Travis McGee is sad

He mentioned her more than once. She got him through one lonely night aboard The Busted Flush, balladeering in Spanish with Trio Los Panchos.  She made many another 60s pop/jazz star sound like a soloist at the swing choir recital.

RIP, Edie Gorme.

Taking a Chance on Spam

Blogger seems to be doing a better job of trapping spam. So, since we all hate it,  we'll try turning comment moderation off.

You really ought to hear it done by Ella Fitzgerald.


Things are mending now 
I see a rainbow blending now 
We'll have a happy ending now 
Taking a chance on love 

---

Also, she's beautiful.

Brazilian Affairs

Save the Girl from Ipanema

Celebrate

Flag Day.

Run it up, despite everything.

We're not honoring a government. We're celebrating an aspiration. "Sweet land of liberty" sums it up. Perhaps we'll get there some day.

Dutch gun porn alert

If you're passing through northwest Iowa Sunday and have a few hours to spare, you can swing by Rembrandt for a largish gun auction.

I won't be there because I consider the auctioneer a jerk.  Besides, there's nothing on the bill that interests me. I note the event simply for the record.

The burg is, in fact, full of Dutch people, but it's not named for the painter. That honor belongs to the two Rembrandt brothers, early settlers who perfected the art of creating copper wire while fighting over a penny.

It's also quite a righteous place where preachers still rail against their  lascivious countryman.

1,2,3,4 What are we fighitng for?

A little for Flag and Mom's apple pie, but mostly for the girl back home.  Ask Sgt. York.

Joan Agnes Theresa Sadie Brodel of Detroit.

Whatcha been doin', Jim?

Most lately, processing a worn-out, red, cotton flannel shirt.

You probably remember that Travis McGee occasionally remarked on one of his "treasured old (garments)." I'm like that, but when this one came out of the washer last night I noticed that both elbows were out, so I decided not to treasure it anymore.

Fact: An XL Tall shirt will yield a half-dozen gun rags about the size of a handkerchief plus a quart zip-lock bag stuffed with cleaning patches.

It sounds tedious, but it really isn't if you do it during your early morning hour of disgust in front of the cable news channels. I found myself making most of the patches during the content periods and looking more carefully at the screen during the commercials, which are somewhat more coherent.

As a matter of social responsibility, repurposing the flannel is about a wash. I earn carbon credits for reducing the load on my local landfill, but, on the other hand, there is the guilt of unstimulating the economy.  The Obama-Bernanke policy holds that I should  do my part to alleviate unemployment; that is, take some Federal Reserve Cartoons to the store and purchase rags and patches to maintain my lethal weapons.

--

Then there are K and D, man and woman, traditionally married. They paid a visit yesterday, bearing gifts. D brought her incomparable caramel rolls untouched by shrink wrap. K provided the show and tell, a handful of scrap steel lathed into a complete and, IMO, elegant, system for sizing cast bullets in .355 and .356 for another friend's Helwan. Somewhere in America laid-off machinists and commercial bakers continue to starve.

---

Earlier in the week, just before global warming abated, a lady celebrated her birthday with a fine outdoor party. I didn't know many of the other guests well, so there was the possibility of striving to make conversation. That annoyance did not occur. About half of the men gather downwind from the tables (cigars were involved) and came to a consensus that firearms, archery, the ammunition drought, the deluge of white-tail deer, and the idiocy of politicians were all worthy of serious comment.

---

Besides, the summer machinery is up and running. Both chain saws, both little tractors. Not to mention that the dock is fixed. Holy Moly Mary Marvel. Don't know how much better life can get.

Well, maybe a little.

But I'm probably dreaming, eh? Back to Robert Ardrey so that someday maybe I can write usefully about applying his views on biological imperatives to the current disorder.

 

In her time...

Well, if that ain't almost as purty as a nice new Remington pump gun I don't know what is.

Basic Black Ninja. eh Sarah?

Holy Cow. Did you catch Sarah Palin at the  CPAC laffer?

The part you want begins about 3:13 in.

She obviously quit her governor gig in order to spend more quality time with her Thighmaster. Then she hired the same designer as...

...anna I wanna tell you itsa cute doggie.

Makes all of us 50s movie fans wish we had a Vespa, eh?

Depends on whether you like your girls with guns

Or prefer a greater order of submissiveness

Just like Milton and Mrs. Friedman, TMR endorses your right to choose.

And this the last post about constitutional government and economic freedom I intend to write this morning.

Thus endeth our morbid text

Two straight posts on death or near-death?  C'mon, Jim, the TMR worldview  isn't that dependent on inspiration by Edgar Allen Poe. Joy is still to be found, and for some of us, pretty ladies help ease the burden of existence.

Even if you find them in movies like (let the morbidity continue)  Anatomy of a Murder.

Ha! You lechers thought I was going to put up a shot of  Lee Remick's skin falling out of very little, didn't ya? I decided on Our Miss Brooks instead. Me and Hollywood loved her as a semi-frumpy comic and a supremely competent character actress, but she also had her come-hither moments.  

---

What's that? The voices of the lowest of the low ring out in anger? O.K., but I warn that Rick Santorum is quite displeased with you.

Values

On election-eve  morning I watched The Fountainhead and thought deeply about  libertarian/objectivist values.

"You lie, James. You just leered at Patricia."

Dang. You ketcha me up, amigo.

Meanwhile

if there's no good gun auction or loophole handy to your digs, I offer a pair of  time-passers, one armed, one otherwise.

For the tenth month...

She's a little out of character for this label. Too young, for one thing, and neither glamorous nor alluring in the Garbo/Bacall sense. But since WWCO has recently been trying to feature a womanage named for each new month, it's the best your author can do. She's not even named right. Few girls are called "October," and Ms. Bush earns her place here because she once played an October in a movie.

On the other hand, she's pretty enough in the Hefner usage of the word, and she  seems ply her trade with her intimacies left to the imagination.  This is about as skinny as she gets.

Next month will be even harder, so if any of youse guys can think of a candidate named November, I'll appreciate a leg up.

Saturday vintage skin show

Inspired by TCM's wee-hours showing of the 1940 "Pride and Prejudice."

I suppose there are those who would question the macho quotient of a guy who thinks Jane Austen was a genius -- and a funny one at that. So be it. If it gets out of hand I'll post a self-portrait shooting an assault rifle or something.

Miss Garson played Elizabeth in the tale, which, on a sub-level, is a fine treatment of what happens in a society which deems it vulgar to earn money but quite refined to marry or inherit someone else's.

The photo is, of course, a promo for some other movie.

Welcome, September

Hands are clothes.

Tiffany Tanks

I see by the news Tiffany profits sank last quarter and the lamp-shade company isn't too optimistic about this one.

I can explain part of it. Ann hasn't been shopping too much lately, busy as she is on the campaign trail trying to make Mitt look common enough to get a few WalMart voters. Same with Michelle 'cept her job is to help make His Ineptness look competent.

I would like to stay and analyze this for you some more, but my breakfast date just walked in.

Plumbing accessories

Or, Happy Birthday, Rhonda

Piscine Porn (Olympics)

In blythe recognition of the swimming events.

Not attracted to scales? Okay.

Compiler's note: I could find nothing doing justice to this woman. Where were the talented studio still photographers?