I’m going old-school.

Most young people today probably haven’t heard of Engelbert Humperdinck, he of the ridiculously ridiculous stage name, but I have, and at the age of 35, still consider myself a “young person,” though my knowledge of his catalog is down to growing up listening to that kind of music. That said, when I saw the prompt for today, his name and this song immediately sprang to mind, though Wilson Phillips did do a song more recently with “release” in the title. I thought, however, that it would be more fun to give ol’ Engelbert some love. For today’s Musical Interlude Friday selection I give you “Please Release Me (Let Me Go)” by what’s-his-face. Enjoy!



The Few, the Proud, the Not-Me.

If you read my Daily Prompt response from yesterday, you’ll see that when it comes to some things, bravery is not my forte. I’m incredibly risk-averse and have no desire to do anything that might cause me bodily harm or embarrassment. That’s why I’m always in awe of people, both men and women, who sign up for the Armed Forces. I couldn’t do it. Not just because I’m a pacifist and hate guns, but because I don’t have the mental or physical strength to go to a war zone and kill people, even if those people are trying to kill me and my comrades. I’d literally freeze on the spot and probably get killed. I’m a total pussy. Again, I know, it’s not a flattering thing to say about oneself, but I recognize it. I can understand that some people are born with the courage gene, and I just don’t have it. Better them than me out there, saving our butts.


I’m a wimp.

I know it’s not a flattering thing to say about oneself, but it’s true. I’m risk-averse. I don’t like doing things that will either make me look foolish, injure me, or expose me to ridicule in some way. In school, I never raised my hand to answer a question unless I was 100% sure I knew the right answer. If there was even a scintilla of doubt, I kept silent. I don’t like performing in front of other people, be it singing or dancing or acting, so I never auditioned for parts in any plays or musicals, and I absolutely do not do karaoke or charades. This all makes me sound very dull, and I’m really not. I like to have a good time and enjoy myself with friends and family.

When it comes to trying things that might cause me injury or could even kill me should things go south, I absolutely REFUSE to go skydiving, not just because of my crippling fear of flying, but because while I don’t have a fear of heights…extreme heights is another story. What’s more, who jumps out of a perfectly serviceable airplane? Or goes bungee jumping off a bridge? It’s like you’re asking to be killed. No thanks. I’ll stay on terra firma and watch the rest of you act like Evil Knievel.


Ride or die.



I’ll give you both my collarbones, Aaron. I don’t need them. COME BACK DAMN IT, WE NEED YOU.


For those of you who are sports fans, do you have a team or teams that you are bound to until death? A team or teams you would never at any point quit rooting for, no matter how shitty they played or how their fortunes reversed? Well, if you’re a Green Bay Packers fan like I am, you no doubt felt a well of dread and sickness fill your stomach two plays into yesterday afternoon’s game. We’re 4-2 at the moment, and if you asked me to be honest, I don’t think we’re winning another game. Not because Brett Hundley, our new starting QB, sucks ass…once he gets some game reps in, I think he’ll do better, but because everyone around him is either injured, a 4th stringer, undrafted…we’re going to see just valuable Aaron Rodgers is to this franchise. He’s been carrying the team on his back for years, and without him, we’re going to see just how good the team really is…and I don’t think it’ll be pretty. I’ll be with them all the way to Game 16, but yeah.

Get better, Aaron.


Aviophobics, unite!



I want no part of this.


I am terrified of flying. TERRIFIED. The idea of getting on an airplane literally makes me sick to my stomach, and I can feel my legs getting shaky and wobbly just typing it. It has nothing to do with 9/11 or terrorism or anything else like that — I have been petrified of flying since well before that. I don’t like not being able to see the ground. I’m not scared of heights because I can be in tall buildings or ride on Ferris wheels without a problem. When you’re 30,000 feet in the air, you can’t see anything below you but clouds. Or if you’re flying to another continent…the ocean. Oh goody. I understand completely that it’s an irrational fear, that I’m more likely to die in the shower than I am in a plane crash or something, but I don’t care. If I can’t get there by car or by train, then I’m not meant to see it. I can live with never seeing Australia or even Hawaii. There’s plenty in the continental United States I’d like to see before my time on this rock is up.


Hidden from view.

To be cloaked means to be covered, to be shielded, to be protected from discovery. When one thinks of music and cloaks, they think, I would hope, of The Phantom of the Opera. While this video has no cloaks in it, it does have the original Christine Daae, Sarah Brightman, and while her character didn’t sing this song in the original West End production (or any subsequent production), she does a beautiful job at bringing out the emotion of the song in a way the Phantom doesn’t, IMO. So, for your Musical Interlude Friday selection I give you The Music of the Night. Enjoy!


Depends on what it looks like.



Since I can’t afford an authentic Van Gogh, the fake will have to do.


With some things, buying the real deal is essential. No one wants a fake security system for their home or a fake battery for their car, but with other things, sometimes the reproductions look so good, unless you invite an expert on whatever that object is over for dinner, no one will be the wiser. Just don’t try to be sneaky and sell your Starry Night paint-by-numbers as the actual Van Gogh painting. No one is going to think you actually own a Van Gogh, not unless you have Warren Buffett money, so don’t be slick. I’ve read countless news stories about museums and galleries taken in by people claiming to have authentic Rembrandts or Van Goghs or Degas or Monets and it turns out they’re all reproductions. Very good reproductions, but reproductions all the same.


I hate my hair.



It doesn’t take much for my sister to go from perfect spirals to Cousin It after sticking his finger in a light socket.


I have curly hair. I blame my father for that because HE has curly hair, not my mom. My sister has curly hair too, though her hair has a tighter curl than mine. When wet, our hair looks the same. When dry, my curls drop a little and look wavier, whereas hers stay in perfect spirals. If I want to wear my hair curly, I have to wash it at night and sleep with it wet, just so it’ll dry flat rather than all poofy. I also can’t brush my hair, because if I do, it’ll look like the hair above. I can’t have it cut shorter than shoulder length, or else it’ll look like a mushroom on my head.

For you gals (and guys) with straight hair…my jealousy knows no bounds. I’d love to have stick-straight hair that didn’t poof out or tangle or look like a family of rabid weasels are living in it.


Common misconceptions.

As an atheist, I’m often accused of hating religion or religious people, and that’s just not the case. Anti-theists would best be described that way, but it’s not true of myself or any other non-believer that I know. I dislike organized religion because of what I feel are its abuses and lies, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say I hate it, and I certainly don’t hate people who profess some degree of religious belief. I understand that for some people, a belief in a higher power or a place beyond Earth is a comfort, and I have no desire to take that from those people or belittle them for it. Just as I would hope they wouldn’t belittle me for thinking there is nothing after death. I don’t have any desire to make windows into men’s souls, to quote Elizabeth I. I don’t care what you believe, so long as you don’t force me to believe it as well. I also believe the reverse. I have no desire to make other people atheists. You can’t force someone to change their minds about something like that, no matter how much you think otherwise.

Perhaps social media is to blame for this, but the number of people I see who seem to think that anyone who doesn’t believe in God must want all religious people exterminated or something is absolutely mind-boggling. The only person I can honestly say I want to be thrown screaming into an active volcano is Donald Trump, and he’s about as Christian as I am. He’s a phony, and it’s a shame his cult legion of followers don’t recognize that.


Who knew the Talking Heads were *that* funky?

Back in the autumn of 1981, Tina Weymouth and Chris Frantz of the Talking Heads released a song called “Genius of Love” — they had formed a side group called the Tom Tom Club, and it was released under that name. It was a huge hit for DJs because, in the early days of rap and hip-hop, they’d cut the breaks out and that’s what people would dance to, and Genius of Love had a great break. Flash-forward 14 years later — Mariah Carey sampled the song in her first single off her album Daydream. For today’s Musical Interlude Friday, I give you that song. Enjoy!