Nobody Can Predict Death:Part I

Nobody’s Opinion; Since even somebody’s cannot buy their way out of death, and because of the look on Betty Ford’s face as she watched all of Washington’s finest go past her husband’s coffin, (Didn’t you wonder what she was thinking? Could it even be printed?) I decided to look into some of the people who died last year and give my usual nobody’s opinion on how they affected me, and all the rest of the world, just for fun: sort of a nobody’s 2006 obituary.

And since I was a musician most of my life, I’ll start with them.  

Lou Rawls; In the annals of American pop music, this guy was a fine example of how a man’s deep-toned voice can send a woman into sexual submission. I’m sure many men from the fifties discovered this little secret and the baby boomers whose parents are still alive might asked them just who were they playing on the record player the night they were conceived. Despite what you hear, I bet it was Lou, not Frank Sinatra. And Lou came before Barry “South Park” White.  

Rawls reminds us that Chicago actually produced a worthy soul…because when I think of Chicago, I think of Hillary Clinton, Al Capone, and the fact that it’s the coldest place on earth. It’s warmer at the South Pole.

I know, Oprah shops on Michigan Avenue, but that’s irrelevant.

Lou also went to school with Sam Cooke. So, there you go. Lou made over…seventy albums. That’s a lot. The man worked hard.

He also served as a paratrooper in the 82^nd Airborne Division, and was a favorite for singing the National Anthem at various sporting events…which is why we can forgive him for appearing in episodes of Baywatch.

Actually, he had died once before in a car accident, but was brought back, and was in a coma for a while. Since this did not happen in Florida, he was allowed to live.

For the MND men, Lou was not without his share of woman troubles. His wife of two years transferred $350,000 of his money into her private account. Lou, let her live, although he was pretty upset about the matter.

But in the end, all the world will remember Lou as the voice behind the beer. Now when you hear “When You Say Bud” you will probably not remember that it was Lou Rawl’s golden vocals that made you want to drink that stuff that tastes like…

No, you will just down the stuff, not even knowing why.

Budweiser stock holders all over the world, bow your heads in prayer.

Lou Rawls, will always remind me of baseball, beer, and why men and women are not equal. Just imagine Better Midler singing “When you say Bud…”

I rest my case.
 

Lou, we will miss you.

**********

Wilson Pickett: Let’s get one thing straight here…Wilson Pickett was the youngest of 11 children, and his mother used to beat him with kitchen skillets, furniture, the iron and the ironing board, the old fenders of cars.., in fact any thing that was handy…and yet…unlike Saddam Hussein, who was also beaten as a boy, he did not grow up to kill thousands of people.

Do not use this excuse for Saddam in front of me.

Nevertheless, he did carry a shotgun in his car, and threaten to kill the mayor of a New Jersey town one night. He also hit an 86-year-old man one night while driving drunk. But hey— when you work in bars, people DO send you drinks. What are you suppose to do, refuse them? You might get shot for being stuck-up. Back then , the term designated driver meant a person who had a license.

What Wilson did give the world was two of the most fun songs ever written; Mustang Sally, and the Midnight Hour.

When I first heard the Midnight Hour, I was at a “Sock Hop” (Kids took off their shoes and danced in their socks, go figure) and I had NO idea what happened in the midnight hour—but it sure sounded fun!

Later, I used to play Mustang Sally every night, because it had such a great beat. It never failed to get people on the dance floor.

“Mustang Sally, You’d better slow your Mustang Down
Mustang Sally… Put your big flat feet on the ground”
 

Mustang Sally was the first Ugly Betty, but with a great car.

Wilson also wrote “Born to be Wild” and is the reason I got to go on Steppenwolf’s tour bus, because I met the drummer right after the hit came out and they gave a concert here.

And you may not believe this, but the guys were perfect gentlemen to me and my girlfriend. Which means I cannot go to my grave saying I was a groupie, which Susuan Sarandon and Goldie Hawn made into a respectable occupation recently. Liberals must have needed that assurance. 

I did not know until this minute that Wilson Picket wrote that song. I was so impressed that the singer of Steppenwolf had written such a hit. I admit— I was a bit star struck. (Okay, how many of you read the labels.)

It is now being used to entice young people to buy pick-up trucks and have wild parties while driving them.

He also wrote “You Keep Me Hanging On,” a soon to be Dreamgirls new hit, and he also wrote for Credence Clearwater, Hootie and His Blowfish, and Bruce Springsteen.

Which is why I almost cannot forgive him for writing the most awful song in all of history…”Sugar, Sugar.”
 

He even wrote for the Grateful Dead, who I am sure, was grateful to have anyone write them a song being as they were on one long acid trip for twenty years.

Wilson, you did okay. Hope you’re riding in that Mustang in the sky and you’re finally driving it.

Gene Pitney; You have to be really up there to remember this guy. Anyone younger than thirty will only be able to remember the song “Town Without Pity” because John Travolta sang it in a movie, and did a pretty good rendition of it.

It is said that maybe the rolling Stones would not exist if not for this guy, who was in the studio when they did their first recording, “Not Fade Away.” His “uncle,” Phil Specter, was also in the studio. (Nothing like a famous uncle to get you in.)

Gene was from Hartford, Connecticut and stayed married to his childhood sweetheart. He wrote “Stop in the Name Of Love” for the Supremes (who Phil Specter developed and produced) and “Hello Mary Lou” for Ricky Nelson. Both were big hits in the sixites.

Gene also wrote one of my favorite songs of the sixties, “He’s a Rebel,” which is why I am going to forgive him for writing that really stupid song, “Red Rubber Ball,” another senseless song that made it to number one, and gave an unknown band the chance to be the warm up band for the Beatles first tour in America.

James Brown; Yes, James Brown died on Christmas day.

James Brown single-handedly kept everyone in America thin, because you could not help but dance every time you heard his songs. Instead of outlawing margarine, eat a stick of it, and just put on “I Fell Good.” once a day.

You will lose much more weight than if you play Brittany Spears.

Every time James Brown said “oow” for some reason your feet just jump in the air. As Eddie Murphy so wisely knew, when you hear James Brown it’s like putting your foot in the hot tub.

Brittany Spears makes most people want to watch her. (no clue why) You will gain weight watching Brittany Spears, or searching for her on the internet…stop it.

Anyway, James picked cotton when he was young, committed armed robbery and spent time in prison, just like Johnny Cash.

He was married four times, and his wives kept saying he hit them, and then he’d go back into jail. He might have gotten this habit from his boxing days.

But as he grew older, he became sort of a conservative (which ALL his black and liberal friends never talked about, hoping, like the flu, he would get over it.)

 

When he came out with his “Living in America” song which Bill O’Reilly still plays, (from Rocky IV)…James Brown became the American Godfather King.

Michael Jackson copied him, but changed the “ow” to “eeee” because unlike James Brown, Michael does not live in a man’s world. He’s a cross between an eel and an Alien and lives somewhere in Las Vegas right now.

Still, at his funeral, Michael made a grand entrance. You would have thought James Brown died just so Michael could make a photo op. “I love you all,” said Michael, who thought that this huge crowd had gathered just to see HIM.

Michael, as we all know, has limits to his cerebal cortex.

James, on behave of your fans; please forgive the intrusion of the great pretender.

Anyway, without music, this year or any year, our lives would be less rich. God bless them all, for music is the fruit of love (Shakespeare)

So play on guys, even if it’s in heaven for us.

 

This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 2nd, 2007 at 2:32 am and is filed under Vox Populi. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. | 2 views | Trackback | Print this page |

I am a nobody. If the different classes of America were color-coded, I would be in your yucky brown, one rink up from the bottom. I grew up in Naples, Florida and live near the Mississippi River now with my husband and two dogs. I am part of the slowly disappearing middle-class. I was a musician most of my life;drummer/singer/keyboards---but I retired before the plastic surgery flu hit. I have no degrees, which could be a good thing...depending on how you view our educational system. I do have three patents...but that really doesn't make me a somebody. The one thing that is constant in my life is my OPINIONS...which I have more of than perhaps even Carl Sagan could have imagined, mostly political. Hopefully other nobodys will put their opinions on my site. But if you are a sombody...you're more than welcomed to help out. I will try to prove that sometimes nobody knows the answers, sometimes nobody cares, sometimes nobody wins, and most importantly...NOBODY is perfect. Please bear this in mind when you read my thoughts. I don't mean to offend nobody, it's all in good fun. | More from Joyanna Adams