Thursday, September 22, 2016


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I have a fun movie for you. It's The Nice Guys (2016, Rated R, Available on DVD).

The Nice Guys stars Russell Crowe––who looks kind of old and frumpy with a beer belly––as the straight man, and that actor who is handsome and sexy because he looks almost exactly like Willy Dunne Wooters, as the funny guy. I can't think of his name.

Oh, yeah. Ryan Gosling. I love Ryan Gosling. He's eye candy, and he's hilarious.

Two private detectives in 1970s Los Angeles team up to investigate the death of a porn star named Misty Mountains. Soon they're on the hunt for a young woman named Amelia, with complications as Holland March's (Ryan Gosling's) young teenage daughter Holly (Angourie Rice) often manages to tag along and add to the gleefully crazy plot.

Holly: You're the guy who beat up my dad.
Holland March: No. Sucker-punched your dad. Big difference.

Russell Crowe as Jackson Healy seems as if he's pretty much walking through the movie as himself but with more of an American accent, so that leaves it to Gosling and Rice to provide the great comedic timing, and they do.

Holly: [At party] Dad, there are whores here n'stuff.
Holland March: Don't say n'stuff. Just say, Dad, there are whores here.

I can't say this movie made me roll on the floor laughing, but I chuckled pretty much non-stop. Thus and so, The Nice Guys earns The Janie Junebug Seal of Cute and Funny Because of Ryan Gosling and The Girl Who Plays His Daughter, And I Hope I See More Of Her In The Future.

Wow! I think that must the longest Seal of Approval that I've ever given.

Holland March: Everybody, just back up! Jesus Christ!
Janet: [stunned] You took the Lord's name in vain.
Holland March: No I didn't, Janet. I actually found it very useful.

Keep in mind that this movie involves porn stars and has lots of naked boobies, so I recommend that you not show it to your children. If you watch with older teens, be prepared to put your hands over their eyes or yours to avoid the embarrassment of looking at naked boobies together.

Holly: Do you by any chance know a girl named Amelia? I think she did a film with Sid Shattuck.
Young Porn Queen: Don't know her, but Sid's gross. He told me this one chick was his sister, right, and then a few days later I walk in on them and they're all doing anal and stuff.
Holly: [sighs] Don't say, "and stuff." Just say, "They're doing anal."

Happy viewing!

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

These lines make me laugh:

Jackson Healy: So, you know the old lady, right? Did you believe her?
Holland March: What about?
Jackson Healy: When she said she saw Misty alive that night, did you believe her?
Holland March: God, no. She's blind as a bat.
Jackson Healy: Uh-huh.
Holland March: She has actual coke bottles for glasses. You paint a mustache on a Volkswagen, she says, "Boy, that Omar Sharif sure runs fast."

This photo makes me drool:

Tuesday, September 20, 2016


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I'm sorry I haven't been around lately. I even missed the Battle of the Bands.

I poked myself in the eye. In bed. That's all you need to know.

Yes, it hurts. Quit asking.

Anypooh, I read online today that the deciders of all things regarding my favorite British bear have decisioned that a new Pooh book will be published, not written by Christopher Robin's father because A. A. Milne is dead, as is Christopher Robin.

Winnie-the-Pooh's new friend is a

little guy wearing a tuxedo.

My new friend hangs around my backdoor at night. His name is

Mr. Toad.

Damn! I'm creative.

Sometimes a dog notices him and attempts to sniff his butt. Unable to find a toad's butt, the dog runs to the yard to sniff its own butt. Mr. Toad hops deeper into the darkness.

He's not pretty, but he's mine and I love him.

I'll try to visit and blog more. I promise. It will help when I can see out of my left eye.

I know inquiring minds want to know, but bugger off.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Monday, September 12, 2016


No introduction. He didn't need one. He and his band simply walked on the stage.

He slumped at the piano, overweight and far from the kid who created The California Sound.

It didn't matter. Within seconds, everyone in the St. Augustine Amphitheater wished "they all could be California girls."

He turned over vocal duties to the bandmate at his side, from-the-beginning Beach Boy Al Jardine.

A few songs from Al and then he said, This is the first song I ever wrote. I was nineteen years old.

Al's son, Matt Jardine, sang, "Do you love me, do you surfer girl?"

My son shouted in my ear, That guy has a great fuckin' voice. (The fruit doesn't fall very far from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.)

It was true. Matt Jardine carried the vocals for the evening, backing up other singers or picking up in the middle of a line when Brian Wilson, seventy-four years old, reached the falsetto part that he once sang like an angel.

Matt Jardine would have and could have been the star of the show, but he was on the stage with the man who wrote the songs, the man who arranged the songs, the man who produced the recording sessions with a precision that defies my comprehension.

It's the Fiftieth Anniversary Tour of Pet Sounds, the album The Beatles admired so much that they responded with Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

Several songs in, Brian said, Now we're going to do Pet Sounds.

And they did. One song after another, with the exception of the pet sounds, but it's not exactly a song. Following God Only Knows (Our Song, meaning Willy Dunne Wooters and me), a standing ovation led Brian to say, Thank you for the applause. Please be seated.

Through the album they went, until he said, This is the last song from Pet Sounds.

I mouthed Caroline No.

Good Vibrations followed the Pet Sounds, but the night wasn't over.

They sang one much-loved song after another, until my throat hurt from begging Rhonda to "help me get her out of my heart."

Brian Wilson didn't sing much, and when he did, often it was more talk singing. He stayed behind the piano that he didn't touch often. Sometimes he swiped his hand across his forehead because it's September in Florida and it's hot and humid. Once he raised his hands as if to conduct the excellent, excellent musicians. He started the audience clapping along to one song.

No, he doesn't do a lot, but he doesn't have to and doesn't need to because he is Brian Wilson presenting the work of a lifetime.

About an hour and forty-five minutes in, he sang Love and Mercy and left the stage the second he reached the beginning of the final note. The others wandered off the stage. As we shuffled out of the amphitheater I could see Al Jardine still talking to people in the audience.

It lasted forever, yet it ended in a flash.

I didn't record these videos, and they're not from the St. Augustine concert. The guy in the back who sings so beautifully is Matt Jardine. His father, Al Jardine, is next to Brian at the piano.

Wednesday, September 7, 2016


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It's time to announce the winner in my September 1 Battle of the Bands.

The song is Summertime. The contenders are Janis Joplin and Billie Holiday.

At first the two were neck and neck. At one point, they were tied. Then Billie pulled ahead to whip Janis's butt.

Billie Holiday  15
Janis Joplin     78

Gosh, Janis's vote resembles the way math nerds write 78, but I assure you, Billie won. Janis had seven votes. I crossed out the seven when I gave her my vote (she suffered from low self-esteem and I wanted to help), so now she has eight to Billie Holiday's fifteen.

Although Billie won, I request that Janis sing us out because I want to write a post one of these days about Billie and a famous song for which she was was known.

Thanks for listening and voting. I'll have another battle on September 15.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

The guy in the short-sleeved white dress shirt with the skinny black tie is a younger version of our fearless leader, Mr. McCarthy.

Tuesday, September 6, 2016


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It's hard to get back to work after a fun Labor Day that included lots of good lovin' from Willy Dunne Wooters.

Yeah, we have a crazy, stupid kind of love.
In place of TIP TUESDAY, I shall answer a question from Linda Kay of Senior Adventures. If you have a different answer, then please speak up.

Linda Kay, writing away, asks, If one is writing in first person (indicated by the chapter heading), and another individual speaks up, how do you address the punctuation, and how do you get back into the original speaker?

I requested more information. Linda Kay responds: In the chapter, the woman is telling her granddaughters a story, then one of them makes a comment (expressed in quotes). Then the woman continues on with her story in the next paragraph. What would be the transition back to the first person storyteller?

My answer: First, the fact that it's a new paragraph indicates that someone else, in this case, the first speaker, is talking again. Another possibility would be to start the paragraph with something such as "Ramona continued," but use a different font.

How would you answer Linda? But so you know, the character is not named Ramona. That was my invention for the sake of an example.

Robyn Alana Engel of Life By Chocolate has also been gettin' busy with words, although not with anything else. Her new book, Celibacy and Suburbia, is out! 

Paperback here. Ebook here. 

I have dubbed Ms. Engel "the harlot of hilarity." Buy, enjoy, review. Pretty please.

Last, but never least, you have until midnight tonight (Tuesday, September 6) to vote in my current Battle of the Bands. The song is Summertime. The contenders are Janis Joplin and Billie Holiday, two women who understood hard livin'. Listen to Janis and Lady Day HERE. Please vote in your comment for your preferred version.

Tomorrow I'll announce the winner.

If I get out of bed.

Mr. Wooters wears me out.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Monday, September 5, 2016


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It's the first Monday of the month so it's time for the Question of the Month bloghop,  hosted by Michael D'Agostino of A Life Examined.

Michael said his question for September was suggested by Alex J. Cavanaugh, who wants to know,

What kind of music best speaks to you?

I'm struggling to answer the question, so I asked my son what kind of music best speaks to me.

Folk music, he answered.

You are out of your fucking mind, I said.

So I guess we've ruled out folk music.

Let's start with pop/rock 'n roll. It speaks to me because I grew up with it. Some members of Kansas are graduates of the high school I attended (not when I was there; they're about a million years older than I am). Pieces of their music speaks to my Christianity. I glommed onto Alanis Morissette when she came along because she speaks to the oppression I've experienced as a woman, and especially, as a wife. Then came Green Day. Don't wanna be an American Idiot.

I guess my music expresses my personal beliefs and often brings me comfort.

If you'd like to listen to some examples of music that speaks to me, here's your chance:

I hope you'll visit other participants in the Question of the Month. Links to their blogs are listed below. Please consider joining us.

You're the host with the most, Michael.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug