DrMotorcity
Don Trump calls me Pornography Man
Seemingly, friends, we’ve know them all our lives, yet amazingly enough they’ve some how slipped from the forefront of our consciousness in recent times—taking them for granted is another way of looking at it—yet all along they’ve carried on with their life quite often in virtual anonymity, and far, far from the thoughts of those who in past times anxiously awaited their forthcoming salvo into the mainstream of social and cultural awareness, then showering down upon them riches that often exceeded the practical, sensibly drawn boundaries of one's own disposable income, and when finally, in the presence of these august personalities whom had been anointed by their public as no less than deities of Olympian esteem, they would succumb to the dictates of myriad uncontrollable physiological responses as they screamed and cheered, with a heart racing at a feverish pitch, and with limbs gesticulating uncontrollably portending scant regard for their own personal safety, as they wept and became at a loss for words, bothering not to notice that the oxygen in-take in to their lungs had become unsatisfactory and would then soon fall to the ground from faint, and then…oh, we’ll just leave it at that.
Yes, friends at one time we couldn’t live without them, as in another time they had monopolized the conversation and every notion in our mind, every hour of the day, and one could attest that they shone resplendently during their moment in the sun and justifiably took title to the throne of their particular realm during their celebrated quarter of an hour.
They were really something, weren’t they?
And then someone else will find our fancy, and off we are towards the latest sensation of popular and social culture. And they too, will meet the same fate as their predecessors had: an irreversible waning of interest of them on a personal level and an equally diminishing appreciation of their once celebrated accomplishments, and total estrangement from the consciousness of the very ones who so zealously fawned over them and bought the tee-shirts to prove it.
But inevitably there will come a day when they will be re-remembered.
And every aspect of the broadcast media, as well as those in print and the purveyors of ersatz-memorabilia and those who hold the rights to their respective efforts, and yes, even the message boards, will do a good business when that time comes.
Let us do our part to divert ourselves from the usual, morbid course of events, and take another avenue towards the recognition of the achievements (or the distinctly notorious lack of those with a positive influence) of those who have in recent years withered from headlines, and remember them now.
Our lead-off entry of this thread:
“Kingdoms,” being what they are, and also being slightly incomprehensible to this American in particular, nevertheless, for every notional “kingdom” there is one so appointed as “king.” One such “kingdom,” in my opinion has always had its chief office usurped, unwittingly, perhaps, but just the same, a title to which I feel this person shall eternally be unworthy of.
Therefore, I offer my unwavering, non-negotiable opinion of this matter—righting a grievously imposed wrong, I have should deem it as no less—and dutifully submit to you, the members of the FreeOnes message board, as the inaugural entry of this thread:
Here was an extraordinary man who played an instrument, sang the vocals, wrote or co-wrote nearly all of the material in his performance catalog, as well as having had notoriously lived the extravagant, if not reckless, law-skirting life style not too-uncommon for those of his chosen profession in all its blazing, headline-making, siren-blaring, gavel-banging glory, and provided an intriguing central presence for a musical genre he, more so than any one single individual, help create.
Contemporaries, did this man have? I think not.
Imitators and admirers? By the millions. And counting.
You can read about Mr. Berry here.
Chuck may not have been the perfect individual, but one can never deny his unparalled contribution to many genres of popular music that is revered to this day.
From any of us who at least once felt that tingling of the spinal column at the sound of an electric guitar, or who reached for the volume knob (calibrated from 1-11, no less) at the sound of the opening chords of a favorite tune, thanks, Chuck Berry.
Hail! Hail! Rock 'N' Roll. And let us not forget.
Remember them now.
Yes, friends at one time we couldn’t live without them, as in another time they had monopolized the conversation and every notion in our mind, every hour of the day, and one could attest that they shone resplendently during their moment in the sun and justifiably took title to the throne of their particular realm during their celebrated quarter of an hour.
They were really something, weren’t they?
And then someone else will find our fancy, and off we are towards the latest sensation of popular and social culture. And they too, will meet the same fate as their predecessors had: an irreversible waning of interest of them on a personal level and an equally diminishing appreciation of their once celebrated accomplishments, and total estrangement from the consciousness of the very ones who so zealously fawned over them and bought the tee-shirts to prove it.
But inevitably there will come a day when they will be re-remembered.
And every aspect of the broadcast media, as well as those in print and the purveyors of ersatz-memorabilia and those who hold the rights to their respective efforts, and yes, even the message boards, will do a good business when that time comes.
Let us do our part to divert ourselves from the usual, morbid course of events, and take another avenue towards the recognition of the achievements (or the distinctly notorious lack of those with a positive influence) of those who have in recent years withered from headlines, and remember them now.
Our lead-off entry of this thread:
“Kingdoms,” being what they are, and also being slightly incomprehensible to this American in particular, nevertheless, for every notional “kingdom” there is one so appointed as “king.” One such “kingdom,” in my opinion has always had its chief office usurped, unwittingly, perhaps, but just the same, a title to which I feel this person shall eternally be unworthy of.
Therefore, I offer my unwavering, non-negotiable opinion of this matter—righting a grievously imposed wrong, I have should deem it as no less—and dutifully submit to you, the members of the FreeOnes message board, as the inaugural entry of this thread:
The King of Rock and Roll, Chuck Berry.
Here was an extraordinary man who played an instrument, sang the vocals, wrote or co-wrote nearly all of the material in his performance catalog, as well as having had notoriously lived the extravagant, if not reckless, law-skirting life style not too-uncommon for those of his chosen profession in all its blazing, headline-making, siren-blaring, gavel-banging glory, and provided an intriguing central presence for a musical genre he, more so than any one single individual, help create.
Contemporaries, did this man have? I think not.
Imitators and admirers? By the millions. And counting.
You can read about Mr. Berry here.
Chuck may not have been the perfect individual, but one can never deny his unparalled contribution to many genres of popular music that is revered to this day.
From any of us who at least once felt that tingling of the spinal column at the sound of an electric guitar, or who reached for the volume knob (calibrated from 1-11, no less) at the sound of the opening chords of a favorite tune, thanks, Chuck Berry.
Hail! Hail! Rock 'N' Roll. And let us not forget.
Remember them now.
