Rock Around the Croc: Hector Berlioz and Program Music

Welcome back you darling little gremlins, it’s time once again to learn some music stuff. Today we continue our exploration of the Romantic Era as we take a look at Hector Berlioz (1803-1869) and the Symphonie Fantastique. But it will take a bit to get to that, so let’s start with a shorter work, “Le chant des chemins de fer” (Song of the Railways):

Thanks!

Another year and another chance to express our thanks for this amazing place we still inhabit.

The crew here is truly an exceptional cross-section of society and skills.

Karma

I think I mentioned in the comment section a glorious conversation I had with my stoner, loser, father in law. Let me expand the conversation so you can laugh and cry along with me.

First, I was down in FL on very short notice to fix up my POS condo that was to be sold. The tenants had trashed the place so I needed to paint, make a few repairs, and get the carpet replaced. Since this is Florida, you can’t count on anyone other than your own cheesebag. Hired cheesebags will stiff you, leave you wondering, and steal the cabinets from the walls if left unattended.

So there I was, after driving 8 hours, busting my ass for two days to repair said shit hole, when my asshole father in law invites me for dinner. Great, I say. No problem. I’ll meet you at your mom’s house (not a euphemism) and we’ll go our for Messican.

Out of the shower and I’m ready to go. Plans have changed, we’re going out for Vietnamese but whatever. I’m hungry and looking forward to some fun with GNDs grandma (she’s 91 and sharp as a tack) and her uncle, who is basically a Hostage. They’re awesome people and serve as a shield to my AHFIL. When I look at dear sweet grandma and ask her if she wants to ride with me, she informs that she’s not going. She thought it would be nice if AHFIL and I could spend time together.

The world stopped. I had gone deaf. Nothing made sense. I blinked, tried to gather my shit and desperately tried to control the fear and shock spreading across my face.

My mind instantly went to the scene in The Empire Strikes Back where Luke, missing a hand, beaten to a pulp, and hanging over the edge of an impossibly long fall, finds out he’s the spawn of Darth Vader. If I were in that situation and Vader was my AHFIL and he informed me in his deep, mechanical voice that he is indeed taking me out for Vietnamese for dinner alone, I would have fucking jumped too. Sweet death take me now.

Meming Alive

Happy Father’s Day

Happy Father’s Day to all the Hostages. Let’s see what we have in the funneh folder for today.

The List

Ok, so recently I was strongly encouraged to attend a struggle session at work, and it couldn’t have been more cringe. Think of that time Hotspur got caught in women’s underwear for the first time in the Macy’s dressing room. Take that, square it, add a cheese bag, and divide by the number of hot dogs Jay ate for breakfast.

Maximum cringe.

One of my favorite things that terrible public speakers all seem to do, is say that they want participation, discussion, disagreement, and debate. From there they generally talk for 20 minutes without taking a breath.

In that first 20 mins I learned a few things:

HHD

Welcome to another edition of Hunky Hump Day.
First, the song.

Now for the hunks.
I don’t know what he did to piss off people, but Mike Rowe was trending on Twitter and not in a good way. So I’m pretty sure I agree with whatever he did or said.

HHD

Welcome to another edition of Hunky Hump Day. Found a new source of HHD fodder, but, wow, some of them need a sammich. First, the song, inspired by the courtin’ song last week.

And now for the hunks.

HHD

Welcome to another edition of Hunky Hump Day, despite WordPus’s best attempt to screw me over with their sucky software. Let’s get started. It’s not Halloween, but I’ve been listening to this group lately.

Today’s lead model, courtesy of TiFW, is Iain Glen.

HHD

Welcome to another edition of Hunky Hump Day. Let’s get started.
I have a feeling this song is a repeat.

So there’s a picture below the fold that may or may not be Steve McQueen. I looked him up, and today is his birthday. So he gets both above and below the fold.