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Star, Gone

Music

I had been pondering a post about songstress Olivia Newton-John for a couple days, when in one of those “synchronicity” moments I read about her death from cancer at age 73.

I never cared much for her music — that breathy Oz soprano does nothing for me — and I’ll always remember Alun Jones’s stinging first line of a review of the syrupy “I Honestly Love You” in Melody Maker: “…and I honestly think Olivia Newton-John is a cabbage.”

And I would agree, except for the lovely Magic  and the astonishing Xanadu  which, despite the nauseating 80’s disco feel, actually shows that the girl had a decent voice — the concluding ascendo  to the final top note is absolutely breathtaking.

The reason for me thinking about her, incidentally, is that Magic  was my weekend earworm.

R.I.P., Sheila.

Quote Of The Day

Government Thugs, Gummint, QOTD

We have a 3-for-1 series of quotes today:

From former Hong Kong governor Sir John Cowperthwaite, talking about his refusal to let his government collect data from the population:

“If I let them compute those statistics, they’ll want to use them for planning.”

From Eric Erickson, speaking about the BidenReich and the latest example of its bastardy:

“They don’t care about your privacy. They don’t care about your gun rights. They don’t care about congressional laws that prohibit the formation of a gun registry. They want to be able to target and harass gun owners.”

Mencken’s reminder:

“The only good bureaucrat is one with a pistol to his head. Put it in his hand and it’s goodbye to the Bill of Rights.”

Never more true than it is today.

Most British Headline Ever

Mocking Furriners

I remember a story told to me once about a British bishop who was given a residence which happened to be in the middle of a golf course.  As it turned out, the property was unfenced, which ordinarily wouldn’t have been an issue, except that the bishop owned a black Labrador pup and club regulations banned all dogs from the course.

So, in the best British manner, they made the dog a member of the club, which resolved the issue.

I was reminded of this story when I saw this article, with the exquisite headline:

Guinness-guzzling Shetland pony BANNED from pub just one week after being made mayor

The story goes:

Council bosses have banned the Guinness-loving horse from The Drum Inn, in Cockington, after he was given his special title at a ceremony held on July 23.
The honour was granted in response to an online campaign to elect him to the post following the death of previous mayor Don Mills.
Despite his job title, Patrick, a Miniature Shetland, is now in trouble, as a planning enforcement officer told the pub they need planning permission for him to be allowed to graze in the pub garden.

This is easily the most British story ever, in that it combines love of animals, eccentricity and humorless, bullying officialdom all in a single tale.

The only thing that would make it a perfect story would be if Patrick were to bite the pissy little planning enforcement officer in the ass the next time he ventured into the pub.