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From Nico Nico Douga

The X-Men claim to be super mutants; I think they are rip offs from Malcolm X’s movement. But some think such a derivative evolution is simply a “sport,” which can go off in any direction it pleases, finding new natural zones in which to perform its adaptations. And some other beings say that man always has an eternal soul, meant to go places, do new things, and become and create new people.

Lastly, some people say that if you are alone, heroic and isolated, you are Satanic and meant to die…

…and so I have changed the names in this story to protect the innocent – namely, me and everyone else – from libel and slander charges.

The story itself proceeds as follows:

In a time of vast opportunities and no splendor but the eternal ongoing murder of one’s family and friends by each other, the authorities, petty circumstances, poverty, guilt and unknown hideous romances, an overburdened tall man once tried to halt the violent spread of social injustice. His way was rife with political questions that were never truly answered. Due to many frustrating circumstances such as these, that young man was stabbed four times in the chest; touching his heart oh so deeply before he went home. His home was a nice, normal house at the time, not far away from the black section of Harlem in New York City. That area is still poverty stricken to this day.

He looked in the mirror, saw a tall, skinny but thick cheated bull looking exactly like Satan, and he reflected. He had turned in some other people to the authorities, and now he had to pay the price for his actions. This largely involved suicide by firing squad. He had wanted not to be killed, and to be murdered meant its own diabolical implications.

“I’m black finally,” he thought to himself, “and they still don’t love me. Gee, why is that?” Mur knew he was only having a hangover for half a split second. “I have spent year after unadulterated year trying to become black for them, after moving around enough to have run away from nearly everyone. I am the utmost coward that I have ever met, and I only want to kill all of you. I don’t even know who you are as yet, strangely enough. It is because we are forever at war with each other. I am standing here with four gaping open wounds slowly closing and unclosing, and I have no desire left to go hit up a hospital anymore for my dough. I have pulled stickups, heists and burglaries.

“What gives with that, Mur? What happened to you? Ah shit, all my old family is dead, every last relative, and I am the man in the middle. I now have a family through Bette and the kids, and they’re waiting for me to give the last speech. I have to go mount that podium, don’t I? And I’m unlikely to make it there before I fall down dead.”

He knew Bette cared about him, as she loved him deeply. She had only had children with him, but he also had a feeling she was always afraid for them. She didn’t look around at other guys, and she seemed to be very proud of him. But he wondered what she really thought.

He felt like such a miserable failure at life, sometimes. Who was going to provide for his family? And what if the people who killed him killed them as well? It wasn’t that unlikely. And so far as he knew, Bette was pregnant again, due to give birth in a few months.

He watched himself ooze, shooting his cuffs. Assuredly, he thought it would be best to change these clothes, but considering the lack of anyone caring about me at all, he decided, it would be better to mount that podium as my own red self. Red, red, nothing but red. I would say a green light would be a better chance for him, the devil in the mirror, he sighed. And altogether, I am a Moslem no longer tonight.

As he gazed upon himself in the mirror, he gasped. He pulled his rag doll self deep inside to him, for he really had to “be a man” now. He had to still be his old, familiar self to his own eyes – but everyone he met had seemed to see a good man in Satan. He was the biggest, tallest, most strapping Lucifer that he had ever seen, as a yellow man. He didn’t feel half as unique as he looked, being surrounded often by other black men. Scots, he dreamed, must lead the most arrogant existence as white males that the world had usually told of. Old Nordic civilizations ruled his universe, but he liked the Islamic ones.

He drew himself up in full pose, reflecting upon how much a mirror can bleed. The pain that tore through his right chest enormously suited this new perspective. He smoothed back his simple haircut, a fifties crew that felt easier to take care of – but pathetic.

“At last, at last. Well, I’ve told Bette off for the final time. Bad cat.” He smoothed down the walls of his contained within a roughly six foot four body thick chest. It throbbed. It was interesting to feel such a noise coming from deep within him. “Help me, Allah. No, don’t. Actually,” he chuckled, “As you must kill me at the theatre, I suppose you would not like to be me any further, would you? I think I should make a cutting fellow for a few bullet wounds that could insist on. Dad, would you mind if I f—-d up your speech?”

No, the chap in the mirror reflected as he frowned in supple manners. Black people, we don’t seem to go away, even when we’re ninety percent white. It is the heat of an African sun that lends us any such thing as mere superiority. A strong man who was laid in front of a moving street car with a bashed head should never have woken up. How could he – but if the streetcar had jarred as it cut into him, he could’ve felt it. Murdock was tired and getting dried out now. His Dad should’ve had his human rights somehow, and not simply been a human gravesite for good ideas.

I should be a Scot, as named “Sir Murdock,” he shyly whispered, smoothing down his newly bleeding white lapels. Africa suits me better, though, and I’m handling this death of mine well enough. He thought they would wince as inwardly as he did, chuckling. It felt good to be dying oh so slowly. Still, if he kept them waiting at the better theatre for his choice appearance…he raised his hand up to his mouth, lightly licking blood off his steak like fingers. They tasted awfully good. He drew his long tongue over each one in turn, relishing the taste of it.

Huh, he thought. I shall never impress my lady, but at least I already have her set up with her new husband. It shall not be more than a pain than (wince) to die slowly on stage, but my heart is stabbed through. As it opened, Murdock knew momentarily that he must die right now. The pain was telling him so, although the ache in his actual heart of a black and lonely selfless but fatherly soul began to override it. It pulled through him as it ripped wider within him. Needing to be saved from himself, he grabbed at his dresser drawer, staring above it at the vanity’s surface, which was slick and nut brown like him.

In the mirror of his paling, drawn features lurked a witless presence, peering through centuries of time and insane persecution. “Wander down to that Catholic Church on the street corner, and see what you saw before in the sidewalk, written in the anti Semitic letters of sand. Yourself, super stud, wanting to save the whole entire world through Satan. That is not the way, the truth or the guiding light. Who is an individual must reap the benefits of all human misery, and as a Black Scot, don’t you think? Would you rather be torn apart with knives – or with more bullets? What is the best performance?”

“Myself,” he freaked casually at the mirror, lips curling into a fair snarl. “Too much to take into infinity, and yet I have seen you before, whoever you are, and here I am as you. I am not your white, am I? I have never been allowed to be white under this set of circumstances which I think now I freely chose. Chuckle.” He decided he’d better set to straightening out his clothes and going, so he laid out a pair of shoes on his bed and began to shine them well. As he worked, which took all of five minutes, he thought about the audacity of a man who had been mostly shining shoes for white men. But having children in poverty meant to better their circumstances.

And he seemed to have a reflective crowd of black statues who pulled a fine spooky figure – for cowards. Actually, so many of them had helped him out so often, and had died bravely to serve the Cause. But were they his real friends? Or did they have nothing further to give him, now?

Completing the act of fixing his personal appearance, he combed his scrubby hair as his newly dying body throbbed. “How long I have is beyond me. Falling down on the way to the theater suits, but I must walk there now without panting. Hold on, bud, I really have to do this. It’s the last mile. I have murdered so many people through proxy, I must be akin to Hitler and surest will meet him where we all must go. I suppose I shall end up shining his shoes by making him eat them. Well, let’s be off.”

As his bloody hand pulled at the doorknob of his small bedroom, he looked back through time at the wall. He remembered when a chunk of it had flown over to him and landed at his feet, which were clad in bedroom slippers at the time. The noise of guns had been deafening, and he had reached for his, but once more, it had been spectacularly missing. “A cracker, a cracker, a kingdom for such sustenance from you, shadow weirdoes. I know I am hallucinating all this. Still, Bette’s safe, and so are the kids, so far. It must be the new family. I shall buy them tonight as my own personal future. It is best that way.”

A “cracker” was once an alliterative slur about white people in America. It has to do with them being shot full of little holes. However, such a being is improper sustenance.

Meanwhile, as he was dying, Mur began to wonder about the audacity of guns that were always placed conveniently out of his handsome reach. He also thought that Allah must be kind on one hand, as all his life he had never really wanted to shoot one. Too many people had been shooting at him personally for him to really want to kill them. On the other hand, he would have deeply relished the chance to slaughter them all back.

As a shadow slipped over the horizon, Murdock little peered around Harlem. Others waved at him, then flinched slowly as they moved away. Oh, I smell of iron, thought Mur to himself. Red blood is so full of lovely dark protein. Sustenance I suppose, but as the evening shades enveloped the wan smells of stores and people milling throughout the grey streets, he casually strolled towards his reckoning premise. On the way, he passed the filthy doors of that same Catholic Church, the small one for blacks that had inhabited Harlem since some time immemorial. It was never the same regal church twice, being frequently updated by its invisible black hierarchy. He turned right to brutally sigh, letting all the air out his huge chest, as the four wounds gainfully poured forth their fullest measure. How touching. It promised peace in heaven for the spiritual, such as his wife and children. They somehow seemed whiter than white to him.

“Well, this is as good a time for it as any, I would guess?” he stated aloud. The filthy door taunted him with its message of green paint peeling back the layers of the necessity of the thing called Death, which had been chasing him forever his short life, as he had noticed from when he was in crib and his mom had spilled talcum powder right into his mouth. The sound of multiple guns firing had come right through the door. This had over time put his mind into a useful state of grace, which he used to get around in traffic.

If I could quite recollect, I need to go down Cherry, take a right on oh here we go there’s the stoplight. Right, stay right there. Oh heart that is not made out of candy – be good. It is good. Yes, there’s the light. Murdock the Red walked against the light and then saw the theater and realized it was not where it ought to be. It had definitely been located between Alder and Bourbon with a little white people flower shop situated across from it. I believe that if I ever sliced into those white people I would see red blood, but I have never seen them at all in that form. My mother was whiter than I, and she ended up in many mental asylums over my dad. Meanwhile, I have never really killed anyone, he supposed.

For one second, he clutched his failing heart, feeling it thud…once.

He briefly harrumphed, pulling at his collar, which was quite wet with perspiration. As the finality of the thing called Death began to travel through his entire body, he jerked himself awake. He had a fantasy about having killed a hooker and also being a gay prostitute who pimped. It promised him a summer sun, deep in the heart of equatorial Africa. He loved this strange continent, which was merely a giant world in his mind. But it was full of communist countries. Mecca had been fun to contemplate, as long as he didn’t really want to go to heaven. As he frowned, he realized he was being told that a total fix of heroin like before was on the horizon, and all he had to do was not walk into the theater. If he simply went over to the Busted Denizens coffee shop across the street, he could avoid falling down. It was a sweet little coffee shop, one where he’d almost had a good time. It beckoned to him like a way out of dying now.

A voice in his head said if he called it off, life would be normal again. He had been busted so many times, it was a wonder his military crew cut was yet in place. To be busted means to be under arrest for impersonating a large, scary animal, he reflected. He coughed into his reddened hand, gazing upon it with undying affection for himself. He was martial and military without feeling it. Having a tiny military of his own was entirely out of the question now, and he had to keep aware that many people didn’t like him or his new family anymore. These people would be gunning for them in mysterious ways, all of which promoted supernatural feelings. He wanted to kill the supernatural and stop.

The voice in his head, so very like his own, told him it is easy to kill it. All you need to do is face it down fearlessly, and then you can tell it what to do. But if you do that, you will have to suffer the immediate consequences of your dire and violent actions.

He looked over at the theater door. There was the usual bright red neon glowing sign, reading Apollo Theater. It winked on and off up high in the air, floating above the stacks of the chimney factory area down the block away from the street. Murdock sighed. This was going to be tricky, because he suddenly felt like his wife and children were not there in a theatre he was about to enter. As pain wrenched his body, he mumbled, “Enough. I am a radio program but not a television one. I don’t carry this forward anymore.”

The theater had been the one thing he could count on to be normal. It was not. As he searched out the front of it, he knew it was not at all the same theater he knew.

As the undying pains of possibilities racked that young amateur lawyer who had determined that merely attempting to save his people was enough for his soul, he pulled himself into place. His whole body coldly told him to fall down and die. As his knees buckled, he pulled a buck and wing and stood sharply erect into place. It had been a good idea, to wage war with the United States, and then die fighting. It had been appropriate.

There. That was enough. Feeling cold all through him, he realized the wounds had quit oozing momentarily, perhaps for the next twenty-five seconds or so. Ah yeah, I can reach for that door – push – and there we go, now it’s time to enter the theater and meet Death or not. Say, the thought occurs that I am already Death myself. It is like being made half of hot summer air, like usual. Right now though, I wish I could rend another wound most deeply into my lonely immortal soul. My last female cousin whom I can remember fell to a house burglary recently, but at least I still have one or two relatives left alive. There is something wrong with leaving my entire older, almost dead family completely behind. Yet I have now to save a father headed family – of mine.

I read somewhere that I am only two percent solid matter, and the rest must be winging its way around in there like crazy. If I push through this door, what could happen? Bette and the kids – and those murderous assholes – might be waiting in there for me, but come to think of it, I’m going to have to follow my elaborate plan. I have a speech prepared, but I have no idea when the bullets are going to begin through the air at me. Or us. And she and the kids are right there in the audience. “Whoops, there goes my heart again,” he told himself, nearly falling down on his knees. He finally tried, and got back up again.

As he went through the open door and gently let it slide shut behind him, he walked down the steps. Each concrete bar shot through him, but he was trying to guide it back behind him. Ouch, he thought, now I have to do something other than stepping forward, I think. So he bounded down the last five steps and landed, going: now I do feel I’m a nightmare marine. Odds bodkins, I’m definitely service personnel here, aren’t I? I’m going to have to lure them away from Bette and her kids. I wonder how. They are not out to kill only me – so far as I am aware, although I have done my best to attract them like a dust magnet. If I am truly Satan here, the racially mixed Jewish black man, they should be out to kill only me, under Islamic rules. However, they view Bette and the kids as pagans and are equally out to kill them. If they want to get at me. Satan should be enough to get their attention, but is it? Am I real enough a performer to pull this off?

Roger. I’m a big strapping Black American. So patriotic. If I needed to be patriotic to get out of this one, that ended a long time ago. I can’t stand the attitudes of the country which I am born into, as it is full of shit. Still, I am good at blaming our and their womankind for my problems. Yeah, blame mom, which will get me out of this one. She’s long gone in my mind, he thought smiling to himself – as he approached the stage door back. He peered silently around it, whipping off his narrow black glasses to quickly wipe and put them back on. They were now obscure, relatively difficult to see through. Shrug. I’ve handled that before, he thought. But no, there was something wrong this time. Still, I have about five minutes to get on stage. Umm, no, these go off. So Mur took off the glasses, carefully placing them in a side pocket. Then he shook with laughter at himself. Why keep the glasses, when he was not going to go on living?

He took his prescription frames, which he had worn since a boy, back out of the pocket, saying, “L’chaim.” Now I’m summarily Jewish, he smiled to himself, crushing them under his left shoe succinctly. This will make a stronger Satan for them, but I do not like this. I fear much for my true family. Stomping them once, they were a clear mess in the shadows under the floor, seeming to disappear as they so blended in. At least it will be a life without glasses for five minutes, he wheezed, patting his chest down again. Something was strange, for it seemed to be rising and falling in an unusual rhythm for a change. Well, he figured, this is not it. The floor is weird and flesh colored. I had a deep cut on my hand after a knife fight that I let to go, and it healed all right. These cuts can never heal again under any circumstances, and I would relish their claiming me.

Why, this is not it, again. Walk through door. There they are. Walk forward, stand in front of – no – behind podium. There is the white podium, off in the near distance. It is a few meager steps away to my simple death. The lighting is great tonight here at the Apollo. I see a huge crowd of the vultures, gathering to feed on the upper sky lighting. Not on me, I suppose, but on Negroes. None of them seem to know there are Negroes – and I believe they have now all become demons, white or black.

They seem to be gabbling away at each other, a hubbub. I wonder what a hubbub is going to turn out to be in the next realm. Surely, something pitiful, circling the skies over my head as I pitch up my lunch. Nah, I’m walking toward this. There is the gravesite podium, two steps away.

So Brother Murdock Shabazz leapt up the final steps to the podium and grabbed it with one fine thin brown paw. He was standing on a wooden platform behind it, one of those short stepstool ones, and needed to get rid of it. So he jumped back, kicking it away to the right side with one foot. He had done this solely because it had seemed “right.”

Something again clicked in his head. As he did so, the upper lights all flew on. He was looking over the podium, the top of which hit about chest level under his stomach, and he felt a little too tall and moist for the podium. So he grabbed it bodily, shaking it back and forth as it swayed, letting it settle down, and began his final speech.

It had been supposed to be about the Marcus Garvey return to Africa movement, but in fact Murdock had finally decided that movement was the one the white men had kidded his father into believing was possible. It might be, he thought, in an actual world. This is however not the real world so far as I can tell, he reasoned out, and I am leaving it. So he had to begin his “speech” now, while unable to read off the paperwork.

“Ladies and gentleman, welcome. I am now the Wizard of Oz. Oh, and I have no such announcements to make. As the Mafia is now situated in the audience, can I see a show of hands? What, no hands? Hey, looka here. Hi there, how ya doing? Wait a minute, this podium is getting a little juicier than me.” Mur tipped his head to one side, thinking this was surely the Jesus Christ moment of reckoning. It could slip away there, but as he had to protect Bette and only Bette surely, the best way to do it was to crash the podium. So he grabbed it and pulled it away to the right, where it neatly bounced off the side wall of the entry area he had come through, landing within a curtain and pulling if off stage to one side. It nestled there, after having made a lot of loud noise, crashing resoundingly.

The distant echoes of this shut up the entire audience momentarily. As he grabbed the mike, he looked down and noticed the speech someone had prepared for him was held within his left hand. He frowned at it summarily, and ripped it into several bunches of white pieces of paper, the lofty ripping of which filled the entire anteroom. These then dribbled down, as he pitched forward a little. Then the strangest feeling enveloped him. Bette and the kids were over on the right wing side of the auditorium, and she was giving his oldest girl a sandwich, but she wasn’t looking at him. Checks, that’s Bette. She remains calm in these difficult situations, but tonight I have to show her something, he decided, involving what she should do to leave immediately. She’s the best…

My wife, he brutally cried to himself inside, spent a lot of time in her life noticing me, my accomplishments, and many of the things we did together; she helped me all along. She isn’t selfish; she’s oppressed, and that is what I always wanted to believe, thought Murdock X. But I have this all set up for her if I can ever survive this theater, which I cannot do. Meanwhile, I have to keep the audience as distracted as humanly possible. She has got to handle the kids in a few moments.

Frowning summarily, while clenching his teeth against the pain, he decided to make his final announcement anyway. He had been listened to before in the early days of his movement, but now he was apparently getting old and slow. “Okay, I always have been completely one with “Stan” – the Devil White Man. I sold my immortal soul to all of your white Christian enemies millennia ago. I am Satan, and it is time for my public execution, which should be in keeping within the heavy rules of Koran order. I hereby commit the unforgivable sin of evil pride and renounce all ties to Islam whatsoever. I am obviously supposed to go straight to Hell itself for you. Wonderful, because that’s exactly what I’m going to do here tonight for all of you wonderful…Godly folks.”

In the original version of this, the event was supposed to hit the newspapers and cause political changes to happen, several of which may or may not occur in anyone’s real lifetime. Some people think they may, and some people think it may never happen. But in this instance, something had to go in an entirely other direction.

“Unfortunately, the entire Jewish race is not dead in a major forest fire yet. That is what the Hell in the Koran is about, up in the frozen north. That’s what is in the book in the portion preceding my death. That is supposed to happen before the Devil here can hit such a town as Hell. I have an associate who has slipped me this impertinent information. Would one of you guys in the audience like to tell me who it is?” He crossed his mostly African feeling business suited arms across his massive chest, which was heaving inwardly with the sighs of a lost paradise that he’d never truly obtained. Everyone in the audience seemed to be having a lot of a good time at his expense – as true universal cold enveloped his entire body. It felt excruciatingly good. Still, as he looked the thing over, he could not see anything out there that looked ripe for a kill. He needed about ten men with guns, he figured, to show up. Ten, twenty, four, whatever was there.

“Hey, friends, where are you? Please show up, now. I’ve come to give you milk and honey and all the images and all that. You know, guys with the guns. You must have about ten of you ready now, like a Roman numeral ‘X,’ c’mon, lemma see those major firearms. I’ve been waiting for rifles all of my life – and you’ve all been keeping them out of reach. Please, pretty please, I beg you on the mercy of being a Negro, come show me your guns so I can see how pretty they are. There you go!”

As the paced out group of men in the middle section pulled out their handguns one at a time, they pointed summarily at his closed off chest, telling him to open up so they could begin the firing squad action they were set to do. He had already turned himself in for the petty crimes he had committed, and now it was time to be blasted away. He had fought with something like meager thousands of these before, and had suffered through some skirmishes, but as the coalescing group began to murmur about how long it was taking, the solution materialized in his own mind like an Egyptian pyramid.

Maybe it was time to unleash brute force upon you people, but you can’t dive into an audience like they’re a swimming pool. How do I keep these guys busy, when my family is not going to leave the theater without me? Bette is the least realistic person I have ever met in my life, though she guides me to paradise in her own lost fashion. Still, this must be done. Perhaps keeping these children of mine distracted enough to ascertain their own political purposes and not bring in the other beings with weapons would help. I can keep both groups at bay until something right comes of this situation – or something wrong.

“You know,” said Murdock as he unbuttoned his shirt collar, “It is getting so bloody hot in here, muggier than the deep south, and oh pardon me is that my ugly Mommy in the audience? Say, I am going now to open up my chest and front and get some air. It’s stuffy here at this A—–e Theater. You know, how about if I rip myself wide open, to make it easier for you? Maybe I can show you the right methodology of dying.”

He daydreamed about an earlier obscene group of white men, easier to keep track of, called the Ku Klux Klan, which had faded away into obscurity and become several black groups, all of which wanted the honor of disposing of his body in improper fashion. The Klan had been big on killing blacks, and so were all his present groups of people.

Brother Murdock then slowly pulled apart the sticky remains of his reddened shirt and undershirt, ripping it all open as he went, baring his black and hairy muscular chest ever so carefully until he pulled it all away as far as he could get it open. He exposed himself as much as possible to the wall of guns that were steadily pointed at around his chest walls and stomach, peeling himself like he was a kind of overripe tomato. As he peeled, a mysterious change started to overcome him. He had to pick off parts of his brown skin and white shirt, tearing a goodly shred of it over one of the stab wounds. Then he finally grabbed everything he could scratch at with large hands, and pulled it all away. Now he felt his reddened and raw chest expand appreciably. It felt so lousy to take in lots of stale cigarette smoke laden air, so he wrenched his dying chest outwards, inwardly cursing out loud. Heaving back a single sob, he thrust out what he could feel moving.

“Here am I, crowd of strange African wonders. I love you all with my entire being, with all of my heart and soul. Here – I am a strange voodoo object of merriment and good times remembered, in the last fifteen seconds anyway.” He bent his head back and said, “I wish you could all be here instead of me. It’s such an enjoyable experience.” Wilting inwardly, he began to realize he could croak before any of his persecutors bothered to fire. He thought: I must tell them exactly where to end this altogether, for it looks like the weather outside could tend to rain shortly, and there are those on foot who must leave this our major theater and walk home in the pounding rain. Therefore, I am going to have to sacrifice my family and friends. There is no other way out of the theater and into this movie. I honestly don’t know who is making a major production number out of this, but it’s for the media so far as I can tell. Perhaps the Mafia is here also. The cameras are steadily rolling over there, and every flash bulb is ready to be popped.

“Hey Rubes, would you believe I have a speech all prepared in your shaggy heads? It’s about how you need to shoot me right here, and aim at it really well. See the chest? It’s deep brown – for no apparent reason. It doesn’t light up that well, I guess. Please, lighting, go ahead and train the spotlights on it. Whoomph! There, that’s good. Now you can all see exactly where to aim. Wouldn’t want anyone in the audience to get hurt.”

Heaving harder, Mur stuck his manly breast out much further. The lights at the Apollo seemed to flicker momentarily, as though they would go out as he pushed himself open. “I’m crowing, world, I’ve done this before – and it is finally the time. Hey guys, how come none of you are human beings yet? I woke up and didn’t become one either. Here’s the blood, the meat and the wine and all that, here’s this strapping black animal and all, here’s what you have been coming to this theater to collect on an artificial altar and pray over and feast upon for hours. Where are the billions of gunshots? I’ve been waiting for this moment all of my life. Shoot Bette!” He had said this last thing to indicate to her she had better get her act in gear and soon. But he also truly meant it, down to the bottom of his black hearted soul. He shouted, “If you shoot my wife first, shoot me next!”

As the hubbub died down, one large portly lady in the audience said, “What, boy?” There was a loud crashing sound in the back of the auditorium. No one however was coming through the doors in back. It seemed to be a distraction of some kind. As Mur overlooked the crowd, he could finally see the faces of some of the unusual beings with the guns as they began looking over to their right at his wife, who seemed to be putting her hand over her face. No, this is not the right way to have done this. I should have simply read my prepared speech, been shot in the middle of it and my chest, and died.

“No, actually,” he cried, “I didn’t mean that. Say, look over here, why don’t you? I am here already. I just wanted to let you know that Satan makes a great shoot. Look, I’m ready to take down and all, meat on the table for you and everything. The cameras are sitting all around this beautiful goddamn auditorium training on my gorgeous existence and you all are here for the ride. Look, suckers, calm down. I’m ready for Hell here.”

Every move a serious politico makes is always questioned in great detail by the authorities, the petty ones or otherwise. Would this one work better for the cameras? Every cut hurts, every trait any man has is magnified if one is a bull well boy or something like that, every drop of blood screams for high pressure, every taunt is a welt, and every time someone must come up with something new, the question occurs.

He raised one eyebrow as the men with guns pulled away their attention from Bette, slowly spreading the guns out in a wave at the entire audience, as though they would begin to fire if there was so much as even another mild crashing sound. Then there were several little streaks of light filtering in from outside, cluttering up the windows. Murdock X knew there was an odd chance of other groups occurring on the premises, ones which also wanted to kill him. Still, it felt as though something was controlling the premises. Maybe the sixteen other groups with rifles, machine guns and bombs were busy.

Still, Murdock reflected, the “people” in this audience don’t seem to be getting any of my outer space messages. That’s pretty normal for them. I’m the leader of “us all” and that must be an influence on life, I guess. “So it would,” he roared at the top of his bull stomach, “be most kind of all you shits in the audience,” he smoothly squelched through his dying outthrust lungs, “to continue to point all them guns in my general direction, no, put them together a bit more, there you go. Are you almost there?” The fetching group of silver automatics, each with one or more potential rounds, waved like tentacles from the octopus like group of faces behind them. “Do you think you can tell us what to do, when you’ve condemned us?” said one of them, not materializing from the crowd at all. “We were hired to blast traitors who don’t believe in the Nation of Islam – to death.”

“Yes, I told them all about Black Nationalist Supremacy, but the problem is that I am now a Black Nationalist. So I decided to die at them, so sue me. No, don’t. Put the guns back in place and point them straight at me, here’s the target and everything, right here. I love you. I love you all. I am a huge undying wall of blue meat here, I am going to die incredibly slowly – and I am waiting to be slaughtered, fools! Seriously, fire right into these major holes, or I’ll kill you. I’m Satan, I’m burnt ready, and here I am. C’mon, what took you so long?” Murdock looked down at the unmoving guns and flinched inwardly. Now was the time of reckoning. All of this could go any way, or another.

If they would shoot him, he would not be there to make sure his family got safe home. Meanwhile, the theater ushers were starting to open the back doors as if to give him some air. This alone caused a great unutterable disappointment to rack his very being. He had tried, he figured, and now that he was about to faint dead on the floor he oh pardon Satan that’s it he decided – summarily pitched forward and pointed at the open doors.

“Those who stay in their seats get an expensive prize for inadequacy if they move at all. I have six open guns trained on all of you behind the stage doors on either side of this auditorium. If you so much as move, I will have them all fire at you. Say, bunnies with the guns, is you ready? I am determined to not be the only cuss to die in this theater tonight. When I give the signal, all of those guns are going to open fire.”

As the entire audience froze motionless, and the ushers alone rushed to shut the back doors, Murdock sagged down. This was getting to be a dismal meeting for a night at the good old Apollo, one where he had summarily enjoyed nights out with friends on rare occasions. He’d even circulated a depraved underground flyer claiming he needed someone to kill someone else for him, for once, maybe a blond kid. Circumstances had forbid it ever being anyone else but him. What was with Black America?

“Well, can you get back here with the guns? There you go.” Murdock now had a clear field to see them get ready. He asked them inwardly if they were really subhuman enough to fire at nearly the one exact spot that was hurting the most. Then he asked them repeatedly if they were really subhuman. The guns bobbed up and down with a kind of silent laughter, then pointed steadily at various parts of his anatomy.

“That’s more like it, blind fools. Can you listen to the sound of my voice? It’s a mighty timorous majesty now, one which you’ve seldom encountered. Listen, you need to take aim right all over my body, or even my head. It’s there, just don’t be nervous. I see you’re not nervous. There you go. All over myself. You’re my children at last.” Murdock waved over at Bette, trusting she was looking, and smiled. “Please plug this sucking crow right now, as soon as I give you the order to fire. We’re not going back to Africa except on vacation from now on, and for the entire consecutive future.” I wonder how these folks will afford such vacations, he had to realize. We could, or at least Bette could, as her family has some money.

Murdock heaved a sigh, knowing he was only himself and not Satan. He never had much thought as that stereotype, but it came together in a blinding flash that he would have to be one of the most Satanic caricatures for whites ever if he kept this up. He tightened himself, breathing slightly, and realized he was far, far away from his own dying process.

Coldly, he stood erect and eased back on the execution stage. He briefly recalled himself as a young man, but knew that everywhere he’d been, he had seen something unfamiliar at every turn. The supernatural could kick butt, he figured, but only if it was under my own particular command. I don’t want to do this, he suddenly decided.

He froze in a summary surprised gape. The guns were still trained on him, as though the beings behind him did not exist. And the beings in front of him began to pull him back to his human status. “I know I’ve been a bad daddy for all of you pukes who have been following me for so many years, for to have to live with this haunting imagery is the most pathetic attempt at a buck god of raw meat the world has usually seen. We have them on the run at last, I believe, those frozen stones of the north. Do we not? And now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country. There. All of your guns are now aimed right at the center of my immortal soul.” He appreciated the fact. Here we go.

Ahhh, they are indeed. The strangely marinelike head of Murdock X, which had come up with one number as the digit signifying his death and the deaths of many others, centered over his manly body in a nearly perfect diametrical line. He froze up, thrusting his meaty white chest out, making sure to pull back the last of his shredded black clothes, which were oozing in porous layers every drop of life and banal men’s soul left in him. He looked over the huge audience, thinking he would have liked it if any of them had ever chanced to be real or human in any form. In a way, they were almost like his Bette.

They still weren’t doing anything in his direction. Not just yet. Somebody switched on the music from “Carmen” and it began playing sweetly and softly in the background.

“Red is for blood, black is for death, white is for all right, and pure yellow is for me. Meanwhile, are you ready? I doubt it. But you must take aim and fire. Point the guns now. Straight at me in perfect little lines. There. You are now ready.”

I mutter as I mumble, methinks himself ah yes I am surely this at last. I would rather go to the permanent hell as a boy than see Bette and my children ever get shot, leave their home again, or go anywhere else but the shopping mall and to all the wonderful places I have seen in a distant dream as we packed going from house to house to evade their awesomely boring enemy. They had come through the walls too many times. Yes, this is surely scientific reality, and I will not get my death – as I am an utmost raw fearless coward. I am made out of shit, excrement and pee, and that is where I must go.

Looking at the stage lights in their myriad crystalline colors, he begged God to let Allah there go to the best possible place where a girl could make up for a strange difficulty. To the pages of a book serene, or perhaps a small field and a polluted stream. He smiled, smirking to himself as one silver point crossed his mind. None of this was fun. It seemed like the setup for children that his life had streaked through, in a wonderful way.

He looked, feeling weirdly like himself one last time over at Bette and his children. She seemed to be staring at him with something like hatred but akin to respect lighting her features, as if at long last. He swung his head back to the beings awaiting his purple command in the audience. They still awaited it. I am a good little tin soldier, I am, he thought with the greatest swell of black pride he had ever felt in his life. It filled his whole being, overflowing into his soul as it finally dawned on him what was doing. He had figured the enemy was somewhat right about something, and this must be what it was. They had been evolving the form of the thing that opposes the sun, and he was still its primary victim, merely a man. His children were now on the proper path. Or were they? He fretted for them momentarily. Then he gazed up at the lighting, which was not the same way it had been before. Oh, my oath for a better Apollo. Take me, do not take my wife and kids, do what you will with me, but make it a better theater.

Stuff it up my rear later soon as can be for a better reality for all the below, he thought to himself. “Oh and you suckers in the crowd, now is the time. Here are the simple commands for you to never follow again, ever again, in the future.” You don’t know that I am genuinely thinking that for you, and you don’t even care. You don’t know how ready I was to flay my soul itself completely to Hell for you, to serve all mankind. For I am only a father now, Allah and Moses incarnate, and I am also the supper. I am the only level God incarnate in this entire room. It is all that I ever wanted out of life, save death, but you still know that I am only a bugger. That means I want to only bug you into shooting me as painfully as possible. Please take your time and fire each bullet slowly.”

“What?” smirked one of the white Mure denizens with the guns. Each of the ten or more guns was pointed straight to the center of his chest, which was throbbing with a kind of sexual ecstasy. He couldn’t get past an enormous feeling of infinite endless love for all human and otherwise mankind, and the mostly sexual part of it was dribbling away rapidly. As he spread his bleeding, growing and bursting arms wide, and as each brutal shot rang out summarily spaced apart by exactly one century or more of time, or as each shot spaced itself farther and farther out into space, the slowly dancing rag doll prayed the event would matter somehow – and also that the crowd would not descend and feed upon him later, or that they surely finally would. I must now keep this up, he figured out, to the last me. He also prayed that Bette and all of his real children would shortly vacate the theater, as they were getting nervous. He heard the doors of Hell open and close, and knew his wife was perhaps locked in there with him, but waited. Suddenly, the voice said they left summarily and were gone home. He breathed a sigh of relief – for awhile.

Still, the rag doll witlessly danced on the stage, absorbing each bullet and pushing it out his burst open back.

He spread his demonic white boned winged shoulders back as if he was one plunging black crow, a hunk of exploding feathers that were opening up to the center of his virile but exploding chest. A deep blue and black fissure was swiftly forming, exploding ever outward into an enormous blossom, the only flower of truest Scottish manhood. How erotic, smiled the once incredibly handsome black man – to only himself.

As he fell over backwards, on his knees forever at last, all the scarlet sap of a true Harlem sucker was oozing out of his sunken in chest – and it felt so weirdly cool. A round of applause came cascading over the rafters.

Could be the best draw for tickets the Apollo will never have again. And this one time, I got to tell off the crowd the right way, although I cannot do it ever again.

Murdock knew he was stuck in hell as he cocked his head to one side. He had shown too good of form to live. He stood up. Everything was wavy, nauseating, and increasingly painful, only set to go further along. He always had to tell them where to shoot him. Or for a change, he had to tell them where to shoot them.

They were on a hill. It was in Scotland, where they had to defend this overhanging hill while the enemy was coming. As several of them charged up the hill, several of the clan had to hold positions downwards. Using swords, bows and arrows, and shillelaghs, they swarmed fiercely. Guns weren’t involved – shields were too heavy to carry.

They were in the Battle of Dunkeld in 1689. It involved the Jacobite army. Dunkeld was the last battle in Scotland in the 17th century to restore the Stewarts to the throne. The men were all cowards, so slow and stupid – no, they were but worn out from battle, which had raged many days.

Out of nowhere, an impenetrable wall of sticks began arcing through the clear sky like straight birds. Mur heard them whistling as they raced down, sinking deeply into his side’s exposed chests, limbs and faces.

His men would all die, if he didn’t move. Shocked into the utmost living horror, he gave them his eternal orders:

“Ready…aim…fire!”

Ich schiesse mich selbst ab!!! (Bloss ein kleiner Test)

Watch this horny blonde slut take a cucumber in her pussy and mouth before washing it down with some warm piss!

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This slut thought she was hardcore, but she had no idea what she was getting into when she suddenly barged into her orgy buddies while they were having dinner! Enraged that she would disrupt them like that, they began to ravage the bitch using the food they were eating, treating the slut to an intense hardcore fuck like none she has experienced before!

To show the slut that they felt disrespected, they began cramming various food objects into the slut’s orifices, most specifically, her mouth, pussy, and ass! Choking on a cucumber, the slut thought that was the end of it – but no, she had to take a pussy pounding courtesy of the cucumber too!

The hardcore orgy goes on, and amazingly, the cucumber stays intact despite all the stuff that’s been done to it! The slut, on the other hand, seems more worn out, getting pissed on, drenched in cum, and fucked out of her wits!

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View full post on Object Insertion, Rough Sex & Sexual Torture | GGG Sex Box

Early life and musical roots: 194564
George Ivan (Van) Morrison was born on 31 August 1945, in Bloomfield, Belfast, Northern Ireland as the only child of George Morrison, a shipyard worker, and Violet Stitt Morrison, a singer and tap dancer in her youth. Van Morrison’s family roots descend from the Ulster Scots population that settled in Belfast. From 1950 to 1956, Morrison, who began to be known as “Van” during this time, attended Elmgrove Primary School. Morrison’s father had what was at the time one of the largest record collections in Ulster (acquired during his sojourn in Detroit, Michigan in the early 1950s), and the young Morrison grew up listening to artists such as Jelly Roll Morton, Ray Charles, Lead Belly, and Solomon Burke; of whom Morrison later said, “If it weren’t for guys like Ray and Solomon, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Those guys were the inspiration that got me going. If it wasn’t for that kind of music, I couldn’t do what I’m doing now.” His father’s record collection exposed him to various musical genres, such as the blues of Muddy Waters; the gospel of Mahalia Jackson; the jazz of Charlie Parker; the folk music of Woody Guthrie; and country music from Hank Williams and Jimmie Rodgers, while the first record he ever bought was by blues musician Sonny Terry. When Lonnie Donegan had a hit with “Rock Island Line”, written by Huddie Ledbetter (Lead Belly), Morrison felt he was familiar with and able to connect with skiffle music as he had been hearing Lead Belly before that.
Morrison’s father bought him his first acoustic guitar when he was eleven, and he learned to play rudimentary chords from the song book, The Carter Family Style, edited by Alan Lomax. A year later, when he was twelve years old, Morrison formed his first band, a skiffle group, “The Sputniks”, named after the recently launched Soviet satellite, Sputnik 1. In 1958, the band played at some of the local cinemas, and Morrison took the lead, contributing most of the singing and arranging. Other short-lived groups followed at fourteen, he formed Midnight Special, another modified skiffle band and played at a school concert. Then, when he heard Jimmy Giuffre playing saxophone on “The Train and The River”, he talked his father into buying him a saxophone, and took lessons in tenor sax and music reading. Now playing the saxophone, Morrison joined with various local bands, including one called Deanie Sands and the Javelins, with whom he played guitar and shared singing. Later the four main musicians of the Javelins, with the addition of Wesley Black as keyboard player, became known as the Monarchs.
Morrison attended Orangefield High School, leaving in July 1960 with no qualifications. As a member of a working-class community, it was expected that he would get a regular full-time job, so after several short apprenticeship positions, he settled into a job as a window cleaner later alluded to in his songs, “Cleaning Windows” and “Saint Dominic’s Preview”. However, he had been developing his musical interests from an early age and continued playing with the Monarchs part-time. Young Morrison also played with the Harry Mack Showband, the Great Eight, with his older workplace friend, Geordie Sproule whom he later named as one of his biggest influences.
At age 17, he toured Europe for the first time with the Monarchs, now calling themselves the International Monarchs. This Irish showband, with Morrison playing saxophone, guitar and harp, in addition to back-up duty on bass and drums, toured steamy clubs and US Army bases in Scotland, England, and Germany, often playing five sets a night. While in Germany, the band recorded a single, “Boozoo Hully Gully”/”Twingy Baby”, under the name Georgie and The Monarchs. This was Morrison’s first recording, taking place in November 1963 at Ariola Studios in Cologne with Morrison on saxophone; it made the lower reaches of the German charts.
Upon returning to Belfast in November 1963, the group disbanded, so Morrison connected with Geordie Sproule again and played with him in the Manhattan Showband along with guitarist Herbie Armstrong. When Armstrong auditioned to play with Brian Rossi and the Golden Eagles, Morrison went along and was hired as a blues singer. Them: 196466
Main article: Them (band)
The roots of Them, the band that first broke Morrison on the international scene, came in April 1964 when Morrison responded to an advert for musicians to play at a new R&B club at the Maritime Hotel an old dance hall frequented by sailors. The new R&B club needed a band for its opening night; however, Morrison had left the Golden Eagles (the group with which he had been performing at the time), so he created a new band out of The Gamblers, an East Belfast group formed by Ronnie Millings, Billy Harrison, and Alan Henderson in 1962. Eric Wrixon, still a schoolboy, was the piano player and keyboardist. Morrison played saxophone and harmonica and shared vocals with Billy Harrison. They followed Eric Wrixon’s suggestion for a new name, and The Gamblers morphed into Them, their name taken from the Fifties horror movie Them!.
The band’s strong R&B performances at the Maritime attracted attention. Them performed without a routine and Morrison ad libbed, creating his songs live as he performed. While the band did covers, they also played some of Morrison’s early songs, such as “Could You Would You”, which he had written in Camden Town while touring with The Manhattan Showband. The debut of Morrison’s “Gloria” took place on stage here. Sometimes, depending on his mood, the song could last up to twenty minutes. Morrison has stated that “Them lived and died on the stage at the Maritime Hotel,” believing that the band did not manage to capture the spontaneity and energy of their live performances on their records.
Dick Rowe of Decca Records became aware of the band’s performances, and signed Them to a standard two-year contract. In that period, they released two albums and ten singles, with two more singles released after Morrison departed the band. They had three chart hits, “Baby, Please Don’t Go” (1964), “Here Comes the Night” (1965), and “Mystic Eyes” (1965), though it was the b-side of “Baby, Please Don’t Go”, the garage band classic, “Gloria”, that went on to become a rock standard covered by Patti Smith, The Doors, Shadows of Knight, Jimi Hendrix and others.
“Gloria”
Morrison’s garage rock classic was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1999. As described by Paul Williams: “Van Morrison’s voice a fierce beacon in the darkness, the lighthouse at the end of the world. Resulting in one of the most perfect rock anthems known to humankind.”
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Building on the success of their singles in the United States, and riding on the back of the British Invasion, Them undertook a two month tour of America in May and June 1966 that included a three-week residency at the Whisky a Go Go in Los Angeles. The Doors were the supporting act on the last week, and Morrison’s influence on The Doors singer, Jim Morrison, was noted by John Densmore in his book Riders On The Storm, “Jim Morrison learned quickly from his near namesake’s stagecraft, his apparent recklessness, his air of subdued menace, the way he would improvise poetry to a rock beat, even his habit of crouching down by the bass drum during instrumental breaks.” On the final night, the two Morrisons and the two bands jammed together on “Gloria”.
Toward the end of the tour the band members became involved in a dispute with their manager, Decca Records’ Phil Solomon, over the revenues paid to the band; that, coupled with the expiry of their work visas, meant the band returned from America dejected. After two more concerts in Ireland, Them split up. Morrison concentrated on writing some of the songs that would appear on Astral Weeks, while the remnants of the band reformed in 1967 and relocated in America. Start of solo career with Bang Records and “Brown Eyed Girl” 1967
“Brown Eyed Girl”
Morrison’s classic 1967 hit single which appeared on the album Blowin’ Your Mind!. In 2007, it was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame.
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Bert Berns, Them producer and composer of their 1965 hit, “Here Comes the Night,” persuaded Morrison to return to New York to record solo for his new label, Bang Records. Morrison flew over and signed a contract he had not fully studied. Then, during a two-day recording session at A & R Studios starting 28 March 1967, eight songs were recorded originally intended to be used as four singles. Instead, these songs were released as the album Blowin’ Your Mind! without Morrison being consulted. He said he only became aware of the album’s release when a friend mentioned on a phone call that he had just bought a copy of it. He later commented to Donal Corvin in a 1973 interview: “I wasn’t really happy with it. He picked the bands and tunes. I had a different concept of it.”
However, from these early sessions, emerged “Brown Eyed Girl”. Captured on the 22nd take on the first day, this song was released as a single in mid-June 1967, reaching number ten in the US charts in 1967. “Brown Eyed Girl” became Morrison’s most played song and over the years it has remained a classic; forty years later in 2007, it was the fourth most requested song of DJs in the US.
Following the death of Berns in 1967, Morrison became involved in a contract dispute with Berns’ widow that prevented him from performing on stage or recording in the New York area. The song, “Big Time Operators”, released in 1993, is thought to allude to his dealings with the New York music business during this time period. He then moved to Boston, Massachusetts and was soon confronted with personal and financial problems; he had “slipped into a malaise” and had trouble finding concert bookings. However, through the few gigs he could find, he regained his professional footing and started recording with the Warner Bros. Records label. The record company managed to buy out his contract with Bang Records. Morrison fulfilled a clause that bound him to submit thirty-six original songs within a year by recording thirty-one songs in one session; however, Eileen Berns thought the songs “nonsense music … about ringworms” and didn’t use them. Astral Weeks 1968
Main article: Astral Weeks
“Astral Weeks is about the power of the human voice ecstatic agony, agonising ecstacy. Here is an Irish tenor reborn as a White Negro a Caucasian Soul Man pleading and beseeching over a bed of dreamy folk-jazz instrumentation: acoustic bass, brushed drums, vibes and acoustic guitar, the odd string quartet and of course flute.”
Barney Hoskyns Mojo
A mix of folk music, jazz and stream of consciousness but ultimately in a music genre of its own, Astral Weeks (1968) is often considered one of the best albums ever made.
Astral Weeks
The 1968 title song featuring the opening lines of the album: “If I ventured in the slipstream between the viaducts of your dream”. His early voice was described as “flinty and tender, beseeching and plaintive”.
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His first album for Warner Bros. Records was Astral Weeks (which he had already performed in several clubs around Boston), a mystical song cycle, often considered to be his best work. Morrison has said, “When Astral Weeks came out, I was starving, literally.” Released in 1968, the album eventually achieved critical acclaim, but it originally received an indifferent response from the public. To this day, it remains in an unclassifiable music genre and has been described variously as hypnotic, meditative, and as possessing a unique musical power. It has been compared to French Impressionism and mystical Celtic poetry. A 2004 Rolling Stone magazine review begins with the words: “This is music of such enigmatic beauty that thirty-five years after its release, Astral Weeks still defies easy, admiring description.” Alan Light would later describe Astral Weeks as “like nothing he had done previouslynd really, nothing anyone had done previously. Morrison sings of lost love, death, and nostalgia for childhood in the Celtic soul that would become his signature.” It has been placed on many lists of best albums of all time. In the 1995 Mojo list of 100 Best Albums, it was listed as number two and was number nineteen on the Rolling Stone magazine’s The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time in 2003. In December 2009, it was voted the top Irish album of all time by a poll of leading Irish musicians conducted by Hot Press magazine. From Moondance to Into the Music: 197079
Morrison’s third solo album, Moondance, which was released in 1970, became his first million selling album and reached number twenty-nine on the Billboard charts. The style of Moondance stood in contrast to that of Astral Weeks. Whereas Astral Weeks had a sorrowful and vulnerable tone, Moondance restored a more optimistic and cheerful message to his music. The title track, although not released in the US as a single until 1977, received heavy play in FM radio formats. “Into the Mystic” has also gained a wide following over the years. The single released was “Come Running”, which reached the American Top 40. Moondance was both well received and favourably reviewed. Lester Bangs and Greil Marcus had a combined full page review in Rolling Stone, stating that Morrison now had “the striking imagination of a consciousness that is visionary in the strongest sense of the word.” “That was the type of band I dig,” Morrison said of the Moondance sessions. “Two horns and a rhythm section they’re the type of bands that I like best.” He produced the album himself as he felt like nobody else knew what he wanted. Moondance was listed at number sixty-five on the Rolling Stone magazine’s The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. In March 2007, Moondance was listed as number seventy-two on the NARM Rock and Roll Hall of Fame list of the “Definitive 200″.
Over the next few years, he released a succession of albums, starting with a second one in 1970. His Band and the Street Choir had a free, more relaxed sound than Moondance, but not the perfection, in the opinion of critic Jon Landau who felt like “a few more numbers with a gravity of ‘Street Choir’ would have made this album as perfect as anyone could have stood.” It contained the hit single “Domino”, which charted at number nine in the Billboard Hot 100.
In 1971, he released another well-received album, Tupelo Honey. This album produced the hit single “Wild Night” that was later covered by John Mellencamp. The title song has a notably country-soul feel about it and the album ended with another country tune, “Moonshine Whiskey”. Morrison said he originally intended to make an all country album. The recordings were as live as possible after rehearsing the songs the musicians would go into the studio and play a whole set in one take. His co-producer, Ted Templeman, described this recording process as the “scariest thing I’ve ever seen. When he’s got something together, he wants to put it down right away with no overdubbing.”
Released in 1972, Saint Dominic’s Preview, revealed Morrison’s break from the more accessible style of his previous three albums and moving back towards the more daring, adventurous, and meditative aspects of Astral Weeks. The combination of two styles of music demonstrated a versatility not previously found in his earlier albums. Two songs, (“Jackie Wilson Said (I’m in Heaven When You Smile)” and “Redwood Tree”) reached the Hot 100 singles chart. The songs “Listen to the Lion” and “Almost Independence Day” are each over ten minutes long and employ the type of poetic imagery not heard since Astral Weeks. It was his highest charting album in the US until his Top Ten debut on Billboard 200 in 2008.
He released his next album Hard Nose the Highway in 1973 receiving mixed, but mostly negative, reviews. The album contained the popular song “Warm Love” but otherwise has been largely dismissed critically. In a 1973 Rolling Stone review, it was described as: “psychologically complex, musically somewhat uneven and lyrically excellent.”
During a three-week vacation visit to Ireland in October 1973, Morrison wrote seven of the songs that would make up his next album, Veedon Fleece. Though it attracted scant initial attention, its critical stature grew markedly over the yearsith Veedon Fleece now often considered to be one of Morrison’s most impressive and poetic works. In a 2008 Rolling Stone review, Andy Greene writes that when released in late 1974: “it was greeted by a collective shrug by the rock critical establishment” and concludes: “He’s released many wonderful albums since, but he’s never again hit the majestic heights of this one.” “You Don’t Pull No Punches, But You Don’t Push the River”, one of the album’s side closers, exemplifies the long, hypnotic, cryptic Morrison with its references to visionary poet William Blake and to the seemingly Grail-like Veedon Fleece object.
Morrison would not release a follow-up album for another three years. After a decade without taking time off, he said in an interview, he needed to get away from music completely and ceased listening to it for several months. Also suffering from writer’s block, he seriously considered leaving the music business for good. Speculation that an extended jam session would be released either under the title Mechanical Bliss, or Naked in the Jungle, or Stiff Upper Lip, came to nothing, and Morrison’s next album was A Period of Transition in 1977, a collaboration with Dr. John, who had appeared in The Last Waltz with Morrison in 1976. The album received a mild critical reception and marked the beginning of a very prolific period of song making.
“Wavelength”
Morrison sings the opening lines in falsetto and synthesizers mimic the sounds of the short wave radio stations that he listened to as a boy.
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Into the Music: “The album’s last four songs, “Angelou”, “And the Healing Has Begun”, and “It’s All in the Game/You Know What They’re Writing About” are a veritable tour-de-force with Morrison summoning every vocal trick at his disposal from “Angelou’s climactic shouts to the sexually-charged, half-mumbled monologue in “And the Healing Has Begun” to the barely audible whisper that is the album’s final sound.” (Scott Thomas Review’)
The following year, Morrison released Wavelength; it became at that time the fastest-selling album of his career and soon went gold. The title track became a modest hit, peaking at number forty-two. Making use of 1970s synthesizers, it mimics the sounds of the shortwave radio stations that he listened to in his youth. The opening track, “Kingdom Hall” evoked Morrison’s own childhood experiences attending church with his mother and foretold a religious theme that would be more evident in his next album, Into the Music.
Considered by Allmusic as “the definitive post-classic-era Morrison”, Into the Music, was released in the last year of the 1970s with songs on this album that alluded to what would become recurring themes: “religious redemption, Celtic myths and the redemptive power of music.” “Bright Side of the Road” was a joyful, uplifting song that would appear on the soundtrack of the movie, Michael. Common One to Avalon Sunset: 198089
With his next album, the new decade found Morrison following his muse into uncharted territory and merciless reviews. In February 1980, Morrison and a group of musicians traveled to Super Bear, a studio in the French Alps, to record (on the site of a former abbey) what is considered to be the most controversial album in his discography; later “Morrison admitted that his original concept was even more esoteric than the final product.” The album, Common One, consisted of six songs, each of varying length. The longest, “Summertime in England” lasted fifteen and one-half minutes and ended with the words,”Can you feel the silence?”. NME magazine’s Paul Du Noyer called the album “colossally smug and cosmically dull; an interminable, vacuous and drearily egotistical stab at spirituality: Into the muzak.” Even Greil Marcus, whose previous writings had been favourably inclined towards Morrison, said: “It’s Van acting the part of the ‘mystic poet’ he thinks he’s supposed to be.” Morrison insisted that the album was never “meant to be a commercial album.” Biographer Clinton Heylin concludes: “He would not attempt anything so ambitious again. Henceforth every radical idea would be tempered by some notion of commerciality.” Later the critics would reassess the album more favourably with the success of “Summertime in England”. Lester Bangs wrote in 1982, “Van was making holy music even though he thought he was, and us [sic] rock critics had made our usual mistake of paying too much attention to the lyrics.”
Morrison’s next album, Beautiful Vision, released in 1982, had him returning once again to the music of his Northern Irish roots. Well received by the critics and public, it produced a minor UK hit single, “Cleaning Windows”, that referenced one of Morrison’s first jobs after leaving school. Several other songs on the album, “Vanlose Stairway”, “She Gives Me Religion”, and the instrumental, “Scandinavia” show the presence of a new personal muse in his life: a Danish public relations agent, who would share Morrison’s spiritual interests and serve as a steadying influence on him throughout most of the 1980s. “Scandinavia”, with Morrison on piano, was nominated in the Best Rock Instrumental Performance category for the 25th Annual Grammy Awards.
Much of the music Morrison released throughout the 1980s continued to focus on the themes of spirituality and faith. His 1983 album, Inarticulate Speech of the Heart was “a move towards creating music for meditation” with synthesisers, uilleann pipes and flute sounds and four of the tracks were instrumentals. The titling of the album and the presence of the instrumentals were noted to be indicative of Morrison’s long-held belief that “it’s not the words one uses but the force of conviction behind those words that matters.” During this period of time, Morrison had studied Scientology and gave “Special Thanks” to L. Ron Hubbard on the album’s credits.
A Sense of Wonder, Morrison’s 1985 album, pulled together the spiritual themes contained in his last four albums, which were defined in a Rolling Stone review as: “rebirth (Into the Music), deep contemplation and meditation, (Common One); ecstasy and humility (Beautiful Vision); and blissful, mantra like languor (Inarticulate Speech of the Heart).” The single, “Tore Down a la Rimbaud” was a reference to Rimbaud and an earlier bout of writer’s block that Morrison had encountered in 1974. In 1985, Morrison also wrote the musical score for the movie, Lamb starring Liam Neeson.
Morrison’s 1986 release, No Guru, No Method, No Teacher, was said to contain a “genuine holiness…and musical freshness that needs to be set in context to understand.” Critical response was favourable with a Sounds reviewer calling the album “his most intriguingly involved since Astral Weeks” and “Morrison at his most mystical, magical best.” It contains the song, “In the Garden” that, according to Morrison, had a “definite meditation process which is a ‘form’ of transcendental meditation as its basis. It’s not TM”. He entitled the album as a rebuttal to media attempts to place him in various creeds. In an interview in the Observer he told Anthony Denselow:
There have been many lies put out about me and this finally states my position. I have never joined any organisation, nor plan to. I am not affiliated to any guru, don’t subscribe to any method and for those people who don’t know what a guru is, I don’t have a teacher either.
After releasing the “No Guru” album, Morrison’s music appeared less gritty and more adult contemporary with the well-received 1987 album, Poetic Champions Compose, considered to be one of his recording highlights of the 1980s. The romantic ballad from this album, “Someone Like You”, has been featured subsequently in the soundtracks of several movies, including 1995′s French Kiss, and in 2001, both Someone Like You and Bridget Jones’s Diary.
In 1988, he released Irish Heartbeat, a collection of traditional Irish folk songs recorded with the Irish group, The Chieftains, which reached number 18 in the UK album charts. The title song, “Irish Heartbeat”, was originally recorded on his 1983 album Inarticulate Speech of the Heart.
The 1989 album, Avalon Sunset, which featured the hit duet with Cliff Richard “Whenever God Shines His Light” and the ballad “Have I Told You Lately” (on which “earthly love transmutes into that for God.”(Hinton), reached 13 on the UK album chart. Although considered to be a deeply spiritual album, it also contained “Daring Night” which “deals with full, blazing sex, whatever it’s churchy organ and gentle lilt suggest.”(Hinton) Morrison’s familiar themes of “God, woman, his childhood in Belfast and those enchanted moments when time stands still” were prominent in the songs. He can be heard calling out the change of tempo in the ending of this song, repeating the numbers “1 4″. He refers to the chordal changes in the music he wants to hear, (the first chord and the fourth chord in the key of the music). He often completed albums in two days, with first takes frequently being the norm. The Best of Van Morrison to Back on Top: 199099
The early to middle 1990s were commercially successful for Morrison with three albums reaching the top five of the UK charts, sold out concerts, and a more visible public profile; but this period also marked a decline in the critical reception to his work. The decade began with the release of The Best of Van Morrison; compiled by Morrison himself, the album was focused on his hit singles, and became a multi-platinum success remaining a year and a half on the UK charts. Allmusic determined it to be “far and away the best selling album of his career.” After Enlightenment which included the hit single, “Real Real Gone”, another compilation album, The Best of Van Morrison Volume Two was released in January 1993, followed by Too Long in Exile in June, another top five chart success. The 1994 live double album A Night in San Francisco received favourable reviews as well as commercial success by reaching number eight on the UK charts. 1995′s Days Like This also had large sales though the critical reviews were not always favourable. This period also saw a number of side projects, including the live jazz performances of 1996′s How Long Has This Been Going On, from the same year Tell Me Something: The Songs of Mose Allison, and 2000′s The Skiffle Sessions – Live In Belfast 1998, all of which found Morrison paying tribute to his early musical influences.
In 1997, Morrison released The Healing Game. The album received mixed reviews, with the lyrics being described as “tired” and “dull”, though critic Greil Marcus praised the musical complexity of the album by saying: “It carries the listener into a musical home so perfect and complete he or she might have forgotten such a thing existed.” The following year, he finally released some of his previously unissued studio recordings in a two-disc set, The Philosopher’s Stone. His next release, 1999′s Back on Top, achieved a modest success, being his highest charting album in the US since 1978′s Wavelength. Recent years: since 2000
Van Morrison continued to record and tour in the 2000s, often performing two or three times a week. He formed his own independent label, Exile Productions Ltd, which enables him to maintain full production control of each album he records, which he then delivers as a finished product to the recording label that he chooses, for marketing and distribution.
The album, Down the Road released in May 2002, received a good critical reception and proved to be his highest charting album in the US since 1972′s Saint Dominic’s Preview. It had a nostalgic tone, with its fifteen tracks representing the various musical genres that Morrison had previously coveredncluding R&B, blues, country and folk; one of the tracks was written as a tribute to his late father George, who had played a pivotal role in nurturing his early musical tastes.
Morrison’s next album, Magic Time, debuted at number twenty-five on the US Billboard 200 charts upon its May 2005 release, some forty years after Morrison first entered the public’s eye as the frontman of Them. Rolling Stone listed it as number seventeen on The Top 50 Records of 2005. Also in July 2005, Morrison was named by Amazon as one of their top twenty-five all-time best-selling artists and inducted into the Amazon.com Hall of Fame. Later in the year, Morrison also donated a previously unreleased studio track to a charity album, Hurricane Relief: Come Together Now, which raised money for relief efforts intended for Gulf Coast victims devastated by hurricanes, Katrina and Rita. Morrison composed the song, “Blue and Green”, featuring Foggy Lyttle on guitar. This song was released in 2007 on the album, The Best of Van Morrison Volume 3 and also as a single in the UK. Van Morrison was a headline act at the international celtic music festival, The Hebridean Celtic Festival in Stornoway Outer Hebrides in the summer of 2005.
He released an album with a country music theme, entitled Pay the Devil, on 7 March 2006 and appeared at the Ryman Auditorium where the tickets sold out immediately after they went on sale. Pay the Devil debuted at number twenty-six on The Billboard 200 and peaked at number seven on Top Country Albums. Amazon Best of 2006 Editor’s Picks in Country listed the country album at number ten in December 2006. Still promoting the country album, Morrison’s performance as the headline act on the first night of the Austin City Limits Music Festival on 15 September 2006 was reviewed by Rolling Stone magazine as one of the top ten shows of the 2006 festival. In November 2006, a limited edition album, Live at Austin City Limits Festival was issued by Exile Productions, Ltd. A later deluxe CD/DVD release of Pay the Devil, in the summer of 2006 contained tracks from the Ryman performance. In October 2006, Morrison had released his first commercial DVD, Live at Montreux 1980/1974 with concerts taken from two separate appearances at the Montreux Jazz Festival.
A new double CD compilation album The Best of Van Morrison Volume 3 was released in June 2007 containing thirty-one tracks, some of which were previously unreleased. Morrison selected the tracks, which ranged from the 1993 album Too Long in Exile to the song “Stranded” from the 2005 album Magic Time. On 3 September 2007, Morrison’s complete catalogue of albums from 1971 through 2002 were made available exclusively at the ITunes Store in Europe and Australia and during the first week of October 2007, the albums became available at the US ITunes Store.
Still on Top – The Greatest Hits, a thirty-seven track double CD compilation album was released on 22 October 2007 in the UK on the Polydor label. On 29 October 2007, the album charted at number two on the Official UK Top 75 Albumsis highest UK charting. The November release in the US and Canada contains twenty-one selected tracks. The hits that were released on albums with the copyrights owned by Morrison as Exile Productions Ltd.1971 and laterad been remastered in 2007.
Keep It Simple, Morrison’s 33rd studio album of completely new material was released by Exile/Polydor Records on 17 March 2008 in the UK and released by Exile/Lost Highway Records in the US and Canada on 1 April 2008. It comprised eleven self-penned tracks. Morrison promoted the album with a short US tour including an appearance at the SXSW music conference, and a UK concert broadcast on BBC Radio 2. In the first week of release Keep It Simple debuted on the Billboard 200 chart at number ten, Morrison’s first Top Ten charting in the US. Live performances
A smiling Van Morrison performing at the Marin Civic Center, 2007.
By 1972, after being a performer for nearly ten years, Morrison began experiencing stage fright when performing for audiences of thousands, as opposed to the hundreds as he had experienced in his early career. He became anxious on stage and would have difficulty establishing eye contact with the audience. He once said in an interview about performing on stage, “I dig singing the songs but there are times when it’s pretty agonizing for me to be out there.” After a brief break from music, he started appearing in clubs, regaining his ability to perform live, albeit with smaller audiences.
The 1974 live double album, It’s Too Late to Stop Now, has been on lists of greatest live albums of all time. Biographer Johnny Rogan states that “Morrison was in the midst of what was arguably his greatest phase as a performer.” Performances on the album were from tapes made during a three month tour of the US and Europe in 1973 with the backing group The Caledonia Soul Orchestra. Soon after recording the album, Morrison restructured the Caledonia Soul Orchestra into a smaller unit, the Caledonia Soul Express.
Morrison performs in 1976 at The Band’s final concert filmed for The Last Waltz.
On Thanksgiving Day 1976, Morrison performed at the farewell concert for The Band. Morrison’s first live performance in several years, he considered skipping his appearance until the last minute, even refusing to go on stage when they announced his name. His manager, Harvey Goldsmith, said he “literally kicked him out there.” Morrison was on good terms with The Band as near-neighbours in Woodstock, and they had the shared experience of stage-fright. At the concert, he performed two songs, including “Caravan”, from his 1970 album Moondance. Greil Marcus, in attendance at the concert, wrote: “Van Morrison turned the show around…singing to the rafters and …burning holes in the floor. It was a triumph, and as the song ended Van began to kick his leg into the air out of sheer exuberance and he kicked his way right offstage like a Rockette. The crowd had given him a fine welcome and they cheered wildly when he left.” The filmed concert served as the basis for Martin Scorsese’s 1978 film, The Last Waltz.
It was during his association with The Band that Morrison acquired the nicknames: “Belfast Cowboy” and “Van the Man”. When Morrison sang the duet “4% Pantomime” (that he co-wrote with Robbie Robertson), Richard Manuel calls him, “Oh, Belfast Cowboy”. It would be included in The Band’s album Cahoots. When he left the stage, after performing “Caravan” on The Last Waltz, Robertson calls out “Van the Man!”
On 21 July 1990, Morrison joined many other guests for Roger Waters’ massive performance of The Wall – Live in Berlin with an estimated crowd of between three hundred thousand to half a million people and broadcast live on television. He sang “Comfortably Numb” with Roger Waters, and several members from The Band: Levon Helm, Garth Hudson and Rick Danko. At concert’s end, he and the other performers sang “The Tide Is Turning”.
Morrison performed before an estimated audience of sixty to eighty thousand people when US President Bill Clinton visited Belfast, Northern Ireland on 30 November 1995. His song “Days Like This” had become the official anthem for the Northern Irish peace movement.
Van Morrison continued performing concerts in the 2000s throughout the year rather than touring. Playing few of his best-known songs in concert, he has firmly resisted relegation to a nostalgia act. During a 2006 interview, he told Paul Sexton:
I don’t really tour. This is another misconception. I stopped touring in the true sense of the word in the late 1970s, early 1980s, possibly. I just do gigs now. I average two gigs a week. Only in America do I do more, because you can’t really do a couple of gigs there, so I do more, 10 gigs or something there.
Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl
The 2008 titled song, “Astral Weeks (I Believe I’ve Transcended)” with the opening lines: “If I ventured in the slipstream between the viaducts of your dream” shows “a deeper, louder roar than the blue-eyed soul voice of his youth softer on the diction but none the less impressively powerful.”
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On 7 and 8 November 2008, at the Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles, California, Morrison performed the entire Astral Weeks album live for the first time. The Astral Weeks band featured guitarist Jay Berliner, who played on the album that was released forty years previously in November 1968. Also featured on piano was Roger Kellaway. A live album entitled Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl resulted from these two performances. The new live album on CD was released on 24 February 2009, followed by a DVD from the performances. The DVD, Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl: The Concert Film was released via Amazon Exclusive on 19 May 2009. Morrison began a week of Astral Week Live concerts, interviews and TV appearances with concerts at the WaMu Theater at Madison Square Garden in New York City in late February 2009 and at the Beacon Theatre in early March with a twenty-four minute interview to Don Imus on his Imus in the Morning radio show on 26 February. Listen Midway between the scheduled concerts at the WaMu and Beacon, he made a guest appearance on Jimmy Fallon’s debut show as host of Late Night with Jimmy Fallon on 2 March 2009 performing “Sweet Thing” from the Astral Weeks album. Morrison also performed “Sweet Thing” and “Brown Eyed Girl”, on Live with Regis and Kelly the next morning on 3 March 2009. Morrison continued with the Astral Weeks performances with two concerts at the Royal Albert Hall in London in April and then returned to California in May 2009 performing the Astral Weeks songs at the Hearst Greek Theatre in Berkeley and the Orpheum Theatre in Los Angeles, California. Morrison filmed the concerts at the Orpheum Theatre so that they could be viewed by Farrah Fawcett, confined to bed with cancer and who therefore could not attend the concerts. On 6 May 2009, Morrison appeared on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno performing the updated version of “Slim Slow Slider (I Start Breaking Down)” from Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl.
In addition to It’s Too Late to Stop Now and Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl, Morrison has released three other live albums: Live at the Grand Opera House Belfast in 1984; A Night in San Francisco in 1994 that Rolling Stone magazine felt stood out as: “the culmination of a career’s worth of soul searching that finds Morrison’s eyes turned toward heaven and his feet planted firmly on the ground”; and The Skiffle Sessions – Live in Belfast 1998 recorded with Lonnie Donegan and Chris Barber and released in 2000.
A documentary film to be released in early 2010 entitled To Be Born Again will feature a full year of footage from Morrison’s Astral Weeks Live performances, rehearsals and interviews starting with the Hollywood Bowl concerts in November 2008 and running through the 2009 year of live performances of the album’s songs. It will be from ninety to one hundred twenty minutes long and will be directed by Morrison working with filmaker Darren Doane.
Morrison was scheduled to perform at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s 25th anniversary concert on 30 October 2009, but cancelled. In an interview on 26 October, Morrison told his host Don Imus that he had planned to play “a couple of songs” with Eric Clapton (who had cancelled on 22 October due to gallstone surgery), but that they would do something else together at “some other stage of the game”. Collaborations
During the 1990s, Morrison developed a close association with two vocal talents at opposite ends of their careers: Georgie Fame (with whom Morrison had already worked occasionally) lent his voice and Hammond organ skills to Morrison’s band; and Brian Kennedy’s vocals complemented the grizzled voice of Morrison, both in studio and live performances.
The 1990s also saw an upsurge in collaborations by Morrison with other artists, a trend continuing into the new millennium. He recorded with Irish folk band The Chieftains on their 1995 album, The Long Black Veil. Morrison’s song, “Have I Told You Lately” would win a Grammy Award for Best Pop Collaboration with Vocals in 1996. He also produced and was featured on several tracks with blues legend John Lee Hooker on Hooker’s 1997 album, Don’t Look Back. This album would win a Grammy Award for Best Traditional Blues Album in 1998 and the title track “Don’t Look Back”, a duet featuring Morrison and Hooker, would also win a Grammy Award for “Best Pop Collaboration with Vocals” in 1998. Morrison additionally collaborated with Tom Jones on his 1999 album Reload, performing a duet on “Sometimes We Cry”, and he also sang vocals on a track entitled “The Last Laugh” on Mark Knopfler’s 2000 album, Sailing to Philadelphia. In 2004, Morrison was one of the guests on Ray Charles’ album, Genius Loves Company, featuring the two artists performing Morrison’s “Crazy Love”. Music Vocals
Featuring his characteristic growl mix of folk, blues, soul, jazz, gospel, and Ulster Scots Celtic influencesorrison is widely considered by many rock historians to be one of the most unusual and influential vocalists in the history of rock and roll. Critic Greil Marcus has gone so far as to say that “no white man sings like Van Morrison.” As Morrison began live performances of the 40 year old album Astral Weeks in 2008, there were comparisons to his youthful voice of 1968.is early voice was described as “flinty and tender, beseeching and plaintive”. Forty years later, the difference in his vocal range and power were noticeable but reviewers and critic’s comments were favourable: “Morrison’s voice has expanded to fill his frame; a deeper, louder roar than the blue-eyed soul voice of his youth softer on the diction but none the less impressively powerful.” Morrison also commented on the changes in his approach to singing: “The approach now is to sing from lower down [the diaphragm] so I do not ruin my voice. Before, I sang in the upper area of my throat, which tends to wreck the vocal cords over time. Singing from lower in the belly allows my resonance to carry far. I can stand four feet from a mic and be heard quite resonantely.” Songwriting and lyrics
Morrison has written hundreds of songs during his career with a recurring theme reflecting a nostalgic yearning for the carefree days of his childhood in Belfast. Some of his song titles derive from familiar locations in his childhood such as: “Cyprus Avenue” (a nearby street), “Orangefield” (the boys school he attended), “On Hyndford Street” (where he was born). Also frequently present in Morrison’s best love songs is a blending of the sacred-profane as evidenced in “Into the Mystic” and “So Quiet in Here”. Beginning with his 1979 album, Into the Music and the song “And the Healing Has Begun”, a frequent theme of his music and lyrics has been based on his belief in the healing power of music combined with a form of mystic Christianity. This theme has become one of the predominant qualities of his work. His lyrics show an influence of the visionary poets William Blake and W. B. Yeats and others such as Samuel Taylor Coleridge and William Wordsworth. Biographer Brian Hinton believes “like any great poet from Blake to Seamus Heaney he takes words back to their origins in magic…Indeed, Morrison is returning poetry to its earliest roots as in Homer or Old English epics like Beowulf or the Psalms or folk song in all of which words and music combine to form a new reality.” Another biographer John Collis believes that Morrison’s style of jazz singing and repeating phrases preclude his lyrics from being regarded as poetry or as Collis asserts: “he is more likely to repeat a phrase like a mantra, or burst into scat singing. The words may often be prosaic, and so can hardly be poetry.” Morrison has described his songwriting method by remarking that: “I write from a different place. I do not even know what it is called or if it has a name. It just comes and I sculpt it, but it is also a lot of hard work doing the sculpting.” Performance style
“Van Morrison is interested, obsessed with how much musical or verbal information he can compress into a small space, and, almost, conversely, how far he can spread one note, word, sound, or picture. To capture one moment, be it a caress or a twitch. He repeats certain phrases to extremes that from anybody else would seem ridiculous, because he’s waiting for a vision to unfold, trying as unobtrusively as possible to nudge it along…It’s the great search, fueled by the belief that through these musical and mental processes illumination is attainable. Or may at least be glimpsed.”
Lester Bangs
Critic Greil Marcus argues that given the truly distinctive breadth and complexity of Morrison’s work, it is almost impossible to cast his work among that of others: “Morrison remains a singer who can be compared to no other in the history of rock & roll, a singer who cannot be pinned down, dismissed, or fitted into anyone’s expectations.” Or in the words of Jay Cocks: “He extends himself only to express himself. Alone among rock’s great figuresnd even in that company he is one of the greatestorrison is adamantly inward. And unique. Although he freely crosses musical boundaries. and B., Celtic melodies, jazz, rave-up rock, hymns, down-and-dirty bluese can unfailingly be found in the same strange place: on his own wavelength.” His transcendental signature style came into full expression with his 1968 classic, Astral Weeks. This musical art form was based on stream of consciousness songwriting and emotional vocalizing of lyrics that have no basis in normal structure or symmetry. His live performances are dependent on building dynamics with spontaniety between himself and his band, whom he controls with hand gestures throughout, sometimes signaling impromptu solos from a selected band member. The music and vocals build towards a hypnotic and trance-like state that depends on in-the-moment creativity. He has said he believes in the jazz improvisational technique of never performing a song the same way twice and except for the unique rendition of the Astral Weeks songs live, doesn’t perform a concert from a preconceived set list. Morrison has said he prefers to perform at smaller venues or symphony halls noted for their good acoustics. His ban against achoholic beverages, which made entertainment news during 2008, was an attempt to prevent the disruptive and distracting movement of audience members leaving their seats during the performances. In a 2009 interview, Morrison stated: “I do not consciously aim to take the listener anywhere. If anything, I aim to take myself there in my music. If the listener catches the wavelength of what I am saying or singing, or gets whatever point whatever line means to them, then I guess as a writer I may have done a day’s work.” Genre
The music of Van Morrison has encompassed many genres since his early days as a blues and R&B singer in Belfast. Over the years he has recorded songs from a varying list of genres drawn from many influences and interests. As well as blues and R&B, his compositions and covers have moved between pop music, jazz, rock, folk, country, gospel, Irish folk and traditional, big band, skiffle, rock and roll, new age, classic and sometimes spoken word (“Coney Island”) and instrumentals. Morrison defines himself as a soul singer.
Some of Morrison’s music has been classified in a genre of its own and referred to as “Celtic soul” or what biographer Brian Hinton referred to as a new alchemy called “Caledonian soul.” Another biographer, Ritchie Yorke quoted Morrison as believing that he has “the spirit of Caledonia in his soul and his music reflects it.” According to Yorke, Morrison claimed to have discovered “a certain quality of soul” when he first visited Scotland (his Belfast ancestors were of Ulster Scots descent) and Morrison has said he believes there is some connection between soul music and Caledonia. Yorke relates that Morrison “discovered several years after he first began composing music that some of his songs lent themselves to a unique major modal scale (without sevenths) which of course is the same scale as that used by bagpipe players and old Irish and Scottish folk music.” Caledonia
The name “Caledonia” has played a prominent role in Morrison’s life and career. Biographer Ritchie Yorke had pointed out already by 1975 that Morrison has referred to Caledonia so many times in his career that he “seems to be obsessed with the word.” In his 2009 biography, Erik Hage found that “Morrison seemed deeply interested in his paternal Scottish roots during his early career, and later in the ancient countryside of England, hence his repeated use of the term Caledonia (an ancient Roman name for Scotland/northern Britain).” As well as being his daughter’s middle name, it’s the name of his first production company, his studio, his publishing company, two of his backing groups, and he also recorded a cover of the song, “Caldonia” (with the name spelled “Caledonia”) in 1974. Morrison used “Caledonia” in what has been called a quintessential Van Morrison moment in the song, “Listen to the Lion” with the lyrics, “And we sail, and we sail, way up to Caledonia”. As late as 2008, Morrison used “Caledonia” as a mantra in the live performance of the song, “Astral Weeks” recorded at the two Hollywood Bowl concerts. Influence
Morrison’s influence can readily be heard in the music of a diverse array of major artists and according to The Rolling Stone’s Encyclopedia of Rock and Roll (Simon & Shuster, 2001), “his influence among rock singers/song writers is unrivaled by any living artist outside of that other prickly legend, Bob Dylan. Echoes of Morrison’s rugged literateness and his gruff, feverish emotive vocals can be heard in latter day icons ranging from Bruce Springsteen to Elvis Costello”. His influence includes U2 (much of The Unforgettable Fire); Bono (“I am in awe of a musician like Van Morrison. I had to stop listening to Van Morrison records about six months before we made The Unforgettable Fire because I didn’t want his very original soul voice to overpower my own.”); John Mellencamp (“Wild Night”); Jim Morrison; Joan Armatrading (the only musical influence she will acknowledge); Rod Stewart; Tom Petty; Rickie Lee Jones (recognises both Laura Nyro and Van Morrison as the main influences on her career); Elton John; Graham Parker; Sinad O’Connor; Phil Lynott of Thin Lizzy; Bob Seger (“I know Bruce Springsteen was very much affected by Van Morrison, and so was I.” from Creem interview) (“I’ve Been Working”); Dexys Midnight Runners (“Jackie Wilson Said”); Jimi Hendrix (“Gloria”); Jeff Buckley (“The Way Young Lovers Do”, “Sweet Thing”); Nick Drake; and numerous others, including the Counting Crows (their “sha-la-la” sequence in Mr Jones, is a tribute to Morrison). Morrison’s influence reaches into the country music genre, with Hal Ketchum acknowledging, “He (Van Morrison) was a major influence in my life.”
Morrison’s influence on the younger generation of singer-songwriters is pervasive: including Irish singer Damien Rice, who has been described as on his way to becoming the “natural heir to Van Morrison”; Ray Lamontagne; James Morrison; Paolo Nutini; Eric Lindell and David Gray are also several of the younger artists influenced by Morrison. Glen Hansard of the Irish rock band The Frames (who lists Van Morrison as being part of his holy trinity with Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen) commonly covers his songs in concert. American rock band, The Wallflowers have covered “Into the Mystic”. Canadian blues-rock singer Colin James also covers the song frequently at his concerts. Actor and musician Robert Pattinson has said that Van Morrison was his “influence for doing music in the first place”. Morrison has shared the stage with Northern Irish singer-songwriter Duke Special, who admits Morrison has been a big influence.
Overall, Morrison has typically been supportive of other artists, often willingly sharing the stage with them during his concerts. On the live album, A Night in San Francisco, he had as his special guests, among others, his childhood idols: Jimmy Witherspoon, John Lee Hooker and Junior Wells. Although he often expresses his displeasure (in interviews and songs) with the music industry and the media in general, he has been instrumental in promoting the careers of many other musicians and singers, such as James Hunter, and fellow Belfast-born brothers, Brian and Bap Kennedy. Personal life
Morrison lived in Belfast from birth until 1967, when he moved to New York after signing with Bang Records. Facing deportation due to visa problems, he managed to stay in the US when his American girlfriend Janet (Planet) Rigsbee agreed to marry him. Once married, Morrison and his wife moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts, where he found work performing in the local clubs. The couple had one daughter Shana Morrison, who has become a singer-songwriter. Morrison and his family moved around America, living in Boston; Woodstock, New York; and a hilltop home in Fairfax, California. His wife appeared on the cover of the album Tupelo Honey. They divorced in 1973.
Morrison moved back to Europe in the late 70s, first settling in London’s Notting Hill Gate area. Later, he moved to Bath, where he purchased Wool Hall Studios. He also has a home in the Irish seaside village of Dalkey near Dublin.
Morrison met Irish socialite Michelle Rocca in the summer of 1992, and they often featured in the Dublin gossip columns, an unusual event for the reclusive Morrison. Rocca also appeared on one of his album covers, Days Like This. The couple are married and have two children; A daughter was born in January 2006 and a son was born in September 2007. Discography
Main article: Van Morrison discography
Blowin’ Your Mind! (1967)
Astral Weeks (1968)
Moondance (1970)
His Band and the Street Choir (1970)
Tupelo Honey (1971)
Saint Dominic’s Preview (1972)
Hard Nose the Highway (1973)
It’s Too Late to Stop Now (Live) (1974)
Veedon Fleece (1974)
A Period of Transition (1977)
Wavelength (1978)
Into the Music (1979)
Common One (1980)
Beautiful Vision (1982)
Inarticulate Speech of the Heart (1983)
Live at the Grand Opera House Belfast (1984)
A Sense of Wonder (1984)
No Guru, No Method, No Teacher (1986)
Poetic Champions Compose (1987)
Irish Heartbeat (1988)
Avalon Sunset (1989)
Enlightenment (1990)
Hymns to the Silence (1991)
Too Long in Exile (1993)
A Night in San Francisco (Live) (1994)
Days Like This (1995)
How Long Has This Been Going On (1996)
Tell Me Something: The Songs of Mose Allison (1996)
The Healing Game (1997)
Back on Top (1999)
The Skiffle Sessions – Live in Belfast 1998 (2000)
You Win Again (2000)
Down the Road (2002)
What’s Wrong with This Picture? (2003)
Magic Time (2005)
Pay the Devil (2006)
Live at Austin City Limits Festival (Limited edition) (2006)
Keep It Simple (2008)
Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl (2009) Awards and recognition
Morrison has received several major music awards in his career, including six Grammy Awards (19962007); inductions into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (January 1993), the Songwriters Hall of Fame (June 2003), and the Irish Music Hall of Fame (September 1999); and a Brit Award (February 1994). In addition he has received civil awards of an OBE (June 1996) and an Officier de lrdre des Arts et des Lettres (1996), and he has honorary doctorates from the University of Ulster (1992) and Queen’s University Belfast (July 2001).
The Grammy Awards were:
Best Pop Collaboration with Vocals, 1996, “Have I Told You Lately” (with The Chieftains)
Best Pop Collaboration with Vocals, 1998, “Don’t Look Back” (with John Lee Hooker)
Hall of Fame, 1999, Astral Weeks
Hall of Fame, 1999, Moondance
Hall of Fame, 1999, “Gloria”
Hall of Fame, 2007, “Brown Eyed Girl”
The Hall of Fame inductions began in 1993 with the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame; Morrison notable for being the first inductee not to attend his own ceremony, so that Robbie Robertson from The Band accepted the award on his behalf. When Morrison became the initial musician inducted into the Irish Music Hall of Fame, Bob Geldof presented Morrison with the award. Morrison’s third induction was into the Songwriters Hall of Fame for “recognition of his unique position as one of the most important songwriters of the past century.” Ray Charles presented the award, following a performance during which the pair performed Morrison’s “Crazy Love”, from the album, Moondance. Morrison’s BRIT Award was for his Outstanding Contribution to British Music. He was presented with the award by former Beirut hostage, John McCarthy, who while testifying to the importance of Morrison’s song, “Wonderful Remark” called it “a song … which was very important to us.”
Morrison received two civil awards in 1996, first was the Order of the British Empire for his service to music, the second was an award by the French government when he was made an Officier de lrdre des Arts et des Lettres. Along with these state awards he has two honorary degrees in music; an honorary doctorate in literature from the University of Ulster, and an honorary doctorate in music from Queen’s University in his hometown of Belfast.
Among other awards are the BMI ICON award in October 2004 for Morrison’s “enduring influence on generations of music makers”; an Oscar Wilde: Honouring Irish Writing in Film award in 2007 for his contribution to over fifty films, presented by Al Pacino who compared Morrison to Oscar Wilde as they were both “visionaries who push boundaries”; and the Best International Male Singer of 2007 at the inaugral International Awards in Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club, London.
Morrison has also appeared in a number of Greatest lists, including the Time magazine list of The All-Time 100 Albums, which contained Astral Weeks and Moondance, and he appeared at number thirteen on the list of WXPN’s 885 All Time Greatest Artists. In 2000, Morrison ranked twenty-fifth on American cable music channel VH1′s list of its “100 Greatest Artists of Rock and Roll”. In 2004, Rolling Stone magazine ranked Van Morrison forty-second on their list of “Greatest Artists of All Time”. Paste ranked him twentieth in their list of “100 Greatest Living Songwriters” in 2006. Q ranked him twenty-second on their list of “100 Greatest Singers” in April 2007 and he was voted twenty-fourth on the November 2008 list of Rolling Stone magazine’s 100 Greatest Singers of All Time.
Three of Morrison’s songs were included in the The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s 500 Songs that Shaped Rock and Roll: “Brown Eyed Girl”, “Madame George” and “Moondance”.
Morrison has been announced to be one of the 2010 honorees listed in the Hollywood Walk of Fame. See also
List of people on stamps of Ireland Notes
^ a b c Ankeny, Jason. allmusic.com “Van Morrison Biography”. http://allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&sql=11:jifuxqygldhe~T1 allmusic.com. Retrieved 2008-07-07. 
^ “The Immortals – The Greatest Artists of All Time: 42) Van Morrison : Rolling Stone”. rollingstone.com. http://www.rollingstone.com/news/story/5939236/the_immortals__the_greatest_artists_of_all_time_42_van_morrison. Retrieved 2009-09-16. 
^ The word curmudgeonly is commonly used. “BBC Music Review of Van Morrison Tupelo Honey”. www.bbc.co.uk. http://www.bbc.co.uk/music/reviews/d3bd. Retrieved 2009-04-18. 
^ The great rock discography, page 551, M. C. Strong, Giunti, 1998, ISBN 8809215222
^ “Van Morrison: No Guru, No Method, No Teacher : Music Reviews : Rolling Stone”. rollingstone.com. http://www.rollingstone.com/artists/vanmorrison/albums/album/124806/review/5944254/no_guru_no_method_no_teacher. Retrieved 2009-04-18. 
^ Selvin, Joel (2009-05-04). “Van Morrison’s transcendent ‘Astral’ at Greek”. sfgate.com. http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/05/03/DDU317DM77.DTL. Retrieved 2009-05-26. 
^ Fricke, David (2009-02-04). “Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl”. rollingstone.com. http://www.rollingstone.com/reviews/album/25823361/review/25885646/astral_weeks_live_at_the_hollywood_bowl. Retrieved 2009-11-22. 
^ Colt, Jonathan. Back to a shadow in the night. books.google.com. http://books.google.com/books?id=EQR3U2pjwrQC&pg=PA105&dq=inspired+Van+Morrison&lr=. Retrieved 2009-05-12. 
^ a b c “Astral Weeks: Van Morrison”. acclaimedmusic.net. http://acclaimedmusic.net/Current/A121.htm. Retrieved 2008-04-30. 
^ “Acclaimed Music – Moondance”. acclaimedmusic.net. http://acclaimedmusic…

As I know, many people are trying to lose fat. They even risk their life doing this. But they don’t achieve the results they desire but they become huge and huger. This is because if some creatures living in your body. I don’t mean an ant or a bug living in your body. But there are some worms known as parasites living in people who have huge bellies. These parasites occur because of the shit. The food we eat don’t get thrown to the intestine but small parts are left in your belly creates parasites. So basically it means that your body is full of shit. If not there is no chance of getting parasites. But thanks to Doctor Suzanne Gudakunst EBook “Top Secret Fat Loss Secret” it’s nightmare for parasites.

What Dr. Suzanne Gudakunst sows is the reason for the emergence of parasites, and how to clean them and reduce your body weight fast. As I have read the book I can give you a small review of the book. There are three main reasons why parasites occur. First one is, many people in the world eat junk food and they also drink alcohol. Mainly in the US there are about 91% of people with parasites. The junk food means food items like chips and packet food stuff. These contain many chemicals that don’t get digested. Due to this they remain and become shit in your belly or intestine. This is a way where we help parasites to grow and live a good life. Basically we become a pile of shit.

Alcohol is the main topic on Top Secret Fat Loss Secret. The reason is that Alcohol makes us to sleep. Not only our eyes it stops, it stops almost every system that is running in our body. The main system that is affected is the digestive system. When this get’s shut down, there is no digestion of food. This is also another method by which we help parasites to grow.

SCHAUT EUCH DAS AN WIE ICH SCHIESSE UND MACHT ES NACH… MEIN TIPP: ECKENIN 3METRE ARKASINDAN ATIYORUM KALEYE VE GENE GIRIYOR MEIN TIPP: ICH SCHIESSE DEN BALL VON 3METER HINTER DER ECKE UND TROTZDEM WIRD ES EIN TOR

Plot

A screenshot from Puss Gets the Boot.

The camera shows a mouse named Jinx attempting to run, but getting nowhere, then zooms out and reveals a smug, superior cat (here named Jasper) holding his tail so that the mouse cannot move. The cat pulls back the mouse’s tail, opens his mouth, and releases the mouse such that the mouse will run into his mouth. The mouse spots the trap, brakes in time and runs toward his mousehole, but Jasper catches him with his tail. The cat tosses the mouse into the air and the mouse lands on the cat’s tail, then runs down the cat’s body until he has to brake a second time because the cat is again attempting to eat him. The mouse dashes off and the cat waltzes behind him innocently and hops in front of the door and opens his mouth. The mouse runs in, but rolls out of the cat’s mouth on his tongue. The cat begins a chase and then sees a better idea: he takes an alternative path around and he will try to fool the mouse. The cat dips his finger in ink, paints a fake mousehole on the wall, and lowers a sign that says “HOME SWEET HOME”. The mouse stops running in order to enter his “hole” and knocks himself out. The cat ‘tsk’s and revives the mouse with a dash of water.

The mouse recovers and soon notices that something is next to him. He feels the cat’s head and grabs an eyelid. The cat opens his eye and hoists the mouse up. The mouse looks into the cat’s face and realizes it’s the cat. The mouse punches the cat in the eye. He shrieks in pain and retaliates by giving chase.

However, the cat runs into a houseplant and breaks it. His mistress, Mammy Two Shoes, a Black maid, quickly arrives and chastises Jasper. Jasper tiptoes away, but is soon under Mammy’s broom.

“Just a minute, you good-for-nothin’, cheap fur-coat! Now would you just look, just look at that mess you made.”

The housemaid gives Jasper an ultimatum: “Now, understand this, Jasper. If you breaks one more thing, you is goin’ out – O-W-T [sic], OUT!”

“That’s clear, ain’t it?”

The mouse throws his fists in the air from a candlestick he is hiding in.

“One more breakin’, and you’s going out. Now get out of my sight ‘fore I gets mad!”

Mammy sweeps Jasper away with her broom.

Jasper creeps away, but soon runs into a table. The cat sees a vase falling from it and rushes over to save it. He sighs with relief and soon spots the mouse laughing at him. Jasper crawls over the floor in anger. The mouse gets out of the candlestick as Jasper runs up onto the table and forces the cat to back off or else he will throw a wineglass to the floor.Jasper skids to a stop. He retreats as he sees Mammy prancing around the house with the swept-up mess and hears her:

“Anymore breakin’ and that cat’s goin’ outta here.”

The mouse nods. Jasper gulps from hearing this. chuckles nervously and walks off. Jasper sees the mouse letting down his guard and tries again to catch him, but the mouse again threatens him. The mouse then whacks the cat with the wineglass and gets Jasper to back off again. The mouse then decides to toy with the cat, winks at the camera and throws the glass down. Jasper hears whistling and sees the mouse, sans glass, pointing towards the ground. Jasper panics and dashes at the glass, narrowly saving it. The mouse throws down a second glass, followed by the tray and four more glasses which Jasper catches on the tray. Jasper then gets hit on the head with a decorated plate of flowers thrown by the mouse. Jasper sees the mouse taunting him with one more glass in his hand, and Jasper attempts to throw the plate to the ground, but realizes this would probably break it and punish himself. Jasper then spots pillows of all sorts on a nearby couch.

As Jinx is strolling along the table, Jasper pops his head up next to the mouse. The mouse hangs the threat of throwing the wineglass down over the cat’s head, but Jasper appears dreamy and indifferent. The mouse then twists his tail at the cat as if to say “Have it your way”, then he throws the glass to the floor in total arrogance. Not hearing the crash he expected, the mouse looks down to the ground and sees that the glass fell on one of the pillows.

Jasper grins and the mouse tries to run away, but Jasper slaps his tail. The mouse says a quick prayer:

“Now I lay me down to sleep.”

“I pray the Lord my soul to keep.”

“If I should die before I wake,”

“I hope and hope my soul He’ll take.”

“Amen.”

and Jasper lets him go, only to catch him with his tail again. Jasper tosses the mouse into the air and opens his mouth expecting to eat the mouse when he falls back down. The mouse has been thrown up to the china rack and drops a plate down onto Jasper instead of himself. Jasper is momentarily stunned. The mouse proceeds to run across the shelf of plates and knocks every one of them down. Jasper sweats increasingly more as he lugs around the stack of plates, then finally manages to slant it against the wall and pants from the weight of the dishes. Jasper is briefly safe, but he soon spots the mouse waving at him from the top of the stack. Jasper can only watch in terror as the mouse throws one more plate down to the ground and it breaks.

Mammy hears it from upstairs and storms down the steps, proclaiming that she will evict the cat as soon as she gets down. To multiply Jasper’s humiliation, the mouse leaps in triumph, then runs down the stack of plates, stomps on Jasper’s nose, rolls the cat’s eyelids, squirts Jasper’s milk on Jasper’s back and even cleans himself with Jasper’s tail. The mouse spots Mammy approaching with broom in hand and knows he must get the job done soon or else he will be seen. The mouse kicks the cat in the rear which causes him to drop all the crockery and frame him.

Jinx flees the scene and dives into his hole just before Mammy squashes him with her foot. Jasper is dragged across the floor by Mammy and thrown out of the house. The triumphant Jinx watches and then spots the “Home Sweet Home” sign. The mouse posts the sign by his real mousehole and nods in confidence that this is the real one as he marches in.

Release and reaction

The mouse threatens to throw some breakables in order to expel Jasper from the house.

Though Puss Gets the Boot was popular on its initial release, no follow-up cartoons were originally scheduled. MGM saw Puss Gets the Boot as a “flash in the pan”, and assigned Hanna and Barbera to several musical cartoons. Not entirely satisfied with their new output, Hanna and Barbera decided to get started on another cat-and-mouse short.

A studio-wide contest took place to christen the cat and mouse with names; the winning combination of Tom and Jerry was suggested by animator John Carr. However, despite coming up with a new name for the cat and mouse team, Hanna and Barbera were prevented from making another Tom and Jerry cartoon. MGM’s animation department head, Fred Quimby, had assumed there were already enough cat and mouse cartoons in existence, and therefore Tom and Jerry could not possibly bring anything new.

Besa Short, a manager of the Loew’s theater chain in Dallas, Texas, sent MGM a letter enquiring as to whether new cat and mouse cartoons would be made, after thoroughly enjoying Puss Gets the Boot. At the same time, the cartoon had been given an Academy Award nomination, strengthening Hanna and Barbera’s request to create another cartoon. From there, Hanna and Barbera were given permission to create two new Tom and Jerry shorts, and in 1941, The Midnight Snack and The Night Before Christmas were created, with the latter cartoon getting another Academy Award nomination.

Voice dubbing

All of Mammy’s dialogue is redubbed on Cartoon Network and other Turner syndicated prints (excluding TCM; she even spells “OUT” correctly)

Trivia

Lists of miscellaneous information should be avoided. Please relocate any relevant information into appropriate sections or articles. (February 2008)

At over nine minutes in length, this is the longest theatrical Tom and Jerry short released, the shortest is Ah, Sweet Mouse-Story of Life.

The opening shot was referenced to in later Tom and Jerry short, Dog Trouble.

This is the only Tom & Jerry short to be released in 1940, as it was initially intended as a one-shot.

Notes

This is one of three Tom and Jerry shorts where the title is a pun on the fairytale Puss in Boots. The others are Puss n’ Toots and Puss ‘n’ Boats.

External links

Puss Gets the Boot at the Internet Movie Database

v  d  e

The Hanna-Barbera “Tom and Jerry” shorts

1940

Puss Gets the Boot (001)

1941

The Midnight Snack (002) The Night Before Christmas (003)

1942

Fraidy Cat (004) Dog Trouble (005) Puss n’ Toots (006) The Bowling Alley Cat (007) Fine Feathered Friend (008)

1943

Sufferin’ Cats! (009) The Lonesome Mouse (010) The Yankee Doodle Mouse (011) Baby Puss (012)

1944

The Zoot Cat (013) The Million Dollar Cat (014) The Bodyguard (015) Puttin’ on the Dog (016) Mouse Trouble (017)

1945

The Mouse Comes to Dinner (018) Mouse in Manhattan (019) Tee for Two (020) Flirty Birdy (021) Quiet Please! (022)

1946

Springtime for Thomas (023) The Milky Waif (024) Trap Happy (025) Solid Serenade (026)

1947

Cat Fishin’ (027) Part Time Pal (028) The Cat Concerto (029) Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Mouse (030) Salt Water Tabby (031) A Mouse in the House (032) The Invisible Mouse (033)

1948

Kitty Foiled (034) The Truce Hurts (035) Old Rockin’ Chair Tom (036) Professor Tom (037) Mouse Cleaning (038)

1949

Polka-Dot Puss (039) The Little Orphan (040) Hatch Up Your Troubles (041) Heavenly Puss (042) The Cat and the Mermouse (043) Love That Pup (044) Jerry’s Diary (045) Tennis Chumps (046)

1950

Little Quacker (047) Saturday Evening Puss (048) Texas Tom (049) Jerry and the Lion (050) Safety Second (051) Tom and Jerry in the Hollywood Bowl (052) The Framed Cat (053) Cue Ball Cat (054)

1951

Casanova Cat (055) Jerry and the Goldfish (056) Jerry’s Cousin (057) Sleepy-Time Tom (058) His Mouse Friday (059) Slicked-up Pup (060) Nit-Witty Kitty (061) Cat Napping (062)

1952

The Flying Cat (063) The Duck Doctor (064) The Two Mouseketeers (065) Smitten Kitten (066) Triplet Trouble (067) Little Runaway (068) Fit to Be Tied (069) Push-Button Kitty (070) Cruise Cat (071) The Dog House (072)

1953

The Missing Mouse (073) Jerry and Jumbo (074) Johann Mouse (075) That’s My Pup! (076) Just Ducky (077) Two Little Indians (078) Life with Tom (079)

1954

Puppy Tale (080) Posse Cat (081) Hic-cup Pup (082) Little School Mouse (083) Baby Butch (084) Mice Follies (085) Neapolitan Mouse (086) Downhearted Duckling (087) Pet Peeve (088) Touch, Pussy Cat! (089)

1955

Southbound Duckling (090) Pup on a Picnic (091) Mouse for Sale (092) Designs on Jerry (093) Tom and Chrie (094) Smarty Cat (095) Pecos Pest (096) That’s My Mommy (097)

1956

The Flying Sorceress (098) The Egg and Jerry (099) Busy Buddies (100) Muscle Beach Tom (101) Down Beat Bear (102) Blue Cat Blues (103) Barbecue Brawl (104)

1957

Tops with Pops (105) Timid Tabby (106) Feedin’ the Kiddie (107) Mucho Mouse (108) Tom’s Photo Finish (109)

1958

Happy Go Ducky (110) Royal Cat Nap (111) The Vanishing Duck (112) Robin Hoodwinked (113) Tot Watchers (114)

2005

The Karate Guard (162)

Spin-off

Give and Tyke (Spike and Tyke) Scat Cats (Spike and Tyke)

See also: The Gene Deitch Tom and Jerry shorts (19611962) and The Chuck Jones Tom and Jerry shorts (19631967)

Categories: 1940 films | Tom and Jerry cartoonsHidden categories: Articles lacking sources from May 2008 | All articles lacking sources | Wikipedia articles with plot summary needing attention from February 2010 | All Wikipedia articles with plot summary needing attention | Articles with trivia sections from February 2008 | All articles with trivia sections

Hey Doc!

I’ve noticed a trend in my dating life that is really starting to piss me off. It’s rare for me to make plans with a girl and to not have her try to cancel on me or suddenly be “too busy” to keep our date. I’m so tired of games like that. Are they trying to see how much I want them or how much bullshit I’ll put up with?
=============
Hello!

Yes, I’ve been seeing more and more of this over the last few years too. You’re not alone, trust me.

Many women are doing this these days. It’s a weird combination of being flaky, inconsiderate and trying to up their own value in your eyes. It comes directly from insecurity, but regardless, it’s incredibly rude, and these girls actually think that by doing this, you’re going to have an emotional reaction and will start to actually think of them, thus creating greater value for them in your eyes.

I know, I know, that’s just fucking stupid, but believe me, not only do I see this all over the place, but in fact, I actually see so called “experts” actually TELLING girls to do this! No shit! They also tell girls not to answer the phone when you call and to not return phone calls, etc.! Un-fucking-believable!

There are some great ways to counter this by the way, but first off, remember that if some idiot wants to play these games with you before you’ve even kicked anything off, what is she going to be like if and when you actually DO establish a relationship?

The fact is, if you fall for these games you’ll also lose value in HER eyes! No woman really wants a guy that will put up with this crap. This is a weak, no-skill guy and one of the reasons why these women are pulling these games in the first place is to weed-out the guys that will keep chasing them (they only serve to give the girls a much-needed ego boost) from the guys that won’t put up with this shit, (the guys she REALLY wants to be with.)

So, you want to be the guy that won’t put up with it. The question then, is how do you do that without coming off like a total loser?

There are a number of things you need to do:

First, be much better at setting the dates in the first place. When you set a date be absolutely clear on when, where, etc., and make sure she writes it down – don’t let her pull the old, “Oh, I’ll remember crap”, only to have her claim she forgot later on.

Many girls will say, “Oh, call me the day before to confirm.” Dumb guys say, “Ok” and then, when they call, the girl doesn’t answer. Instead say, “Huh? No, we’re setting the date right now. Write it down. If you don’t know how to use a calendar, you’re never going to figure out how to work me! I don’t have to time to confirm things twice.”

Even if she does answer when a guy calls to confirm, this just gives her a chance to pull some stupid shit on you again and blow you off. “Oh! I can’t make it tomorrow, my girlfriend from New York is in town unexpectedly and I have this emergency with my cat and …” Yeah, right. None of this is true! Don’t put up with it.

The second thing is when you set the date say, “Now, let’s get this out in the open. You’re not one of those dumb girls that tries to cancel a date an hour beforehand are you? Because you need to know that I’m busy and I need AT LEAST 24 hour’s cancellation notice of any ‘emergencies’. Do you expect some ‘emergency’ to come up? If so, tell me now and we’ll cancel right now.”

This is going to prevent her from canceling on you at the last minute.

Another game women play is to just not show up. When you’re waiting for them for 20 minutes and she’s not there without a call (and you need to make sure she has and writes down your cell number too!) she’s not going to pick-up when you call her.

The best way to handle this is to call her and leave the following message:

“Hello [dumb girl's name], this is [your name]. You know we had a date today at 8 [or whenever] and you’ve obviously flaked on me without even bothering to call. That’s extremely rude and has just taken you off my list as I know any normal [yes, use that word] girl would have called if there was a problem. If you’re still planning on showing up late, please don’t. I’m calling another girl I want to get to know instead. You can call me tomorrow to explain. My number is…”

Wow! Talk about a kick in the chops! *IF* she calls you the next day, be ready for all the excuses in the world. Don’t accept any of them. If you do, you look like a chump and will have ended your chances. If you don’t put up with it, you’ll have just told her that you’re someone of value. If she apologizes and is genuinely remorseful, then give her ONE MORE chance. This next time, tell her that you’re not going to go somewhere and wait around to see if she shows. She’s obviously not trustworthy. The only way you’ll go out with her again is to pick her up at her house – and only then, based on her telling you how she’s going to make this insult up to you.

Don’t put up with this shit from women. If you want to know much more about setting dates, making sure she shows, how to deal even more directly with all of this, check out my books, “Being a Man in a Woman’s World I & II” on my website.

Best regards…
——————————————————————
Have a love, dating, relationship, sex or man/woman question? You can write to me by going to: http://beingaman.com/ask_question.asp for answers. For more information about my books, “Being a Man in a Woman’s Worldtm” (volumes I and II), and other products visit: www.beingaman.com. Check out the discussion group at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/beingaman and check out the new BAM! TV at http://beingaman.tv

Copyright (c) 2008, Dr. Dennis W. Neder
All rights reserved.

A horny brunette spices up things by giving an orgy an elegant touch – by adding red wine!

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While the men are naked, this slut retains her leather outfit for the moment, to tease and arouse the dudes! Taking out a bottle of wine, the slut gets atop a dude, and starts pouring the wine all over her tits, with the guy drinking up the wine that drips from her tits!

The slut gets a taste of the wine as well, as soon as she takes the huge cock in her mouth! In order to add to the flavor of the cock in the blowjob, the dude pours some wine over the babe’s head, which drips into the slut’s mouth as she sucks the dick, thereby improving the flavor!

Well, they soon run out of wine, so they decide to substitute an equally tasteful and exquisite drink – warm, stinky piss! The slut catches it in her mouth, but eventually ends up drenched from head to toe in urine!

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View full post on Object Insertion, Rough Sex & Sexual Torture | GGG Sex Box