March 30, 2025

News and Grooves April 2. Unique News & Original Music!

News and Grooves April 2. Unique News & Original Music!
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News and Grooves April 2. Unique News & Original Music!

00:00 - Show Introduction

00:30 - Coal Mining Ballad

03:52 - The Dark Origin of "Saved by the Bell"

06:55 - Let's Go Dancing Original Song

10:13 - Bob Dylan Brief Biography

11:41 - Brother Can You Spare a Buck Song

14:49 - Whiskey on the Rocks Dance Song

17:35 - Joke Interlude

19:54 - Four Generations Military Tribute Song

22:38 - Show Closing

WEBVTT

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Welcome to News and Grooves, april 2nd podcast.

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Enjoy the show.

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You're listening to the News and Grooves podcast.

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Thank you, through the dark, where the cold winds don't blow, hands so rough, cracked like the stone.

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The mine is deep, but it don't feel like home.

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Oh, the coal dust fills my lungs, bitter black on my tongue.

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Below the earth, where men aren't free, what's left of the light can't reach me.

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Every swing's a story untold, trading my youth for the promise of gold, but all I dig is sorrow and shale, chasing a dream that's grown so pale Down in the dark.

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I hear it groan prayed in my youth for the promise of gold, but all I did is sorrow and shale, chasing a dream that's grown so pale Down in the dark.

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I hear it groan.

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The earth, it sighs.

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It wants me alone.

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I feel its weight pressing on my soul, a cruel reminder of the life it stole.

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The whistles blow, but the quiet's so loud.

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My head is bent.

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I can't be proud.

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Each heavy foot drags me through the door To cold street babes I work for.

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Oh, the coal dust fills my lungs, bitter black on my tongue.

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Below the earth where men aren't free, what's left of the light can't reach me.

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The term saved by the bell is an idiom commonly used to describe people who escaped difficult situations thanks to a last-minute solution, but the lighthearted phrase actually may have a true, scary story behind it, related to a medical condition known as catalepsy.

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Catalepsy is a medical condition in which a patient endures an uncontrolled state of muscle rigidity and unresponsiveness.

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The condition is often linked to episodes of catatonia.

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Although the disease is widely understood now, in the past it caused sufferers to be mistakenly buried alive.

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After newspapers reported on these tragic endings, writers like Edgar Allan Poe built similar incidents in his own creepy stories.

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The frequency of catalepsy patients being mistaken for dead people led to a string of quick-fix solutions by doctors and gravekeepers, though many of these ideas created new horrors of their own.

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One well-intentioned yet morbid solution was the creation of waiting mortuaries In these hospitals for the dead.

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The bodies of suddenly catatonic patients were kept under observation for a few days to make sure they were actually dead.

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Waiting mortuaries were well-stocked with food, wine and cigars in the event that a patient woke up.

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Another more gruesome solution to avoid burying those who were still alive was to perform examinations to test the deadness of the patient.

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People thought to be dead, had their fingers hacked off or endured smoke being literally blown up their butt.

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The assumption was that if the person didn't wake up, then that meant they were unequivocally dead.

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Otherwise, the procedure was used to revive those who were on the edge of death via tobacco's supposed restorative properties.

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There was only one problems with such test catalepsy prevents patients from feeling pain during their catatonic state, so employing extreme measures proved to be an ineffective method of confirming whether a person was dead or alive.

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True, scary stories of being buried alive also spawned the creation of safety coffins.

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In 18th and 19th century Europe, especially Victorian England, enough people were being mistakenly buried alive that coffin makers came up with a number of solutions.

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These caskets were designed with above-ground horns or bells that a person who found themselves mistakenly buried alive could ring from the inside when they woke up trapped underground.

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Some of these safety coffins also came equipped with a stash of poison in case the person figured out they wouldn't be saved.

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Other models used glass panes that would fog up if the person was still breathing.

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Some had tubes that gravekeepers would have to sniff each day to confirm that the body inside was actually decomposing.

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Other people were simply buried with the keys to their own coffin in their pocket, but the bell models were among the most pervasive.

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These morbid contraptions were allegedly where the phrase saved by the bell came from, according to some Exclusive original music continually featured on the News and Grooves podcast.

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City lights, cold nights, feeling lonely, got my heels, my dress, I'm ready.

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Only Whispering streets.

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They call our yearning.

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Let's go dancing, babe.

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Fire burning, music, loud, heartbeats, wild.

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Come holding Down the avenue we rush so boldly, swing and sway, lost in sounds we're making.

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Let's go dancing, baby.

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No more aching.

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Darkened alley shadows play deceiving.

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Find the rhythm in this night we're weaving.

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Find the rhythm in this night we're weaving.

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Twirl me faster.

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Keep the dream alive In your arms.

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Tonight we come alive.

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Music, loud, heartbeats, wild.

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Come hold me Down the avenue.

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We rush so boldly, swing and sway, lost in sounds we're making.

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Let's go dancing, baby.

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No more aching.

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Midnight echoes through our laughter, laden In the neon glow.

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Our fears are fading.

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In the neon glow, our fears are fading.

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Touch the skyline, taste the freedom shining.

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Let's go dancing, baby.

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No more hiding Music, loud, heartbeats, wild.

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Come hold me Down the avenue we rush so boldly, swing and sway, lost in sounds we're making.

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Let's go dancing, baby.

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No more aching.

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Bob Dylan.

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This legendary American singer-songwriter and musician emerged during the folk music revival of the early 1960s, quickly becoming known for his lyrics, distinctive voice and innovative guitar playing.

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With a career spanning over six decades, he's released numerous groundbreaking albums that have explored various genres like folk, blues, country and rock, while tackling important social and political issues, and both an influential artist and Nobel Prize laureate in literature, his impact on popular cultures.

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Thank you.

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Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

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Brother, can you spare a buck?

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I'm kind of down on my luck.

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Been walking these streets alone Busking for change just to make it home.

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Last night I had a dream so grand Diamonds and gold in a faraway land.

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Woke up to find my pockets bare.

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Reality's bite I couldn't bear.

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Brother, can you spare some time?

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Listen to this heart of mine.

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Life's been rough but I'll get through.

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Need a hand and maybe a clue.

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Sunset's slow on this lonely road.

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Stories untold are waiting to explode.

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Played my sixth string for an empty crowd Hoping for a dollar or some applause loud.

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My shoes have holes and my coat is thin.

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Winter's coming can't keep the chilling, but a smile and a buck will go so far.

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Light in the dark, like an open star.

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Brother, can you spare some change?

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We'll be a lot flat out of this range.

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Dreams ain't dead, they just need a start, hand in hand.

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Oh, mend this heart dark and it had old men this hard.

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So Sunset, slow on this, lonely road, stories untold, waiting to explode.

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Played my six string for an empty crowd Hoping for a dollar or some applause loud.

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Sunset, slow on this, lonely road, stories, untold, waiting to explode.

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Played my sixth string for an empty crowd Hoping for a dollar or some applause loud, exclusive original music continually featured on the ground.

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Whiskey on the rocks, hearts, pound Boots tappin' on the wooden floor, ghosts from the past knocking at the door.

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May I have this dance just one more time, through the sorrow, through the ground, spinning round under the moonshine.

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Forget the world, just be mine.

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Dusty roads led me here tonight.

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Broken dreams under neon light your eyes, they speak words.

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Unspoken Hands touch tight hearts broken.

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May I have this dance just one more time, through the sorrow, through the grind, spinning round under the moonshine.

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Forget the world, just be mine.

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In this moment, nothing else matters.

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Feel the rhythm, hearts and tatters, silent whispers, secrets we share.

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Just one dance, lost in your stare.

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May I have this dance just one more time, through the sorrow, through the grind, spinning round under the moonshine, the world, yeah.

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What do you call a parade of rabbits marching backward, a receding hairline?

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What do you call a fake noodle, an impasta?

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Why did the scarecrow win an award?

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Because he was outstanding in his field.

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Because he was outstanding in his field.

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How does a penguin build its house?

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It glues it together.

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Why did the math book look sad?

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Because it had too many problems.

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What do you call an alligator in a vest An investigator?

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What do you call a group of cows playing instruments A mouss cycle band?

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What do dentists call their x-rays Toothpicks?

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Did you hear about the first restaurant to open on the moon?

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It had great food but no atmosphere.

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Restaurant to open on the moon it had great food but no atmosphere.

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A man walks into a library and asks the librarian for books.

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About paranoia?

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She whispers they're right behind you.

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How do you look for Will Smith in the snow?

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Just follow the Fresh Prince.

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What do Alexander the Great and Winnie the Pooh have in common?

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The same middle name.

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Great Grandpa rode a horse Through battles, fierce and wild.

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He carried stars and stripes, a testament to pride, on fields of green and gray.

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He gave it all he had for the promise of tomorrow and dreams he never had.

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He never had.

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Grandpa was a farmer, wore his uniform with grace, he left behind the cornfields to fight in a distant place With letters home to grandma.

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He spoke of love and war, of love and war.

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She found his way back home, but was not the man before.

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Four generations fought for the red, the white and blue of heart and soul and so much more, the things they had to do.

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Through trials and tribulations, through fire and the rain.

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Four generations gave their all and did not fight in vain.

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Daddy flew a chopper over jungles, dark and deep From the skies.

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He saw the faces that would haunt him in his sleep.

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He came back home a hero, but pieces of him lost.

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For freedom's price is mighty high.

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Who could count the cost?

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Now it's my turn to carry on this legacy, so grand, with your stories etched in memory.

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I'll give all that I can.

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I hold your medals proudly.

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Your courage is my guide For generations past.

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I feel you by my side For generations.

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Far for the red, the white and blue, with heart and soul and so much more, the things they had to do Through trials and tribulations, through fire and rain.

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Four generations gave their all and did not fight in vain.

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Thanks again for coming in On next week's show.

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I will have some exciting news for you.

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Stay safe and we'll see you then.