Jerry Lee Lewis | Serge Gainsbourg | Vagina Monologues | France 1987
my ultimate Rock 'n' Roll discovery, never-before imagined until it appeared, where two days later it was poached by the scumbags @DangerMindsBlog, Marc Campbell, Richard Metzger and Vice, as "Rare French video of Serge Gainsbourg and Jerry Lee Lewis talking about music and f*cking" on 8.28.2010 - TWO DAYS after my first post, "The Vagina Monologues: Jerry Lee Lewis and Serge Gainsbourg!" went up 8.26.2010.
DangerousMinds.net has poached over 30 posts from my blogs, all by Marc Campbell, which remain fittingly derelict without attribution; Marc Campbell is fired; the videos they link to are gone; and Metzger is preening away about how great his cable is in Cincinnati; how he doesn't know his staff; and how to run a blog for $79-a-post.
FUCK DANGEROUSMINDS.NET ONCE AND FOR ALL!
Here's what I wrote 8.28.2010:
"Mean fucking hair. The defest jams in my life, courtesy of a leopard-skin jacket--fucking drunken eyes, sir ... fucked up.
It's about incest and backstage domestics ... and honing the guitar.
It has a pink ruffled tuxedo shirt. Serge is rared up. They offer five shots of the hands in a guild of excess and neglect, no concern with opinions, morals or society.
Jerry Lee was glad to see Elvis dead.
He could finally rest. The fuck-ups were happy to be together in France--all in good humor and improbable.
This video is from a French Fan Club--it has issued clear, and God loves them for its public dissemination and for its potentiality to summit the anti-legendary heroes, never before seen together, never before heard like this (dialogue too real to be concatenated by Tosches, too exuberant to be invented for the annals of popular music).
[Late Latin concatnre, concatnt- : com-, com- + catnre, to bind (from Latin catna, chain)]
I want to burn in Hell indelibly in the soul of its irreverent lasciviousness.
Strong and strange and from their mouths, dare I say it, is its innocence.
"Quintessence, nary more picaresque."
The relationship of these two architects of the dark side--the side of the rock-roll Lethe--should be played nine-hours-per-day in a museum, somewhere between lunchtime in Paris and supper in Ferriday, where the price of admission is as padded as the upholstered, velveteen cushions on which recumbent children and men over forty commingle in Roman deflation.
I see you mouthwatering at the thought.
Open it with my blessings; connect to its memory; send it to your colleagues with its subtle message impossible to pin down; tattoo its URL to your bicep or above your butt crack; force your wife or girlfriend to recite it from memory; commit crimes against nature in its name: illegal cunnilingus, hummable fellatio (God-fearing citizens will be exalted in schadenfreude); thank God you're a fuck-up, and take as its gift its leopard-skin coat.
Happiness so small and insignificant never fails a lonely summer night.
Serendipity?
Fuck him!"
o Le Printemps de Bourges est un festival de musique en France ou les jeunes talents musicaux peuvent exprimer leurs compétences sur scène. Depuis 1977, il se déroule chaque mois d'avril à Bourges (Cher).
A roiling vortex of lust for the disease called Rock 'n' Roll!
I want to burn in Hell, indelibly in the soul of its irreverent lasciviousness.
