AFTER TWO LONG YEARS of pussyfooting, farting around, lollygagging, and dillydallying, I finally (FINALLY!) got my new blog off the ground: The Endless Sixties is up and running and waiting for readers. There are half a dozen articles already posted plus the homepage, and everyone should read the introductory homepage first, of course.
The concept behind the site is to produce and publish a slew of articles, essays, and pictorials about the positive aspects of “the sixties”—positive, at least, in my opinion. It will address politics, culture, counterculture, music, art, books, and movies.
Part of the reason for the unseemly delay is this: I was going to launch the site with a 24-part series on my discovery of, and immediate addiction to, Marvel superhero comic books in 1964. When I published the first section, I received numerous requests to do a separate blog on mainstream, “above ground” comic books from that era, especially those by Marvel (the brash upstarts) and DC (the old fogies).
And so I will, but not just right now. (Meaning I have to come up with a clever bloody name for a blog about costumed-heroes in the ’60s, back before Marvel sold out and became DC.)
Right now I am asking you, my dear, loyal readers here at A Touch Of Gold, to click on over to The Endless Sixties and read something and, if you’re in the mood, leave a comment or two . . .
Mystically liberal Virgo enjoys long walks alone in the city at night in the rain with an umbrella and a flask of 10-year-old Laphroaig who strives to live by the maxim, “It ain’t what you know that gets you into trouble; it’s what you know that just ain’t so.
I’ve been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn, and a college dropout (twice!). Occupationally, I have been a bartender, jewelry engraver, bouncer, landscape artist, and FEMA crew chief following the Great Flood of ’72 (and that was a job that I should never, ever have left).
I am also the final author of the original O’Sullivan Woodside price guides for record collectors and the original author of the Goldmine price guides for record collectors. As such, I was often referred to as the Price Guide Guru, and—as everyone should know—it behooves one to heed the words of a guru. (Unless, of course, you’re the Beatles.)