Standard pistols require as much fiddling as a Jaguar with SU carburetors.”
Made me giggle, that did.
But he speaketh da troof. I once had a Supermatic Trophy, like this one:
…and it was absolute mustard. But it was like an Alfa Romeo: it was a dream to run, until it stopped working. Which was often.
I’d just had it tweaked by Richard The Gunsmith, and took it to the range to see if it worked. I set up in the lane, and was taking it out of the bag when another shooter came up to me.
“You wanna sell that High Power?”
“Not really.”
“I’ll give you $600, cash, right now.”
“You collect High Powers?”
“Uh-huh. And that’s the purtiest one I’ve seen in years.”
So we settled on $700, and I used the money to buy something else — memory fails as to what gun, exactly.
News Summary
...but wait, there’s more!
...well that didn’t take long (in fact, one day).
...here we go again, with the Iranian pee-pee whacking. Remind me again about all these “deals” we’re making with these rabid polecats?
...more like this, please.
...even though they didn’t play. I guess that’s “fair” because #Equity.
...and it’s not Floriduh, but Indianuh. And speaking of flaming genitals:
...I got nothing.
Here’s a pic of young Sydney Sweeney, just because I found it SOTI.
Once again, I got nothing.
Caption Competition #452
Your suggestions in Comments.