Monday, February 26, 2018

A book review: Hey, if Howard Stern was to mention me on air, would I sell more books?

by Angela K. Durden

In homage to the 25th anniversary of the publishing of Howard Stern's book "Private Parts", I have posted here a titillating photo of myself that may or may not be bare flesh, but if it would sell books, I would say it is me in the nude and plaster it on the front cover just like Stern did with his admittedly small private parts covered over.

Hey, his words, not mine.

I have managed to avoid reading that book of his all these years. Until, that is, recently when a friend said, "Here, you'll enjoy it," and thrust it in my hands. (Note the oblique sexual reference there: thrust?)

I can honestly say Stern is funny and I did laugh out loud for real in certain places. But...

Having to wade through all the crap to get to the humor is not worth it. I don't like to throw up. Hurts the vocal chords and I do sing for money. I am 89 pages in and the only reason I got that far is because I compare the book to a car wreck you see up the road.

You know it's bad because ambulances are coming from every direction, there are so many blue lights flashing they make you blind, but you can't wait to get up there, see the gore, and say, "Ah, that's terrible. Thank God it isn't me." Then you drive on and never think of the wreck again.

He isn't called a shock jock for no good reason. But he loves his mama and his daddy and his wife and his kids and he's a loyal friend. So, will I be on his show? No. But he wouldn't be a bad guy to have a cuppa with...just not on air. 

Let him go on air and tell lying stories about me and mention the titles of my books and say he knows me. But would my books sell faster?

P-HWPCDLRSFC is Pussy-Hat Wearing Politically Correct Democrat Liberal RINO Socialist Fascist Commies
** Pussy-Hat Wearers
*** FLOTSAM: For Liberal Opinion That is Serious and Actually Matters

It is the 25th anniversary of the publishing of Howard Stern's book "Private Parts." I have managed to avoid reading it all these years. Until, that is, recently a friend said, "Here, you'll enjoy it." I can honestly say Stern is funny and I did laugh out loud for real. But...
Having to wade through all the crap to get to the humor is not worth it. I am 35 pages in and the only reason I got that far is because I compare the book to a car wreck you see up the road.
You know it's bad because ambulances are coming from every direction, there are so many blue lights flashing they make you blind, but you can't wait to get up there, see the gore, and say, "Ah, that's terrible. Thank God it isn't me." Then you drive on and never think of the wreck again.

Sunday, February 25, 2018

A Verbal Public Flogging of a Sorry Writer

by Angela K. Durden
Technology inventor protecting creator's copyrights. Business writer, novelist, songwriter, and Citizen Journalist.

The older one gets, the less time one has to waste. Upon coming to that conclusion, my thirty-two-year marriage ended. Yes, this child bride was full of hope until that hope was systematically ground into oblivion.

But this article is not about the demise of my marriage, but about my new modus operandi, namely, only put up with chuckleheads for about five minutes, then move on. It's been working quite well.

However, sometimes certain chuckleheads continue to be in your space and there is nothing you can do about it because it isn't your space to command. Business is business, right? So what does one do?

Why one minds one's manners. One smiles politely. One attempts to ignore the chucklehead without appearing to do so. Why, out of respect for the organizer of such a space, one even attempts to go out of one's way to find common ground or build steps over the cow patty.

The chucklehead — which, of course you had pegged from the get-go — only sees your efforts as agreement that he and his opinions and his habits are the most awesome ever, and he systematically ramps up his chucklehead ways until...

Until one day you snap.

Much like I recently did. You see, upon meeting the man, I said to myself, "Well, boy howdy. Here's a misogynistic and selfish short-sighted bully who uses his money as a weapon and has devoted himself to the Art of Mediocrity."

Time would prove I was spot on in my initial assessment of this man. I am often correct in these first assessments even when they go against prevailing wisdom. For instance, when I said to my husband  "Susan Smith killed her children,", he said, "No way! See! She's crying for her babies." I said, "She's a liar and a murderer."

And when I said "Bill Cosby hates women and probably rapes them" he said, "How did you get that? Why, he is America's favorite dad." I said, "You just wait and see."

And when I said "Scott Peterson killed his wife and child," he said, "Why is it you always see evil where there is none? See how sincere he is about his grief! Honestly, woman."

But was I right? Yes, I was. 

However, like I always do, I first assume I'm wrong and give a body opportunity to prove they are not a creep. Out of respect for my friend whose space we both inhabit occasionally, I put up with this man for much longer than is my recent habit. 

You would be proud of me for exercising such restraint as long as I did. But there comes a time when gloves come out, corners are exited, and one proceeds to beat the snot out the other guy. Happy to report here that is exactly what I did.

I delivered a public verbal flogging that was spot on, quick, vicious, and thorough. If my words had been a knife, his severed carotid would have been spurting. 

I ended the flogging with, "From this point and forever more, I shall never read another word you write. I will never give you any of my words to read. I will never give you any feedback on your mediocre stories. You. Are. Cut. Off."

Oh, Angela. What's the rest of what you said?

That cannot be put in print but there were multiple witnesses. Suffice it to say that even if I am in the same room with the man I will never again have to hear him brag to me about his female conquests. You want to know his goal with women?

His goal is to boink one of every race, religion, color, national origin, political affiliation, age, and at least one natural blonde. Because he has lots of money, he is fast approaching his goal and he lets me know of it — even after repeatedly telling him I didn't want to hear about it.

For a man who believes that every damn word that pops in his mind is supremely brilliant.

Who writes an unlikable character that resembles himself and thinks this is a good move.

Who can't help but use every aspect of his life — money, possessions, female conquests — as the basis for his character.

Who delights in taking offense against anyone who he has deemed a nobody.

Who claims his books are best sellers, but cannot and will not talk units sold. 

Who is so damn cheap he won't pay for anything unless he knows he's going to get some. 

Who cannot bear to be told by anyone — though, especially me — that his book has holes in it big enough for a loaded tractor-trailer to drive through and that he might just need to revisit the story arc.

And who is such a lazy writer and hates his readers so much that he will explain away those holes with "Well, if anybody questions it — and they won't — I'll just say this is the next book in my supernatural paranormal series. Problem solved."

For a man such as that to be told by me that I would never look at his God-awful sh*t ever me on was the worst attack he's ever had in his life.

What is the upshot of all this? 

Angela feels better. But more importantly, the man is feeling the heat and those around us know he deserves it. So the man is trying his best to ingratiate himself into Angela's good graces. He can be heard to publicly agree with Angela when Angela makes a comment. 

Much like one pauses when a pesky fly buzzes around, Angela simply pauses until the chucklehead shuts his margarita hole and then Angela carries on conversation with the balanced people around her. 

But do not be mistaken in this matter: Angela knows his public agreement with her is simply his way of trying to bring her back into his space where he can again ply domination and subjugation techniques.

Angela is wise to this. Angela will not give in.
Angela ain't got no more time to waste with his sorry ass. 
Angela says

Saturday, February 24, 2018

Distinctive Causes of Death by State

by Angela K. Durden

A map of the most distinctive causes of death in the US by state according to the Centers for Disease Control is most enlightening. Naturally, as I am born and bred and live in Georgia, my home state was the first I looked at.

Georgia is the only state in the Union marked with a big R and whose entire state is in red. It seems that we Georgians are unique. I could've told you that. We are so unique that even what kills us is so distinctive it cannot be classified anywhere by anybody.

The only state in the Union to have massive deaths by prostates gone wild, California, cannot claim to be as unique as Georgia because Hyperplasia of Prostate can be named and classified. So take that, California! Hey, maybe that's why so many from Cali are moving to The Big GA: They are tired of fitting in with all those same-o-same-o folks, or what I have taken to calling, the P-HWPCDLRSFCs*.

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

Highway 17

Wild Wind

Friday, February 23, 2018

Songs you cannot unhear...thank goodness.

by Angela K. Durden

Business writer.  Songwriter.  
Protecting creator's copyrights. 

"What's the worst song you've ever heard that was so bad you can't un-hear it and you just want to slap the hell out of the producers who let it ride anyway?"

This was a question posed on Bakefook by my good friend Craig "Shawboxx" Shaw, a brilliant player of that oversize guitar called The Upright Bass. 

His question thus provoked a huge outpouring of song titles from fellow musicians and singers. I could not believe the songs these people did not like and, as is my habit, proceeded to stand up for those songs so maliciously and wrongfully maligned. Makes me wonder about the taste of these people. Are they so elitist they've lost touch with the common man, also known as "the buyer of music"? Geez. 

Here are some of the most egregious comments. See how I, as Your Citizen Journalist and Songwriter in Residence, have helpfully included the YouTube videos for you? I know. I am so awesome to be nice like that. Such a fine way to end a Friday evening. You'll sleep good tonight, I garr-on-TEE-it.



POSTER COMMENT: Alone Again Naturally — Just a terrible song. Nothing about it is good, including the story. 

 Angela Durden I LOVE THAT SONG. Cry every time.


POSTER COMMENT: 'The Roller Skate Song' by Melanie

 Angela Durden I LOVE THE ROLLER SKATE SONG. Smile every time.


POSTER COMMENT: Monday Monday.

 Angela Durden I LOVE MONDAY MONDAY. Practice my harmony every time.


POSTER COMMENT: You Light Up My Life.

 Angela Durden I AGREE WITH YOU, ED, BUT ONLY BECAUSE I HAVEN'T EVER HAD ANYBODY LIGHT UP MY LIFE. (Postscript: Which is a pretty sad commentary on the state of my man interaction and that's all Imma gonna say about dat.)


POSTER COMMENT: Elvira by the Oakcliff Boys would be a good start. See, the shame wells up in me just because I know it and had to play it.

SECOND POSTER COMMENT: That's the Oak RIDGE Boys, thank you very much.

 Angela Durden I love that song, too. Giggle every time.


POSTER COMMENT: I've heard plenty of really bad songs, but the one I seem to have zero tolerance for, can't stand hearing, and really can't stand playing, is "New York, New York"..... there's just something about it.   And I think I can safely say, it's been 38 years since I've had to play it... ;)

 Angela Durden I love that song!. I practice my Broadway "top hat and cane" dancing every time.


POSTER COMMENT: Seasons In The Sun.


Thursday, February 22, 2018

Here is why Black Panther will be a successful franchise.

by Angela K. Durden

The Black Panther movie has been huge. I foresee a successful franchise in its future. I say successful franchise because it has all the elements for success exactly like Star Wars does.

Splashy graphics.

Cool outfits immediately being copied and worn in public by fans.

A whole world invented that does not exist so no one can complain about storylines not being real.

Gorgeous people who will age very nicely.  I can tell you there are quite a few women who are having the hots for the men of the movie. Of course, getting boinked by one of them will never happen in real life for most women, but hey, when they close their eyes, their husbands look just like their fave character and it is the husband who gets the benefit, so he's not complaining.

Universal themes of the human condition causing many column inches to be written by experts, some as apologists, some as anthropologists, some as historians. And some as societal radicals able to have a platform upon which to put the beat down on their oppressors (whatever that means for them).

Over-the-top responses by folks spouting conspiracy theories.

And almost immediately, in short videos, Blacks making fun of other Blacks' over-the-top responses to the movie. My friend Roland should watch these because, as I told him, he needed to "geez, get a grip, man."

Who is Roland? 

Roland is a famous black musician, DJ, and producer in the world of House Music. He is — or rather, was — a friend of mine. Correct, I know him in real life. We've had coffee and chats in real life, and I've sat in his real car listening to his real music.

Which was great by the way. Had me dancing in my seat.

But Roland had an over-the-top response to the movie and here is the last reason why I know Black Panther will be a rip-roaring success: Roland unfriended and blocked me when he was challenged on his idiot conspiracy theory.

Roland came up with this theory when two of his friends — two! — said they went to see the movie in question and were given tickets to see another movie which proves, said Roland, that "Whites do not want to see us successful so they are selling tickets to movies about whites so that our people will not get credit."

When I pointed out to him all the elements that had to be in place nationwide — all the secret memos and emails sent and all the teenagers involved in making that happen — therefore it was far-fetched for this vast White Conspiracy to take place at the ticket counter, he really went over the top. That's when I told him to get a grip and that is when we were no longer friends.

See? Complete success. Black Panther is going to be huge. Marvel has a winner, that's for sure. 

But will the movie make a profit? No, it will not. Just like all movies, including massive worldwide blockbusters featuring White People, if Black Panther shows a profit at the end of the day, somebody in accounting is getting fired.

However, Roland's response got me to wondering and, as your Anonymous Citizen Journalist has done for you and will continue to do, I scratched through the Twitter archives to find a wide assortment of tweets you might find fun. Yes, I curated content for you and did a damn fine job of it if I do say so myself.





NOT THE FIRST BLACK SUPERHERO Film critic Leslie Byron Pitt asks why the feature film has meant so much to the black diaspora and if it truly stacks up on screen



JELANI COBB WROTE ON "'Black Panther'...has been an inherently political character since his inception...It is shot through with the sense of longing and romance common to the way that people of a diaspora envision their distant homeland." 



Wednesday, February 21, 2018

Russian doping? Sure. But for curling?

by Angela K. Durden

We now have proof the Russians have never, could never, and won't ever rule the world. Sure, the Russkis can invade their neighbors. Hell, they do it all the time. They rattle sabers with style. And when their ego needs stroking, they love to impress with their tanks rolling in front of the Kremlin on their way to a takeover.

Even former President Obama opined about the Russians sometime in 2014 at one of those very important multi-national conferences where very important things are discussed, like which whiskey to serve after dinner and which pen to use to make the B and the O. He called them a regional power.

In that comment I had to agree with President O. And the Russian doping scandal proves Barack was correct. Sure, everybody dopes. And by everybody I don't mean everybody; I mean every nation has some folks who cheat using drugs. I can understand why athletes from countries featuring dictators and the like do it. Hey, win or lose and die, right? And in America, it's all about the massive dollars from endorsements, right?

Of course, right.

But that isn't the case with Russia. Nope. Their doping is everywhere all the time, therefore it is all about their little ego needing propping. I know this for a fact because of their most recent doping scandal. Here is the headline from the New York Times.

Now, look. I know that those who curl have heard all the jokes. And I know they are tired of hearing them. But honestly, how hard can that sport be that a performance enhancement drug must be deployed to win?

Flat surface of ice.
No jumping. No running.
Extremely slow speed of the projectile.
They use brooms to sweep the ice for goodness sake.
On the ice, they wear shoes that do not have blades.
They can brew a pot of tea and serve it before the stone leaves the hack.

Public Domain,


Even the Wikipedia page on curling still needs validating, that's how not difficult it is. Which proves my point: That Russia has a hungry, bottomless-pit of an ego and if we remember that, we can totally see them for what they are as told to us in a gushingly worshipful, eight minute segment on the wit of Her President Obama by that darling of the  P-HWPCDLRSFC* MSM. Yes, Rachel Maddow reported that Obama said the Russians are simply —

"Just a gnat on an elephant's backside." 

Puts all the collusion crap in perspective, doesn't it? See who they colluded with? Another "regional power" called Clinton. And that tells us all we need to know about who should be going to prison.

Signing out and until next time,
Your Citizen Journalist, Angela K. Durden

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

Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Researchers lie. People 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 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] 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

They say the first step is admitting. 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.