Great Classical Music

In no specific order the music I have enjoyed on WCPE and purchased online in the last two years:

Saint-Saens-  String Quartets 1&2

Shostakovich- Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk

Mozart- Die Entfuhrung Aus Dem Serail

Brahms- Serenade No. 1

Bach for Brass- Laubin Brass Ensemble

Handel- Concerto Grossi Op. 3, Les Musiciens Du Louvre

Sephartic Journey- The Cavatina Duo

A Christmas Flourish- Hannaford Street Silver Band

But Not Forgotten- Music by African-American Composers
     for Clarinet and Piano

Dvorak- American String Quartet, Emerson String Quartet

CBS Masterworks Dinner Classics, The Christmas Album

Voices of Light- Richard Einhorn

EMI Classics- The French Album, Perlman Edition

Cameron Carpenter- All You Need is Bach

Wynton Marsali- Carnaval, Eastman Wind Ensemble

Albert Hurwit- Symphony No. 1 "Remembrance"

Aaron Copland- Quiet City

Repast Baroque Ensemble- Carolus Hacquart

Rebel- Violin Sonatas

Chopin Nocturnes- Earl Wild

Finzi Clarinet Concerto- Richard Stolzman

Rimsky-Korsakov- Night on Mount Triglav

In the Arms of the Beloved- The Music of Richard Daneilpour

Cello Concerto- Edward Elgar. Yo Yo Ma. Andre Previn

Cesar Franck- Psyche, Ravel- Rapsodie Espagnole, Debussy- Danse Sacree et Profane

Richard Strauss- Wind Concertos (oboe)

Hayden Symphony No. 6- The Hanover Band

Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev, Bartok, Piano Concertos- Emil Gilets

I Got No Kick Against Modern Jazz, She's Leaving Home- McKoy Tyner

Michael Brecker- Ballad Book

Bob Marley- Talking Blues

Bravo Brubeck

Bob Florence- Another Side Quartet

Sountrack from "The Russia House"

Soundtrack from "Leaving Las Vegas"



 

Touche of Medusa

Mrs. Beezleworth slid her petticoat down her thighs and stepped out of them.  The smell of burning rose wax permeated the evening air and a gentle breeze made the candle's flame flicker.  She kicked the undergarment out from under her hosed feet and slid her fingers under the waistband of her panty hose.  Panty hose and a petticoat?  It takes much vintage clothing to make a harlot she thought to herself.  Is a role on Broadway so important?  Yes.  She rolled down her hose until she was wearing nothing but her high waisted cotton granny panties.  These are so sexy she thought.  (But they are comfortable, especially when running about onstage.)  "You could carry your lunch in those," Dannon exclaimed from behind her dressing curtain.  "That's not all I carry, Love."  "Show me, Ms Moneypenny."  "I will."  Dannon slid from behind the curtain and crawled naked into her bed.  "Naked," he said.  "Yes dear, I know.  Give me a minute."  She exited into the bathroom and returned minutes later her face covered in cold cream and wearing her dressing gown."  "I'm a picture, huh?"  "Yes, he said."   She dropped her robe and like a heathen goddess made her way to the bed."  "If I didn't know better, darling, you could be Medusa."  "Medusa with the best mouth on Broadway."  "Touche."

Rex Tillerson Former Secretary of State

Professor Tillerson left his office early that night still reeling from the humiliation of being fired by a presidential tweet.  His head down making a beeline for his Ford sedan, he drove home and phoned Exxon/Mobile.  "Dan?  This is Rex.  Raise oil prices.  I don't care how you do it.  Frame it spring demand."  "Yes sir."  Tillerson hung up the phone and walked over to his antique bar, poured himself a Scotch, and sat down in his leather recliner.  His humidor in reach, he opened the box and took out a sublime Havana cigar and fired it up.  "Mr. Tillerson?"  "Yes, Sabrina."  "President Trump is on the line."  "Tell him I am busy."   

A Short Story About the Vanstory Hobo

Like most newsworthy, spongeworthy, James Worthy events, the departure of L3 from their portal located behind the Fayetteville Harris Teeter was innocuous.  For a decade the barricaded DOD building in close proximity to L3's transmission station operated in anonymity.  An Arms Room managing and planning weapons distribution for the United States Army completed its tasks under the close surveillance of two Beechcraft King Air 350 planes making lazy circles in the sky.  Unfortunately the location of the DOD compound and its accompanying L3 communications pod bordered the Vanstory Hills neighborhood including its elementary school.  The combination of high profile spoiled brats, a local flasher, and million dollar surveillance aircraft fused to create a local legend, the "Vanstory Hobo."  He often was seen climbing trees, building shelter out of vines, and otherwise ignoring recalcitrant rich children.  His steadfast animosity infuriated the children, and they concocted an urban legend who ate human flesh, terrorized rabbits, and had sex with neighborhood canine.  The DOD became fearful of the urban legend and that with his newly found powers may penetrate the walls of the DOD building and steal information for release on Wikileaks.  After months of endless fear and trepidation, the DOD decided to move their facility to a more secure location.  L3 followed although their Gulfstream jet often can be seen flying over Fayetteville as many as four times a day.  Legend has it they still are looking for the Vanstory Hobo as their mundane jobs crunching statistics for General Mattis become tiring.  It has been heard the Vanstory Hobo recently resurfaced planting a viable vegetable garden, planting herbs, and playing classical music outside. 

Fayetteville's Shit on a Shingle

There can be no greater erroneous supposition that usurps the active cognition that pizza in the south is more than doughy mush covered in menstrual fluid.  In fact that would be more tasty and more appealing.  Then again if menstrual blood on a bun were to become popular as a foodstuff, the General Assembly of North Carolina would want to control it.  They probably do, and that is why Papa John, Dominoes, and Marco's all agree upon serving the same revolting combination of wet diapers, scrotum cheese, and menstrual blood.  I guess if you have eighteen dollars, haven't eaten in three weeks, and are a Zombie then that recipe is for you.  Welcome to Fayettenam.  After capitalizing on Little Ceasar's five dollar pepperoni hot and ready for over a year, it was time for a different flavor.  Three strikes and your out, of pizza forever.  Two strikes here, and both are insulting enough to tell you straight to your face that the three dollar "delivery" fee does not go to the driver.  Why are we paying a fee for delivery if it does not do to the delivery person?  This is the Conditions of America it her best.  As Eric Cartman would say, "Send down the lubrication guy, because I liked to get lubed before I get @#$%3ed."  That is pretty bold.  We will deliver a putrid, waxy, nauseating, pile of dung on a wet shingle to your door covered in menstrual blood, and charge your three dollars more that by the way, "Doesn't go to your driver!"  He is free to harass you about the three dollars he doesn't see from the pizza sale.  I have no doubt they are instructed to tell you that they get none of the three dollars listed as a delivery fee.  In the future, as I look at the lovely images of deformed children begging for money on SONYHD, adamantly and with fervor I will not give the driver a tip.  You need to negotiate that with your employer.  Instead they condone the harassing of customers by irate poor pizza delivery droids.  I guess once again I am behind the curve.  I am down on the lip of the bell curve.  Slow.  Behind the times.  We don't order pizza, and know I know why we no longer order pizza.  Like everything else now I must create my own self made pizza.  No problem.  My tacos are better than any tacos in Fayettenam.  It doesn't take much.  Fresh ingredients.  A little effort.  In the pizza war (and I am resisting the urge to down a half bottle of hard liquor to forget my troubles) the South is askew.  I have visited the birthplace of Pizza, and that pizza wasn't much.  They raved about it, mostly because they were eating it at the birthplace of pizza.  It is the Italian port city with canals.  Venice.  "Ah, Bach!"  Venice was a toilet bowl, and its cobblestones hurt my feet.  I do wish I had appreciated the sculpture and architecture of Italy more.  The pizza was awful, but not as bad as the pizza in Fayettenam.  A wet diaper covered in menstrual blood.  A five hundred degree pizza stone will cook a pizza in a few minutes.  That is the trick, and a wood or coal fired brick oven is best.  The crust should be thin and crackly, crackly like a cracker, a mulatto cracker, white with black spots.  It could be New Orleans pizza.  The thick, coating, heart stopping fake cheese is naught.  That was Papa John's tonight.  A wet diaper covered in a waxy film of fake cheese covered in menstrual blood.  Here we are in Fayettenam, a Zombie-infested irradiated toilet bowl of chemicals in Cape Fear swamp water, and people are dying in droves.  If I were not sick and tired, it would motivate me to grow as a person.  Fayettenam is good at killing.  Any town with any High School that has a group called "Remembering Our Lost Friends....."  Dead people.  Our dead people.  People who die way before their times.  Up Jacksonville way, Camp Lejune once cleaned all of their war machines with powerful solvents and dumped them on the ground.  Those solvents made their way down into the local water table, and people started dying.  Birth defects.  Cancer.  Death.  It went on quite some time before it was settled.  Take a look at Fort Bragg.  A tributary of the Cape Fear River runs directly along the top border of Fort Bragg.  It is a stones throw from Pope Field.  Often I have wondered if they take or dump into that tributary.  As human beings we never have been able to drink the water.  First it was duck poop.  Then beer was discovered and solved this problem.  Since then we have been drinking beverages other than water for good reason.  The only thing I do with Cape Fear swamp water is bathe, and I keep it on my body for the shortest time possible.  For cooking and drinking I have been using good quality Florida aquifer water for a few years.  Spring water.  Not purified water.  Not twice distilled, backwardly osmosed, doubly filtered horse piss.  Water distributors like Nestle can purify tap water and demand you tip their delivery people because they don't see a penny of the delivery fee.  This is America. 

The Demise of Main Stream Capitalism

America deeply is ensconced in the bowels of evil.  The putrid feces of jive is swirling so thickly around us it is difficult to see the surface.  I am just below it, the sunlight an opaque hue that mocks and angers me.  There only is so much one can do.  Rage against the machine?  

American Motive Stepford Wives

New Christine is the ES44AC.  Old Christine is the Dash 9.  New Christine is Old Christine equipped with an extended auxiliary electronics cab housing her inverter stacks.  New Christine used the GEVO temporarily as required by the EPA but then reverted back to the 7FDL-16 making New Christine old fat Christine on steroids.  Neither Christine would be possible without Hewlett Packard.  New Christine would not be possible without Nikola Tesla.  New Christine defies the traditional practices of alternating current and slows down its gait into the ELF range.  Technically while not creating low frequency electromagnetic waves, New Christine instead creates ambient transient alternating current in the low frequency range.  While it is not well known this unbridled Tesla-created energy manifests itself on our daily lives, most often in our local power grids.  Christine and her cousins can be heard creating the Taos Hum.  The Norfolk and Southern commissioned all of the Old Christines and currently with GE are transitioning all into New Christines.  Like Stepford Wives created on an assembly line by American Motive Power, Inc. in Dansville, New York, more fat Old Christines on steroids are emerging.  Do you know what happened to the Stepford Wives?  They were idealistic until a fatal feasibility study.  Harvey, Charlie, Matt, and Bill all fell from grace for eating their own cake.  AC Traction has eaten enough of American's lives.  

It doesn't seem to matter.  The power structure of America has grown so askew, man has become but a speck of dust.  Cumberland Country is the only county in North Carolina which did not add population.  Urban sprawl has become prolific, and the situation is the perfect metaphor for the collapse of America.  I won't go as far as to say as Capitalism has collapsed.  It has not, but the socioeconomic system of America, mainstream America, the America most of us know and grew up in, has failed.  That is because there is no mainstream.  There is nothing binding together the American masses.  How can a country, much less a state, a city, a county, or a town exist with no commonality?  Commonality is the backbone of civilization, and we have forgotten this.  Thus we have no art.  We have nothing.  We have the rich and the poor, and sadly America has become a third world country.  It was inevitable.  Our middle class is forgotten, integrity no longer is an asset, and ingenuity no longer is rewarded in wage.  We have become a slave labor force, and we are paid to shut up.  "Be silent, be still.  Be silent, be still."  Laney Boggs.  It is disgusting.  I live in this country, and there is nothing before me that suggests anything of value.  Contrarily America is a maelstrom of anarchy, chaos, and destruction.  I have a theory about this decline of America, and directly it is related to the decline of mainstream Capitalism.  Again I will not say that Capitalism has failed.  It has not.  It has created for the rich, and these rich have forgotten with their billions that although they can continue to live on these billions, the longevity of America is reliant upon cooperation and a common ideal.  Therefore today's rich in no way care about America now or her future.  They are shallow opportunists and are doing what Republicans always have done.  Get what you can, can it and sit on the can.  America's can is overseas, in Geneva, and in Grand Cayman.  Until that money is freed up and invested back in America, we will continue to spiral downward back to the slave society as we began.  This too is inevitable, unless the masses protest.  All ready we are working at slave wages.  Each time it is announced yet another rate is rising, a utility, an insurance premium, or a tax, what were mainstream Americans become poorer.  Slowly and silently we are being forced into poverty.  What I don't understand is how Cumberland County, the only county in North Carolina that did not grow in population in 2017,  is allowed 
to be irradiated.  There is a tangible reason why Cumberland Country did not grow.  Visit it.  Hang out.  Stay a while.  Relax, or rather try to relax.  Alcohol is necessary.  Alcohol is necessary.  Alcohol is necessary, and the prudent business owners know this.  You will not be able to relax without help.  I would prefer a Rub and a Tug, but that is illegal.  Our prudent, corrupt, self centered, and self righteous state assembly members want to control everything.  If it has the potential to make money, they want to control it.  So in a nutshell is the problem with America.  This is why Capitalism has failed to work for the mainstream, and this is why no longer is there a mainstream.  Small businesses and public education have been abandoned, therefore creating the third world hierarchy of rich and poor.  If we do not educate our populace, and if we do not support small business, then the rich forever will proliferate.  This has been the plan all along since W.  It seems to have begun with W.  I used to think that W. was the devil manifested in human form.  Now I feel the devil manifested in human form is Mark Z.  W.'s people pushed him as their American president to enable the rich and forget the rest.  I am tired of fighting for it.  If my country will not afford me a reasonable living with my knowledge and talent, then why should I fight?  The answer is survival.  Like Generation X I don't give a shit.  If when you work harder they beat you down more, what's the point?  Kurt Cobain.  You become a martyr.  I almost have adjusted to the idea that not all of us are to prosper in America at least monetarily.  Jesus was poor, and He was alright.  I am alright being poor, but it is a drag.  Never have I been able to choose my own car.  Never have I been able to buy my own bedroom suite.  Never have I been able to design my own kitchen.  Never have I been married.  Never have I had children.  I have missed a lot of things, and yet I am not disgruntled.  I am not bitter, but I am longing.  It comes and goes.  It comes when my community, as small as it is, feels the same.  Because I am a support mechanism, I am not at liberty to exercise freedom of choice.  It is a unique and challenging state of grace.  I am not bitter, but I am restless with the prospect of not doing many of the things others have done.  (The radiation just began again.  It stopped for a brief moment, and my eyes were clear)  There is a lowly, uneducated, undeserving slave with his hand on the switch.  An affluent family is telling him what to do for slave wages.  Fighter gets fly over my house continually.  Helicopters thunder all night long.  Diesel trains operate non-stop.  Although America is not at war, Cumberland Country is at war, and no one wants it.  They do not want to live here.  That is why this county is the only county in North Carolina which did not grow in population in 2017.  We have a massive war machine.  We have 65,000+ soldiers preparing for war, and yet Cumberland Country is not at war.  Why should we have to live like America is at war?  Unless you exploit the training soldiers, why cannot we live a peaceful and serene life like others?  Move they would say.  I am not at liberty to do that at the moment.  For two weeks straight we have been irradiated, irradiated with electricity, vibration, and cancer-causing bile.  Gen X and other chemicals are in the Cape Fear River.  The "vibe" of Cumberland Country could not be worse.  It is if Elon Musk has pointed his supersonic laser directly at Fayettenam.  We are under scrutiny.  We are being scrutinized.  We are smuggling drugs.  We are trafficking juveniles.  We are committing murder, all because mainstream capitalism has failed.  When mainstream capitalism fails, a community ceases to produce.  When the parts of the puzzle do not fit together and support one another, the image deteriorates.  The fall of mainstream capitalism is because of the demise of domestic manufacturing, the demise of the production of textiles, the demise of the production of furniture, and the demise of the production of appliances.  It is because America's manufacturing jobs were out-sourced to Jihad.  We gave up on Americans, Americans who fought for and deserved a living wage.  We sold out America in the blink of an eye when Bill Clinton singed NAFTA.  Many South American economies collapsed, and many South Americans lost their life savings all in the blink of an eye, the flick of a presidential ink pen.  What is left?  What will you see if you travel across America?  What do you see in Cumberland County?  Strip malls.  Urban sprawl.  Green spaces that rapidly are disappearing.  Growth.  The only time growth is necessary is when mainstream capitalism has failed.