Archive for the ‘Music’ Category


I’ve never been so fucking happy in my life, existence too kind to me.

I went out to celebrate deep into the night. Everyone suspicious of me buying rounds:

who is this nutcase? But I just couldn’t help myself, wanting to share my joy, spreading it.


It is not often I get this privilege, the last one when WWII ended, the event of a lifetime,

a kind I and so many others pray for every day.


And thanks Media, thanks for breaking the news, for carrying the announcement,

for obeying your selfless inner-voice, distributing not only catastrophic but also glorious news.


The only cruelty in all of this is, having to wait 2 full hard years before becoming part of the epiphany.


I don’t know what I’m going to do till then, mope, starve, stamp, bang my head against the wall,

but I’ll try and remain courageous, as you must.


Barbra, Barbra, bar-bra, I know, modesty your name, but do you really have to wait till 2017

with your autobiography.


After all, there’s so very, very little to tell…





Most of us get tears in our eyes when we listen to Rachmaninoff.

Putin, the poor, impoverished sop, gets tears in his eyes when a motorcycle gang drives by, with a large Russian flag on board.

Bon Appétit!


When read in Spanish the name of the Mamas & the Papas singing group, and why it was such a hit in Latin America, is the Tits & Potatoes.




Or Areolas & Chips.



A whole new concept in hash browns!








Monty Python Redux


Whereupon these Taliban, Al Qaeda and Isis fun guys were having a party

and spontaneously sang and whistled:



Things will turn out for the best

Always look on the bright side of…. death






Yes, always look on the bright side of…. death








And their audience just died!




-My wife wants a private bathroom, lest someone can hear her!


-She plays the Bowl?


– Like Glenn Miller!


– She does Glenn Millers?


– Not to say Kai Windings!


– So, more than a good ear!


– You can say that again!




Here in Europe a guy with long hair and a beard, a cross between Jesus Christ

 and Rita Hayworth, attired in a dated, gold plaque long dress, won the festival

of songs of bad taste.

His name Conchita, to no one’s surprise, Conchita Sausage to be exact, or Wurst

in his native tongue. The background noise, Schubert, Mozart, Mahler and Strauss

 rolling in their graves. Because no orchestra is ever shown on the ‘live’ TV broadcast

of this yearly event, and so we must conclude that what passes for actual music

of whatever dubious quality is mostly electronic gimmickry and the voice of

 Rita Conchita in fact lip-synched.

But what the hell, the great nation of Austria is ‘proud’, and that is wonderful. Not to

 speak of Father and Mother Sausage and all the other bearded little knack-wursts.


Puccini stated that the day he stopped falling in love, people should start preparing his funeral. To which his wife said ‘Don’t Touch My Puccini’ and others hastened to assure her ‘Don’t worry!’, as apparently she was quite a (watch)dog.


Download Anthony Steyning’s terrific new E-novel: A Kiss by the Clowns

Pop The Question!

I’m Gladys Knight, she said.

So am I, he said, wanna go out and do somethin’?



read Anthony Steyning’s international intrigue E-Novel A Kiss By The Clowns

Tits & Potatos

Remember the pop group The Mamas & the Papas, way back then?

Once you get successful and go international though you might have to worry about what your name means abroad.

For Mamas are also breasts in Spanish, and Papas potatos in many Latin countries…

Would you think it cool, singing along with Tits & Potatos anytime soon?

Or has this already become Orthopedic Rock?

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