© Les Becker, 2010
Taken November 4th, 2010 with Nokia N97 Cameraphone
Another gift from my songbird….
Hush – © Kyla Becker, 2010
Click it! Click it!
“The Evil Hypnotist”
© Les Becker May 6th, 2010
Taken with Palm Pre Cameraphone
See my kid? That’s my kid up there. She’s a songwriter. Check out one of her latest below.
Our Day Will Come – © Kyla Becker, 2010
Click it! Click it!
I always thought she could sing. This one, though…. It’s the latest new tune in development by Kyla Becker and her father, known here as The Sire of Turkey.
It was recorded on-the-fly in the kitchen of a near-abandoned house (not mine)… please note the cat interruption (also not mine), followed by the dog interruption.
The l’il ditty is called “I Don’t Have You,” and it’s my new favourite song. What do you think?
‘Rocky Horror’ gets remade
‘Rocky Horror’ revisited
By Brian Bento
‘Picture Show’ gets remake; Jon Heder is a zombie
Fox and MTV are teaming up for a two-hour remake of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, reports Variety.
Helmed by the 1978 film’s executive producer, Lou Adler, the new version will use the original musical screenplay for The Rocky Horror Show written by Jim Sharman and Richard O’Brien, and may add in some additional music.
I am SO not impressed with this. Somebody make it stop. And, for the record, Rocky Horror was released in 1975, not ’78…
Not-So-Random Song for the Day: “Dammit, Janet” – Barry Bostwick, Susan Sarandon
Taken February 25, 2008 with
Canon PowerShot A550
© Les Becker, 2008
My life is fairly straight-forward and routine-oriented. I really like it that way. If there’s going to be any excitement, I’d like to plan it, trouble-shoot it, and control all aspects of it, thank you very much.
Patchouli, the cute little fur-ball you see above, feels otherwise. She has, in fact, been the cause of many incidents of “excitement” around here, much to my dismay. She revels in causing emergency situations calling for cool heads. I don’t deal well with emergencies, if you must know.
When Patchouli pulled a heavy table-top down on her head a couple of years ago (did you know it’s possible for cat shit to come out both ends of a cat at the same time?), my way of dealing with it was to scream and cry a lot. She survived, obviously, but the credit goes to the thankfully cooler heads that were actively prevailing at the time. You’d never know the cat got bonked, except that she’s a little retarded, now.
Okay, maybe more than a little retarded.
She likes to squish herself through the 2-inch width of open window by my desk, to sit on the 2-inch width of ledge – the only thing keeping her retarded little head from meeting the pavement of John Street before being squashed flat by a truck. She sits on the other side of the glass, smiling at me, waiting for the panic attack.
She also likes to sit beside one of the many candles that burn here every evening, twitching her tail through the flame. Smiling. I keep waiting for the Whooomph! that will signal the beginning of her painful demise…
Yesterday being Wednesday, the kuckiest day of the week, historically speaking, I spent the evening indulging in my weekly habit of tub-soaking in a dim bathroom, radio playing, candles burning, bath oil oiling… and my face painted with one of those “stress-relieving” facial masques that are supposed to suck out all the day’s tensions while erasing 40 years’ worth of wrinkles at the same time.
I’ve never actually seen my face with this goop on – I don’t have the guts to look, truthfully – but it looks yellow coming out of the jar, at least by candlelight, so I can just imagine the vision I must be while wearing it.
For the full effect, you must imagine me, as well, with my hair yanked back and tucked into a shower-cap. Oh yeah…. and naked. That got you laughing, right?
Patchouli likes to keep me company in the bathroom on Wednesday evenings. It’s the candles, of course – the flames fascinate her, and she loves to sit on the vanity and watch the reflection of the candles in the mirror, twitching her tail back and forth…
I got sick of hauling myself up and out of the tub every two minutes to put her down on the floor. Aside from getting car hair all over my wet hands, and then transferring it into the bath water, there was also a good chance I’d catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror and scare the bejeezus out of myself. The thought kind of makes the idea of meditating in a hot bath by candlelight to wash Wednesday away a little laughable. As does the idea of the cat suddenly going up in flames, which is why I finally put her out the door.
I had just settled back down, with the water up to my shoulders, and my neck resting on The Turkey’s squishy bath pillow…. Siiiiiiiiiiigggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh……. when I heard a quack.
I did. I heard a quack and it wasn’t a duck.
It was Sheikh, the other cat that owns me. Sheikh quacks. He does. You can hear him here, if you don’t believe me…
I hadn’t noticed him sitting in the sink, but there he was. He’s “poof-ier” than Patchouli. I think that makes him more flammable. I got thinking that a better word might even be “combustible”, that’s how “poofy” he is…
Well, the vision ran away with me, and all I could imagine was that Whooomph! sound, followed by shrieking coming from either me or the cat, or both, and Sheikh flying down the hall, in flames, followed by myself, dripping wet and naked except for my shower cap and my face painted yellow, screaming, “The cat’s on fire! The cat’s on fire!”
And I got laughing. Hysterically. Out loud.
I could just imagine The Guy Across the Hall on the other side of the bathroom wall, wondering what all the laughing and quacking in my bathroom was about…
I haven’t decided how well yellow facial-masques or bath oil or candles work for relieving stress and tension. I do know that laughter works wonders.
* * *
P.S. A very special Thank You to David McMahon for awarding me the ever-elusive Post-of-the-Day Award for “Mein Kluben! Mein Kluben!” My dad was tickled pink when he heard the news (my mom wanted to know if there was any money in it…)
Random Song-for-the-Day: “The Animal I’ve Become” – 3 Days Grace
"The Waitress, the Whiskey & the Handcuffs" is for sale in
digital and paper formats at
The Les Becker Bookshop.