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Rubber Duckie, Joy of Joys
Dec. 7th, 2009 07:56 pmMy official biography of Little Richard arrived today.
This may be my favorite performance of his.
He has the all time best hair.
And one of my favorite photographs is of him. It's on the other puter, this is the netbook, but it shows the very young Richard shirtless in the driver's seat of a car, with all that hair, looking in the rear view mirror and flirting with a guy who is standing in the street.
Here 'tis:
I could never figure out if he invented Jerry Lee, of whom a friend of mine once made the immortal statement, The Rolling Stones pretend to be bad, but Jerry Lee Lewis was baaaaad, or if they just both sprang from that special erotic hellfire that is Dixie. Ouf.
I hope this bio is better than the Sam Cooke one I tried to wade through, which was just as voluminous, hagiographic, leaving out big chunks while including every burp, and as BORING as the one I am now enjoying, the official biography of the Queen Mum, which I got for $15 at Costco. Major sucking up. Back to my rant on rock critics, they're just as insane as biographers of royalty. Blech.
This may be my favorite performance of his.
He has the all time best hair.
And one of my favorite photographs is of him. It's on the other puter, this is the netbook, but it shows the very young Richard shirtless in the driver's seat of a car, with all that hair, looking in the rear view mirror and flirting with a guy who is standing in the street.
Here 'tis:
I could never figure out if he invented Jerry Lee, of whom a friend of mine once made the immortal statement, The Rolling Stones pretend to be bad, but Jerry Lee Lewis was baaaaad, or if they just both sprang from that special erotic hellfire that is Dixie. Ouf.
I hope this bio is better than the Sam Cooke one I tried to wade through, which was just as voluminous, hagiographic, leaving out big chunks while including every burp, and as BORING as the one I am now enjoying, the official biography of the Queen Mum, which I got for $15 at Costco. Major sucking up. Back to my rant on rock critics, they're just as insane as biographers of royalty. Blech.
