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Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Thursday, January 25, 2018
Monday, September 11, 2017
A Reflection Re "Heaven, 9/11 Memorial Version"
I can only imagine how, I suppose to a similar extent, my paternal grandfather's father and living siblings felt on September 11, 1922 and subsequent days. From what I understand, my great-great-granddad Julian Czarnecki was absolutely no hero—or if he was one, his bad facets outweighed his good ones. Nonetheless, his death must've really weighed on my great-granddad and his living siblings (one of whom would follow her father only slightly over 2.75 years later).
Great-Granddad was going to be 18 that October (and to compound the worst matters in his life, he turned 25 on a day on which a 25th birthday would not be joyous to anyone—Black Thursday). So on that birthday (and subsequent birthdays), he had to remember the loss of his father (with whom he had a conflicted relationship—or at least I'd be surprised if he didn't have a conflicted relationship with him—and subsequent birthdays would become even worse as the years passed and worse events kept happening—in fact, his 35th birthday had the fresh pain of Black Thursday's 10th anniversary and the only-almost-two-months old invasion of Poland).
As for Great-Granddad's youngest sibling, she wasn't yet even nine months old when Great-Great-Granddad died—and the oldest surviving one had, if you count 13 as the bat-mitzvah age, become a bat-mitzvah that year (and she was the one whom followed Great-Great-Granddad into death on June 23, 1925).
At least none of them were around to see 9/11. However, my great-granddad's widow—to whom he was quite abusive, and with whom she obviously had a conflicted relationship—was, and so were four of his five children (One died seven hours after birth, right before the 10th anniversary of his aunt Regina's death.). While I do not know whether my great-grandma ever met her father-in-law or her sister-in-law Regina, I know that she was well aware that September 11th always carried pain for my great-granddad—as carried every October 24th, and not just because of the September 11th before his 18th birthday—and both were born in Jewish homes (he in Anti-Semitic Polish Russia, she in an Anusi home in Ashley-Hanover Township, Pennsylvania) and raised in Anusi homes, and they thus knew the pain of every passing September 11th (on which Great-Great-Granddad may not have died had his family not disowned him for becoming an Anusi) and October 24th.
I can only imagine how the pain of every other September 11th hit her on 9/11, and I never did ask her because I didn't know our family story—not even that we were and are Jews—not to mention that I saw her only once every year from some time in the 90s until 2005, and I was dealing with an abusive dad (It's like the Passover question that the fourth child doesn't ask—he or she doesn't ask because he or she doesn't know how to ask or maybe even to ask at all.).
I wonder what she thought—or at least would've thought—if she heard this song—I also wonder the same about Pop-Pop (whom was sadly, as Granduncle Tony stated, "Like father, like son.") and Granduncle Tony (whom unexpectedly died on July 31 2014, three days after what would've been his mother's 101st birthday). I also certainly wonder what Great-Granddad would've thought and what Granduncle Red (Francis "Red" Czarnecki, whom died in 1985) would've thought (BTW, he was called "Red" because of his red hair—which, as I later found out, is, so to speak, a dead giveaway of if someone is Jewish in Poland, as is Brown hair for someone whom's a Brown-haired Jew, as Ethnic Poles are indigenously light-haired and light-eyed).
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
Reflections On The 27 Club: Because I'm Turning 27 On the 23rd, And Fellow 1990 Babies Will Be 27
The 27 Club: if you live past 27, The 27 Club is good. If you don't live past 27, especially if you're famous...welcome to the 27 Club—at least you're in the company of Jimmy Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Jim Morrison, among others.
Of course, you don't want to be experienced with the Lord buying you a Mercedes Benz when the heavens stop the rain—if your hearse ends up being a Mercedes Benz and the rains stop, you've experienced the flip side of "Blessed are the deceased on whom the rain falls."
With that said, let's see where my life goes in 13 days...
Unlucky number 13...
Oh boy....
At least my hearse won't be a Mercedes Benz—I'm Jewish and I care about what happens after I'm dead—even though I can't come back to haunt anybody if my experience does end up being that my hearse is a Mercedes Benz. At least if the rain falls on me, whoever would buy me a Mercedes Benz will be experienced with what it's like to be going home soaking wet, having to change clothes unless he or she catches a cold, and perhaps also having to leave this earthly realm—man plans; God laughs, and Mercedes Benzes are as good as the spoils that Achan ben Carmi took.
Update: If God is delivering us from Trump—and worse than Trump—in time to give many to-be-27-year-old people a birthday gift, the case seems to be that Ribbentrop just got Molotoved! Man plans; God laughs, and Trump might as well turn himself in to the FBI while he can do so—and hand over his Mercedes Benzes for at least bail money, since he's going to need a lot of it!
Update: If God is delivering us from Trump—and worse than Trump—in time to give many to-be-27-year-old people a birthday gift, the case seems to be that Ribbentrop just got Molotoved! Man plans; God laughs, and Trump might as well turn himself in to the FBI while he can do so—and hand over his Mercedes Benzes for at least bail money, since he's going to need a lot of it!
Monday, December 19, 2016
At Least Reilly Didn't Bite "Momma". Still...
Having to be on guard in light of how obsessed with dentasticks* Reilly is, is not fun—after all, "Momma" almost got bitten for trying to "dance" with Reilly. Nonetheless, "Momma" was able to get the extra dentastick out of Reilly's mouth after dealing with Reilly's growling, clutching of the dentastick tightly, and turning of her head away in order to turn the dentastick away from "Momma".
The lesson: next time that three dentasticks are frozen together, cut them either into two sets of 1.5 dentasticks or to separate each of the dentasticks from each other—that is, instead of trusting that Reilly will chew only one to two dentasticks.
* "Dentasticks" is being used generically for dental chews here.
The lesson: next time that three dentasticks are frozen together, cut them either into two sets of 1.5 dentasticks or to separate each of the dentasticks from each other—that is, instead of trusting that Reilly will chew only one to two dentasticks.
* "Dentasticks" is being used generically for dental chews here.
Sunday, December 18, 2016
"I Could've Danced All Night"...And Gotten Severely Bitten
"Momma" told "Mom-Mom" that Reilly doesn't like "dancing"—holding her front paws while she stands on her back paws and singing "I Could've Danced All Night" is a sure way to get bitten. Each of the times, in order of each time:
By the way, "Momma" saw this all-too-memorable and -relatable cartoon yesterday:
How "Momma" wishes that God her a helpmate and give Reilly a "Daddy" for Christmas!
- Reilly tried to bite "Momma"'s right hand.
- Reilly bared her teeth, hissed, and gave "Momma" an angry look.
- Reilly was getting ready to growl and bite.
- Reilly did at least nibble "Momma"'s hand when "Momma" moved her hand around playfully and sang the only part of "I Could've Danced" that she knows.
- After asking Reilly if she wanted to "dance" and singing "Here we go...", Reilly jumped out of "Momma"'s arms on went to "Mom-Mom" in the kitchen.
By the way, "Momma" saw this all-too-memorable and -relatable cartoon yesterday:
How "Momma" wishes that God her a helpmate and give Reilly a "Daddy" for Christmas!
Saturday, December 3, 2016
Thursday, November 17, 2016
Is Camille Finally Honoring Her Jewish Heritage—Despite "Mimi" Having Camille Honor Mostly the Remote French One?
According to "Mimi", Camille listened "intently" as "Auntie Nicole" had V. Monti's "Czardas" playing. Perhaps Camille is honoring the unintentional honoree whose known first name is the Polish form of Camille's middle name—"Dominique". Camille is also watching as "Mimi" dances to a replay of "Czardas"—so is Reilly, sleepily trying to watch and feeling tired at the same, reminding "Momma" of a savtah or yeldah whom wants to take in the simcha of her kevorah mishpachah dancing and go to bed (Her facial expression pretty much conveyed, "Anti rotzah lishon!")
By the way:
Incidentally, "Momma" is still holding out for that day when Reilly will have a "Daddy" with whom to dance—after all, "Momma" can't dance (She has Cerebral Palsy; and contrary to popular, Jews can dance—besides the obvious example of Fred Astaire, one example is the dancer Thomas Andrew.). Also, for only "Auntie Michelle"/"Mimi" to be able to dance with Reilly with Camille gets boring—can't "Momma" watch Reilly dance with someone else?
By the way:
Incidentally, "Momma" is still holding out for that day when Reilly will have a "Daddy" with whom to dance—after all, "Momma" can't dance (She has Cerebral Palsy; and contrary to popular, Jews can dance—besides the obvious example of Fred Astaire, one example is the dancer Thomas Andrew.). Also, for only "Auntie Michelle"/"Mimi" to be able to dance with Reilly with Camille gets boring—can't "Momma" watch Reilly dance with someone else?
Friday, October 14, 2016
My Favorite Version Of "Hallelujah", Though I'd Change Some Lyrics—And A Few Reasons Why I'd Change Them
- I'd switch around "minor" and "major" and "minor fall and major lift".
- I'd change "but" to "though" for all of the verses
- I'd change Verse 3 to:
"Baby, I've been here before—I can't count how many times I've walked this God-damned floor—and this was all before I ever really knew ya"
- I'd add this verse (and if anyone is guessing, you're right that this is a "**** you" to Amy Grant's and her songwriters' incorrect theology—plus, an allusion to Job):
"The LORD, Who gives and Who takes away,
"Deserves my praise; that's all that I'll say—
"And as for your 'broken melody'—well, screw ya!
"And what you've done's worse than how I said
"'If Jesus really rose from the dead,
"'There's nothing 'better than a "Hallelu YAH!"'"
- For me, this song doesn't have to necessarily be romantic (or at least exclusively romantic).
- My paternal grandfather did not like music (or at least didn't like it until. as I found out later, his final days, to the surprise of my father and my grandmother. When he preferred to watch the live version of "The Sound Of Music" over a football game while he was in the hospital, my father told my sister and me, my father was thinking "Who are you?" and wondering if someone had taken Pop-Pop over.)
- I think of every floor that I've walked one too many times (because of, e.g., OCD/Anxiety), and I think of everyone whom's tried to smugly (or however else) lord everything over me (whether they've been right or wrong). I have family members (including belated ones) whom insisted on wanting to think that they were right about everything, etc.
- Even though (or because) I'm a Christian, I really dislike (and sometimes even hate, even though I shouldn't hate) the hypocrites and the Bible flouters like the "Better Than A Hallelujah" songwriters—even, e.g., Paul praised Jesus in his weakest moments and the Song in Revelation was a praise, even in so far as the martyrs were (and are, and will be) concerned.
By the way, I probably dislike the hypocrites that much because I'm a Jewish Christian—taking away the Jewish context of the Scriptures will automatically dilute the Holiness of Yehovah in the eyes of others, and taking away (for example) that David and others always (or at least overall) ended with praising Yehovah in even the psalms that were lamentations allows for songs that "are better than a 'Hallelu Yah!'"
Thursday, June 9, 2016
Re A Rough Couple Of Months (BTW, Thanks To Those Who've Borne With Me)—And I'll Hopefully Be Able To Help Anyone Whom Can Relate
"A merry heart is a good medicine; but a broken spirit drieth the bones."
Right now, I feel it—not to mention, too, while I often feel guilty about feeling my own pain and dealing with it as others are feeling and dealing with their pain. By the way—as I've mentioned—I'm a Jewish Christian, and I believe in the Parable of the Talents, etc.—and I'm baffled to realize to while some are suffering worse on the equality scare, all of us are suffering the same on the proportionality scale.
Nonetheless, I often feel guilty for feeling my—at least in comparison—1 while someone else feels his or her 2 or 5. Still, 1/1 = 2/2 = 5/5. Thus, it all comes down to a paradox: while some are going through worse than I'm enduring, I'm going through worse than others are enduring; yet, we're all enduring the same proportion of suffering.
Incidentally, I have to take issue with Amy Grant's "Better Than a Hallelujah": I find more Christian a "broken 'Hallelu Yah'" better than no "Hallelu Yah", even when I feel the way that the songwriters of "Better" do. Job knew that a broken "Hallelu Yah" was far better than anything that's apparently "better than a Hallelu Yah". Of course, one doesn't have to vocalize "Hallelu Yah" to say "Hallelu Yah". Notwithstanding, Christians have to try to say "Hallelu Yah" in all of our actions—didn't Paul remind us of that as he wrote down that we're to give thanks in all things?
Meanwhile, this is part of why many among everyone else laughs at, jeers, derides, and otherwise abhors Christians—there is a real problem when Leonard Cohen, who is not a Christian, gets part of the core of Christianity better than those whom profess to be Christians.
This also reminds me of how many other Non Christians—both Jewish and gentile—get that supposedly-Christian Donald Trump's lack of asking God for forgiveness—aka, lack of praising God for what he supposedly professes what the sacrifice of Christ means to him—shows up in his Non-Christian narcissism, greed, racism, sexism, ableism, and Anti Semitism.
On that note, I wonder how Jewish Christians such as Edith Stein (whom, out of strong conviction, became a Carmelite nun and a namesake of another Jewish Christian, St. Teresa), Eduardo Propper de Callejon, Sir Nicholas Wintour—the first having died in the Sho'ah, and the other two having risked their lives to save others from the Sho'ah—would feel about Donald Trump-supporting Jews and gentiles whom profess to have the same Messiah that they professed. Perhaps they would sum up their feelings with gentile Christian Corrie ten Boom's words: "You cannot love God without loving the Jewish people."
I, thus, have felt the weight especially as those whom also profess the Jewish Jesus of Nazareth and support Donald Trump have persecuted me—and others—for pointing out how a man who is his own idol, has an $100-Million jet and other opulence, and loves only White male gentiles cannot genuinely profess to be a Christian—that is, profess to love a self-sacrificing Jewish man whom (as I and other Christians believe) "was despised, and forsaken of men, a man of pains, and acquainted with disease," of which he healed those such a Syrophonecian-Greek girl continuously-bleeding woman whom touched one of his tzitziyot. By the way, I'm pretty sure that Donald Trump would not let in the Syrophonecian-Greek girl and her mother today, since he'd think them to be a part of Daesh instead of gentile Nasara (Note: some, as I learned while I Googled, have objected to "Nasara" because they think that they're being called "Nasara" in the sense of supporting Daesh—despite that Daesh hates "Nasara", Nazarenes, as much as Donald Trump does. Meanwhile, "Christian" was just as derogatory as "Nasrani"; so, the complainers, with all due respect, need to just embrace "Nasarani" as a way to be "Nasara" against Daesh.).
In sum, then, I've been feeling the pain with which I deal daily (e.g., CP, Depression), fallouts from more-recent pains that I've described (such as the continuing heartbreak of the ongoing baffling estrangement from a dear friend and father figure whom is also a writing mentor—not to mention the long backstory behind it), and the distress regarding the ascent of a modern-day prince of Tyre whom claims to be a Christian as he and supposedly-Christian supporters of his persecute me and others whom point out that he wouldn't let even Jesus into the U.S., let alone love the Syrophonecian-Greek mother whom came with her own "broken 'Halleu Yah'" and a chronically-bleeding and debilitated woman whom would need to come to the U.S. to get treatment if she lived today and God would choose only to show sufficient grace.
Right now, I feel it—not to mention, too, while I often feel guilty about feeling my own pain and dealing with it as others are feeling and dealing with their pain. By the way—as I've mentioned—I'm a Jewish Christian, and I believe in the Parable of the Talents, etc.—and I'm baffled to realize to while some are suffering worse on the equality scare, all of us are suffering the same on the proportionality scale.
Nonetheless, I often feel guilty for feeling my—at least in comparison—1 while someone else feels his or her 2 or 5. Still, 1/1 = 2/2 = 5/5. Thus, it all comes down to a paradox: while some are going through worse than I'm enduring, I'm going through worse than others are enduring; yet, we're all enduring the same proportion of suffering.
Incidentally, I have to take issue with Amy Grant's "Better Than a Hallelujah": I find more Christian a "broken 'Hallelu Yah'" better than no "Hallelu Yah", even when I feel the way that the songwriters of "Better" do. Job knew that a broken "Hallelu Yah" was far better than anything that's apparently "better than a Hallelu Yah". Of course, one doesn't have to vocalize "Hallelu Yah" to say "Hallelu Yah". Notwithstanding, Christians have to try to say "Hallelu Yah" in all of our actions—didn't Paul remind us of that as he wrote down that we're to give thanks in all things?
Meanwhile, this is part of why many among everyone else laughs at, jeers, derides, and otherwise abhors Christians—there is a real problem when Leonard Cohen, who is not a Christian, gets part of the core of Christianity better than those whom profess to be Christians.
This also reminds me of how many other Non Christians—both Jewish and gentile—get that supposedly-Christian Donald Trump's lack of asking God for forgiveness—aka, lack of praising God for what he supposedly professes what the sacrifice of Christ means to him—shows up in his Non-Christian narcissism, greed, racism, sexism, ableism, and Anti Semitism.
On that note, I wonder how Jewish Christians such as Edith Stein (whom, out of strong conviction, became a Carmelite nun and a namesake of another Jewish Christian, St. Teresa), Eduardo Propper de Callejon, Sir Nicholas Wintour—the first having died in the Sho'ah, and the other two having risked their lives to save others from the Sho'ah—would feel about Donald Trump-supporting Jews and gentiles whom profess to have the same Messiah that they professed. Perhaps they would sum up their feelings with gentile Christian Corrie ten Boom's words: "You cannot love God without loving the Jewish people."
I, thus, have felt the weight especially as those whom also profess the Jewish Jesus of Nazareth and support Donald Trump have persecuted me—and others—for pointing out how a man who is his own idol, has an $100-Million jet and other opulence, and loves only White male gentiles cannot genuinely profess to be a Christian—that is, profess to love a self-sacrificing Jewish man whom (as I and other Christians believe) "was despised, and forsaken of men, a man of pains, and acquainted with disease," of which he healed those such a Syrophonecian-Greek girl continuously-bleeding woman whom touched one of his tzitziyot. By the way, I'm pretty sure that Donald Trump would not let in the Syrophonecian-Greek girl and her mother today, since he'd think them to be a part of Daesh instead of gentile Nasara (Note: some, as I learned while I Googled, have objected to "Nasara" because they think that they're being called "Nasara" in the sense of supporting Daesh—despite that Daesh hates "Nasara", Nazarenes, as much as Donald Trump does. Meanwhile, "Christian" was just as derogatory as "Nasrani"; so, the complainers, with all due respect, need to just embrace "Nasarani" as a way to be "Nasara" against Daesh.).
In sum, then, I've been feeling the pain with which I deal daily (e.g., CP, Depression), fallouts from more-recent pains that I've described (such as the continuing heartbreak of the ongoing baffling estrangement from a dear friend and father figure whom is also a writing mentor—not to mention the long backstory behind it), and the distress regarding the ascent of a modern-day prince of Tyre whom claims to be a Christian as he and supposedly-Christian supporters of his persecute me and others whom point out that he wouldn't let even Jesus into the U.S., let alone love the Syrophonecian-Greek mother whom came with her own "broken 'Halleu Yah'" and a chronically-bleeding and debilitated woman whom would need to come to the U.S. to get treatment if she lived today and God would choose only to show sufficient grace.
Thursday, July 2, 2015
"Hark; the Herald Angels Sing" Reclaimed From Charles Wesley
This was written for a couple of reasons:
Hark; the herald angels sing,
- The original lyrics are full of heresy and needed to be corrected. For example, Charles Wesley and the subsequent adapters of Wesley's lyrics claimed that Jesus was "heaven born" and "late in time". According to Tanakh (תנ''כח or תנ''כה for Messianics), however, Jesus was the "Only Begotten Son" and "born of a woman" whom was to be a virgin.
- I've been thinking about this since Christmas in December. It is now Christmastime in July.
- Felix Mendelssohn was a Jewish believer. Ironically, he "felt unsuited to sacred music" the melody that we use today! Thus, stripping the Jewish context of "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing!" is inappropriate!
Hark; the herald angels sing,
"Glory to the King of Kings!"
Unto us is born a Child
Unto to God, we're reconciled!
Joyful, all ye nations rise!
Join the triumph in the skies!
With angelic hosts, proclaim:
"Christ is born in Bethlehem!"
Hark; the herald angels sing,
"Glory to the King of Kings!"
Bless the virgin-born Prince of Peace!
Bless the Sun of Righteousness!
Light to those in darkness He brings—
Ris'n with healing in His wings!
The King of Kings departs His throne
To live and die like His own
And to raise the sons of man
Given to Him, the I AM!
The King of Kings departs His throne
To live and die like His own
And to raise the sons of man
Given to Him, the I AM!
Hark; the herald angels sing,
"Glory to the King of Kings!"
Christ by His elect adored
Christ the Everlasting Lord
As promised, behold He's here!
Unto us, our God draws near!
The Son Whom's Begotten, not made
With the wicked, He made his grave
And from the grave, He arose
And gave new life to the dry bones
Christ by His elect adored
Christ the Everlasting Lord
As promised, behold He's here!
Unto us, our God draws near!
The Son Whom's Begotten, not made
With the wicked, He made his grave
And from the grave, He arose
And gave new life to the dry bones
Hark; the herald angels sing,
"Glory to the King of Kings!"
Sunday, February 9, 2014
"Smile", A Short Story
"I love your smile," Andy told Rich. That was years ago, though. Now he didn't love his smile—or him. He couldn't love his smile; he couldn't love him, and he couldn't love anything or anyone else. No matter how he tried to do so, he just couldn't do so—he had dementia, and the dementia was wearing him down.
One of Andy's best friends came up to Rich one day, when Rich was hunched down from thinking about it. "What's the matter?"
"Andy doesn't love me anymore."
"What? He's always been like a dad figure to you."
"Well, he's sick—just sick."
"Don't talk about about Andy like that—just because you fell out with him doesn't mean that you have to talk about him like that. Do you hear me?"
Rich bit back tears, holding his lower lip with his front teeth as he tried not to cry. "Andy has dementia, sir."
Andy's friend looked stunned. "What?! Andy?....Oh, I'm so sorry."
Nobody but Rich really knew, anyway. Only Rich had gotten the phone call.
"I feel guilty, boy. I can't do it—I just can't do it. I'm so sorry."
"Can't what, sir?"
"Can't love you anymore—and can't love anyone anymore. I'm trying to love, boy. I just can't—I have dementia."
Then the radio blared a Lonestar song in the background. "You can't help how you don't feel, and it doesn't matter why."
Rich bit back tears, thinking a prayer. "Perfect timing, God," he mumbled inside of his head. He then told Andy, "You don't have to explain—I understand."
That phonecall was in the summer. The encounter with Andy's friend was in the fall. The visit with Andy was in the winter, and that's when Rich and Andy's friend played that Lonestar song for Andy.
Then Rich thought to himself what he wanted to tell Andy: "It's like the song says: 'Give me a chance to bow out gracefully...'."
"Go, boy," Andy demanded. Andy knew what Rich wanted: to leave Andy with his friend and go peacefully.
Rich laughed. "Last-minute lucidity; huh, sir?"
"Get out of here, boy." Andy knew that he was dying, and he knew that Rich knew it—and they both knew that they knew it. There was no second guessing and no questioning. Andy was ready to go.
Rich smiled and saluted Andy, a World War Two veteran. "Rest in peace, sir."
Andy then went "in style" after he had kissed Rich on the head and the cheeks—Rich was like a son to Andy, after all. Andy went with his friend beside him as the angels carried him home—and, fittingly, in the winter, for he had been in the winter of his life.
Rich, meanwhile, walked away from Andy's hospital room and down the hall, and he let the tears run down his face and let his pain show.
Information (including copyright information) about "Smile". The author does not intend copyright infringement whatsoever in any way, shape, form, circumstance, fashion or manner.
One of Andy's best friends came up to Rich one day, when Rich was hunched down from thinking about it. "What's the matter?"
"Andy doesn't love me anymore."
"What? He's always been like a dad figure to you."
"Well, he's sick—just sick."
"Don't talk about about Andy like that—just because you fell out with him doesn't mean that you have to talk about him like that. Do you hear me?"
Rich bit back tears, holding his lower lip with his front teeth as he tried not to cry. "Andy has dementia, sir."
Andy's friend looked stunned. "What?! Andy?....Oh, I'm so sorry."
Nobody but Rich really knew, anyway. Only Rich had gotten the phone call.
"I feel guilty, boy. I can't do it—I just can't do it. I'm so sorry."
"Can't what, sir?"
"Can't love you anymore—and can't love anyone anymore. I'm trying to love, boy. I just can't—I have dementia."
Then the radio blared a Lonestar song in the background. "You can't help how you don't feel, and it doesn't matter why."
Rich bit back tears, thinking a prayer. "Perfect timing, God," he mumbled inside of his head. He then told Andy, "You don't have to explain—I understand."
That phonecall was in the summer. The encounter with Andy's friend was in the fall. The visit with Andy was in the winter, and that's when Rich and Andy's friend played that Lonestar song for Andy.
Then Rich thought to himself what he wanted to tell Andy: "It's like the song says: 'Give me a chance to bow out gracefully...'."
"Go, boy," Andy demanded. Andy knew what Rich wanted: to leave Andy with his friend and go peacefully.
Rich laughed. "Last-minute lucidity; huh, sir?"
"Get out of here, boy." Andy knew that he was dying, and he knew that Rich knew it—and they both knew that they knew it. There was no second guessing and no questioning. Andy was ready to go.
Rich smiled and saluted Andy, a World War Two veteran. "Rest in peace, sir."
Andy then went "in style" after he had kissed Rich on the head and the cheeks—Rich was like a son to Andy, after all. Andy went with his friend beside him as the angels carried him home—and, fittingly, in the winter, for he had been in the winter of his life.
Rich, meanwhile, walked away from Andy's hospital room and down the hall, and he let the tears run down his face and let his pain show.
Information (including copyright information) about "Smile". The author does not intend copyright infringement whatsoever in any way, shape, form, circumstance, fashion or manner.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Open Letter To My Aunt (As Originally Written a While Back With a Postscript)
Since other people are going to read this and this is (G-d
willing) get published (and even if it doesn’t, people will still read this),
I’m not going to mention anything further than what I’ve mentioned on my blog,
Twitter account, Ancestry.com family tree, etc….people can find all that
out—after all, we as a family (at least on our side) have (or should have, as
you’ve indicated, too) have—or at least should have—nothing to hide. I can only
guess what I did to upset you and have you not respond to my e-mails and texts,
not answer my calls, and not tell me that you were going to move—I figured it out
when you disconnected both of your phone numbers and had the police in your
city go to your house to see if you were okay (You know why; they know why, and
I know why.)—you had me worried that something had happened.
So, I did as our ancestors would’ve done—and at times, did
do—when we did something that they perceived as egregious enough to deserve
death or cutting ties as though we were dead, or as though we never even
existed in their eyes. I sat shiva. Shiva isn’t always about physical death—you
know that by now, I’m sure. I saw that you may have read my blog entry, after
all—I check my blog stats quite frequently. You really hurt me—I didn’t think
that you were like a good amount of the rest of the family. Well, shame on
you—and I’m still hurting the more that I think about it. And let me ask you
this, too: would Great-Grandma—“I want to talk about it”—be proud of what you
did—hid something, left me guessing, led me to sit shiva as her mother’s family
surely would’ve done for her—perhaps even did for her maternal grandparents?
I hope that you read this letter—and I hope that the sitting
shiva can be reversed—sitting shiva doesn’t have to be final for a person who’s
still alive. You can always come back into my life—and I actually hope that you
do, even if you just tell me if and/or how I wronged you, and to stay away from
you.
Your niece
PS I don't know if you even can read this, to be honest. Kevin or Kayla may find it and try to read it to you. I heard from Dad that Kayla talked to you about visiting at the hospital, and you asked, "You were there?" I don't know if you'll even remember me, to be honest. I did see a few searches in my Feedjit a while back and wondered if they were by you or Kevin, and I can't be sure.
Every time I hear this song—or at least almost every time—at least of late—I think about you and/or the rest of the family to some extent, and I wonder if that's how you think of me and others. Do you even remember me? I even began thinking about this song, which I hadn't heard in a long time, in connection to you after I'd heard it again a few times—maybe I was even thinking about it in connection to you when I thought about it and heard it again for the first time in a long time.
Friday, December 20, 2013
Toby Keith, Universal, Or Whoever Just Found A Fight If That's What He, She, Or They Sought
I covered "Should've Been a Cowboy" while I was doing laundry at UMBC one day. I got a copyright notice on YouTube. I disputed the claim, and this was the result:
I looked up who UMPG is. I found out that UMPG is Universal Music Publishing Group. Then that Universal owns or is in a joint effort with Showdog Nashville hit me just a minute ago or so. So, I have this say:
Congratulations, Mr. Covel; you have just found the fight for which you were looking.
I know that Universal has no issue with my fair-use cover. After all, another video in which another Universal-owned song was playing had the following results:
The problem is clearly not with Universal—which you and I both darned well know, Mr. Covel—and I really don't think that you want to pick another fight with me and/or with other people who are quickly finding out who you and your daughter really are. People cannot even cover your songs in a fair-use manner if you don't like them for whatever reason, and your reasons are usually not good. Even L Kay acknowledged that; remember, Mr. Covel? No wonder that you get whatever you get around Norman!
If you keep up what you're doing, your career is not just going to just "Shut Up and Hold On"; it is going to careen downward and crash! By the way, here's how you and your daughter are placing:
Not good, Mr. Covel—especially as, more and more, people are discovering that the apple truly does not far from the tree in the Covel family.
Your video may include a song owned by a third party. For example, this might be a song playing in the background or someone performing a song.
Your video is available and playable.
Here are the details:
I looked up who UMPG is. I found out that UMPG is Universal Music Publishing Group. Then that Universal owns or is in a joint effort with Showdog Nashville hit me just a minute ago or so. So, I have this say:
Congratulations, Mr. Covel; you have just found the fight for which you were looking.
I know that Universal has no issue with my fair-use cover. After all, another video in which another Universal-owned song was playing had the following results:
Your video may include a song owned by a third party. For example, this might be a song playing in the background or someone performing a song.
To hear the matched song please play the video on the right. The video will play from the point where the matched content was identified.
Your video is available and playable.
Here are the details:
The problem is clearly not with Universal—which you and I both darned well know, Mr. Covel—and I really don't think that you want to pick another fight with me and/or with other people who are quickly finding out who you and your daughter really are. People cannot even cover your songs in a fair-use manner if you don't like them for whatever reason, and your reasons are usually not good. Even L Kay acknowledged that; remember, Mr. Covel? No wonder that you get whatever you get around Norman!
If you keep up what you're doing, your career is not just going to just "Shut Up and Hold On"; it is going to careen downward and crash! By the way, here's how you and your daughter are placing:
 |  | 51 | | 6 |  |
| 1.441 | -0.040 | | 275 | 55 |
Albums[edit]
| Title | Album details | Peak positions |
|---|---|---|
| US Heat | ||
| Whiskey & Lace |
| 12 |
Extended plays[edit]
| Title | Album details | Peak chart positions | |
|---|---|---|---|
| US Country | US Heat | ||
| Krystal Keith |
| 53 | 25 |
Singles[edit]
| Year | Single | Peak chart positions | Album |
|---|---|---|---|
| US Country Airplay | |||
| 2013 | "Daddy Dance with Me" | 58 | Whiskey & Lace |
| "Get Your Redneck On" | — | ||
| "—" denotes releases that did not chart | |||
Not good, Mr. Covel—especially as, more and more, people are discovering that the apple truly does not far from the tree in the Covel family.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Autoenhanced of Borlumiere's "HaTikvah" Extended
Seriously the most-powerful version that I have ever heard. All I did was extend and autoenhance it. If only a live orchestra played it!
Monday, October 28, 2013
Toby Keith Is Probably Jewish? Also, Steve Azar Is Persian...
This was also noted on Wikipedia. As for Toby Keith, there's a possibility that he might be Mr. Self Hating (who's talking now, "Big Dog Daddy"?!). If he is Jewish, he had better watch out and reconsider his career choice—after all, God doesn't like those who won't take a moment to pause and remember His (if not also their own) people on יום השואה. For the schmuck to accept an award from a group which refused to remember Holocaust victims and survivors speaks volumes about him in any case, nonetheless.
Here's what Wikipedia (of all sources and in case you didn't click on "there's...Hating") notes:
Now songs like "Drinks After Work" really don't look כשר, do they, Mr. Schicker? By the way, forgive that I'm a little upset that two fellow possible Jews:
Here's what Wikipedia (of all sources and in case you didn't click on "there's...Hating") notes:
His family name, "Covel", is a British "variant spelling of Covell"[52] and means "habitual wearer of a cloak or perhaps a metonymic occupational name for a cloak maker."[53]. If, however, the name was originally "Kovel", it is an Americanized spelling of a "Germanized spelling of Slavic Koval."[54] If this is the case, then "Covel" was originally "Ukrainian, Belorussian, Czech dialect, and Jewish (eastern Ashkenazic), [and was an] occupational name for a blacksmith, from the vocabulary word koval." [55].
Whether Keith is perhaps even Jewish is unclear. However, his family tree does not go beyond 1849 on WARGS.com [56] or the 1700s on Ancestry.com[57], and Tracey R. Rich of JewFAQ notes that a Jew or a gentile of Jewish descent is "not likely to simply log onto Ancestry (or even JewishGen) and find a comprehensive tree listing [his or her] family back 300 years, as some gentiles do."[58] If Toby Keith is Jewish, he would be the second widely-known country singer of Jewish descent (The first would be Kinky Friedman.).
Now songs like "Drinks After Work" really don't look כשר, do they, Mr. Schicker? By the way, forgive that I'm a little upset that two fellow possible Jews:
- Had no problem going into a possibly-Anti-Semitic industry (Google "Jewish country singers", and you'll find that there are few Jewish country singers—plus, the related search "Jewish country music" shows a lot of discouragement and hesitancy on the part of Jews to be involved in country music in the first place, let alone identify as Jews when they are. PS ברוך יהוה that He rescued me from wanting to be a country singer, even before I even suspected that I am Jewish—now I know at least part of why He waited for me to find out that I am Jewish: he wanted me to jump off of the sinking country-music-industry ship first.).
- Have treated me like crap for commenting that one of them was riding on her dad's coattails—and if they are Jewish, they'd better feel guilt about treating a fellow Jew like crap.
- Have treated others besides me like crap—especially if they are Jewish, since they should've been treating their neighbor (including the stranger) with אהבה in the first place.
By the way, I found out that I'm Jewish when I was a kid (before I was 20 years of age—and keep in mind that the age of accountability varies from 12-20 years of age in most cases [See the endnote when you click on this entry.]), and Toby and Krystal have had had more time, resources, and knowledge to figure out if they are—and keep that in mind if that they are Jewish happens to be the case, and think about what that says about them! Also, if that they are Jewish and even knew that they are turns out to be the case, then think about what that really says about them—and a lot of other Jews (especially current and former Jewish country-music fans) would rightly be angry at them, especially since we've had few to no people (Jewish and gentile alike) blessing Israel within the country music industry.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Someone Continues To Try To Intimidate Her Critics, And...
She has lied about it—when I was reading an article about an OSU (not Oklahoma State or University of Oklahoma, as I'm glad that I checked out), I found this huge lie:
""I know there are going to be people who only see me as Toby’s daughter, and I’m prepared for those criticisms because I’m really confident that the album and my work ethic will speak louder," she says. "Obviously I have an amazing opportunity to be on a great label and work with amazing people. I don't take that for granted or apologize for it, but I also hope people will be open-minded enough to listen and base their judgments on the music. I have faith that most people will be pleasantly surprised.""
Mrs. Sandubrae, that "people...see you as [only] Toby's daughter" and that you are "prepared for those criticisms" is a lie. As I have proven on this blog several times, you have intimidated critics like me—you and Denise Denis accused me of being a "Dixie Chicks" fan, for example. You have even gotten criticism from your defenders. For example, you got criticized as "a little snotty" by L. Kay in your hometown; where most people, as I and others understand, do not like you or your dad—and their dislike of you and him has to with your character, which I am certainly sure does not include a "work ethic". In fact, your character has proven itself to not include a work ethic—people who have work ethics try to do the opposite of "no[t] getting around the shadow of a musical superstar in the room," especially when they whine about how they "want to have [their] own voice[s] [and] just want people to be at least open to listening to [them] with an open mind".
You are neither prepared for your critics nor an honest person—and that is on what people are judging you, Mrs. Sandubrae. By the way, according to Wikipedia, people have judged you on your music and have judged you as doing poorly:
Wise up, Mrs. Sandubrae—and my threat of prosecution stands for as long as you continue to try to come to this blog, use whatever I post here against me, and try to make trouble for me and my family (and let that be understood—that the Foczko DNA results solidify that we're Jewish, e.g., is none of your business to use against me—I watch my Feedjit feed and Google statistics carefully, Mrs. Sandubrae, and I record every instance of your visiting this blog.).
""I know there are going to be people who only see me as Toby’s daughter, and I’m prepared for those criticisms because I’m really confident that the album and my work ethic will speak louder," she says. "Obviously I have an amazing opportunity to be on a great label and work with amazing people. I don't take that for granted or apologize for it, but I also hope people will be open-minded enough to listen and base their judgments on the music. I have faith that most people will be pleasantly surprised.""
Mrs. Sandubrae, that "people...see you as [only] Toby's daughter" and that you are "prepared for those criticisms" is a lie. As I have proven on this blog several times, you have intimidated critics like me—you and Denise Denis accused me of being a "Dixie Chicks" fan, for example. You have even gotten criticism from your defenders. For example, you got criticized as "a little snotty" by L. Kay in your hometown; where most people, as I and others understand, do not like you or your dad—and their dislike of you and him has to with your character, which I am certainly sure does not include a "work ethic". In fact, your character has proven itself to not include a work ethic—people who have work ethics try to do the opposite of "no[t] getting around the shadow of a musical superstar in the room," especially when they whine about how they "want to have [their] own voice[s] [and] just want people to be at least open to listening to [them] with an open mind".
You are neither prepared for your critics nor an honest person—and that is on what people are judging you, Mrs. Sandubrae. By the way, according to Wikipedia, people have judged you on your music and have judged you as doing poorly:
Discography[edit]
Albums[edit]
| Title | Album details | Peak chart positions | |
|---|---|---|---|
| US Country | US Heat | ||
| Whiskey & Lace |
| ||
Extended plays[edit]
| Title | Album details | Peak chart positions | |
|---|---|---|---|
| US Country | US Heat | ||
| Krystal Keith |
| 53 | 25 |
Singles[edit]
| Year | Single | Peak chart positions | Album |
|---|---|---|---|
| US Country Airplay | |||
| 2013 | "Daddy Dance with Me" | 58 | Whiskey & Lace |
| "Get Your Redneck On"A |
- ACurrent single.[9]
Guest singles[edit]
| Year | Single | Artist | Peak chart positions | Album |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| US Country | ||||
| 2004 | "Mockingbird" | Toby Keith | 27 | Greatest Hits 2 |
Wise up, Mrs. Sandubrae—and my threat of prosecution stands for as long as you continue to try to come to this blog, use whatever I post here against me, and try to make trouble for me and my family (and let that be understood—that the Foczko DNA results solidify that we're Jewish, e.g., is none of your business to use against me—I watch my Feedjit feed and Google statistics carefully, Mrs. Sandubrae, and I record every instance of your visiting this blog.).
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Some Singer Had Better Watch Out If She Keeps Playing Games—She May Find Herself Prosecuted!
Just what I needed (Not): My sister may be right. Some nepotist and failed singer may be trying to dig up dirt on me to try to sue me. For what? She's a public figure, has had nothing untrue said about her, and had better stay the Hell away from my family—unless she's family; in which case, she'd better really stay the Hell away from the rest of us (We have enough crazy relatives without needing to claim her.).
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Search Keywords [Oct 14, 2013 10:00 PM – Oct 15, 2013 9:00 PM]
Mrs. Sandubrae (and I didn't want to even give the dignity of naming you to you; but since I have to warn you about legal action that I may take against you, Mrs. Sandubrae), stay the Hell away or I will find a way to prosecute you for first-degree criminal harassment, criminal intimidation, cyberbullying, violations of a fellow citizen's First Amendment rights, and criminal misuse and abuse of the internet—and for whatever else you can and should be prosecuted. I have enough to deal with without you trying to sue me because you didn't like the hurtful truth that you're riding on your dad's coattails and will be known only as your dad's daughter instead of the singer in your own right that you wanted to be—and after that, you added insult to your own injury by, for example, indirectly (if not, quite frankly and actually, directly) cyberbullying me along with Denise Denis (and if the need to prosecute her arises, I will prosecute her for the same crimes as well).
By the way, real Christians don't sue, madam. I suggest that, for all your profession-of-Christianity drek (and that your profession of Christianity is drek is quite obvious), you brush up on your Bible—and that your "If I Was Jesus" daddy does the same.
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