Archive for Elouise

Frank Gutch Jr: A Spoon Full of Estrogen Helps the Music Go Down (Easier)— A Glance at The 81s with Luella, Elouise, and Goldie Wilson; Plus Notes…

Posted in Opinion with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 14, 2017 by segarini

Women.  You can’t live with ’em and you can’t live without ’em, so the general attitude seems to be.  These days, it’s a topic I would rather not broach, so many ready to take offense at the drop of a hat, but who can blame them?  The United States, in my mind one of the most open cultures in the world (until the Orange Shitgibbon came along), never gave them their just due.  We said we did, but saying and doing are so far apart anymore.  Maybe always was.  I was fortunate enough to have grown up in a family which was as close as you could probably get to democratic.  Not in the early days, of course, but who would want to put a family at the mercy of a five- or eleven-year old?  Still, us kids were included in most decisions— the ones which involved us kids, anyway.

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Frank Gutch Jr: Getting Your Fa-La-La-Las (Christmas Compilations & Suggestions); Plus Notes

Posted in Opinion, Review with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 6, 2016 by segarini

Frank Gutch young

Nothing says Christmas like a curmudgeon and nobody is more of one than Jaimie Vernon which makes me wish I knew some of the stories behind his long career in music and, also, in life.  Regaling you with tales of chicken wire and whoopee cushions would make this a lot easier to write— nothing like fart jokes to liven up your reading— but it is Christmas season and I must put aside the slings and arrows, as humorous as they might be.

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Frank Gutch Jr: Travels With Farley: Canada’s Legacy in Words— Plus Notes

Posted in Opinion, Review with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 26, 2016 by segarini

Frank Gutch young

I have this very large book sitting on my shelf titled Canada: A Modern History.  At the time I purchased it, I was beginning a journey into Canadian literature thanks to a bookstore in Seattle known as Magus, a large store in the University District of Seattle containing books of all sizes and flavors, mostly paperbacks.  I had stumbled upon this book quite by chance at the first Friends of the Library sale I attended upon arriving in Seattle and, having this unquenched thirst for what I now know as America’s Hat, purchased it on a whim.

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