Joni Mitchell is not Orange

As she approaches her 70th birthday in November, the good news on Joni Mitchell is that SHE IS NOT ORANGE

Take a look...

On first look, you wouldn't know it was Joni Mitchell, but she's nearly 70! She's a non-stop smoker. But...she's NOT ORANGE

As her CDs stopped selling, as her bitterness with the music industry festered, as she became more reclusive...word came out that she had Morgellons Syndrome, a trendy new disease that some in the medical profession have not even recognized as real.

Mitchell insisted she had turned orange, apparently because the parasites on her skin and the eggs being laid were orange or light brown.

In 2009 it was reported she was being treated for the condition, and now, just in time for her 70th birthday, she says, "I’m not cured but I’ve found a helpful physician way outside the box. Western medicine says this doesn’t even exist, it’s a psychotic disease. It’s not.” Well, too bad there aren't any orange pix of Joni to back up her story, but doubters would've said she had just Photoshopped herself, or dropped onto a tanning bed at Republican scumbag and weirdly tan John Boehner's house for a few hours.

Not singing, but not officially retired, Joni appeared at an event recently reciting a poem based on the writings of Emily Carr. And thanks to camcorder sneaking and bootlegging and YouTube, a somewhat ghostly (but not orange) version of Joni's recitation is right here:

JONI ON YOUtuBE

So it's nice that she's heading toward being the "grand dame" of singer/songwriters, and not some moody misanthrope or citrus-colored crank. She is willing to sit down for interviews, be somewhat affable, and accept her current status as a legend. She doesn't seem to need to compete (with who? Dylan? Leonard Cohen?). She can get awards, see people cover her songs, have odd tributes (some kind of ballet featuring her music) and enjoy all the perks of having good health and a bright mind.

and here's a long long Canadian TV interview with her, done by some pandering falafel-eater.

In a print interview, she barely glances at the dark inevitable ahead...

“I’m good with death. I’m not morbid about it. I’ve had a lot of things die in my arms. A robin that had been mauled by a cat. I buried it in my yard. My cats begin to die, one by one. One had two grand mal seizures in my arms. Another one I had named Nietzsche died in the night. He was such an elegant cat and he died twisted like a pretzel, kind of like a Tom and Jerry cartoon. I knew he wouldn’t have wanted that, so I shaped his body back to normal before rigor mortis set in.”

A few minutes, a few interview questions with Joni Mitchell...so much more amusing, exciting and provocative than a year's worth of Gaga or Katy. Why don't people understand that a Joni or a Carly has so much more to say...and stupid costumes, near nudity and recycled beats should not be encouraged as trendy, worth acclaim, or art?