Fairport's annual Cropredy Convention ended last night and Meet On The Ledge is the traditional closer. Here's a version from a souped up super Fairport reunion show:

  


It's shameless plug time again, y'all. I'm not only one of the organizers of Rising Tide but a little birdie tells me that we're going to have a record turn out of First Draft bloggers this year.

Anyway, we've decided to do something completely different to end the conference, a panel discussing the NOLA brass band tradition that concludes with a performance from the TBC (To Be Continued) Brass Band. Here's how Cousin Pat described it at the RT blog:

The Brass Bands Panel will feature Lawrence Rawlins, band director of Roots of Music; Alejandro de los Rios, producer of the Brass Roots documentary; members of the TBC Brass Band Edward “Juicy” Jackson, Joe Maize and Sean Michael Roberts; moderated by writer Deborah Cotton and followed by a performance by the TBC Brass Band.

The conference takes place on Saturday August 27th at Xavier University. For more information and how to register CLICK HERE. Lunch will be catered by J'anita's at the Rendon Inn and served up by my dear friends, J'anita's owners, Craig and Kim Giescke.

Finally, here's a sample of TCB's music as filmed by moderator Big Red Cotton:

I have a confession: one of my guilty pleasures is watching Pawn Stars. There, I said it. This is one of my favorite PS moments, which since it involves Houdini is relatively guilt free:

One if by sea, two if by space:

I've been on something of a Cheap Trick bender of late and this really tickled my fancy. Hope it tickles yours as well:

I don't know about you but I love zombie movies; especially funny ones. After all, what's funnier than a dead dude trying to eat someone's fingers? Nothing.

That brings me to this week's pulp fiction substitute, a plug for a film with a local tie-in: Flesheaters Anonymous. It's in pre-production and needs a bit of gelt from the general public. Why am I plugging this? FA's co-writer and co-producer Jon DuBos is the nephew of my friend ClancyDuBos, that's why. The trailer is pretty darn funny and here's a description of the movie:

At the moment Rick Ashmore awakens—chained to a hospital bed, soaked with blood, no memory of the recent past and a most fetid taste in his mouth—he knows he has hit rock bottom.

The doctors inform him he suffers from Flesheaters—an incurable and progressive disease which turns its host into a crazed, homicidal walking deadman with a predilection for live human flesh.  Very much like a zombie. And during his blackout, he has attacked his best friend, trashed his apartment and his girlfriend, Sam, is missing.  And might have been eaten.  By him.  Which would certainly explain the taste in his mouth.

The filmmakers are trying to raise money via Kickstarter so if you're interested click here after checking out the website. If nothing else, throw them a like on Facebook or follow them on the Tweeter Tube. It's better to follow a zombie than have them following you...

Another day, another video filmed in New Orleans:

Another very cool sideshow banner for a week when I feel uninspired by the pulps:

I'm addicted to American Pickers. This clip was shot by Mike Wolfe and crew *before* the show was picked up by the History Channel. That makes it rare *and* rusty, just the way Mike and Frank Fritz like it:

Here's an appropriately pulpy sideshow banner:

The Looney Tunes take on a certain famous Bogart movie:

As a tribute to the late Peter Falk, here's a scene from the hilarious 1979 film The In Laws:

This week's image isn't a book cover but a sideshow banner done by the king of such things, Fred G Johnson:

Not exactly, but Billy Payne and Paul Barrere  join the Subdudes for a stirring version of All The Time In The World at Wolftrap in 2007:

One of my earliest PFT excursions was called Skull Session. It's time to repeat myself.

This was posted yesterday at First Draft and compares Anthony Weiner to both the Klepto Congressman and the Sinator:

I swore an oath to myself not to write again about the Weegee of Congress, Anthony Weiner. Or is he the Tweeting Twit? Anyway, I had to revoke my oath when I saw this yesterday from Josh Marshall:

Number of days Rep. Bill Jefferson (D-LA) remained a member of the House of Representatives without caucus leader Nancy Pelosi calling on him to resign after FBI agents raided his home and found $90,000 in cash in his freezer : 1249.

Number of days before calling on him to step down from the House Ways & Means Committee: 294.

Add one day to each total.

The political calculations were, of course, very different: the raid on Dollar Bill's DC digs took place *after* Katrina and the Federal Flood, which made Pelosi loathe to jump on him immediately. Right now the Democrats are trying to focus on the Ryan budget, which is a gift to them but all the MSM wants to talk about is Weiner's weiner. Would I call for his resignation? No, I'd call the Goopers on hypocrisy and let Weiner make up his own mind.  I'll discuss the Vitter factor in a moment.

The difference between the reaction to Jefferson and Weiner also reflects the internal dynamics of the House of Representatives. Jefferson was a work horse whereas Weiner is a show horse. Jefferson was a hard working Congressman with a very strong base in the Black Caucus. Weiner is a cable teevee schmoozing lone wolf. Besides, Dollar Bill wisely clammed up when he was in deep shit whereas Weiner spent 40 minutes answering lurid questions. Gasoline meet fire.

There is no question that Jefferson's offenses were far worse: he was convicted for being on the take in the Nigerian telecomm scam. His NOLA lackeys were merrily looting the public school system under the direction of his late brother Mose. Weiner is under fire for NOT having sex but for showing horrible judgment and, even worse, for tweeting and sexting dick pictures. When I saw that he had taken some of his pix at the House gym that's when I decided he was toast. It brought to mind an aphorism I like to use: don't shit where you eat. The Weiner variation is: don't sext where you work *and* work out. (Btw, I learned the aphorism from my late Mother. She never swore except for saying shit. Why? She thought that euphemisms such as poop were too cutesy and as someone who grew up on farm, she knew that shit is not cute.)

It's time to circle back to the Vitter Factor. There's been a lot of talk of GOP hypocrisy for not calling for him to resign. It's true amongst national Republicans BUT there was a brief flurry of condemnation back home in Louisiana. Vitter, however, is one of the luckiest pols alive: Democrat Kathleen Babineaux Blanco was Governor at the time of Bitter Vitter's infamous press conference. Gret Stet Goopers didn't believe her when she said she'd appoint a Republican to replace the Sinator. The irony is that I, for one, believed Governor Meemaw: she was a lame duck who hated Vitter and saw a chance to flush the little bastard.

The reason many Louisiana Goopers wanted Vitter gone is that he originally came from the Goo Goo stuffed shirt wing of the party here. Vitter made his reputation going after former Governor Edwin Edwards, the late Jefferson Parish Sheriff Harry Lee and other good ole boys. That wing of the Louisiana party was mortified by the hooker stories but Vitter was rescued by the evangelicals who are big on ideology and forgiving sinners as long as they're wingnuts. (Btw, Governor PBJ keeps his distance from the Sinator and didn't even endorse his re-election campaign. That was a mistake: Vitty Cent never forgets a slight.)

In the end, Vitter survived because he knew when to STFU and keep his head down, a lesson he, ironically, learned from an enemy, Dollar Bill Jefferson. Anthony Weiner takes his cues from his mentor, Senator Chuck Schumer, who is constitutionally incapable of shutting up, that is, until his protege's shit hit the fan.

End of this lecture on Scandal 101 and my last word on Dickpixgate. Class dismissed.

My new motto: when in doubt post some Lyle Lovett.

Here's a pulpy oater with a silly title and an even sillier tag line. It's a dog, I tell ya:

This song asks the eternal question: are we not men? We are Devo: