Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Researchers lie. Patients die.


by Angela K. Durden

On February 15, the Washington Post's John Woodrow Cox and Steven Rich wrote: "It is a horrifying statistic. And it is wrong."


What were they talking about? They were talking about an organization called Everytown For Gun Safety (EFGS) that tweeted:


As is my Citizen Journalist's habit, I always let people and organizations speak for themselves. I did the same with EFGS. Come to find out, they have a very specific agenda — and it isn't the safety of our children in schools. What does this opening screenshot from their website tell you about them?



It tells me they believe violence exists because of the gun lobby. EFGS is correct: Thoughts and prayers are not enough to honor victims of any violence. But the ultimate action this organization pushes is to disarm everybody except police and soldiers.

Oh, sure. They say they only want to keep guns out of the hands of criminals by closing loopholes in laws that allow criminals, terrorists (domestic and imported), and those with mental health issues to buy guns.

Hello, EFGS. Those laws already exist. Criminals, terrorists, and crazies don't recognize laws. They will steal from anybody, or purchase from other criminals, what they need. But to push their agenda, EFGS resorts to...well, let's let you decide.

How about this next screenshot from their site? What does it tell your logical mind?


It tells me that if we had this many school shootings since 2013, then we would be living in a war zone. WashPo's Cox and Rich drilled down to how EFGS built their stats and guess what? Go on. I'll give you one guess. Did you guess that the stats were misleading in the extreme? Good for you.

So EFGS lied? Reminds me of medical researchers who claim their data proves Ultimate Solution to Big Health Problem A has been found by them. Big payday to follow, only...

Only the research results cannot be duplicated. Uh, oh. Researchers lied. Patients died.

Obviously, Everytown For Gun Safety is no different. They have an agenda. They love power in their hands. This is their war. And since we know that everything is fair in love and war, it simply follows that they will continue to lie. Oh, and raise money. Which tells us what, boys and girls?




Which tells us they are Commies because they want the power and the money and want you to fund the killing of your ability to defend your freedom. 


Michael Bloomberg's name keeps getting dragged into this organization as a co-founder or backer, and maybe he is. But here is what Bloomberg is against: Illegal guns.

Other than criminals, who isn't against them? 


As a survivor of two armed robberies, one involving a drawn out hostage situation, hell, I'm against illegal guns, too. But who gets to define which guns are legal? Ah...

EFGS, and other P-HWPCDLRSFCs* are against all guns in the hands of law-abiding citizens. In their circular logic, they believe loopholes are the cause of mass shootings and that if these loopholes continue to exist then everybody who wants or has a gun will be capable of doing the shooting or supplying those who will.

We've seen what happens when rogues within governments disarm a populace. 


First, they lie about the need to control something. That something that needs controlloing is always for the protection of the citizens who are powerless against that something. Criminals always seek the easiest opportunity.  Need I say more. Maybe I do.



Here is a Politically Correct Invitation to Bad Guys: Come on. Hurt us. We won't fight back. 





P-HWPCDLRSFC is Pussy-Hat Wearing Politically Correct Democrat Liberal RINO Socialist Fascist Commies

Monday, February 19, 2018

So, have you heard of this thing called "Resistance Genealogy"?

by Angela K. Durden

The psychosis of the politically correct runs deep. We now have something called "Resistance Genealogy" (RG), a new version of public pressure the P-HWPCDLRSFC* has come up with. 

RG says that if you complain about chain migration — Gasp! Horrors! Woe is me! — your genealogy will be researched and your ancestors will be outed if they migrated to this country.

Basically that means that you, here in 2018, have no right to want to keep anybody out of the U.S. if any of your ancestors ever originated from any other country. That's right. You must agree that chain migration is wonderful and perfect and cannot be changed if your ancestors came from somewhere other than the United States.

Well, geez, doesn't it certainly seem that Jennifer Mendelsohn, who started this entire idiotic movement, is a damned Fascist? One could rightly come to that conclusion. Now, you would think that our little Jen, being Jewish, would certainly understand that forcing others to adhere to a party line is definitely a negative, or does she believe the Holocaust is a lie?

As you can see from her tweet here, Jen is forcing, blackmailing, others to agree with her by using force:

Ah, Jen, Jen, Jen! 


Were any of your ancestors Nazi collaborators? Should I do a big ol' search of your genealogical records to find out? If I find out they were, you want to be outed as related to that and if yes, do you want me to force you to change your freedom to spout your opinion? Well?

I'm sure you want me to, after all, your followers certainly want all folks (one would assume that should include you) to "own their immigrant ancestors--warts and all...", right?  Don't believe me that what is being asked of folks? From your own website:



P-HWPCDLRSFC is Pussy-Hat Wearing Politically Correct Democrat Liberal RINO Socialist Fascist Commies

Sunday, February 18, 2018

When Good gets a bellyful, Evil best watch out.

by Angela K. Durden

For several years a lot of people thought I was having an affair with the head of a large company who was my client. I was oblivious about that because I've always had this ability to focus on the task at hand to the exclusion of all else. When I have a job to do, well, I gitterdun.

It's a little something called Customer Service.

I found out about this alleged affair when another man, new to the company, let it slip. To say he "let it slip" would be about like saying Crunk News Network "let it slip" that Trump colluded with Russia. That is to say, the man came right out and said it.

My accuser smirked. He leered. He looked me up and down like I was a piece of cheap white trash and all he had to do was snap his fingers and he, too, could get some of the free stuff. When I told him he was wrong, he scoffed. "After all," he said to me, "You are a nobody. There is no way you would have us as a client if you weren't f***ing [the big boss]."

Allowing him opportunity to back peddle graciously, I stared a hole through him and attempted to get on with the meeting. He took my stare as confirmation of my easiness and proceeded with more insulting language. After disabusing the man of his notion of getting whatever goodies he thought he was going to get, I left the meeting.

All these years and people thought that?


This attitude was not shown to me by location managers and other employees. Their attitude was always happiness to see me because I delivered great customer service. They never had to worry that what I did for them would be wrong or late. I made them look good and helped even when it was not my core reason for being there. 

But, upper management was another story. From the time I was openly accused of the affair, every meeting I was in was tense — for me, at least. I now looked at the responses of the upper management I had to deal with. And sure enough. There it was. A simpering tolerance of me. Not based on the awesome job I was doing for the company and the amount of money I was helping them save, but on the fact that I would not have had this gig if it hadn't been for the spreading of the legs — or the getting down on the knees. 

Reputation: What does that mean?


Who sets the reputation for another? Obviously, my reputation was not up to me in this instance because my real actions were completely ignored in favor of oft-repeated titillating gossip.

That is why I distrust headlines that smack of lurid gossip, and I do not pass them along until the person in question admits to it or accumulated and verified evidence is overwhelming. 

Sex is a tool used by both males and females for manipulation. You know this. 

I was a faithful wife, a good mother, and a loyal friend. After having set up a business in which I was dependent on people relying on my smarts and abilities...well, I can just say that I felt stupid that I had let my guard down and believed that each smile from the bigwigs was genuine. 

I beat myself up that I had not paid more attention to the swirling drama around my public reputation because, frankly, the signs of the belief in my sexy customer service skills had always been there. 

Still, the question is this: Would my knowing have made a difference in the final outcome of the situation?


I think not. Once I found out about the alleged affair, I became distracted from the task at hand. Who was involved in this project? How should I approach them now? Whereas before I had a freedom of speech based on my belief they knew I was trustworthy, I now had to watch each word and gesture, parsing their meanings through a new filter. 

Let me tell you, that is hard to do. Takes a lot of energy. Sucks the joy out of a body. Makes one want to hide. But like anyone with a strong will who is under sustained attack will do, one comes up with new strategies for dealing with the enemy. When the enemy comes out in the open, then one can see their plans in their entirety. 

I felt sorry for myself for awhile, even scared, but eventually I hunkered down and studied the situation. I grew up having to use psychological warfare every day with my mother and stepfather. I had hoped I would not have to use it again once I left their home. 

But I dusted off the old skills and became bolder. That confused the hell out of those desperate, in-debt-to-their-eyeballs, ladder climbers. 

But it wasn't fun. 


See, good people don't like to play those games. Which is why evil people believe good people are weak, are suckers, are stupid, are lazy. Which is why evil people always believe they are strong and smart. Explains politics, especially these days, doesn't it? MSM pushes headline after alleging headline.

Collusion! Affairs! Golden showers! 

Minimally, let's talk about acronym agencies lying to FISA courts. Let's talk about the wannabe dynasty called Clinton and their bought and paid for fake dossiers. Let's talk about the DNC burning Bernie. Let's talk about Tech Giants taking money from foreign governments and using their algorithms to be duped into subverting another nation's political process and sow discord. 

Oh, the fun we are having watching them squirm because...

...let me tell you, when Good gets a bellyful, Evil best watch out.   




Saturday, February 17, 2018

I Saw it on TV

Music History 101: 1954 Radio-TV trade magazine ads for PROs.

Durden onstage with Joe Gransden, Alan Dynin,
Craig Shaw, and unknown drummer at
Venkman's in Midtown Atlanta. 
by Angela K. Durden

A friend sent me a link to a PDF of a trade industry magazine for radio and TV. Inside was a nine-page write-up for ASCAP's fortieth anniversary. Included in the issue were ads for SESAC and BMI, the other two American performing rights organizations.

The music business is messy, and rapid advances in technology have made the business messier still.

However, I thought you would enjoy these old ads. Here are screensnips. The first is a letter of congratulations from President Eisenhower.











Friday, February 16, 2018

In defense of Neal Portnow, Grammy chief



Angela Durden, singer, songwriter,
and defender of Grammy CEO Neal Portnow.
by Angela K. Durden


As a member of the Grammy organization, on February 15, 2018, I received an email from the Executive Committee on behalf of the Board in which was a link to a letter to the members apologizing on behalf of the CEO and President, Mr. Neal Portnow. 

[You can read that letter in full here.]

It took the Executive Committee exactly 780 words to tie Portnow to the tracks and let the Radical Feminist train destroy him. 

I found an article on Variety.com that summarized his grave sin and the open letter to Portnow from 21 female music business executives, all of whom I assume are hard-charging and powerful.  

In reply to a question asked by a reporter as to how women can move forward in the music industry, Portnow was accused of making a comment that "was spectacularly wrong and insulting...." [You can read that letter in its entirety here.]

But what did Portnow say that was so wrong? He said women "who want to be musicians, engineers, producers, and want to be part of the industry on the executive level [need] to step up."

And just like that, Neal Portnow is a woman-hating and LGBTQ-phobe pariah. 


"Step up." Portnow did not say anything else. He left it to the women to decide how they could do that because Portnow is an enlightened male who believes that women are strong and smart and powerful and can make it happen. 

Certainly these 21 accusers do that everyday, and would readily admit they worked hard to get where they are.

But, no. These women, powerful in their own right, had to pitch a hissy fit and call names and accuse Neal of wrongdoing, and took 562 words to do it. Why would they and the Grammy Board crucify Portnow so swiftly and thoroughly?

Something in this whole story stinks.


While I've disagreed with Neal on certain things (EX: Grammy on the Hill is a waste of time and organization resources and does not solve the real problem of protection of creatives' rights), I have never questioned Portnow's sincerity in wanting what is best for his industry and, most notably, those who are creatives.

I'll give you my opinion on this matter. Since I've been a member of Grammy for several years, talk to many winners and board members, and read everything about the organization I get my hands on, I believe this opinion to be accurate.

Therefore, I am almost certain we are seeing a power grab nicely timed to take advantage of the #MeToo movement that has quickly devolved to a damn warlock hunt. I can almost guarantee that somewhere behind the scenes, Neal rightly trod some nasty and sensitive female toes who hatched a payback plan and served up vengeance cold.

What are the music business' bigger problems?


These 21 powerful women are fully aware that all artists and songwriters — whether Indie or signed — and Independent and small publishers are screwed over every day of the week and three times on Sunday. When it comes to ownership of intellectual property rights, payment of earned royalties, 360 Deals, and more, The Majors, The Bigs, and Tech Giants have stolen, cheated, lied, and maybe even murdered their way to quarterly earnings statements stockholders love.

Everybody knows this. Books have been written on the subject.

And Neal Portnow is the bad guy? I think not.


Women are conflicted.


Women march in the streets and send letters and share cute hashtags that say "We Are Strong and Creative and Smart!" and "Men! You Must Accept That We Are Strong and Creative and Smart!"

So when a man finally says, "Yeah, you are strong, so find a solution", women want men to find the solution as they continue to complain no solution has been found. Whiners.

The problem, though, is that women have not defined what the real problem is in the music business. They want men to guess. They want men to define the problem so they can disagree with them and call them names and blame the man for their failure.

I know more men who failed to succeed in the music business than there are women who have ever tried to get in it. Look. The music business is extremely difficult even if there were no dirty deeds. It's because we are all jockeying for position for a limited amount of ticket and merch dollars.

But another little dirty secret is this: There is a massive amount of women who want to be rewarded for feeling creative, but they don't want to do the work to make it happen.

Uh, oh. Angela just stepped in it.


Call me a liar. Call me a traitor to the Women's Movement. Call me whatever you want. But guess what? I've seen it now for over six years, up close and personal. I've made business appointments with women who call themselves Artists and they do not show up. One women kept calling and rescheduling but did not show up six times in a row. By the third time she punked out on me, I simply wanted to see how long she would play her game.

She fell silent for three years, then here it came: Hi, let's get together and do a project.

I did not reply.

I've talked to a lot of production facilities and producers who hate working with the Female Artist because they cannot be relied upon to show up, or if they do show up, they aren't prepared. These folks cannot believe I come prepared and ready to work. And I'm on time, if not early. They love it. Then they tell me about how they hate working with women, even as work-for-hire, because they don't show up.

Sure, there are some men who are unreliable, too, but I've had more women stand me up than men. Of every project I've been involved in, only two had women and they showed up because I paid them damn good money to sing as a work-for-hire. Though they had ample opportunity to be prepared, neither came ready to work, thus increasing studio time costs and pushing my schedule behind.

So, Mr. Portnow, if you are reading this — and I hope you do — please know that one female is proud of you for telling women to find a solution to the problem. You did not do anything wrong. The Board members are weenies. I bet I don't get invited to re-up next year. And, with that, I leave you the following video:




Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Feb 11, 2018 — RIP, Vic Damone


When they begin the beguine
It brings back the sound of music so tender
It brings back a night of tropical splendor
It brings back a memory ever green
I'm with you once more under the stars
And down by the shore an orchestra's playing
And even the palms seem to be swaying
When they begin the beguine
To live it again is past all endeavor
Except when that tune clutches my heart
And there we are, swearing to love forever
And promising never, never to part
What moments divine, what rapture serene
The clouds came along to disperse the joys we had tasted
And now when I hear people curse the chance that was wasted
I know but too well what they mean
So don't let them begin the beguine
Let the love that was once a fire remain an ember
Let it sleep like the dead desire I only remember
When they begin the beguine
O yes, let them begin the beguine, make them play
Till the stars that were there before return above you
Till you whisper to me once more: "Darling, I love you!"
And we suddenly know what heaven we're in
When they begin the beguine
Songwriters: COLE PORTER
Begin The Beguine lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.








Hello. My name is Angela and I am powerless over...

I hide my addiction and
powerlessness well.
I know. I am living a lie,
but what can I do about it?
by Angela K. Durden

I am ashamed to admit it, but chasing after my next hit of cheese has been the main theme of my life. I once drove from the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Georgia to the state's capital city to buy ten pounds of the most pure sharp cheddar you can imagine. My eyes still glaze over when I think of those highs.

Anyway, I had to pay for the gas I just pumped. What was I going to do? I watched as, one after another, people exited the convenience store.

Finally, I said, "Hey, buddy. Pssst...over here."

He leered at me. I said, "So...ummm...I've got something mighty powerful you might like...[I gestured nonchalantly]...in the back seat." I lifted my eyebrows and slowly sucked air between my teeth on the inhale.

He smiled bigger and drawled, "Oh, yeah, suhweet baybee? And just what might that be, littul laydee?"

"Oh, honey," says I, "you are gonna like this." I opened the back door, picked up a corner of a blanket covering a cooler. Lifted the lid so he could get a peek. His semi-sexy leer dropped away and he licked his lips.

Can I pick a fellow addict out of a crowd, or what? I sold two pounds of it to him for just enough to fill my tank. He was desperate and I got a price above market.

Once [tee-hee-hee] I sneaked three cubes of cheese into a music concert at The Tabernacle in downtown Atlanta. It was missed in a cursory search. Security may have been a bit lax because the band was not a former or upcoming Grammy winner though at the time hopes were high. Still, they were good. Who was the band? Let me think...

Well, you know what they say? If you remember it, you weren't there.

And then there was this other time [hahahahahahahaha] I got some primo product past a TSA agent coming out of the BVA. Ah, yes...good times. But, that's what we addicts do, right? Take chances because that just increases the high.

However, all that is nothing compared to what I did regularly at home.
I peddled cheese to my children.
Yes! I did. And was not ashamed of it.

I sneaked sheets of flat cheese into their sandwiches, and poured a semi-solid version of it over hot macaroni. I sprinkled a dried form of it over their spaghetti, and shredded hard blocks of it, piling two pounds high atop pizza, then melting it, for Gods sake, so that it would string out and we could make a game of it.

But wait. It gets worse.

To entice the children and my husband further into my addiction, once I cut the cheese into little cubes and placed each atop a Ritz cracker covered in liquid yellow mustard. One huge full platter of it I placed in front of them. To keep them from questioning what Mother was doing, distraction came in the form of a movie on the new TV I won in a grocery store giveaway.

The color on that set was Un. Be. Leev. Abul. As God is my witness, my husband, daughter, and children had no idea I took them for a trip around the bay. No worries. We got back the same day.

But, what kind of a mother does that? 


Tell me. Still, the question is: I know I am addicted to cheese, but why? That answer is now here thanks to researchers at the University of Michigan.

Let me publicly thank U of M for revealing that cheese contains a chemical found in addictive drugs. It is called casein and is found in all dairy products, though mostly cheese is the worst as it is so highly concentrated. Pound for pound, cheese has ten times more of the offending chemical than milk.

"It can trigger the brain’s opioid receptors, producing a feeling of euphoria linked to those of hard drug addiction," reports the Standard.com.uk.

They say the first step is admitting. Well...here goes.


"Hello. My name is Angela and I am powerless over cheese."


As of today, my drugs of choice, fully stocked in the fridge. 

There. I've admitted it publicly. Step One is done. Now you and the whole world knows why my life has always been so unmanageable.

But Step Two is problematic. If you can tell me what is more powerful than cheese, I sure would appreciate it because supposedly that will be the only thing to restore me to sanity.