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August 9, 2009

The Army Air Corps March - Written by Robert M. Crawford

The Army Air Corps March

Written by Robert M. Crawford for a competition sponsored by the Army Air Corps and Liberty Magazine's Bernarr MacFadden, who offered a cash prize of $1,000 in the Sept 10, 1938 issue. Gen. Hap Arnold did not believe the Army's Caisson song lyrics, "the army goes rolling along," were suitable for his Air Corps. Crawford was a pilot and composed the song in his head as he flew from Newark, NJ, to Bridgeport, CT, in June 1939. Arnold approved the song on Aug. 18, 1939, and it was officially introduced at the Cleveland Air Races on Sept. 2, 1939. The military services had their own songs: The Marines' Hymn of 1848, the Navy's "Anchors Aweigh" of 1906, the Army had used "The Caisson Song" since 1918, the Coast Guard adopted "Semper Paratus" in 1922. "The Army Air Corps March" was recorded in 1942 by Alvino Rey and His Orchestra, vocals by Bill Schallen and The King Sisters (Bluebird B-11476-A) and used the original June 1939 lyrics of Robert Crawford, except substituting "terrible" for "helluva" so it could be played on the radio. After 1947, other words were changed to match the new name of U. S. Air Force.

1942 poster

Off we go into the wild blue yonder,
Climbing high into the sun;
Here they come zooming to meet our thunder,
At 'em boys, give 'er the gun
Down we dive spouting our flame from under
Off with one helluva (terrible) roar!
We live in fame or go down in flame, Boy!
Nothing'll stop the Army Air Corps!

Here's a toast to the host of those who
Love the vastness of the sky,
To a friend we send this message
of his brother men who fly.
We drink to those who gave their all of old
Then down we roar to score the rainbow's pot of gold.
A toast to the host of men we boast
The Army Air Corps!

Off we go into the wild sky yonder,
Keep the wings level and true;
If you'd live to be a grey-haired wonder
Keep the nose out of the blue!
Flying men, guarding the nation's border,
We'll be there, followed by more!
In echelon we carry on. Boy!
Nothing'll stop the Army Air Corps!

Links:

The Army Air Corps March

WILL-Y DE VILLE: Shhhhhhhhh...Don't tell the lawyers, they've been following me all over the Web taking it down...MOTHERFUCKing SCUM - Italian Shoes

Willy DeVille, Me, & John Anthony Genzale, Jr., Die, OR How I Started Out on BurGUNdy and...




in '96 i lived two blocks from Willy DeVille.

after his girlfriend started buying presents for willy, who turned out to be a neighbor, at my gallery
,
i got up the nerve to go over to their house one night.

for the next three years, i spent as much time hangin' out on his stoop
as i could.

our topics of discussion were varied, but they seemed to always touch down on music, doctors...
doc pomus, little willie john, nyc, mardi gras indians, etc.,

but mostly we both got off on the French Quarter local characters, of whom Willy definitely qualified, and maybe me too, in my own way.

i soon became a fixture at chez deville (even though the gf new that we weren't having AA meetings, and treated me commensurately).

conversation was easy...and heady (to the best of my recollection).

we shared a record label in France - New Rose; a prediliction for weird clothing and hairstyles (i had begun a short-lived flirtation with extravagantly long, colored hair extensions, which i bartered for goods; and he...well, let's just say that when i was seventeen, i would take his first album cover into the hair stylist).

we both loved antiques (and both took advantage of the French Quarter's never-ending suppy of same), bizarre art (i sold african and png ethnic art, as well as southern outsider and folk art--but what really turned Willy on was our collection of skulls, skeletons, and mostly, plastinated animal heads, which we were only the second gallery in America to feature).

the thing i liked best about willy, was that he was the first person i knew who collected Victorian eyeglasses--see i knew one of everybody who collected everything else.

Willy got me to share with him some of my headache remedies and cures (but never their source--a local, enterprising art framer); and i was bound by an oath, probably sworn over a little willie john record (his favorite), never to let on to his girlfriend (whose name, for the life of me, i can't recall) our very innocent (only by their infrequency, however) junco nights.

i was always repaid in full with midnight to dawn private jam sessions and dj nights in the parlor of his creole cottage, amidst the rin tin tinnabulations of his little mutt (although, knowing willy, it was some exotic breed), named dixie belle.

chez deville was decorated in what i'd call, early 'Interview With a Vampire'' (which strangely enough was filmed below my third-floor balcony, transforming the entire block of Royal St. over which I resided into a dirt-covered mews)...
sorry, starting to get sad again, and it's turning into a real fucking drag...maybe some other time. i'll let whoever wrote this post below which i compiled about the true events of johnny thunders death...right next door to chez deville, and as the junkie-walter cronkite might say, 'i was there, man.'

Singer Willy DeVille, who lived next door to the hotel in which Thunders died, described his death this way:

I don't know how the word got out that I lived next door, but all of a sudden the phone started ringing and ringing. Rolling Stone was calling, the Village Voice called, his family called, and then his guitar player called. I felt bad for all of them. t was a tragic end, and I mean, he went out in a blaze of glory, ha ha ha, so I thought I might as well make it look real good, you know, out of respect, so I just told everybody that when Johnny died he was laying down on the floor with his guitar in his hands. I made that up. When he came out of the St. Peter's Guest House, riga mortis had set in to such an extent that his body was in a U shape. When you're laying on the floor in a fetal position, doubled over - well, when the body bag came out, it was in a U. It was pretty awful.
courtesy of junkipedia


here's the swedish account, translated by sebastian, who formerly owned this blog...

Johnny Thunders låg död på mitt hotellrum

NEW ORLEANS

Iko Iko

Sitter i Johnny Thunders dödsrum, dricker Hurricane, lyssnar på Dr John och stoppar nålar i voodoodockan.
Men ångbåtsorgeltanten tutar vidare.
Rum 37 på hotell St Peters House är litet, kostar 69 dollar, jag sitter på sängen.
På andra sidan korsningen Burgundy Street (Rue de Bourgogne) och St Peter Street ligger CD"s Saloon - baren där punkrockens Dean Martin, heroinisten Johnny Thunders, träffade två skurkar och tog sitt sista glas.
Sedan hittades New York Dolls-mannen död här på golvet, utanför toaletten. Rånad och antagligen mördad av dåliga droger. Han hade också lymfkörtelcancer.

and your host has been kind enough without the aid of nicotine to translate it into pidginglish:


"Johnny Thunders was laying dead in my hotel room.

Sitting in Johnny Thunders room of death, drinking Hurricane, listening to Dr John and putting needles in the voodoo doll.
But the steamboat-organist-lady is still horning away
Room 37 on hotel St Peters House is tiny, costs 69 dollar, I'm sitting on the bead.
On the other side of the Burgundy Street (Rue de Bourgogne) och St Peter Street crossing is CD"s Saloon - the bar where the Dean Martin of punk rock, the heroinist Johnny Thunders, met two crooks and had his last glass.
Later the New York Dolls-man was found dead död here on the floor, outside the toilet. Robbed and probably murdered by bad drugs. He also had lymphocyte cancer.
Han was 38 years old.
Thunders sang "You can"t put you arms around a memory" and Per Bjurman likes him alot.
Bjurton likes New Orleans alot too. He's a sinner, he's a saint.
Bon voyage, baby.
My travel companion, Svenska Dagbladets enfant terrible, the man with William Faulkners "Sound and the Fury" on the nighstand, puts the needles in the country music enthusiast who can find a five star record every week and I've got two guys - you know who you are, teehee - back in the old country who will receive my needles in the voodoo doll for 15 dollars.
but fiest I'm aiming at the lousy lady onboard the Mississippi steamboat Nachez. Her off-key steamorgan squeels by Tennessee Williams tramway "Linje Lusta" and perhaps all the way to Tipetina"s and I'm sure voodoo musician Professor Longhair, whos head you ought to rub there, had put his needles into her if he had been into voodoo.
Been her in "The Big Easy" four times now, but never seen Mystikal or Master P. Or Dr John. But the lady plays the steamboat every time..
My voodoo must be wrong.
Voodoo religion exists only in Haiti, in Brasil and here in Louisiana. 15 % of New Orleans population is down with voodoo. The local voodoo saint is Marie Laveau but that doesn't help me. The old lady still plays.
I wish someone could rub my head too. Well, this sickening headache; I don't know wether it was the cajun-martini I had at Paul Prudhomme's Louisiana-cooking-restaurang K-Pauls or if it is the plague from NYC or if it's the flu or if the needle I put in Mr. X's head backfired..
That's how the story goes. Respect voodoo.

Like Dr John sings :
"After you rub it a while, you dub it."


Meeting perhaps the worlds fattest black gay. He's cooking his cajun sausages Po-Boys together with a tiny little transvestite at Clover Grill, a little place on Borbon Street and Dumaine.
- Come on in, ya"ll, we not gonna eat ya, he says and flirts with a gumbo in the hand.
What a man!"
/Z





Many rumors surround Johnny's death at the St. Peter House in New Orleans, Louisiana in April, 1991. He apparently died of drug-related causes, (i'm sorry but i'm just not buying that) was it accidental or the result of foul play? Dee Dee Ramone (and you know how fond jt was of dd) took a call in New York the next day from Stevie Klasson, Johnny's rhythm guitar player.

"They told me that Johnny had gotten mixed up with some bastards... who ripped him off for his methadone supply. They had given him LSD and then murdered him. He had gotten a pretty large supply of methadone in England, so he could travel and stay away from those creeps - the drug dealers, Thunders imitators, and losers like that."

What is known for certain is that Johnny's room (no. 37) was ransacked...cont.

here.

Michael jackson doll. Sings black or...

Michael jackson doll. Sings black or...

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Collectibles, leisure, hobbies, collecting-&-hobbies
Michael Jackson doll. Sings black or white,great condition but no longer have the box. £40 no offers
Cheltenham, Gloucestershire
Published 1 week ago
leisure, hobbies, collecting-&-hobbies - Cheltenham, Gloucestershire - Michael jackson doll. Sings black or... - JGWPDAT

Unmasked - Ian Halperin told the world that Michael Jackson had only six months to live Summary & Video

Description

In late December 2008, Ian Halperin told the world that Michael Jackson had only six months to live. His investigations into Jackson's failing health made headlines around the globe. Six months later, the King of Pop was dead.
Whatever the final autopsy results reveal, it was greed that killed Michael Jackson. Friends and associates paint a tragic picture of the last years and days of his life as Jackson made desperate attempts to prepare for the planned concert series at London's 02 Arena in July 2009. These shows would have earned millions for the singer and his entourage, but he could never have completed them, not mentally, and not physically.
Michael knew it and his advisors knew it. Anyone who caught even a fleeting glimpse of the frail old man hiding beneath the costumes and cosmetics would have understood that the London tour was madness. Why did it happen this way? After an intense five year investigation, New York Times bestselling author Ian Halperin uncovers the real story of Michael Jackson's final years, a suspenseful and surprising thriller.
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