Ladies and Gentlemen (and those about to have the operation):
Say hello to the new GTO Squalo, with its 4.0-liter quad-cam 12-cylinder engine:
And if you think it resembles a certain model of 1960s-era Ferrari, you may be permitted to do so.
Here’s the story, as well as more pictures.
Here’s a biennial pleasure: the Historic Grand Prix Race of Monaco, which took place last Sunday.
(It’s an 8-hour video, watch it in segments or by race.) The only thing which spoiled it for me was the ubiquitous appearance of facemasks — okay, also the lack of crowds, because only Monegasques (citizens of Monaco) were allowed to watch because of you-know-what.
Anyway.
The cars and races are grouped by era, and the first race (post-WWI to1961 F1 cars only) made parts of me tingle that haven’t tingled in years (Maserati 250F, oh yeah baby):
One of the most beautiful race cars ever made.
The second race featured pre-WWII cars (1928-1938), a.k.a. the “supercharged” models: Frazer-Nash, Talbot-Lago, Bugatti 35, Mercedes SSK, Riley, Maserati 6CM, Delage… be still, my beating heart. Here’s the Bugatti 35B:
Supercharged… woof woof.
The next race was for the teeny 1961-1965 F1 era cars… the era of Lotus, a.k.a. the era of Jim Clark and Graham Hill, driving 1500cc engines.
…all following the Colin Chapman maxim: “Make it faster. Add less.”
Race 4 (1966-1972 era) was the time when aerofoils made their first appearance in F1 — and turned the cars from tubular shapes (like the Lotus above) into space-age machines, with wider tires as well. Also, the engines grew from four-cylinder 1500cc into flat-12 three-liter monsters, and (other than Ferrari) the marque names changed a little, too: McLaren, Surtees, Brabham… and here’s the Matra 120C:
The cars are getting wider, here: in earlier eras, the cars could fit three across the track, comfortably. No more.
Anyway: let me not go on and on — watch the whole thing for yourselves. And enjoy… I certainly did. And from a later race, here’s an Aston Martin DB3S:
…also, the peerless Maserati 300S:
And if that doesn’t make your bits tingle, I don’t wanna talk to you no more.
Dallas International Guitar Festival (DIGF) is back at Dallas Market Hall April 30-May 2. The world’s largest and oldest guitar show is excited to emerge from their cocoon after a year-long quarantine caused by the pandemic.
Fantastic. I wasn’t going to be able to go because I would have been at Boomershoot; but subsequent events made it possible for me to go this year.
However.
Dallas Market Hall will still have a mask mandate in place during the event. Masks, along with social distancing, will be a requirement.
Fuck you. I’ve been vaccinated, I’m sick of people telling me to do stupid shit when it’s all unwarranted, and I refuse to wear a face condom anymore, anywhere. Maybe next year, then. Or not.
As for this:
“[All this nonsense] will help on-site attendees and exhibitors feel more safe and comfortable attending the Dallas International Guitar Festival this year.”
And fuck their paranoia and need for a security blanket, too.
You know those snatches of songs that get stuck in your brain and you can’t stop singing them under your breath, or hearing them for hours on end? That’s what they’re called, and needless to say, some killjoy doctor has a remedy for them.
I actually enjoy mine, because the ones that could irritate me (e.g. anything by Lady Gaga or Taylor Swift) won’t be recalled for the simple reason that I haven’t heard them — I don’t listen to any modern music.
This morning’s earworm, for instance, was Burning Rope by Genesis — specifically, the lead solo just after the 4-minute mark.
I’ll post more of them — mostly, they put in an appearance in the mornings during my wake-up time — and while a lot of them will be quality, there will be times when it’s all Yes We Have No Bananas.
You have been warned.
…with only occasional links, but always commentary.
…such as hard work, honesty and education that doesn’t include pickpocketing lessons.
…fuck off, Food Scolds.
…except that the first is reality, the second, fantasy — you Royal twerp.
…because that “Find the cracker guilty or we’ll burn the city down” policy seems to be working pretty well.
…stop, stop, my sides are hurting…
…it’s so cute that the writer thinks that “common sense” and “government policy” can coexist.
…result:
And on the topic of vaccines:
…and:
…which should come as a surprise to absolutely… nobody.
And on a related topic, all in a single week:
…because, as any fule kno, China is asshoe.
Time for some INSIGNIFICA:
And finally:
…and as a child of the Sixties , all I can say is: “Welcome back, girls!”
…I have missed you all SO much.
Okay, vote for your favorite 3 pics, ranked 1-3, in Comments. They’re numbered from left to right, top to bottom, eg:
#2:
#6:
Have at it.
John Nolte does an interesting service for all of us in examining which movies should have won Best Picture awards during the 1960s.
I only took issue with a couple (and I agree with his scorn for the Academy’s inexplicable yen for big-budget musicals like Sound of Music, West Side Story and [the weakest] Oliver! ).
Kim’s List of the Shoulda-Wons:
1960: BUtterfield 8 (over The Apartment ). Liz Taylor won Best Actress, and the movie was just as good.
1961: The Misfits (over West Side Story ). At the end of this movie, my emotions felt like they’d been pulled through a roll of barbed wire. Gable and Monroe, both unbelievably good.
1962: Lawrence of Arabia (which did win, and deservedly so). The only other possible contenders could have been Cape Fear and What Ever Happened To Baby Jane?
1963: Lilies Of The Field (over Tom Jones ). This one’s not even close.
1964: Becket (over My Fair Lady ). Once again, not even close. The only other movie which could ever be considered that year was Zorba The Greek.
1965: Doctor Zhivago (over The Sound Of Music ). Or maybe The Spy Who Came In From The Cold, if we’re going to consider Cold War noir movies as Oscar material.
1966: A Man For All Seasons. Which won, and considering it’s one of the greatest movies ever made — bar none — there’s no argument from either me or Nolte.
1967: Nolte makes this a tie between In The Heat Of The Night (which won) and Bonnie and Clyde. I would fuzz the issue up by arguing for Cool Hand Luke and Belle Du Jour (even though it’s furrin; good is good, and it’s magnificent).
1968: This was the Year Of Oliver! — and while Nolte recommends Rosemary’s Baby in its place, I would choose The Lion In Winter (even though it’s really just a filmed play like Zefferelli’s Romeo and Juliet — also from 1968). It was actually a terrible year for movies, and the only other way to go is for the quirky (e.g. Lindsay Anderson’s if… or Once Upon A Time In The West ). That’s five alternatives to Oliver!, and each of the five is better that that syrupy slop.
1969: Midnight Cowboy won, and deservedly so. My only possible alternatives would be Anne of the Thousand Days or The Wild Bunch, but in truth, they’re far behind.
Lots of fun. Feel free to nominate your favorites, in Comments.
Afterthought: Nolte has done the same for the following decades, but they’re less interesting — both in terms of the movies themselves and how time changed the criteria for Oscar-winning films. (Braveheart? Titanic? Seriously? )