The Obamascension


Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Too grandiose? Just want to make sure you get your money’s worth.

THE LINCOLN LOG. Just a quick update on inauguration details, in case you’re one of the estimated 50 million people who will be squeezing into Washington, DC, for the festivities. You’ll need to park your car in Poughkeepsie, Scranton, or Raleigh and walk the rest of the way to the ceremony, so wear comfortable shoes like these.

The Air Jordan XXO, official shoe of the 2009 inauguration.
Just $378 a pair (unless you buy from a scalper at the event).

But the good news is, thanks to a last-minute congressional bailout that has (approximately) doubled the inauguration budget from $150 million to $4.5 trillion, the bells and whistles are going to be even splashier than promised. The oath of office will be administered by the Lord and Creator of the Universe himself since Abraham Lincoln was, for some reason, still unavailable.

But they’ll still be using the Lincoln Bible.

For this reason, the Secret Service will be standing down today, and security will be handled by some of God’s peeps instead.

The bodyguard during the Obamaddress will be
the archangels Gabriel, Michael, and Taekwon.

In another last minute change, Beyonce will NOT be singing the Etta James classic “At Last.” Etta will. (Thank God for that. He sort of insisted.)

Out.

In

But Beyonce will still be on hand, wearing a sexy dress with her Air Jordan XXOs. Something she’s actually good at.

The only bummer — and we hate to mention it, but you need to know — is that due to federal regulations and space limitations, the authentic Lincoln-Pottie everybody will be using is located behind the FBI building, next to the Nixon Memorial Tape Dumpster. Be prepared to wait in line for a few weeks if you need to go.

Maybe you could all sing Kumbaya or something while you wait.

Have a nice time. I’m sure it will be worth the few inconveniences you’ll have to put up with.

posted at 7:43 am by CountryPunk Permalink

A retired writer. And an animal magnet.

Buster thinks I belong to him.

Just to set the context. This all happened tonight. I don’t have a picture of the brand new magnetee, Mel, who threw away his mom in favor of me and lolled and purred until I made him stop.

Then there was Kiki, who’s a nasty little girl until she decides my lap belongs to her and her alone.

And Mr. Elliott, who patiently waits his turn because he’s always known my lap belongs ultimately to him.

Not to mention Eloise, who thinks my right hip is exclusively hers.

Iris too. The perfect white cat. What does she do? Waits till I’m sound asleep and occupies my lap till I wake. Not kidding. The missus will back all this up.

What should I say about all this? Nothing obviously. what life is like.

Escaping Obama

Thursday, January 22, 2009 [recovered from Archived Instapunk.com]

What its YouTube author is calling the ‘Post Barackalyptic Wasteland.’

JUST A BAD DREAM. Everybody copes in his own way. IP decided to think about other stuff and so generated his list of 25 movies about America. I chose another route, opting to find what media I could that was not all about the Second Coming of Abraham Lincoln. No cable news. No newspapers. No newsweekly magazines. No women’s magazines (They’re just The View on slick paperstock if you want to know.). In fact, I thought, here was a golden opportunity to catch up on the specialized periodicals that couldn’t possibly have anything to do with a change in the political leadership in the United States. Was I right? Judge for yourselves.

For example, everyone who reads this blog knows that I’m a motorhead. Years ago, I was a huge fan of Car and Driver Magazine, which once scandalized the automotive world by conducting a performance test of the Ferrari GTO and the Pontiac GTO — and preferring the Pontiac. I lost contact with C&D; for a few years during a sojourn in the midwest. When I left the east coast, they were vociferous opponents of airbags. When I returned, they were among the most fervent advocates of same. Apparently, the possibility that airbags could flat-out kill small women and children by functioning normally had ceased to bother them. But let bygones be begones, I thought. Maybe they’d be a palliative in the new age of messianic politics.

Not so much, really. Even the Obama article was disappointing. Apparently, the president doesn’t know how to drive a stick, and he has an anxiety attack whenever the highway speed tops 55 mph. Oh, and he positively loathes “Detroit Iron.” Who knew? But the editors found him charming, brilliant, and well-versed on the topic of hydrocarbons. They’re bad.

So I turned instead to Scientific-American. Surely they wouldn’t give a fig about the tsunami of rhetoric that was sweeping the ignoramus commoners of the nation.

When I read the cover article, I could hardly blame them. It turns out that Barack Obama does practically everything at an expert level (except, possibly, drive with a manual transmission). He can play five games of chess simultaneously and stalemate them all, while hitting the highest number of triple-word scores in Scrabble ever registered, and extemporize on the bleak philosophical implications of quantum physics as he’s writing a record third doleful autobiography and cleverly losing a game of dominoes to his two children and their fashion advisers. No wonder the magazine had to dedicate three-quarters of the current issue to his cerebral feats of derring-do.

That’s when I remembered National Geographic. The magazine that taught all American boys whose fathers didn’t subscribe to Playboy about breasts.

I’m not saying the cover article was uninteresting. But there were no breasts in it. And what does it mean exactly that a forensic reconstruction of Tutankhamen’s face from his shattered mummy looks exactly Barack Obama? There’s no particular indication that the boy king was an exceptionally able pharaoh. For all we know, the accomplishments of his administration were largely the work of the exceptionally able Speaker of the Egyptian House, Pel Osi, whose remains are on display at Harvard University’s Fogg Museum.

NOTE: Silicone implants don’t age well.

Besides, National Geographic isn’t what you’d call serious. You’d be hard pressed to find any teenage boys who subscribe to the Journal of the Amercan Medical Association, which always puts high art on its covers with absolutely no indication of what the content inside might be.

I suppose I should have taken a cue from the fact that JAMA’s post inaugural issue started all over at Issue 1, Volume I, signifying the beginning of the new era in free healthcare we could all look forward to from now on. But I didn’t. I tried to read the cover article. Which was all about how Hippocrates and Galen and Salk and DeBakey were just redneck asshole plumbers compared to the astonishing medical genius of the new president of the United States. I stopped reading when they claimed he could drive a manual transmission.

If you can’t trust anyone else, you can trust Popular Mechanics. Hardheaded realists all. Right?

Wrong.

So I figured there was one periodical so high toned, so snooty, so divorced from everyday reality that the very worst I might encounter would be Donald Trump’s latest makeover of his largest Manhattan penthouse. Architectural Digest does not care about the stray zephyrs of political fashion.

Which is when I gave up on periodicals. I turned on the TV again, but this time with an eye to the imperturbably irrelevant channels, the ones that couldn’t be topical if they tried. Like Nickelodeon. They do reruns of Star Trek, the real one, for God’s sake.

Something to do with warp drive. I know it is.

There had to be some safety somewhere. After all, what could anybody do to the Honeymooners?

He’s the president of the Raccoons or something. Something bad.

And so, before I even looked, I knew that the gush had reached I Love Lucy too. Which I never even liked in the first place.

She just LOVES him. Doesn’t she?

By then I knew. The TOON channel:

Spongebob has ALWAYS believed in hope and change.

And HGTV.

Bob Vila can feel the love, too. Obama is very handy with power tools. They say.

And even the Food Channel.

He can whip up an omelet or devise a masterly fruit compote. Paula Deen thinks he’s the best thing since chicken dumplings.

Drudge says the Obama inauguration got 35 times the worldwide coverage of the Bush inaugural. I’m pretty sure he’s misunderstimated the total by a bunch.

But I don’t mind. There’s only one icon that will send a chill to my bones. And we may be months and months away from that.

How does the line go? “Build it and they will come.”

Like a dead man.

posted at 2:40 pm by CountryPunk Permalink

Youtube(less) Monday

Monday, January 26, 2009

If he’s really the One, shouldn’t
Obama be able to do this?

OBAMATRIX REDUCTIO. Well. The short answer is that he hasn’t been tested yet. Maybe that’s what Biden was talking about when he warned of dire international challenges early in the Obama administration.I looked around for old-fashioned, low-tech gif animations just to be fair in my comparison. Here is the most popular one I could find that featured the new POTUS.

Yes, he’s having fun, but it’s not a One-ish type thing, is it?

And then there’s the inevitable dancing…

Which, I suppose, is cool, but does it really hold a candle to this?

Be honest. Don’t you miss the old (lowercase) one just a little bit already?

posted at 12:58 am by CountryPunk Permalink

A Creative Black Hole

Toward the end of 2018, I wrote a Facebook post on the concern I feel about the new popularity and availability of marijuana. I had been there in the sixties when it rolled out of the closet into the middle class, and I had firsthand knowledge of the fact that, all claims to the contrary notwithstanding, “weed” was and is absolutely a gateway drug. I went on to identify a phenomenon that has been quite invisible in American culture, in terms of media coverage and general public awareness. Call it a dog that didn’t bark in the night, in this case the striking absence of Baby Boomers from the list of great creative achievers in writing, music, fine art, and film. A body of momentous work that should have been there and just isn’t. I wrote:

<<…and I’m asking myself a big question… what have they [the Baby Boomers] accomplished in the creative arts over two generations? From where I sit, not much.

Fine arts like museum quality paintings, forget it. Since Picasso dismantled the shapes and forms of art and Matisse proved only a few simple lines is all that’s necessary in drawing, Dali finished things off by proving a crazy artist is the key to the city. So there was Warhol and then no one.

Certainly nothing to write home about in writing either. The novel has been dead since the last drunken old fool typewriter-jockey passed away. But they managed to leave a lot behind… Faulkner, Waugh, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, O’Hara, Cheever, Thurber, Benchley, Dorothy Parker, Raymond Chandler, et cetera. Where are the creative writers of today? Self indulgent and often sleazy autobiographical tripe, bad sci fi, cliched detective stories, graphic novels, and truly awful, incoherent, unwatchable movie scripts… well, nothing really. Want to hang your hats on Hunter S. Thompson, Quentin Tarantino, or Marvel Comics? Be my guest.

It’s a similar story with music. Most of you don’t know that the real creative burst in sixties and seventies rock, pop, and soul came from musicians born before the Baby Boom, before blacked out teenage bedrooms smelling of incense and fat kids with munchies. The impact of the great initiators has faded as they have died away through time. We all really know there’s no music left. No sense of adventure or real romance, nothing breakthrough or life-changing. Just auto-tune and scummy lyrics. Something I’ve been thinking about a lot — What people used to talk about when they were being bad with substances they weren’t supposed to have. Drinkers used to talk about all the wild stuff they’d done drunk and would be doing later tonight. Apparently a good many of them went on to write about such adventures and their consequences. Potheads talked, still do I suspect, about how good the weed is and how stoned they are. Then they do it all over again. Where are the Cheetos? I think that’s where the creativity of youth disappeared down the rabbit hole. I think that’s why people below a certain age really don’t have much to talk about, and they don’t know how to talk about it anyway. Never really did the talking thing. Or the doing thing. Or the damn-the-torpedos breakthrough thing. They had more Cheetos instead. And then dribbled out a Piss Christ or two on the way to the john.

Thinking all this has something to do with why people don’t read, can’t spell, can’t frame an argument in favor of some worthwhile objective… in fact, they think an argument is always about tearing down someone else’s stated opinion, like a good lawyer would, only they weren’t so hot at the LSATs either and so they have to argue by calling everyone they disagree with vile names.

I’ll stop there. I’m well aware of the span of attention issue. Have a great and relaxing evening. Ciao.>>

It was an observation by an eyewitness to the turbulent years that led to our own turbulent era. An observation that’s difficult to prove in factual terms. But data do exist, and it is fair to examine the data and draw personal conclusions from them. That’s why, with some prompting, I compiled the following list. Some will see only critical omissions and cherry-picked selections in the list. But a couple of hard facts I do want to stress. The Baby Boom is a very specific, dateable phenomenon. It begins precisely at the end of World War II in August 1945, in the United States specifically, when American troops started coming home to resume their lives, marry, have children, and launch an amazing new generation of American prosperity. The Boom officially ended in 1964 when birth rates returned to normal levels. The children of the boom were so numerous that they constituted, and still do, a bubble in the census timeframe. Theirs was a generation widely praised as the healthiest, most favored, most talented, most promising ever. They had all the advantages and their parents, members of the so-called Greatest Generation that survived the Great Depression and won WWII, were proud to death of them. Now let’s take a look at what they accomplished over 60-some Years in the creative realms where all that talent should have shone like gold.

The List

Dates shown are birthdates. Obviously more names can be included. Tried to focus on those who were especially brilliant, pioneering, innovative, and/or trend-setting. Left out the interpretive arts like acting, singing, musicianship, etc, which are in this context secondary in terms of creative contribution. No Denyce Graves, no Tom Hanks, no Joshua Bell. Necessary omissions.

Writing
Novelists
– Narrative Journalists
– Playwrights
– Screenwriters
– Poets

Not much to be said here, really. These were the famous ones, the celebrated ones whose works topped the bestseller lists, as well as the ones who drew the warmest praise in The New York Review Of Books. Only two problems. 1) All those celebrated ones, fifty years worth weren’t Baby Boomers. The dinosaurs managed to kill both the novel and serious drama without their help. Even the most popular popular thrillers sold by the millions with no Baby Boomer contribution; and 2) Not even these guys came close to equalling the achievement of George Orwell, whose 1984 — published a year before his death in 1950 — was the most important book published in the first half of the century. It’s all been downhill ever since, which I believe he was warning us about in a book called 1984.

J. D. Salinger (1919)
Jack Kerouac (1922)
Kurt Vonnegut (1922)
Joseph Heller (1923)
Tom Wolfe (1930)
John Barth (1930)
Donald Barthelme (1931)
John Updike (1932)
Hunter Thompson (1937)
Thomas Pynchon (1937)
Joyce Carol Oates (1938)
Charles Bukowski (1920, Germany)
Alan Ginsberg (1926)
Langston Hughes (1926)
Maya Angelou (1928)
Sylvia Plath (1932)
Toni Morrison (1931)
Alice Walker (1944)
Lawrence Ferlinghetti (1919)
Saul Bellow (1915)
Norman Mailer (1923)
ee cummings (1894)
Susan Sontag (1933)
Truman Capote (1924)
William Styron (1925)
Philip Roth (1933)
Samuel Beckett (1906)
Arthur Miller (1915)
Thornton Wilder (1897)
Harold Pinter (1930)
Mickey Spillane (1918)
John D. McDonald (1916)
Ross McDonald (1915)
Sue Grafton (1940)
Ann Rice (1941)
————————————————-
David Mamet (1947)
Stephen King (1947)
Patricia Cornwall (1956)

Music (Composition/Songwriting)
Classical Composers
– Rock and Roll
– Country/Western
– Soul
– Jazz
– Movie Scores

Probably the most important category for our purposes. It’s the one the most people will be familiar with. The Baby Boomers have loudly and long taken credit for the creative music explosion that got underway in the late 1960s. Rock and Roll. Rhythm & Blues. Soul. Country Western ‘outlaws.’ Folk/Rock. Not much in Jazz, of course, because everyone knows heroin killed Jazz stone cold dead, and that wasn’t the Baby Boomers’ fault. Problem with this little thumbnail history is that the most important part of it isn’t true. You can’t avoid seeing the cluster of music star births in the years 1939-1944. These are not Boomers. They’re War Babies. And despite their much smaller numbers (dads away at war and all), they generated the Sixties Music Revolution almost all by themselves. And an incredibly high percentage of them were not Americans but Brits (marked * below)). The Beatles, the Stones, the Kinks, The Who, Pink Floyd, The Animals, Led Zeppelin, and others shaped everything that happened afterwards in Rock and Roll. Which is extinct now as a medium that still produces great works. Like musical theater, rhythm & blues, classical music (including opera and ballet), and the aforementioned Jazz. Movie scores. All the greats that scored the big movies we watched are also out of commission and not being replaced except by derivative pop music bands. John Williams, Henry Mancini, and Ennio Morricone. Seen their heirs anywhere? What can the Baby Boomers legitimately lay claim to in terms of their contribution to music in the last 60 years? Maybe 15 pop musicians who will either be remembered or worth remembering.

Philip Glass (1937)
*Andrew Lloyd Webber (1948)
Stephen Sondheim (1930)
John Williams (1932)
Miles Davis (1926)
Chuck Berry (1926)
Bob Dylan (1941)
*John Lennon/Paul McCartney (1940/1942)
*Mick Jagger/Keith Richards (1943/1943)
*Roger Waters/David Gilmour (1943/1946)
*Jimmy Page/Robert Plant(1944/1947)
*Ray Davies (1944)
*Pete Townshend (May 1945)
*Eric Burden (1941)
*Eric Clapton (March 1945)
Jimi Hendrix (1942)
Elvis Presley(1935)
Roy Orbison (1936)
Johnny Cash (1932)
Leonard+ Cohen (1934)
Janis Joplin(?)(1943)
Joni Mitchell (1943)
Judy Collins (1939)
Carole King (1942)
Lou Reed (1942)
Jim Morrison (1943)
Jack Bruce (1943)
Grace Slick (1939)
John Denver (1943)
John Fogerty (1945, May)
Jerry Garcia(1942)
Nina Simone (1933)
Smokey Robinson (1940)
Marvin Gaye (1939)
Ray Charles (1930)
James Brown (1933)
Phil Spector (1939)
Otis Redding (1941)
*Freddie Mercury (1946)
*David Bowie (1947, Brit)
*Elton John (1947)
*Ozzy Osborne (1948)
*Bono (1960, Irish)
*Amy Winehouse (1983)
—————————————————-
Jackson Browne (1948)
Stevie Tyler (1948)
Tom Waits (1949)
Bruce Springsteen (1949)
Billy Joel (1949)
Tom Petty (1950)
Pat Benetar (1953)
Prince (1958)
Michael Jackson (1958)
Madonna (1958)
Jay Z (1969)
Tupac Shakur (1971)
Eminem (1972)
Lady Gaga (1986)

Fine art

Pathetic. Fine art is dead too. And no Baby Boomers anywhere near the scene of the crime.

David Hockney (1937)
Andy Warhol (1928)
Christo (1935)

Film

We all know movies suck, have sucked for decades. Why? The real talents retired or died. All pre-Boomer generation.

Gene Roddenberry (1921)
Sidney Lumet (1924)
Sidney Kramer (1925)
Robert Altman (1925)
Bob Fosse (1927)
*Stanley Kubrick (1928)
Francis Ford Coppola (1939)
Brian dePalma (1940)
Martin Scorsese (1942)
George Lucas (1944)
—————————————————-
Steven Spielberg (1946)
Oliver Stone (1946)
Edward Zwick (1952)
James Cameron (1954)
Quentin Tarantino (1963)

Afterword

The Boomers didn’t kill all the creative arts. In most cases they simply left them to die, with never an impulse or inspiration to pick up the fallen standard and raise the corpses back to life. They get participation trophies in the history of late 20th century popular music, but they offered nothing new, uniquely powerful, or vital for their peers and children. That’s the deal. However you mark it, their performance deserves a massively failing grade. Did marijuana play a significant role in that? Yeah. I think so.

The Vain Search for Distractions

Always hard to retrace one’s steps when they’re meandering. In reference to our recent loss, I posted a song by the Stones, Winter. Which reminded me, because it showed up in the margin at YouTube, of Some Girls, which reminded me that I’m widely regarded, like our president, as being a misogynist. Which I therefore played, and was led in turn to think what life as Mick Jagger must be like. How could you ever know who loved you for you and not as just as a ticket to the top?

So I played this for my wife, not quite as jeering as Some Girls. 

Which got us to thinking some more. Bear in mind, her eyes hurt still from the music I racked up in honor of our lost Raebert last night, and so she was open to my question about rock stars in general, how most of them die too young, except Keith and Mick of course. Which led to a discussion of female rockers, and, specifically, female rock bands.

We decided to make a list of the top ten female rock bands, meaning bands that were all or mostly female.

Here it is:

1. The Bangles

2. The Go Go’s.

3. Hole

4.

5.

Why we ended that list where we did. New list. Female hard rockers. Meaning HARD rockers. Our criteria here are women backed up by men on guitars, bass, drums, and keyboards. Which means they’re not really female bands. The women, in these instances, are the frontman for a male band. Even if they personally selected all the members of that band. Pop stars excluded. Got it?

1. Janis Joplin

2. Patti Smith

3. Wendy O. Williams 

4. Joan Jett

6. Tina Turner

7. Grace Slick

8. Chrissie Hynde

9.

10.

We discussed many others but finally agreed they were not hard core rockers but supremely talented singers whose bands were mere backup: Ronnie Spector, Pat Benetar,   Blondie, Heart, and Annie Lennox, to name a few.

The Dolphin Drill

The Dolphin icon on your Apple screen


For Apple IOS users, YouTube can be made to keep playing in background while other apps are active via a quick detour through the Dolphin Browswer.

1. Open Dolphin
2. Type in the Youtube url and hit return
3. Start the file playing
4. Without pausing it, leave Dolphin and open the IOS Control screen (bottom up sweep from any screen)
5 Find the sound box, which will show a file pause, and click play
6. Return to the file you were working in

ELAPSED TIME: 10 – 15 seconds

For Windows users, copy the url above, paste it into an email to yourself, and send. Open email on your smartphone and click the link. Listen as you return to your open Windows file on the PC. (This also works for Apple systems.)

ELAPSED TIME: 15 – 20 seconds

My Christmas Present from Pat

My first hardcover book. Glossy pages, beautiful photos. Lots of dogs, cats, cars, and only three selfies. Most photography by yours truly. Pretty consistent with who I am, on the whole. A couple of nods to my writing but not excessively so. My biggest bestest book of the year was my grandfather’s World War I diary. Did a couple others but not like this one, hence the cover photo. IIn 2017 I also went through a lion phase, pretty scary to all my friends.

And my stepdaughter Monica got married.

And I’ve been me all year long.

Love it. Thank you, Pat. Over a hundred pages long, lovely, and full of memories of a great year, mostly minus politics and nudity. Just life as we try to live it.

Norman Rules: A Screenplay

Norman Rules

A Screenplay

INTERIOR: DAY. A high tech subway train speeding into an underground station.

INTERIOR: DAY: Monastery Station. John disembarks.

He is met by Sister Gregory.

Gregory: At last we meet. The quarterback I’ve been waiting for. Time to meet the Boss, I think.

Mother Clive: I am Mother Clive, presiding abbot of the St. Ralph Monastery. You can call me Mother Clive. I’ve been warned that you might be a problem child. Sister John.

Me? No. Just a guy who plays the game for the Anglo-Orthodox Chirch.

Mother Clive: You do understand that there are three levels here. Enlightenment, Service, and Atonement. Football is and will always be Atonement.

John: I think so.

Montage: Sister John throwing long bombs and connecting. Mother Clive not happy.

EXTERIOR: Saint Jenny overlooking the field from the Saints Suite.

St. Jenny: Woof. Look at that guy. Want him.

[WORK IN PROGRESS]

Woman’s Day


What does it take to become special, a champion, one of the greats of all time? Breaking barriers of sex, race, and physical disabilities are key criteria. These seven women are archetypal greats. Reading about them is inspiring and humbling. Pioneers, all of them. They did what no one before them had done. Here’s my small tribute on this day of all days.

Althea Gibson crossed both color and sports lines. She was a champion tennis player and a champion golfer. From Wiki:

“Althea Gibson (August 25, 1927 – September 28, 2003) was an American tennis player and professional golfer, and the first black athlete to cross the color line of international tennis. In 1956, she became the first person of color to win a Grand Slam title (the French Open). The following year she won both Wimbledon and the U.S. Nationals (precursor of the U.S. Open), then won both again in 1958, and was voted Female Athlete of the Year by the Associated Press in both years. In all, she won 11 Grand Slam tournaments, including six doubles titles, and was inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame and the International Women’s Sports Hall of Fame. “She is one of the greatest players who ever lived,” said Robert Ryland, a tennis contemporary and former coach of Venus and Serena Williams. “Martina couldn’t touch her. I think she’d beat the Williams sisters.”[1] In the early 1960s she also became the first black player to compete on the women’s professional golf tour.

At a time when racism and prejudice were widespread in sports and in society, Gibson was often compared to Jackie Robinson. “Her road to success was a challenging one,” said Billie Jean King, “but I never saw her back down.”

“To anyone, she was an inspiration, because of what she was able to do at a time when it was enormously difficult to play tennis at all if you were black,” said former New York City Mayor David Dinkins. “I am honored to have followed in such great footsteps,” wrote Venus Williams. “Her accomplishments set the stage for my success, and through players like myself and Serena and many others to come, her legacy will live on.”

GOLF: 

In 1964, at the age of 37, Gibson became the first African-American woman to join the Ladies Professional Golf Association (LPGA) tour.[64] Racial discrimination continued to be a problem: Many hotels still excluded people of color, and country club officials throughout the south—and some in the north—routinely refused to allow her to compete. When she did compete, she was often forced to dress for tournaments in her car because she was banned from the clubhouse.[65] Although she was one of the LPGA’s top 50 money winners for five years, and won a car at a Dinah Shore tournament, her lifetime golf earnings never exceeded $25,000.[66] She made financial ends meet with various sponsorship deals and the support of her husband, William Darben, brother of best friend and fellow tennis player Rosemary Darben, whom she married in 1965 (and divorced in 1976).[67]

While she broke course records during individual rounds in several tournaments, Gibson’s highest ranking was 27th in 1966, and her best tournament finish was a tie for second after a three-way playoff at the 1970 Len Immke Buick Open.[68] She retired from professional golf at the end of the 1978 season.[69] “Althea might have been a real player of consequence had she started when she was young,” said Judy Rankin. “She came along during a difficult time in golf, gained the support of a lot of people, and quietly made a difference.”[70]

 

What, do you think, would be the sport most resistant to competition against men? Try drag racing. I give you Shirley “Cha Cha” Muldowney. From Wiki:

“Shirley Muldowney (born June 19, 1940[1]), also known professionally as “Cha Cha” and the “First Lady of Drag Racing”, is an American auto racer. She was the first woman to receive a license from the National Hot Rod Association (NHRA) to drive a Top Fuel dragster. She won the NHRA Top Fuel championship in 1977, 1980, and 1982, becoming the first person to win two and three Top Fuel titles.[2][3] She won a total of 18 NHRA national events.

Born Shirley Ann Roque in Burlington, Vermont, Muldowney began street racing in the 1950s in Schenectady, New York. “School had no appeal to me. All I wanted was to race up and down the streets in a hot rod,” declared Muldowney.[3] When she was 16, she married 19-year-old Jack Muldowney,[4] who would build her first dragster…

In 1958, Muldowney made her debut on the dragstrip of the Fonda Speedway. She obtained her NHRA pro license in 1965. She competed in the 1969 and 1970 U.S. Nationals in a twin-engine dragster in Top Gas.[2][6] With Top Gas losing popularity, Muldowney switched to Funny Car, buying her first car from Connie Kalitta…

Muldowney won her first major event, the International Hot Rod Association (IHRA) Southern Nationals, in 1971.

She stepped up to Top Fuel, getting her license in 1973. From 1973 to 1977, she teamed up with Connie Kalitta as the Bounty Hunter and Bounty Huntress in match races, in a pair of Ford Mustangs, hers a Buttera chassis, his a Logghe. The Bounty Huntress Mustang caught fire at Dragway 42 in Ohio in 1973.

An unprecedented three NHRA Top Fuel Dragster world championships followed, in 1977, 1980, and 1982.

Muldowney success met enormous opposition from those who felt drag racing (or any form of motorsport, for that matter) was no place for women. Don Garlits [Big Daddy, the King of Drag Racing] has said about her:

“Now, if you ask who do I have the most respect for, I’d say Shirley Muldowney. She went against all odds. They didn’t want her to race Top Fuel, the association, the racers, nobody…Just Shirley.”

Muldowney noted, “NHRA fought me every inch of the way, but when they saw how a girl could fill the stands; they saw I was good for the sport.”[9]

A crash in 1984 crushed her hands, pelvis, and legs, necessitating half a dozen operations and 18 months of therapy.[3] Muldowney was sidelined for a long period, but returned to the circuit in the late 1980s. She continued to race, mostly without major sponsorship, throughout the 1990s in IHRA competition as well as match-racing events. She returned to the NHRA towards the end of her career, running select events until her retirement at the end of 2003.”

Here’s the one of these great ladies I got to see in person. Saw her race at the Vineland NJ Speedway when I was a boy. We all rooted for her. She was a star. From Wiki:

“Donna Mae Mims (July 1, 1927–October 6, 2009) was an American race car driver. She was the first woman to win a Sports Car Club of America (SCCA) national championship. Mims won the SCCA Class H championship in 1963. She was known as the “Pink Lady” of racing because she wore a pink racing helmet and coveralls and had the phrase “Think Pink” emblazoned on the back of her pink racing cars. Mims also competed in the fourth (and last) running of the Cannonball Run race in March 1979.

She and her husband purchased a fuel-injected Corvette and developed an interest in automobile racing. The Yenko dealership had a division involved in automobile racing, and in 1960, Mims started racing cars with friends from Yenko. She quickly became one of the top amateur race car drivers in the country.[1] She won her first race in 1960, driving her Corvette at the B Production race at the Cumberland National.[2]

Mims became a regular participant in the Cumberland National Sports Car Classic in the 1960s. She finished second to Frank Nagle of Wyomissing, Pennsylvania, in the Lions Club Trophy race at the Cumberland Municipal Airport in 1963.[3]

In 1963, Mims won the Sports Car Club of America national racing championship driving a pink Austin-Healey 1959 Bugeye Sprite that once had belonged to Dr. Jonas Salk.[1] She won the 1963 Class H championship after competing in ten sanctioned races in her Austin Healey Sprite. She placed first in two of the ten races, placed second three times.[4] In the twenty-year history of the Sports Car Club of America to that point, Mims was the first woman to win a national racing championship.[4][5][6]

Mims became known as the “Pink Lady”, because most of the automobiles in which she raced were painted pink. Her cars included the pink Austin-Healey in which she won the championship and a pink Corvette, Corvair, Triumph TR3 and MGB.[1] In 2009, Mims told the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, “On the back of most of my cars I had ‘Think Pink’ … I liked pink ever since I was a little girl.” In 1964, the UPI ran a feature story on Mims, noting that the “Pink Lady” not only drove a pink car, but wore a pink helmet and pink coveralls. The feature story continued:

“It’s easy to see why men chase after Donna Mae Mims. She’s a delightful blonde with an intriguing smile, well-shaped figure and a laughing sense of humor. And much like most other members of her sex, she delights in leading men a merry chase. Only trouble is, Donna Mae doesn’t want to get caught. For it’s a double life Donna Mae leads, and when she isn’t sitting at a secretary’s desk she’s pursuing her career as ‘the pink lady of racing.'”[4]

Mims continued to race automobiles for 12 years. In 1969, Los Angeles Times columnist Jack Smith wrote a column about Mims when she visited the Los Angeles auto show. Mims described her pre-race rituals to Smith:

“I psych myself. I remove all my makeup. I think stern. I bristle. I don’t talk to anybody. You cannot think nice. Chivalry is dead on the racetrack. You’re out there only for one thing. To win. Nobody remembers second place.”[6]

She told another reporter, “A lot of the male drivers think I’m out there to prove that I can beat them because they’re men. That isn’t so. They claim that I sometimes charge into the corners, cutting them off. I don’t mean to. I’m just trying to win.”[4]

Paralyzed by polo from the knees down, Lis Hartel nevertheless became the first woman to medal at the Olympics in competition against male equestrians. From Wiki:

“Lis Hartel (March 14, 1921 – February 12, 2009) was an equestrian from Denmark. She was originally coached by her mother, Else Holst, but began to be coached by professional horseman Gunnar Andersen when she became nationally competitive.

“She was the Danish dressage champion in 1943 and 1944.[4] In September 1944 at age 23 she contracted polio, which permanently paralyzed her below the knees, as well as affecting her arms and hands.[1][5][4] She was pregnant at the time, but had a healthy daughter.[6] Hartel was determined to continue her equestrian career despite medical advice otherwise, and in 1947 she finished second at the Scandinavian championships, although she had to be helped onto her horse when she rode.[5][7]

“Dressage at the Olympics was open only to commissioned military officers until 1952, and in that year Hartel was one of the first women to compete against men in an equestrian sport at the Olympics.[6] Her silver medal in 1952 for Individual Dressage was the first by any woman in any individual sport when in direct competition with men at the Olympics, and she was also the Danish champion in dressage that year.[3][4] She continued to be Danish champion in dressage in 1953, 1954, 1956 and 1959.[3] In 1956 she also won another silver medal, this time at the 1956 Olympics in Melbourne, Australia (the Equestrian Games of those Olympics were held in Stockholm because of Australian quarantine laws for horses).[3][6][7][8]

“After retiring from competitive riding, Hartel gave demonstrations, raising money for polio sufferers and supporting therapeutic riding for people with disabilities.[5] The Lis Hartel Foundation in the Netherlands, named after her, offers such riding opportunities.[5][3]

“In 1992 Hartel was inducted into Denmark’s Hall of Fame, and in 2005 she was named one of Denmark’s top 10 athletes of all time.”

Amelia Earhart was the most famous female aviator of her day. But she wasn’t the best. That honor belonged to Louise Thaden. From Wiki:

Thaden rapidly became a major figure in the aviation world and set many world performance records and won many major flying events. In 1929, she became the first pilot to hold the women’s altitude, endurance and speed records in light planes simultaneously. Thaden set the women’s altitude record in December 1928 with a mark of 20,260 feet. In March 1929, she set the women’s endurance record with a flight of 22 hours, 3 minutes, 12 seconds.

Women were barred from air racing from 1930 to 1935, due to sexism.[2]

Women’s Air Derby
Thaden was a friend and rival of pioneer aviators Amelia Earhart, Pancho Barnes, Opal Kunz, and Blanche Noyes. Thaden defeated her colleagues [easily] in the first Women’s Air Derby, also known as the Powder Puff Derby, in 1929. The Air Derby was a transcontinental race from Santa Monica, California to Cleveland, Ohio, which was the site of the National Air Races that year. It took place from August 13–20, 1929. Twenty women were entered in the race. Marvel Crosson was killed. Earhart damaged her aircraft at Yuma, Arizona, Barnes became lost and flew into Mexico and damaged her plane attempting to get back on course, and Noyes suffered an in-flight fire over Texas.[3]

If they’ll let you, you can beat the men at their own game. I give you Nona. From Wiki:

“Nona Gaprindashvili (Georgian: ნონა გაფრინდაშვილი; born 3 May 1941) is a Georgian chess player, the sixth women’s world chess champion (1962–1978), and first female Grandmaster. Born in Zugdidi, Georgia (then part of the Soviet Union), she is the strongest female player of her generation.

“In 1961, aged 20, Gaprindashvili won the fourth women’s Candidates Tournament, setting up a title match against Russian world champion Elisabeth Bykova. She won the match easily, with a final score of 9-2 (+7−0=4), and went on to defend her title successfully four times: three times against Alla Kushnir (1965: 10–6; 1969: 12–7; 1972: 12–11) and once against fellow Georgian Nana Alexandria (1975: 9–4). She finally lost her crown in 1978 to another Georgian, 17-year-old Maia Chiburdanidze, by a score of 6½–8½ (+2−4=9).

“Gaprindashvili played for the Soviet Union in the Chess Olympiads of 1963, 1966, 1969, 1972, 1974, 1978, 1980, 1982, 1984, 1986, 1990, and for Georgia in 1992.[1] She was one of the contributing players of the USSR team that dominated the women’s Olympiads of the 1980s. She won as many as 25 medals, among which 11 team gold medals and 9 individual gold medals.[2] At the Olympiad of Dubai 1986 she won all the ten games she played.

“She was a five-times winner of the Women’s Soviet Championship: in 1964, 1973, 1981, 1983, and 1985.

“During her career Gaprindashvili successfully competed in men’s tournaments, winning (amongst others) the Hastings Challengers tournament in 1963/4 and tying for first place at Lone Pine International tournament in 1977.

“In 1978 Gaprindashvili became the first woman to be awarded the Grandmaster title. She was awarded the title after scoring two grandmaster norms totaling 23 games, the last of which was winning Lone Pine 1977 against a field of 45 players, mostly grandmasters. Although the GM title normally required 24 games, by exceeding the GM ‘norm’ requirement in Lone Pine, FIDE found her results over 23 games equivalent to 24 games and made her the first woman Grandmaster.”

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Don’t know how to close this, except to say I am full of admiration for all seven of them. I imagine you are too.