Thursday, July 2, 2015


I didn't get the editing job I was trying to get because it wasn't even an editing job. It was a job full of misunderstandings. It's good that I'm not involved in this project.

I have a second run through to do on another book. The writer has improved her work so much I can hardly stand it. I don't know what to say because I'm filled with joy for her.

When the book is published, I will let you all know.

It's is by Murees, who is a blogger. She's a good person, too.

I don't want to be involved with people who don't say straight out what they want.

Janie Junebug

P.S. My laptop and email aren't working well, so if I disappear, you know why. My desktop computer doesn't work at all now.


If I make a lot of mistakes in this post, it's because of the tears in my eyes, though I don't cry.

Sir Nicky was 106. Here he is in 2014:

Most of his life, no one knew what he had done--what made him a great person. But in 1988, his wife found a scrap book in their attic, and then the truth began to come out. He was a London stockbroker who learned of a program called Kindertransport to get Jewish children out of Germany and Austria into England. No such program existed in Czechoslovakia, so Nicky started one.

He bribed Nazi officials, and when he couldn't get enough contributions, he gave the money himself. He saved 669 children. The last train with 250 children on it was stopped. The children were never seen again.

When the war ended, few of the children had parents living.

I learned of Sir Nicholas's contribution last year when I watched a documentary called Nicky's Family. Here's what Nicholas Winton looked like during the war:

I watched the documentary on Netflix Streaming. You should watch it, but you might cry.

Anyway, Nicky has gone to the Great Continuum, but he's not forgotten. The children he saved and their descendants now number about six thousand.

Wow. That was hard to write. I hope it makes sense.


Wednesday, July 1, 2015


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It's time for the July 1, 2015, smack down of the Battle of the Bands. Mr. Stephen T. McCarthy provides us with this information about the bloghop:

The whole thing is really quite simple: You select two different versions of the same song (versions you feel might give each other some competition in the voting) and you post them on the 1st and the 15th of each month.

On the 7th and 21st of each month, you add your own personal vote to the mix, total up all the votes and announce the winner on your blog.

Beyond that, just try to have fun with it and let your readers/voters have fun with it.

Because I want to celebrate summer, our song today is California Girls, written by Brian Wilson and Mike Love for their very popular at the time band, The Beach Boys. It reached #3 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1965. Take it away, Beach Boys, performing live in Japan in 1972:

What a bunch of old geezers. I almost want to say, "Look at poor Brian Wilson with his brain damage," but he did it to himself--with encouragement. I would have preferred showing the group in '65, but the only video I could find was from some dumb TV variety special. The performance is so bad that some of the "boys" are still playing their instruments after the song ends.

I love this song, though. It objectifies women, especially women hanging around in bikinis who must want to be objectified. It's catchy, too.

Here's how I used to earn a living:

Twenty years after the Beach Boys released California Girls, David Lee Roth covered it. The cover also reached #3. Remember this guy from Van Halen who used to be kinda hot?

From 1974-1985, Roth was Van Halen's original lead singer. He re-joined them in 2006 for a very successful tour, and made an album with Van Halen in 2012.

As for the influence of California Girls, The Beatles' Back in the U.S.S.R. is an homage to the song. It's been covered many times, including by The Chipmunks. It influenced Katy Perry's 2010 hit California Gurls.

Now it's up to you to vote in the comments section, and yes, I have comment moderation enabled. Your comment won't show up until it has my seal of approval. On California Girls, do you prefer The Beach Boys or David Lee Roth?

Maybe you should close your eyes when you listen to the video of The Beach Boys. They aren't much to look at anymore. Of course, David Lee Roth has also changed a lot since 1985.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. You know you can join this hop. Visit Stephen T. McCarthy. He'll get you signed up.

Tuesday, June 30, 2015


Bosch . . . and people I love,

Some of you went shopping with Carol and me last year when I bought my Bosch dishwasher at Lowe's. The old Frigidaire dishwasher had gone to hell. The pump on it was broken. I didn't know how old it was, so rather than spend a fortune fixing it, buy a new dishwasher.

I did all sorts of research. Tons of people said Bosch is the best dishwasher, but you have to get used to it because it's not like American dishwashers (no garbage disposal in the bottom--instead a filter that traps stuff; doesn't get really hot to dry the dishes--use the sanitize button and pour in a little white vinegar).

I could handle that. I found a Bosch on sale at a good price. It did everything I wanted except put the dishes away. I bought her.

nice black dishwasher in my black-and-white kitchen

filter in the bottom--easy to remove
never has anything in it, but it gets moldy FAST
Bosch and I had a good relationship for a year. I put dirty dishes in her. She washed them. I took them out and put them in the cabinets. I used her about twice a week. But when that year was up, the year of her warranty, she attacked me. She quit draining. She wasn't full of water, but she had too much water in her bottom.

I had purchased the five-year extended warranty on electrical crap. I called Lowe's. They sent a repair person. He took out a little tiny piece that he said had broken off the pump. He'd get a new one. It was covered.

He returned a few days later and put in the piece.

She's been out to get me ever since.

After I run her, I never know if she'll have some water sitting in her bottom. I never know if the dishes are clean. They seem kind of scummy even though I use those dishwasher tablets that Big Mama Bosch says I should use. Sometimes the container with the tablet doesn't open at all, so there's this wet, crumbly tablet in it. I have to take it out or move it around or whatever, and then eventually she works.

Bosch, you are a bitch.

I keep thinking I'll call the repair people again, but I'm afraid it won't be something electrical because of the thingy with the tablet not opening. Then the repair person will charge me a million dollars for every fifteen minutes he's here.

Besides, SOMETIMES SHE WORKS! I never know when she's going to work. It's this grand and glorious surprise when I open her and there's no water in the bottom and the dishes are clean and God is in His heaven and all is right with the world.

She is out to get me. If I call and ask for service, then she'll work. Or I'll call and ask for service, and it will cost all kinds of money I don't have.

Maybe i'll take her temperature rectally.
Nah. She'd fart in my face.

I want my daddy.

Daddy would make bad Bosch behave.

I can tell you one thing for sure: I will never buy anything other than a Maytag dishwasher ever again in my whole life. NEVER.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Franklin says:
Wow, Franklin! 
Where did you learn that naughty language?

Yeah, I know Frankie.
It's mommy's fault.

Monday, June 29, 2015

Friday, June 26, 2015


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It's time for The Cephalopod Coffeehouse, hosted by The Armchair Squid.

The idea is simple: On the last Friday of each month, post about the best book you've finished over the past month while visiting other bloggers doing the same.  In this way, we'll all have the opportunity to share our thoughts with other enthusiastic readers.

Last month I had the great honor of introducing you to the adorable children's book, Ten Zany Birds by Sherry Ellis, which I edited. You can purchase it on Amazon at

My favorite book for June is one that I'm equally honored to present because I edited it (before you know it, I'll be tellin' ya that I've edited every book in the world), and because it happens to be a great book. It's Creating A Joyful Life: The Lessons I Learned from Yoga and My Mom by Jennifer Williams-Fields.

Jennifer very graciously gave me a copy of this book, but, of course, I do not receive remuneration for the reviews I write. You can buy the book on Amazon at It looks like this:

Isn't that a beautiful and inviting cover? I'm impressed.

Here's how our author sums up her book:

My mom was a yogi before the term yogi went mainstream and became synonymous with yoga pants, yoga teacher trainings and mala beads. A flower child of the Sixties, my mom was raised on 'all you need is love,' the laws of karma and female empowerment. As far as I know she never stepped foot onto a yoga mat until I became a yoga teacher and she came to my class just to be sure I had at least one student in attendance.

Williams-Fields goes on to teach us ways to learn about ourselves and how to solve our problems. She offers meditations, affirmations, personal experiences, and yoga movements.

I loved editing this book because as I worked, I felt as if the author wrapped me in a soft blanket and patted me on the back and said, There, there. It will be all right.

It's such a comforting book, filled with kind knowledge. Of course, Creating A Joyful Life: The Lessons I Learned from Yoga and My Mom earns The Janie Junebug Seal of Highest and Most Loving Approval.

Jennifer Williams-Fields, I don't know if I'll meet you in person until we leave this earthly life, but I feel as if I know you. I am a better person for knowing you and reading your book.

Thank you for allowing me to be your editor.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Wednesday, June 24, 2015


Dear Lady Macbeth . . . and the rest of you who simply cannot remove those nasty blood stains from your hands,

Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols was one of the contenders in my most recent Battle of the Bands. 

He lost.

Always a loser, poor boy.

Anyflop, a number of you seemed interested when I mentioned that Sid's mum admitted to killing him with an overdose of heroin because she knew he wouldn't be able to handle prison, which is where he was most likely headed as a result of killing his girlfriend, Nancy Spungen. Actions have consequences sometimes, Sid.

Sid and Nancy in happier times. Ha.

I decided to conduct a little research to see what I could learn about Sid's mum, and I reached the conclusion that no one knows the truth except the people who were there, and they are dead as can be.

That Sid's mum bought the heroin that killed him seems to be undisputed. Others attending the happy Sid is out of jail party said that Sid overdosed, so they kept him awake. He went and died on 'em anyway. Was it because his mommy gave him another shot?

Sid's mum committed suicide in 1996. Most likely BEFORE she died, she said she found a suicide note in his pocket. I've also read and heard that she gave Sid the overdose intentionally.

I don't think we're going to learn the truth, and it doesn't really matter.

Anycorpse, you can watch the movie Sid and Nancy, if you like. Gary Oldman is quite good as Sid. I've also learned that a documentary called Who Killed Nancy? is available on YouTube. Apparently a number of people feel that Sid did not kill Nancy, that he was too out of it on drugs to have stabbed her. I read a couple of reviews of the documentary. Most people don't think it's very good, so I doubt if I'll bother to watch it. 

My time is precious.

Now, let's let Beck take us out with Loser.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Shut up, Kanye. Just shut the fuck up, and don't ever, ever again interrupt when someone wins an award. Yo mama did not raise you right.

And you and Beyonce and whatever might make a lot of money, but you will never play as many instruments as Beck does, you will never have the vocal range that Beck has, and I will never come to see you because I saw Beck and I don't need anything more.