I want to rock and roll all night, and party every day...so went an old song by Kiss. Amazingly enough, Kiss is still around. Let's be honest, their music was always fun...loud and over the top...but essentially pretty sophomoric in content. It was the 70s, the decade that gave us "serious" singer-songwriters like James Taylor (blech), Carol King, Elton John, etc. The 70s also gave us a fair bit of good, old fashioned rock and roll like the aforementioned Kiss, The Runaways, Thin Lizzy, and more. The 70s also gave us punk rock (yay!!!!!!) and disco (zzzzzz).
So, what's my point,you may be wondering. Well, simply put, I've been noticing a trend lately. Lots of my friends, and not just the old farts like myself, have been posting a lot of videos of the old 70s bands lately. Has this music become suddenly hip again...or is there something else? As for my friends and contemporaries, aka the old farts, it could be chalked up to strolling down memory lane. But what about all of the younger folks who have suddenly developed a taste for The Runaways, Suzi Quatro, T-Rex, etc?
The best I can figure is this: they've realized just how awful today's music is! I've been complaining about contemporary music for almost 20 years. Really, most of it is just horrendous...and it just keeps getting worse! There have been some glimmers of hope here and there, thanks in large part to indie labels and the internet...but the major labels still keep churning out dreck and clogging the airwaves, and the media (including the internet) with auditory drivel.
Modern "country" is country only in that there may be a fiddle or steel guitar hidden somewhere in the mix, it's been recorded in Nashville, and someone is wearing a cowboy hat. Aside from that, it's become nothing more than bad, watered down pop music. Safe as milk and every bit as boring.
The alternative market has become the land of clones. You have your loud/noisy bands that all sound the same, your folk wannabes that all sound the same, your hip hop which now all sounds the same, and your girl singer stuff that all sounds pretty much the same. Right there is about 85% of the contemporary music market. Sure, there are still some original sounds out there...but they're few and far between. And the record companies wonder why sales keep scratching the bottom.
It's funny, at least to me, to see young folks cling on to these old tracks, songs that their parents probably listened to while smoking pot in their parents' basement. This younger generation has adopted their parents' soundtrack as their own! So much for the generation gap. I see young kids wearing Led Zeppelin t-shirts and beginning to look more and more like refugees from the 70s...albeit a caricature of the average 70s teen. While I don't personally have a problem with it, it's disturbing to me that these same young folks have nothing to call their own. Like I said, there are a few decent groups out there...but I think most of the younger generation are too bone-idle to go in search of them and their sounds.
It makes me wonder...has rock and roll finally hit it's ultimate peak? Does it have nowhere left to go? I personally walked away from contemporary music back in the 80s. I found blues and rockabilly, injected my own punk rock fuel into it, and called it mine...but even that is old now. When people hear one of my songs, they know it's mine...and I could've written it any time in the past 30 years! What will the next generation be listening to? Mashups of the Smashing Pumpkins and Taylor Swift? Disco bluegrass? Grunge ska? Two step dub step?
I can only hope that somewhere out there, there are some young musicians bashing away in a garage, torturing their instruments as well as the neighbors' ears, and coming up with the next big thing. Until then, rock on to the sounds of yesteryear kids! There's some cool sounds out there...and luckily, you can find most of it on YouTube!
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
THANKSGIVUS!!!!!!!!!!
BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND!!!!!! 7th
YEAR!!!!!!
I post this every year. Why? Because some folks ask for it....also because I like it. I hope you will too. We probably shouldn't need a holiday to remind us to be thankful for whatever we have...but I'm glad we do. So with out further adieu....
Thanksgivus
Thanksgivus: that's what she called it. The 'she' in question would be a very short, loud, middle aged black woman with retardation who I supervised for years. Her name is Omega...fitting because she truly is THE END!
Omega didn't exactly have a speech problem but I think her hearing wasn't 100% on the mark, as certain words would get slurred together such as "Thanksgivus". Another fave was her version of Social Security, which often sounded more like "sociable secretary" (of which I've known a few).
Thanksgivus (which is what I now prefer to call the US holiday Thanksgiving) is the last Thursday of November (this is for my overseas friends who may not be fully knowledgeable of the subject). It is the holiday where we Americans give Thanks to God for giving us BIG tasty birds, punkin pie & cranberry sauce...all courtesy of a tribe that we soon took great pains to wipe out. In short, when those Pilgrims (essentially English religious nuts) 1st landed at Plymouth Rock, they didn't have a CLUE what they were doing or what they were in for!
After that 1st winter (what do you mean "No Central Heating"???), most of the Pilgrims had died off. A few hearty ones remained (probably by eating the others...but that story seems to have vanished in the annals of history) and it was looking bleak for them, as they didn't know SQUAT about farming North American soil. Luckily, the Indians (bite me, I will NOT be PC) took pity on them, showed them what to do and the Pilgrims survived. They did sooo well, in fact, they had a big feast and invited the Indians. When the Indians showed up, they realized that white folks are either really bad at planning feasts or are just stingy, so they sent some braves to go kill a half dozen or so deer....gotta make sure ya don't leave the table unless yer ready to burst....STILL an American Thanksgivus tradition. NOWHERE on the menu was green bean casserole....PLEASE make note of that! (the Americans reading this will get the humor)
Finally, sometime in the 19th century, after decades of confusion as to what this "New England" holiday was and when it was supposed to be observed, some mad woman wrote everyone in the colonies suggesting the last Thursday in November...just in time to mark the start of Xmas shopping season!
Now, contrary to what some of my English colleagues have been lead to believe, Thanksgivus is NOT the American Xmas. Trust me, NO ONE on this planet overdoes Xmas like the Americans! Here it is, the Sunday BEFORE Thanksgivus and I'm looking out my front door at my neighbor's Xmas lights! 1 month 5 days before we celebrate the Man's b-day (even though we have the date wrong)...1 month 5 days of looking at those damned lights! Don't get me wrong, I love the holidays as much if not more than most people...but I like things to be done for the right reasons...not just to be the 1st, best or brashest.
For the holidays, I wish you all peace, happiness and a full belly. May your homes be filled with laughter (and not just the canned version coming from your TV). May your pockets never be empty, maybe your fridge always be full (with at least 1 6pack of decent beer...in case I should stop by lol) and may your troubles be few & far between.
In fact, I don't just wish you these things for the holidays...I wish them for you all EVERYDAY.
I'm having a few friends over (as usual) this year for Thanksgivus. It might not be the fanciest dinner but I hope to guarantee all a good meal, a full belly and someplace to sit and digest and enjoy some good company after (and before...as long as they stay OUTTA MY WAY in the kitchen...Chris...take note).
We will revel in the death of a turkey. We shall take delight in the taters, which will be mashed. The rolls will hopefully not be slightly burned on the bottoms...but if they are, that's what butter, gravy & butter knives are for! The veggies will be plentiful and not overcooked. The pie will be chocolate cream...NOT PUNKIN! (my tradition...not yours, OK? ) And yes Virginia...there will most likely be cranberries of some sort...JUST NO DAMNED GREEN BEAN CASSEROLE...PLEASE!
I post this every year. Why? Because some folks ask for it....also because I like it. I hope you will too. We probably shouldn't need a holiday to remind us to be thankful for whatever we have...but I'm glad we do. So with out further adieu....
Thanksgivus
Thanksgivus: that's what she called it. The 'she' in question would be a very short, loud, middle aged black woman with retardation who I supervised for years. Her name is Omega...fitting because she truly is THE END!
Omega didn't exactly have a speech problem but I think her hearing wasn't 100% on the mark, as certain words would get slurred together such as "Thanksgivus". Another fave was her version of Social Security, which often sounded more like "sociable secretary" (of which I've known a few).
Thanksgivus (which is what I now prefer to call the US holiday Thanksgiving) is the last Thursday of November (this is for my overseas friends who may not be fully knowledgeable of the subject). It is the holiday where we Americans give Thanks to God for giving us BIG tasty birds, punkin pie & cranberry sauce...all courtesy of a tribe that we soon took great pains to wipe out. In short, when those Pilgrims (essentially English religious nuts) 1st landed at Plymouth Rock, they didn't have a CLUE what they were doing or what they were in for!
After that 1st winter (what do you mean "No Central Heating"???), most of the Pilgrims had died off. A few hearty ones remained (probably by eating the others...but that story seems to have vanished in the annals of history) and it was looking bleak for them, as they didn't know SQUAT about farming North American soil. Luckily, the Indians (bite me, I will NOT be PC) took pity on them, showed them what to do and the Pilgrims survived. They did sooo well, in fact, they had a big feast and invited the Indians. When the Indians showed up, they realized that white folks are either really bad at planning feasts or are just stingy, so they sent some braves to go kill a half dozen or so deer....gotta make sure ya don't leave the table unless yer ready to burst....STILL an American Thanksgivus tradition. NOWHERE on the menu was green bean casserole....PLEASE make note of that! (the Americans reading this will get the humor)
Finally, sometime in the 19th century, after decades of confusion as to what this "New England" holiday was and when it was supposed to be observed, some mad woman wrote everyone in the colonies suggesting the last Thursday in November...just in time to mark the start of Xmas shopping season!
Now, contrary to what some of my English colleagues have been lead to believe, Thanksgivus is NOT the American Xmas. Trust me, NO ONE on this planet overdoes Xmas like the Americans! Here it is, the Sunday BEFORE Thanksgivus and I'm looking out my front door at my neighbor's Xmas lights! 1 month 5 days before we celebrate the Man's b-day (even though we have the date wrong)...1 month 5 days of looking at those damned lights! Don't get me wrong, I love the holidays as much if not more than most people...but I like things to be done for the right reasons...not just to be the 1st, best or brashest.
For the holidays, I wish you all peace, happiness and a full belly. May your homes be filled with laughter (and not just the canned version coming from your TV). May your pockets never be empty, maybe your fridge always be full (with at least 1 6pack of decent beer...in case I should stop by lol) and may your troubles be few & far between.
In fact, I don't just wish you these things for the holidays...I wish them for you all EVERYDAY.
I'm having a few friends over (as usual) this year for Thanksgivus. It might not be the fanciest dinner but I hope to guarantee all a good meal, a full belly and someplace to sit and digest and enjoy some good company after (and before...as long as they stay OUTTA MY WAY in the kitchen...Chris...take note).
We will revel in the death of a turkey. We shall take delight in the taters, which will be mashed. The rolls will hopefully not be slightly burned on the bottoms...but if they are, that's what butter, gravy & butter knives are for! The veggies will be plentiful and not overcooked. The pie will be chocolate cream...NOT PUNKIN! (my tradition...not yours, OK? ) And yes Virginia...there will most likely be cranberries of some sort...JUST NO DAMNED GREEN BEAN CASSEROLE...PLEASE!
Thursday, November 15, 2012
FREEBIRD!
If you're a musician, or have ever gone to see a live band, chances are you've heard some drunk yell for the band to play FREEBIRD!!!!!!
99.99974658% of all bands will say no. (proof that God loves us)
If YOU are that person...stop it. If you want to hear FREEBIRD!!!!!!!!!! so damned much, go home and crank up your 8-track. The rest of the civilized world doesn't want to hear anyone other than Lynyrd Skynyrd play that damned song...and most of us don't even want to hear that.
I say this not because it's something that I have to deal with often but because it's 2012 and people still do it. Every bit as bad is when people in the audience think that the band onstage knows every single song ever written and can/will/wants to attempt to perform them all.
My personal favorite was once when we were playing at a street festival and a gal of around 18 or so came up to me to ask if we do any Mariah Carey. Mariah Carey?????
I had to call her out in front of the entire crowd for her stupidity. If you've never heard us play...nothing that we play sounds in any way, shape or form like Mariah Carey. I sing with a relatively low, gravelly voice. It is unfathomable to me or anyone else with any sense that I would ever try to sing a Mariah Carey song. Johnny Cash? Sure. Jimmy Reed? Sure. Stevie Ray Vaughan? Sure. Mariah Carey? Are you kidding me???????
We won't play any Metallica either. We used to do a version of "Mr. Sandman" and throw in a bit of "Enter Sandman"...but that was 10-12 years ago...and we did it to entertain ourselves...not the audience.
When someone stops the band to ask for a song...any song...essentially what that person is doing is messing up the band's groove. Most bands use a set list. This means that the band has taken the time to sit down and figure out the best way to present their songs in a manner most likely to elicit the optimum amount of enjoyment possible for the audience. Asking for FREEBIRD!!!!!!!! or Mariah Carey or Metallica is just going to throw the band's groove, however temporarily, off. DON'T DO IT!
We used to be the house band at a joint in town and there was this one drunken old Yinzer who came in every Saturday night and would yell, at least a few times, for us to play some "Rolling Stones". I happen to like the Stones, so I worked a song or two of theirs into the set.
BIG MISTAKE! Drunken old dude would still yell out for it. One night, I lost my cool, threw down my Telecaster and chased him through the bar. Finally, I had him up against the wall and told him that not only had we learned a few Stones songs just for his enjoyment, we had finally reached our bullshit limit for the year. I told him that if I ever heard him yell for the Rolling Stones again, I was going to personally staple his penis to his nose.
At that point, he pissed himself.
Needless to say, this loss of my cool put a damper on the rest of the night. While many in the audience thoroughly enjoyed the sight of me debating whether or not to kill this guy, it put me in a foul mood...which is not conducive to me playing at my best. A few weeks later, I told the club owner that we no longer wished to be his house band. This one drunken idiot took the fun out of the gig for us.
This is what happens when you are that person in the crowd. You take the fun out of it for everyone else. If you seriously think that a band could do a ripping version of FREEBIRD!!!!!!! or any other song, do yourself, the band, and the rest of the crowd a favor: come up to us on our break and politely suggest it. We'll still probably laugh...but we'll be laughing with you instead of at you.
If you insist on being that person, you risk a few other things. If you mess up the band's groove...they may not be asked back. This means they lose money. If a band is having a shit night, most folks aren't going to be inclined to stick around, so you're costing the bartenders/waitresses their tips. You're costing the club owner money. This is not going to boost your popularity.
If you don't recognize the music a band is playing, don't sweat it. Check it out...you just might enjoy it. They may even play something that you know. They may even play your new favorite song. Just don't be a dick.
One last question: Why don't these same people sing FREEBIRD!!!!!! at karaoke? I've never once heard anyone do it. I've heard some God-awful things sung at karaoke...but I've yet to hear FREEBIRD!!!!!!!!!! (more proof that God loves us)
Don't ask for "Stairway to Heaven" either. I'm pretty sure it's legal in some states for musicians to kill you for asking that.
99.99974658% of all bands will say no. (proof that God loves us)
If YOU are that person...stop it. If you want to hear FREEBIRD!!!!!!!!!! so damned much, go home and crank up your 8-track. The rest of the civilized world doesn't want to hear anyone other than Lynyrd Skynyrd play that damned song...and most of us don't even want to hear that.
I say this not because it's something that I have to deal with often but because it's 2012 and people still do it. Every bit as bad is when people in the audience think that the band onstage knows every single song ever written and can/will/wants to attempt to perform them all.
My personal favorite was once when we were playing at a street festival and a gal of around 18 or so came up to me to ask if we do any Mariah Carey. Mariah Carey?????
I had to call her out in front of the entire crowd for her stupidity. If you've never heard us play...nothing that we play sounds in any way, shape or form like Mariah Carey. I sing with a relatively low, gravelly voice. It is unfathomable to me or anyone else with any sense that I would ever try to sing a Mariah Carey song. Johnny Cash? Sure. Jimmy Reed? Sure. Stevie Ray Vaughan? Sure. Mariah Carey? Are you kidding me???????
We won't play any Metallica either. We used to do a version of "Mr. Sandman" and throw in a bit of "Enter Sandman"...but that was 10-12 years ago...and we did it to entertain ourselves...not the audience.
When someone stops the band to ask for a song...any song...essentially what that person is doing is messing up the band's groove. Most bands use a set list. This means that the band has taken the time to sit down and figure out the best way to present their songs in a manner most likely to elicit the optimum amount of enjoyment possible for the audience. Asking for FREEBIRD!!!!!!!! or Mariah Carey or Metallica is just going to throw the band's groove, however temporarily, off. DON'T DO IT!
We used to be the house band at a joint in town and there was this one drunken old Yinzer who came in every Saturday night and would yell, at least a few times, for us to play some "Rolling Stones". I happen to like the Stones, so I worked a song or two of theirs into the set.
BIG MISTAKE! Drunken old dude would still yell out for it. One night, I lost my cool, threw down my Telecaster and chased him through the bar. Finally, I had him up against the wall and told him that not only had we learned a few Stones songs just for his enjoyment, we had finally reached our bullshit limit for the year. I told him that if I ever heard him yell for the Rolling Stones again, I was going to personally staple his penis to his nose.
At that point, he pissed himself.
Needless to say, this loss of my cool put a damper on the rest of the night. While many in the audience thoroughly enjoyed the sight of me debating whether or not to kill this guy, it put me in a foul mood...which is not conducive to me playing at my best. A few weeks later, I told the club owner that we no longer wished to be his house band. This one drunken idiot took the fun out of the gig for us.
This is what happens when you are that person in the crowd. You take the fun out of it for everyone else. If you seriously think that a band could do a ripping version of FREEBIRD!!!!!!! or any other song, do yourself, the band, and the rest of the crowd a favor: come up to us on our break and politely suggest it. We'll still probably laugh...but we'll be laughing with you instead of at you.
If you insist on being that person, you risk a few other things. If you mess up the band's groove...they may not be asked back. This means they lose money. If a band is having a shit night, most folks aren't going to be inclined to stick around, so you're costing the bartenders/waitresses their tips. You're costing the club owner money. This is not going to boost your popularity.
If you don't recognize the music a band is playing, don't sweat it. Check it out...you just might enjoy it. They may even play something that you know. They may even play your new favorite song. Just don't be a dick.
One last question: Why don't these same people sing FREEBIRD!!!!!! at karaoke? I've never once heard anyone do it. I've heard some God-awful things sung at karaoke...but I've yet to hear FREEBIRD!!!!!!!!!! (more proof that God loves us)
Don't ask for "Stairway to Heaven" either. I'm pretty sure it's legal in some states for musicians to kill you for asking that.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Respect OUR Flag
Tuesday night, Obama won re-election. This is neither news (now) nor a surprise to anyone with a functioning brain. He was the better of the two (main) candidates, and he won the election.
Early Wednesday morning, I heard (via the interweb) that a neighbor was considering flying the flag, OUR flag, upside down in protest. I told this person (again, via the interweb) that if that were to happen, I would be more than happy to come over and fix it.
I chalked it up to election night mania. I mean really...who in their right mind would be so disrespectful of OUR flag to actually do such a thing. Then came the news. This was not a random, isolated thought. It appears to be a conspiracy of like-minded folks...aka, The Tea Party...the uber right wing fanatical pawns of the Republican Party.
It's pretty much a given that Teabillies are less-than-correctly informed. They like to believe they are informed because they give credence to the fear mongers who play on their deepest collective fears. But...these Teabillies like to see themselves as patriots. I will commend them for their love of country. Too bad it's based on mass hysteria and propaganda rather than actual facts. They fear that the world is laughing at US. In fact, the world is laughing at THEM.
Let's face facts. Like it or not, Obama has won re-election. That means, barring incident, he is President for the next 4 years. Romney lost the election the same way that Gore did in 2000 (minus the hanging chads). Mind you, the 2000 race was much closer than this year's. Bush won 271 electoral votes to Gore's 266. Regardless of the popular vote, Obama won. Just like Bush won in 2000 (again, regardless of the popular vote).
The Teabillies are throwing a temper tantrum over it. They didn't get their way. Like spoiled children, they're pitching a collective fit. What I find especially funny is that these same Teabillies, who pride themselves on adherence to the Constitution (when it's convenient to do so) are missing the obvious (again): The United States Electoral College is the institution that officially elects the President and Vice President of the United States every four years. Electors are chosen by each state of the United States and by the District of Columbia. Article II, Section 1, Clause 2 of the Constitution specifies the number of electors to which each state is entitled and state legislatures decide how they are chosen. The Twenty-third Amendment specifies the number of electors for the District of Columbia.
So how do these Teabillies show their discontent? By threatening to, or actually flying OUR flag upside down. While this may seem trivial to some, it is extremely offensive to others.
My father was a captain in the US Army. I have a cousin who is a general in the USMC. I had planned to go career military but health issues (deafness, bad back, and a history of depression...for those who feel the need to know) left me permanently disqualified from duty.
Many of my friends and many of my former clients are veterans. These people have served their country and when called upon to do so, fought for this country and the many rights we all share. Many...too many...have lost life or limb in ensuring our continued freedom and liberties. To display OUR flag...THEIR flag...upside down is nothing short of a direct insult to the veterans and the citizens of this country.
The flag, OUR flag, is only to be displayed upside down in times of DIRE DISTRESS (under the Flag Code). Losing an election is NOT dire distress. Acting out in such a way is not distress...it's immature. It's the act of a bunch of crybabies.
I'm sorry to say this...but these acts by these whining, sniveling fools is nothing more than a scream for attention and an attempt to divide this country further. In my 46 years, I have never seen this country so divided. It is both sad and globally humiliating for the world to see us at our worst like this.
While I would normally never ask anyone to do something like this...this silliness needs to stop. Pronto! If YOU see someone displaying OUR flag upside down, call them out on it. If you know a veteran, ask them to explain to the offender how wrong and offensive this is. If you know a Cub Scout, Brownie, Boy Scout or Girl Scout, ask them to explain to the offender the proper way to display OUR flag.
These Teabillies are NOT the enemy. They are our brothers and sisters, friends, neighbors, co-workers, and fellow Americans. They have been lied to, deceived, used and now, feel humiliated. They are acting out and it will probably get worse if left alone.
Do not ignore the challenge they are laying before you. They are challenging the rest of us to show that we love our country as much as they hate OUR President. I say OUR President because that is exactly who Obama is. The President of the UNITED States of America. Not just the President of the overwhelming majority who voted for him. He is OUR President. He is OUR leader. OUR Commander-In-Chief.
Don't allow these right wing fanatics to disrespect OUR flag, OUR veterans, or OUR citizens. We should ALL be coming together for the betterment of OUR country and OUR country's future...NOT acting like immature brats.
United we stand. Divided we fall. And I'll be damned if I'll let this country fall while I'm still drawing breath.
Early Wednesday morning, I heard (via the interweb) that a neighbor was considering flying the flag, OUR flag, upside down in protest. I told this person (again, via the interweb) that if that were to happen, I would be more than happy to come over and fix it.
I chalked it up to election night mania. I mean really...who in their right mind would be so disrespectful of OUR flag to actually do such a thing. Then came the news. This was not a random, isolated thought. It appears to be a conspiracy of like-minded folks...aka, The Tea Party...the uber right wing fanatical pawns of the Republican Party.
It's pretty much a given that Teabillies are less-than-correctly informed. They like to believe they are informed because they give credence to the fear mongers who play on their deepest collective fears. But...these Teabillies like to see themselves as patriots. I will commend them for their love of country. Too bad it's based on mass hysteria and propaganda rather than actual facts. They fear that the world is laughing at US. In fact, the world is laughing at THEM.
Let's face facts. Like it or not, Obama has won re-election. That means, barring incident, he is President for the next 4 years. Romney lost the election the same way that Gore did in 2000 (minus the hanging chads). Mind you, the 2000 race was much closer than this year's. Bush won 271 electoral votes to Gore's 266. Regardless of the popular vote, Obama won. Just like Bush won in 2000 (again, regardless of the popular vote).
The Teabillies are throwing a temper tantrum over it. They didn't get their way. Like spoiled children, they're pitching a collective fit. What I find especially funny is that these same Teabillies, who pride themselves on adherence to the Constitution (when it's convenient to do so) are missing the obvious (again): The United States Electoral College is the institution that officially elects the President and Vice President of the United States every four years. Electors are chosen by each state of the United States and by the District of Columbia. Article II, Section 1, Clause 2 of the Constitution specifies the number of electors to which each state is entitled and state legislatures decide how they are chosen. The Twenty-third Amendment specifies the number of electors for the District of Columbia.
So how do these Teabillies show their discontent? By threatening to, or actually flying OUR flag upside down. While this may seem trivial to some, it is extremely offensive to others.
My father was a captain in the US Army. I have a cousin who is a general in the USMC. I had planned to go career military but health issues (deafness, bad back, and a history of depression...for those who feel the need to know) left me permanently disqualified from duty.
Many of my friends and many of my former clients are veterans. These people have served their country and when called upon to do so, fought for this country and the many rights we all share. Many...too many...have lost life or limb in ensuring our continued freedom and liberties. To display OUR flag...THEIR flag...upside down is nothing short of a direct insult to the veterans and the citizens of this country.
The flag, OUR flag, is only to be displayed upside down in times of DIRE DISTRESS (under the Flag Code). Losing an election is NOT dire distress. Acting out in such a way is not distress...it's immature. It's the act of a bunch of crybabies.
I'm sorry to say this...but these acts by these whining, sniveling fools is nothing more than a scream for attention and an attempt to divide this country further. In my 46 years, I have never seen this country so divided. It is both sad and globally humiliating for the world to see us at our worst like this.
While I would normally never ask anyone to do something like this...this silliness needs to stop. Pronto! If YOU see someone displaying OUR flag upside down, call them out on it. If you know a veteran, ask them to explain to the offender how wrong and offensive this is. If you know a Cub Scout, Brownie, Boy Scout or Girl Scout, ask them to explain to the offender the proper way to display OUR flag.
These Teabillies are NOT the enemy. They are our brothers and sisters, friends, neighbors, co-workers, and fellow Americans. They have been lied to, deceived, used and now, feel humiliated. They are acting out and it will probably get worse if left alone.
Do not ignore the challenge they are laying before you. They are challenging the rest of us to show that we love our country as much as they hate OUR President. I say OUR President because that is exactly who Obama is. The President of the UNITED States of America. Not just the President of the overwhelming majority who voted for him. He is OUR President. He is OUR leader. OUR Commander-In-Chief.
Don't allow these right wing fanatics to disrespect OUR flag, OUR veterans, or OUR citizens. We should ALL be coming together for the betterment of OUR country and OUR country's future...NOT acting like immature brats.
United we stand. Divided we fall. And I'll be damned if I'll let this country fall while I'm still drawing breath.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Keep Your Heart Young
Here's a list of things I never said as a kid (and I doubt any other kid has either):
"I can't wait to have a mountain of bills so I can struggle to pay them!"
"I hope I grow up to have a boss who treats me like crap and refuses to see my potential!"
"I hope I can work 80 hours a week to make someone else rich!"
"Playing is useless! I'd rather work all the time!"
"I hope I can grow up to be old and stressed out and have an ulcer!"
I heard a song on the radio today by a young singer named Brandi Carlile. It's called "Keep Your Heart Young" and I'd like to dedicate it to so many of my friends, colleagues, and contemporaries who have somehow managed to age themselves to the point of becoming crabby, stuffy old people! I don't know how y'all managed it but I do hope you can find a way to slow it down.
I don't really feel old...and at 46, I don't really think I am. I enjoy life. I worked for 25 years in a field that I loved. I've been paid to make music since I was 13. I get paid to write. What's not to love?
We all make our own choices. I decided at a very early age not to follow in my dad's footsteps. I saw him work 16-18 hour days, 7 days a week for years. He loved his work but you wouldn't know it to talk to him. He was always cranky. Who knows...maybe being away from work was what made him cranky. Regardless, I chose not to live that life.
I'd been told by my older relatives that if you love what you do, you'll never work a day. I liked that idea! I won't say I've ever made tons of money but I'm content. My bills are few, I have a nice house, a happy relationship and all in all, life is good.
I have younger friends, in their 20s, who often remark how young I act. How am I supposed to act? Like a cantankerous old geezer? I like to laugh. I enjoy the company of others. I love to create! How is any of that supposed to make a person act? If being happy is synonamous with acting "young" then I'm probably one of the youngest people on the planet!
My hair is turning gray. My eyesight sucks. I'm developing crow's feet and my eye's don't just have bags, they have full sets of luggage! But I don't see myself as old...even if I do joke about it...often. OK sure...I sound like the world's largest bowl of Rice Krispies when I first get out of bed in the morning...but that's the body. Like any mechanism, it starts to break down with use. And trust me, I've used it! My heart, soul and mind are still burning with the fire of youth. I've learned life's lessons and learned them well...and have even learned which ones to ignore!
To paraphrase Ms. Carlile, don't trade your dreams for a ball and chain.
Here's the song. I hope you like it. And if you think someone needs to hear it...share it with them. Then go have some fun! We'll all, hopefully, be OLD soon enough. No need to rush it.
Keep your heart young.
"I can't wait to have a mountain of bills so I can struggle to pay them!"
"I hope I grow up to have a boss who treats me like crap and refuses to see my potential!"
"I hope I can work 80 hours a week to make someone else rich!"
"Playing is useless! I'd rather work all the time!"
"I hope I can grow up to be old and stressed out and have an ulcer!"
I heard a song on the radio today by a young singer named Brandi Carlile. It's called "Keep Your Heart Young" and I'd like to dedicate it to so many of my friends, colleagues, and contemporaries who have somehow managed to age themselves to the point of becoming crabby, stuffy old people! I don't know how y'all managed it but I do hope you can find a way to slow it down.
I don't really feel old...and at 46, I don't really think I am. I enjoy life. I worked for 25 years in a field that I loved. I've been paid to make music since I was 13. I get paid to write. What's not to love?
We all make our own choices. I decided at a very early age not to follow in my dad's footsteps. I saw him work 16-18 hour days, 7 days a week for years. He loved his work but you wouldn't know it to talk to him. He was always cranky. Who knows...maybe being away from work was what made him cranky. Regardless, I chose not to live that life.
I'd been told by my older relatives that if you love what you do, you'll never work a day. I liked that idea! I won't say I've ever made tons of money but I'm content. My bills are few, I have a nice house, a happy relationship and all in all, life is good.
I have younger friends, in their 20s, who often remark how young I act. How am I supposed to act? Like a cantankerous old geezer? I like to laugh. I enjoy the company of others. I love to create! How is any of that supposed to make a person act? If being happy is synonamous with acting "young" then I'm probably one of the youngest people on the planet!
My hair is turning gray. My eyesight sucks. I'm developing crow's feet and my eye's don't just have bags, they have full sets of luggage! But I don't see myself as old...even if I do joke about it...often. OK sure...I sound like the world's largest bowl of Rice Krispies when I first get out of bed in the morning...but that's the body. Like any mechanism, it starts to break down with use. And trust me, I've used it! My heart, soul and mind are still burning with the fire of youth. I've learned life's lessons and learned them well...and have even learned which ones to ignore!
To paraphrase Ms. Carlile, don't trade your dreams for a ball and chain.
Here's the song. I hope you like it. And if you think someone needs to hear it...share it with them. Then go have some fun! We'll all, hopefully, be OLD soon enough. No need to rush it.
Keep your heart young.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
The Kids of 1977
Back in 1977, when I was all of "10 3/4" years of age (I was always such a little weirdo!), we had an assignment in school to write a paragraph about what we though life in the year 2000 would be like. The local paper printed a bunch of them, including mine. As is often the case, my past has come back to haunt me!
An old friend, today, sent me a link to an online article on Smithsonian.com where someone has dug up these artifacts and in retrospect, we kids weren't horribly far off. Knowing all of these kids, their writing denotes a lot about their personalities and mindsets...again, mine included. I really was such a weirdo (as my sister often likes to remind me).
I could've sworn that I wrote a longer, more in depth piece...but whatever...here's what the writer put in their piece on us Kids of 1977:
"
In the year 2000 I will be 34 years old. And actually I don’t think kids will have to go to school, because I believe that families will have computers to educate students. That’s all for education. I also believe that most of the world will all be the United States of America. I also believe that business and industry will be up 75 per cent. And as for culture, the Model T will be an old artifact. And, if you have children or grandchildren, they’ll all be more interested in culture than ever.
Mike Metzger, Age 10 3/4 (Harding School)"
Now let's think about this. There are a LOT of kids being home schooled via the internet...so I wasn't too far off. As for most of the world being the USA, again, I'm not too far off. While the US hasn't expanded in the traditional sense, we have taken over much of the world in terms of pop culture. In my travels overseas, I've often referred to the "American parasite". Everywhere I've traveled I see the same crap. McDonald's, Burger King, Subway, Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, etc. There's a section of Melton South, VIC, Australia that I call Little America due to the number of American fast food joints. While there, I refused to eat at any of them, opting instead for Australia's own Red Rooster chain.
Our horrible American TV shows are all over the world. Our incredibly awful "music" is played everywhere. Why?
Because I was correct, again, in regards to business. In fact, I think the US has surpassed anyone's wildest dreams there! American companies are everywhere...with the possible exception of the US! No one can say that Americans aren't good at business. In fact, we've become so good at it that we've learned to not hire Americans. It's cheaper to ship our jobs overseas...but I'm going to attempt to avoid my usual "leftist" political rants on the subject...for now.
Lastly, I had stated that people will be more interested in culture than ever...and look at where we are. Sadly, we're far too interested in pop culture...but it is a part of our culture...perhaps all we really have in the way of culture. Watch the news or look online and you hear about Madonna or Lindsey Lohan or the latest reality show...all the while ignoring truly important issues. Americans still suck at geography and tend to think that the world ends at their driveway.
Yes indeed...the Model T is now an ancient artifact (which I mentioned because just a few days before writing this piece back in 1977, I got to ride in one!). My dad's old 77 Buick would be considered an antique now.
Ours is a truly unique generation. Unlike our predecessors, we seem to have stayed younger, at least at heart. Many of us have managed to keep our dreams and child-like enthusiasm for life intact. While we may not have exceeded our parents' generation in financial success, we seem to be a happier bunch. We don't seem as beaten down as many of that generation did.
To all the other 'kids' mentioned in this article (and I remember you ALL!), isn't it something to see what we wrote, begrudgingly perhaps, as school kids...4th graders I believe...reprinted today. More amazing is how RIGHT we were! I guess we really did see it all coming.
I just wish we had flying cars. We were promised flying cars! And robots! Oh wait...maybe that was just old episodes of The Jetsons......
PHOTO: Miss Golas' class 1976-77
Top Row: Don Evans, Cathy McCarty, Doug Dalbenzio, Marty Bohren, Tim Villes, Gretchen McKee, Tom Wilson
Middle Row: Yours Truly, ?, Bruce Temple, John Frey, Erica Gambos, John Francis
Bottom Row: Monica Katsaros, Teresa Terezis, Chuck Long, Janet LaRue, Sharon Blair, Joe Rayburn
Teacher: Miss Golas
An old friend, today, sent me a link to an online article on Smithsonian.com where someone has dug up these artifacts and in retrospect, we kids weren't horribly far off. Knowing all of these kids, their writing denotes a lot about their personalities and mindsets...again, mine included. I really was such a weirdo (as my sister often likes to remind me).
I could've sworn that I wrote a longer, more in depth piece...but whatever...here's what the writer put in their piece on us Kids of 1977:
"
In the year 2000 I will be 34 years old. And actually I don’t think kids will have to go to school, because I believe that families will have computers to educate students. That’s all for education. I also believe that most of the world will all be the United States of America. I also believe that business and industry will be up 75 per cent. And as for culture, the Model T will be an old artifact. And, if you have children or grandchildren, they’ll all be more interested in culture than ever.
Mike Metzger, Age 10 3/4 (Harding School)"
Now let's think about this. There are a LOT of kids being home schooled via the internet...so I wasn't too far off. As for most of the world being the USA, again, I'm not too far off. While the US hasn't expanded in the traditional sense, we have taken over much of the world in terms of pop culture. In my travels overseas, I've often referred to the "American parasite". Everywhere I've traveled I see the same crap. McDonald's, Burger King, Subway, Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, etc. There's a section of Melton South, VIC, Australia that I call Little America due to the number of American fast food joints. While there, I refused to eat at any of them, opting instead for Australia's own Red Rooster chain.
Our horrible American TV shows are all over the world. Our incredibly awful "music" is played everywhere. Why?
Because I was correct, again, in regards to business. In fact, I think the US has surpassed anyone's wildest dreams there! American companies are everywhere...with the possible exception of the US! No one can say that Americans aren't good at business. In fact, we've become so good at it that we've learned to not hire Americans. It's cheaper to ship our jobs overseas...but I'm going to attempt to avoid my usual "leftist" political rants on the subject...for now.
Lastly, I had stated that people will be more interested in culture than ever...and look at where we are. Sadly, we're far too interested in pop culture...but it is a part of our culture...perhaps all we really have in the way of culture. Watch the news or look online and you hear about Madonna or Lindsey Lohan or the latest reality show...all the while ignoring truly important issues. Americans still suck at geography and tend to think that the world ends at their driveway.
Yes indeed...the Model T is now an ancient artifact (which I mentioned because just a few days before writing this piece back in 1977, I got to ride in one!). My dad's old 77 Buick would be considered an antique now.
Ours is a truly unique generation. Unlike our predecessors, we seem to have stayed younger, at least at heart. Many of us have managed to keep our dreams and child-like enthusiasm for life intact. While we may not have exceeded our parents' generation in financial success, we seem to be a happier bunch. We don't seem as beaten down as many of that generation did.
To all the other 'kids' mentioned in this article (and I remember you ALL!), isn't it something to see what we wrote, begrudgingly perhaps, as school kids...4th graders I believe...reprinted today. More amazing is how RIGHT we were! I guess we really did see it all coming.
I just wish we had flying cars. We were promised flying cars! And robots! Oh wait...maybe that was just old episodes of The Jetsons......
PHOTO: Miss Golas' class 1976-77
Top Row: Don Evans, Cathy McCarty, Doug Dalbenzio, Marty Bohren, Tim Villes, Gretchen McKee, Tom Wilson
Middle Row: Yours Truly, ?, Bruce Temple, John Frey, Erica Gambos, John Francis
Bottom Row: Monica Katsaros, Teresa Terezis, Chuck Long, Janet LaRue, Sharon Blair, Joe Rayburn
Teacher: Miss Golas
Friday, October 12, 2012
When Mom Took Me To See The Monkey Lady
I remember they had a "mummy" on exhibit (which even to my childish mind looked fake!), a Fiji mermaid (which looked to me like someone sewed a dead monkey to a fish!), a few display cases with embalmed 2 headed critters, and LIVE IN PERSON, The Monkey Lady.
I was mesmerized by her "performance"...which wasn't so much of a performance as her standing around and telling her life story. She invited people to come up and tug on her fur to see if it was real. I was one of the lucky participants who got to do this! At the time, she looked ancient to me...but in reality was probably only in her 60s. Not a youthful 60 but a hard-lived 60. She seemed pleasant enough and not at all scary. She just looked like a very hairy black lady. Regardless, she had the charisma of a seasoned entertainer and drew a big crowd.
Sadly, the sideshows were already waining in popularity and some folks thought that it was wrong to exploit those with physical abnormalities as "freaks". I've only ever seen two sideshows with real live "freaks". The second time was at a small town festival in rural Ohio in the late 80s. It was nowhere near as memorable as The Monkey Lady was.
I remember pestering my mom and dad for days after that show. Dad, being a doctor, tried to explain to me her condition called hypertrychosis. Mom, always more bohemian, explained that regardless of her physical appearance, The Monkey Lady was just a normal person like anyone else, who just happened to have a lot more hair than most. Mom also pointed out how lucky she was to be in show business. She explained that The Monkey Lady made her living by traveling the country and making people happy. That was my mum...always the eternal optimist.
Over the years, I took what my mum told me to heart. I've now been an entertainer for 33 years. I've been fortunate enough to have played for tens of thousands of people the world over. I've done over 3,000 shows. I like to think that I make people happy when I perform.
Today is 33 years since we lost our mom. Never does a day go by that I don't think about her. I can still hear her voice and especially her laugh. She taught me a lot of things in her all too brief life. She taught me to look for the good in all people. She taught me the joys of music and art. She taught me that cooking can be fun and creative. Sadly, my mum never got to see me play a show. My first rock and roll show was about 6 months after she passed. I think about her every time I step onstage.
I have lots of wonderful memories. I lost a lot of them when I was in a coma ten years ago. I've been lucky that large portions of my brain have remapped since the brain damage. I'm thankful for the mother I had and the memories that I still have of her.
Thanks Mom, for taking me to see The Monkey Lady when I was a kid. I still remember it 40 years later and still remember you teaching me to look for the positive in all people and situations. I love and miss you.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Wait a minute...was that Elvis????
There's a new show called Nashville. I doubt I'll ever watch it. Having spent a fair bit of time there, I'll stay content with the real thing. I always preferred Memphis, anyway.
From 2002 - 2004, I spent a lot of time in Tennessee, most of it in the small town of Linden. Most of you have probably never heard of Linden, and there's really no reason you should have. It's a nice little town with a population of about 1000 or so. It's the county seat of Perry County. I remember when they put in that second traffic light!
What makes a town like Linden special and memorable is the people. Sure, it's beautiful country down there. If you like the outdoors and country living, its the kind of place you'll love. For me, it will always be about the people.
One of my very good friends, a term I don't use lightly, lives there. His name is Billy Poore. If you're a fan of rockabilly music, then his name is probably known to you. In his 68+ years, he's been a dancer on the old Milt Grant show, a recording artist/performer (The Trend-Els, as well as solo stuff), a songwriter, music publisher, and more. He wrote, edited, and published a great zine called Rockabilly Review and ultimately wrote a great book on the subject titled "Rockabilly - A 40 Year Journey"(available through Hal Leonard Publishing).
That Billy ended up in Linden isn't unusual. He came from Maryland and landed in Nashville. It's where the music was. After some time there, he and his wife and daughter settled in Linden. Here's where the story begins.
I was playing at a festival in Jackson, TN and Billy was also there. Also there was his daughter and her best friend. Her best friend caught my eye and one thing led to another and we started a long-distance relationship. This led me to spending 2 years driving back and forth from Pittsburgh to the middle of Tennessee. The things we do for love, eh?
Linden was like another world for me. I thought the town I grew up in (Steubenville, OH) was small! We had 40,000 people there when I was a kid. (far, far less now) Since leaving high school, I'd spent time in a lot of large cities, Columbus, Cleveland, NYC & Pittsburgh (as well as a few small towns like New Philadelphia and Kent). I'd traveled all over the country, and had started travelling overseas. This little Tennessee one-light town was, at least to me, a trip!
At first glance, there wasn't much going on there. To call it "quiet" would be an understatement. But to the trained eye, there was always something going on. The people in the community could've been characters from a TV show or movie. It was like Mayberry but a bit more odd.
The long arm of the law was essentially one man. A sheriff who went by the nickname of Beer Belly (Beer, for short). If that wasn't enough, he answered to the local judge...Judge Pee Wee! I kid you not! Pee Wee was the kind of guy who got away with drinking by having a police escort.
Linden is the kind of town where everyone knows everyone...and everyone else's business. To a privacy-minded northerner, this took some getting used to. Within hours, everyone knew I was "Miss Terri's fella from up north". That pretty much became my name. At the time, I don't believe there was a bar in town. Tennessee has some crazy liquor laws. Linden had the next best thing. A gas station that sold beer. And had tables set up in it for the locals to enjoy a couple of cold ones while discussing the weather, fishing, politics or that northerner courtin' a local gal.
Shopping in the area was a hoot. There weren't many stores to choose from. For groceries, you could either go way out to the Piggly Wiggly (which closed down) or the Food King in town. There was also another little market I remember...but more about that later.
There was a video store, a diner (The B&H), 2 sit down restaurants (The Rusty Hook specialized in sea food...catfish), a dollar store and my personal favorite - Crazy Fay's! If you wanted Confederate memorabilia (and really, who doesn't?) Crazy Fay's was the place for you! Need a bust of Elvis? Fay had it. Need a Confederate soldier lamp? Fay had that too! Need a black velvet Elvis with a Confederate flag draped over his shoulder? I'm pretty sure Fay had that too!
Not everyone in town was a character. Most were just normal, everyday people...of the more rural variety. You really couldn't ask for nicer people. Everyone was always exceptionally friendly there. I made some good friends there and I'm proud to say that we're still friends.
I was always surprised that I never made the front page of the local paper. It was a small, weekly publication called the Buffalo River Review. It was usually maybe 10 pages...all the news fit to print...and then some! My favorite section was the local goings on. It would usually be a number of pages dedicated to local events, visitations and gossip. There would be blurbs like "Ella Mae Sudbauer was visited by her sister Mildred from Murfreesboro this weekend" or "The Nelson twins, Gavin & Bubba, took 1st place in last Saturday's mud bog". It was quaint but always struck me as very "Mayberry". I loved reading the paper over and over and over! We kept a stack of them in the bathroom for just such a purpose. (And yes...indoor plumbing!) Each page was filled with amazingly normal/average characters...each given their moment in the sun that is being mentioned in the local paper.
My all-time favorite local character, though, was an old guy who was fixated on Elvis. I mean this guy had Elvis-itis BAD! He dressed like a normal old guy...except for his jet black Elvis wig and Elvis sunglasses. I remember well the first time I saw him. I was making my 2nd trip to visit my ladyfriend and had some friends from Cardiff, Wales with me. I'm glad because they too witnessed His Elvisness! We had stopped in a little market on the outskirts of town, looking for some toiletries. Had I known at the time that Fred's Pharmacy was where one goes for such things in the greater Linden area, I never would've stopped there...nor would I have run into this guy.
My friend 2Tone and I were making our way around the store (his missus opted to wait in the car) when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted The King. At least I thought it was The King! I stopped in my tracks, did a double take, and made sure I saw what I thought I saw. He was a guy of around 75 or so, wearing an old blue dress shirt, polyester pants, and his Elvis wig and shades. I got my friend's attention and asked if he was seeing what I was seeing. We were both gobsmacked. He ran out to the car to get his wife, who is a huge Elvis fan. We really couldn't believe what we were seeing. None of the other customers in the store, nor the employees for that matter, seemed to be phased by The King doing his shopping.
When we got to my ladyfriend's house, I immediately brought up seeing Elvis at the store. She laughed it off, saying "That's just Mr. So & So. He always dresses like that." She said this as if he was simply wearing a pair of overalls! Dude was wearing a (poorly fitting) Elvis wig and Elvis shades! It was nothing to her. Over the next 2 years, seeing The King around town became pretty much of a non-event for me too...but that first time was a trip!
I learned a number of things in my time spent in Linden. I learned that catfish ain't too bad, provided it's deep fried in beer batter and served with hot sauce. I learned that I really like jet skis...but am a dangerous man on them. I learned that Tennesseans love football...and love it when their teams beats the Steelers (admittedly, a rare moment). I learned that if you want to keep flies out of your store, house, trailer, etc., tie a clear plastic bag filled with water in front of the door. (it seems to work!)
But most of all, I learned that people are people, wherever you go. Most are good people who are just as curious about strangers as strangers are about them. They work hard, enjoy their leisure, worship in their own ways, and live a life not much different than yours or mine.
If in your travels you should stop in some small, out of the way town that looks like the middle of nowhere, don't look down your nose. The town is probably far more interesting than your limited time there will allow you to see. Every town has it's treasures and it's secrets. Every town is made up of people: a community. These people are always interesting...provided you take the time to find out who they really are.
And lots of people everywhere still love Elvis.
From 2002 - 2004, I spent a lot of time in Tennessee, most of it in the small town of Linden. Most of you have probably never heard of Linden, and there's really no reason you should have. It's a nice little town with a population of about 1000 or so. It's the county seat of Perry County. I remember when they put in that second traffic light!
What makes a town like Linden special and memorable is the people. Sure, it's beautiful country down there. If you like the outdoors and country living, its the kind of place you'll love. For me, it will always be about the people.
One of my very good friends, a term I don't use lightly, lives there. His name is Billy Poore. If you're a fan of rockabilly music, then his name is probably known to you. In his 68+ years, he's been a dancer on the old Milt Grant show, a recording artist/performer (The Trend-Els, as well as solo stuff), a songwriter, music publisher, and more. He wrote, edited, and published a great zine called Rockabilly Review and ultimately wrote a great book on the subject titled "Rockabilly - A 40 Year Journey"(available through Hal Leonard Publishing).
That Billy ended up in Linden isn't unusual. He came from Maryland and landed in Nashville. It's where the music was. After some time there, he and his wife and daughter settled in Linden. Here's where the story begins.
I was playing at a festival in Jackson, TN and Billy was also there. Also there was his daughter and her best friend. Her best friend caught my eye and one thing led to another and we started a long-distance relationship. This led me to spending 2 years driving back and forth from Pittsburgh to the middle of Tennessee. The things we do for love, eh?
Linden was like another world for me. I thought the town I grew up in (Steubenville, OH) was small! We had 40,000 people there when I was a kid. (far, far less now) Since leaving high school, I'd spent time in a lot of large cities, Columbus, Cleveland, NYC & Pittsburgh (as well as a few small towns like New Philadelphia and Kent). I'd traveled all over the country, and had started travelling overseas. This little Tennessee one-light town was, at least to me, a trip!
At first glance, there wasn't much going on there. To call it "quiet" would be an understatement. But to the trained eye, there was always something going on. The people in the community could've been characters from a TV show or movie. It was like Mayberry but a bit more odd.
The long arm of the law was essentially one man. A sheriff who went by the nickname of Beer Belly (Beer, for short). If that wasn't enough, he answered to the local judge...Judge Pee Wee! I kid you not! Pee Wee was the kind of guy who got away with drinking by having a police escort.
Linden is the kind of town where everyone knows everyone...and everyone else's business. To a privacy-minded northerner, this took some getting used to. Within hours, everyone knew I was "Miss Terri's fella from up north". That pretty much became my name. At the time, I don't believe there was a bar in town. Tennessee has some crazy liquor laws. Linden had the next best thing. A gas station that sold beer. And had tables set up in it for the locals to enjoy a couple of cold ones while discussing the weather, fishing, politics or that northerner courtin' a local gal.
Shopping in the area was a hoot. There weren't many stores to choose from. For groceries, you could either go way out to the Piggly Wiggly (which closed down) or the Food King in town. There was also another little market I remember...but more about that later.
There was a video store, a diner (The B&H), 2 sit down restaurants (The Rusty Hook specialized in sea food...catfish), a dollar store and my personal favorite - Crazy Fay's! If you wanted Confederate memorabilia (and really, who doesn't?) Crazy Fay's was the place for you! Need a bust of Elvis? Fay had it. Need a Confederate soldier lamp? Fay had that too! Need a black velvet Elvis with a Confederate flag draped over his shoulder? I'm pretty sure Fay had that too!
Not everyone in town was a character. Most were just normal, everyday people...of the more rural variety. You really couldn't ask for nicer people. Everyone was always exceptionally friendly there. I made some good friends there and I'm proud to say that we're still friends.
I was always surprised that I never made the front page of the local paper. It was a small, weekly publication called the Buffalo River Review. It was usually maybe 10 pages...all the news fit to print...and then some! My favorite section was the local goings on. It would usually be a number of pages dedicated to local events, visitations and gossip. There would be blurbs like "Ella Mae Sudbauer was visited by her sister Mildred from Murfreesboro this weekend" or "The Nelson twins, Gavin & Bubba, took 1st place in last Saturday's mud bog". It was quaint but always struck me as very "Mayberry". I loved reading the paper over and over and over! We kept a stack of them in the bathroom for just such a purpose. (And yes...indoor plumbing!) Each page was filled with amazingly normal/average characters...each given their moment in the sun that is being mentioned in the local paper.
My all-time favorite local character, though, was an old guy who was fixated on Elvis. I mean this guy had Elvis-itis BAD! He dressed like a normal old guy...except for his jet black Elvis wig and Elvis sunglasses. I remember well the first time I saw him. I was making my 2nd trip to visit my ladyfriend and had some friends from Cardiff, Wales with me. I'm glad because they too witnessed His Elvisness! We had stopped in a little market on the outskirts of town, looking for some toiletries. Had I known at the time that Fred's Pharmacy was where one goes for such things in the greater Linden area, I never would've stopped there...nor would I have run into this guy.
My friend 2Tone and I were making our way around the store (his missus opted to wait in the car) when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted The King. At least I thought it was The King! I stopped in my tracks, did a double take, and made sure I saw what I thought I saw. He was a guy of around 75 or so, wearing an old blue dress shirt, polyester pants, and his Elvis wig and shades. I got my friend's attention and asked if he was seeing what I was seeing. We were both gobsmacked. He ran out to the car to get his wife, who is a huge Elvis fan. We really couldn't believe what we were seeing. None of the other customers in the store, nor the employees for that matter, seemed to be phased by The King doing his shopping.
When we got to my ladyfriend's house, I immediately brought up seeing Elvis at the store. She laughed it off, saying "That's just Mr. So & So. He always dresses like that." She said this as if he was simply wearing a pair of overalls! Dude was wearing a (poorly fitting) Elvis wig and Elvis shades! It was nothing to her. Over the next 2 years, seeing The King around town became pretty much of a non-event for me too...but that first time was a trip!
I learned a number of things in my time spent in Linden. I learned that catfish ain't too bad, provided it's deep fried in beer batter and served with hot sauce. I learned that I really like jet skis...but am a dangerous man on them. I learned that Tennesseans love football...and love it when their teams beats the Steelers (admittedly, a rare moment). I learned that if you want to keep flies out of your store, house, trailer, etc., tie a clear plastic bag filled with water in front of the door. (it seems to work!)
But most of all, I learned that people are people, wherever you go. Most are good people who are just as curious about strangers as strangers are about them. They work hard, enjoy their leisure, worship in their own ways, and live a life not much different than yours or mine.
If in your travels you should stop in some small, out of the way town that looks like the middle of nowhere, don't look down your nose. The town is probably far more interesting than your limited time there will allow you to see. Every town has it's treasures and it's secrets. Every town is made up of people: a community. These people are always interesting...provided you take the time to find out who they really are.
And lots of people everywhere still love Elvis.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Halloween Costumes
Ahhhhhh, Halloween. The one night of the year where it's considered normal to dress up and beg for candy. For some of us, we call that Tuesday.
But seriously, if you grew up in the US of A, chances are you have fond memories of Halloween from your childhood. I know I do. Our mum was great for Halloween! She would make us great costumes or encourage us to dress however we wanted.
What was YOUR favorite Halloween costume as a kid? I know what mine was. When I was about 11, my dad had lost a bunch of weight...about 80 pounds or so, and he had all his old pairs of "fat guy" pants. He had them stacked up, getting them ready to go to Goodwill, and I snuck in and grabbed 2 pairs. I found that if I bent one leg back, I could get it into a pant leg. Then I put the other pair on over top of that and did the same. I decided to tie shoes to my knees while doing this. It made me look like a midget. I took an old cane and cut it down to size so I could walk. I got good enough at it, and went as Toulouse Latrec that year for Halloween. This could, however, explain why my knees are shot!
An ex girlfriend of mine has the best Halloween costume story ever. Well, I think it's great...she's always seen it as traumatic. Her mum was the type to live vicariously through her kids. One year, she dressed my ex up as a box of popcorn. She painted a garbage can with red & white stripes and hand painted the old popcorn box logo on it. She cut out holes in the bottom for legs. She then put my ex into it and filled it all the way to the top with real popcorn!
My ex girlfriend grew up in the city, so I guess they didn't go door-to-door as much as suburban kids. There was usually a big Halloween costume party up the street at the church. That's where she went. So her dad walks her, in her armless box of popcorn costume, up the street to the party. Here's where the fun begins.
In a word: pigeons. As my ex and her dad were making their way up the street, flocks of pigeons descended on them, going after the ton of popcorn that made up her costume. Her arms were stuck INSIDE the costume, so she couldn't shoo them away. Her dad tried batting them away but come on...if you've ever seen any bird, let alone pigeons, go after popcorn, you know they weren't giving up! My ex said that she screamed and cried and was scared to death and begged her dad to take her home. Her dad, probably not wanting the money spent on making this costume going to waste, let alone facing the wrath of his missus, managed to get her to the party with her eyeballs intact. Still screaming and crying, with much popcorn missing from her costume, she always swore it was the most traumatic memory of her childhood.
Personally, I think it's the funniest damned Halloween story I've ever heard!
But seriously, if you grew up in the US of A, chances are you have fond memories of Halloween from your childhood. I know I do. Our mum was great for Halloween! She would make us great costumes or encourage us to dress however we wanted.
What was YOUR favorite Halloween costume as a kid? I know what mine was. When I was about 11, my dad had lost a bunch of weight...about 80 pounds or so, and he had all his old pairs of "fat guy" pants. He had them stacked up, getting them ready to go to Goodwill, and I snuck in and grabbed 2 pairs. I found that if I bent one leg back, I could get it into a pant leg. Then I put the other pair on over top of that and did the same. I decided to tie shoes to my knees while doing this. It made me look like a midget. I took an old cane and cut it down to size so I could walk. I got good enough at it, and went as Toulouse Latrec that year for Halloween. This could, however, explain why my knees are shot!
An ex girlfriend of mine has the best Halloween costume story ever. Well, I think it's great...she's always seen it as traumatic. Her mum was the type to live vicariously through her kids. One year, she dressed my ex up as a box of popcorn. She painted a garbage can with red & white stripes and hand painted the old popcorn box logo on it. She cut out holes in the bottom for legs. She then put my ex into it and filled it all the way to the top with real popcorn!
My ex girlfriend grew up in the city, so I guess they didn't go door-to-door as much as suburban kids. There was usually a big Halloween costume party up the street at the church. That's where she went. So her dad walks her, in her armless box of popcorn costume, up the street to the party. Here's where the fun begins.
In a word: pigeons. As my ex and her dad were making their way up the street, flocks of pigeons descended on them, going after the ton of popcorn that made up her costume. Her arms were stuck INSIDE the costume, so she couldn't shoo them away. Her dad tried batting them away but come on...if you've ever seen any bird, let alone pigeons, go after popcorn, you know they weren't giving up! My ex said that she screamed and cried and was scared to death and begged her dad to take her home. Her dad, probably not wanting the money spent on making this costume going to waste, let alone facing the wrath of his missus, managed to get her to the party with her eyeballs intact. Still screaming and crying, with much popcorn missing from her costume, she always swore it was the most traumatic memory of her childhood.
Personally, I think it's the funniest damned Halloween story I've ever heard!
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Pillow Talk....Pittsburgh Style!
I'm sure most people realize by now that I refer to my better half as "the young'un". Why? Because she's 15 years younger than I am. (Just call me Mr. Obvious) One would normally think that could be a hindrance to a relationship...growing up during different times could potentially limit our shared life experiences, thus creating a possibility of nothing to talk about. Also, she's young and good looking and I...well...I am not. I used to be...but with age I have reverted to being "cute". (And yes ladies, guys with gray hair really don't like that word "distinguished". We pretend we do...but we don't. To us it means "Hey! Look at the old guy. I bet he was something to look back in his day")
While the young'un and I have few similar interests, we use this to our advantage. Every day is a new adventure for us. Lucky for me, she is open to new things. I, on the other hand, am not. I am accustomed to things being just so, or as she would put, "set in my ways" (aka stubborn as a mule).
We both share a love of zombies. While she prefers to kill them on her Xbox, I prefer to watch "NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD" (the original...in black & white...with a cameo by Chilly Billy). That movie is a Pittsburgh treasure! We have both, in the past couple of years, become fans of THE WALKING DEAD television show.
It's things like this that infuse new life and energy into our relationship (as well as tons of in-jokes that no one else would ever get...and we like it that way). This leads to the topic of this blog: our idea of 'pillow talk'.
After a long day at work, and having been working 6-7 days weeks for the past month (its the busy time of year where she works), she came home and after she put on her comfies, I made us some popcorn and we snuggled up on the couch...to watch more zombies. As with any couple, this leads to talking during the program. (this used to drive me crazy...but see! Even old farts like me can adapt!) As we both are inquisitive by nature, our conversations go something like: (OK, I'm paraphrasing here but it went kinda like this)
Me: I wonder if zombies poop?
Young'un: (stares at me)
M: Well, if they eat all that flesh/brains and don't poop, they'd have ginormous, flesh-filled guts wouldn't they?
Y: (stares at me) Well yeah...it'd have to go somewhere.
M: Imagine how bad that would smell! (I then went on a monologue about the possible stench of rotting flesh festering inside a rotting, undead, zombified digestive tract)
Y: (stares at me)
M: I wonder if zombies have a hyperactive salivary gland?
Y: (stares at me) Why?
M: If ya ever notice, their lips are usually gone but they always seem to be drooling...hence me thinking they might have a hyperactive salivary gland due to their zombie state.
Y: Imagine how bad their breath would be!
M: (stares at her....thinking "Really? They don't seem to poop yet she's concerned with their breath? If one got that close to me I'd probably have a coronary")
This is a typical night for us. Who says romance is dead? (or in this case...undead)
You know you're in a good relationship when you and your better half can have a serious discussion on zombie poop and not think anything is unusual about it. Mind you, she did give me some odd looks when I mentioned the prospect of midget zombies, hermaphroditic zombies and then wondered aloud if one of a set of conjoined twins died and became a zombie, would the other?
It's a wonder she hasn't run screaming yet......
While the young'un and I have few similar interests, we use this to our advantage. Every day is a new adventure for us. Lucky for me, she is open to new things. I, on the other hand, am not. I am accustomed to things being just so, or as she would put, "set in my ways" (aka stubborn as a mule).
We both share a love of zombies. While she prefers to kill them on her Xbox, I prefer to watch "NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD" (the original...in black & white...with a cameo by Chilly Billy). That movie is a Pittsburgh treasure! We have both, in the past couple of years, become fans of THE WALKING DEAD television show.
It's things like this that infuse new life and energy into our relationship (as well as tons of in-jokes that no one else would ever get...and we like it that way). This leads to the topic of this blog: our idea of 'pillow talk'.
After a long day at work, and having been working 6-7 days weeks for the past month (its the busy time of year where she works), she came home and after she put on her comfies, I made us some popcorn and we snuggled up on the couch...to watch more zombies. As with any couple, this leads to talking during the program. (this used to drive me crazy...but see! Even old farts like me can adapt!) As we both are inquisitive by nature, our conversations go something like: (OK, I'm paraphrasing here but it went kinda like this)
Me: I wonder if zombies poop?
Young'un: (stares at me)
M: Well, if they eat all that flesh/brains and don't poop, they'd have ginormous, flesh-filled guts wouldn't they?
Y: (stares at me) Well yeah...it'd have to go somewhere.
M: Imagine how bad that would smell! (I then went on a monologue about the possible stench of rotting flesh festering inside a rotting, undead, zombified digestive tract)
Y: (stares at me)
M: I wonder if zombies have a hyperactive salivary gland?
Y: (stares at me) Why?
M: If ya ever notice, their lips are usually gone but they always seem to be drooling...hence me thinking they might have a hyperactive salivary gland due to their zombie state.
Y: Imagine how bad their breath would be!
M: (stares at her....thinking "Really? They don't seem to poop yet she's concerned with their breath? If one got that close to me I'd probably have a coronary")
This is a typical night for us. Who says romance is dead? (or in this case...undead)
You know you're in a good relationship when you and your better half can have a serious discussion on zombie poop and not think anything is unusual about it. Mind you, she did give me some odd looks when I mentioned the prospect of midget zombies, hermaphroditic zombies and then wondered aloud if one of a set of conjoined twins died and became a zombie, would the other?
It's a wonder she hasn't run screaming yet......
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Bars, Pubs, & Watering Holes
Let's face it, I like to drink. Not everyday, not always blotto, but I do enjoy a nice, cold beer with friends now and then. Oddly enough, I almost never drink at home. I could equate this to 30+ years of being a working musician, and usually only drinking in public...or I could equate to more of a social experience. Either way, when I drink, it's usually in a bar (or pub).
Below is a list of some of my favorite bars/pubs that I've frequented over the years and why I like them. Maybe, if you too are a social drinker, you'll compile your own mental list of some of your fave watering holes. So, without further adieu and in no particular order:
Rascals (aka The Cage) - Dover, OH
Back when I still lived in Ohio, this was my regular nightspot. My girlfriend and I would be there just about every night. She'd shoot pool (and shark everyone in the room) while my buddy Jackson and I would knock back many a beverage and shoot the shit. Most of my friends hung out there too, so it was a natural gathering spot. Sometime before I'd moved to the area, I guess the place was called The Cage, so those of us of a certain age always called it that. As long as I've known the place, it's been called Rascal's Saloon.
I got to stop in there last year while in the area. It was nice to see that little had changed (aside from the prices and some of the faces). Within 5 minutes, it was just like old times...except Jackson wasn't there (I heard he quit drinking) and my ex girlfriend was nowhere around. But Pottsy and Burris were still there, as were a few other familiar old faces. It was nice.
Davis Tavern - Steubenville, OH
Ah, the Davis Tavern. The epitomal neighborhood bar. There is a neighborhood in Steubenville, OH called Pleasant Heights, and PH (as we called it) was home to this joint. Nothing fancy. Cheap drinks, fried food, a jukebox, a TV, and friends and neighbors all hanging out. I remember my friends Nick, Mark, Paul, and many others hanging out there many a night. It was nothing special...but the times I spent there with friends were. In recent visits to the Ville, I've seen that the Davis Tavern is no more. Nothing lasts forever....
Joe & Dixie's Cloverleaf - Dover, OH
Again, back to the Dover/New Philadelphia area. While I actually lived in New Philly, Dover was where I usually would hang out. Joe's, as my friends and I usually called it, was a small tavern. Most days, it was nothing special (except for the original fly...but that's another story for another time). In the late 80s, the owners started booking bands there. The band I was in at the time (The Swingin' Caddilacs) played there often. Dixie became like a surrogate aunt to us. Her husband Joe, while a bit cranky, was always good to us. My friend Ken Snyder and I spent many a night there trying to destroy our livers. Always a good time.
Fodi's Bar - Pittsburgh, PA
This is a really old bar, just about 2 blocks from my house. It's been there for about 90 years. My granddad, who died in 1957, used to drink there. Up until a few years ago, Rose was still tending bar. She remembered my granddad! This is one of those old school, old man bars that is now trying to survive in the 21st century. When I 1st started going there in the 90s, there was no jukebox, only the TV (usually on A&E or Court TV). There was a poker machine and a pachinko machine! That was it. Well lit, with a great old wooden backbar, this place had stayed the same for ages. The drink prices have always been low. They still are...but they have raised with the times. You can still buy a round of drinks for 4-5 people for $10 or less. It's just a little neighborhood bar. One of the younger Fodis, Vicky, is running the place now. She's dragged it kicking and screaming into the 21st century. The place has karaoke on Wednesdays and live entertainment a couple nights a week (usually solo or duo acoustic sets). I always love taking friends there that have never been there before. It's usually an eye opener for them. But, most times, I just like to go down there for a quiet beer or three, see what all's going on the neighborhood and chew the fat with whoever is around. It's a nice place...and I hope it always stays that way.
Mother's Junction - Kent, OH
When I was in college, Mother's was my 2nd home. They had reasonably priced drinks, yet avoided the nickel/dime/quarter drafts that many other college bars used to sell off their old kegs to students. What Mother's had better than any other joint was live music. Whether it be rockabilly, reggae (a house fave), ska, punk/new wave (hey, it was the 80s!), you could find it there...and it was usually better than anywhere else. Mother's had house drinks like the Futhermucker...never knew what was in it but I knew it could mess ya up! The only 2 downsides to the place were the stairs leading up to it (Mother's was upstairs from another bar, Ray's) and the bathroom...which is 2nd only, in my memory, to CBGB's in nastiness. If you had to go, you waited until you really had to go. It was that bad. I got to play there a few times in a few different bands. Lots of great memories there.
The Lighthouse - Cardiff, Wales
You may think it odd that I'm adding this place to my list of faves, as I was only ever there once. But it was memorable for a number of reasons. This was the first "pub" I was ever in. Traditional pubs, or public houses, in the UK are different from American bars. They tend to be smaller, homier, and more comfortable. These are the places the locals frequent. Another major difference was that the beer choices are far more limited. While in the US, most bars like to have as large a selection as possible, most pubs in the UK (at least back in the day) rarely had more than 2-3 choices...usually made by the same (usually local or regional) brewery. The Lighthouse was no exception. They had 2 beers on tap: Bass and Master Brew. Having never heard of Master Brew, I opted for a pint of Bass. The barman informed me that the keg was being changed so it'd be a short wait. Being a typically impatient Yank, I threw caution to the wind and ordered a Master Brew. To this day I'm thankful that I did! This lager was wonderful! My friends 2Tone and Baldy took me there and we had a blast! I drank pint after pint of this wonderful stuff...only to never find it anywhere else! This is one of the charms of the small local pub. Master Brew, it seems, is made by a very small local brewery and is only served within a small radius. Excellent brew if you can find it!
The Huntsman - Leicester, UK
Again, the small, local pub...British style. In 2004/early 2005, I found myself involved with a gorgeous British gal. Airfare was cheap (usually $200-400 round trip)so we often hopped back and forth across the pond. The Huntsman was/is a small neighborhood pub near where she was living at the time. She loathed the place. I loved it. It was dirty (probably hadn't been Hoovered since Thatcher was in office), dank, smoky, and my kinda place! It was filled with characters! The regulars loved to harass me about being a Yank (and blame me for "our Mr.Bush" and his foibles). I gave as good as I got and was accepted by the folks there. My main reason, however, for frequenting the place was the beer. They had Ansell's Mild on tap. This stuff was like drinking liquid velvet! And it had a kick too! A few pints and my head would be feeling fuzzy. This is one of the things Americans never seem to understand about beer. If it must be served ice cold, it's probably because it tastes like crap and has no body. British beers, contrary to popular belief, are rarely served "warm". While not served as cold as American beers, it shows off the flavor and body of the brew. American beers tend to be watery. British beers tend to have body. It's like comparing a can of Campbell's chicken soup to a steak. I don't know about you....but I'd rather have the steak.
The Decade -Pittsburgh, PA
Long live the memory of the Decade...the home of Rock and Roll. Anyone who was anyone played there at one time or other...self included. The list of famous names that performed in this relatively small, overpriced, city college bar would astound those who have never been there. As a semi-regular patron (and performer), it was nothing unusual to be standing next to Danny DeVito or Randy Quaid at the bar. I got to hang out with Jack Nicholson there. But the main reason everyone went there was for the music. There were cheaper bars for sure...but the quality of the live entertainment in this joint was, and still is, unmatched. Almost any night of the week, you could walk in and hear a great band of almost any genre. Whether you enjoyed punk, blues, R&B, country, rockabilly, folk, whatever....if the band was good, they played at The Decade...at least once. I was there every Sunday for blues. Mondays or Tuesdays were usually punk rock. The rest of the week, all you had to do was look on the calender to see who was playing. I saw great acts on their way up (Horton Heat) and on their way down (The Romantics). I took the guys from Los Lobos there after a show at Graffiti and David Hidalgo wound up sitting in with the band. Always a great night there...regardless of who was playing. Lots of friends and contemporaries were always there. To many, it was a second home. When Dom closed the doors of the place, we all knew it was the end of an era. Many places have tried to fill those shoes...but found it impossible.
The Royal Oak - Cardiff, Wales
Back to Cymru. I frequented this joint a few times during my travels. Once to perform and the rest just because I liked the place! While I'm unsure of it's total history, the place seems to have been around for ages. It has a long standing tradition as a boxing bar. Boxing is king in this joint...and the generations of boxing memorabilia that line the walls proves it. I had a number of great conversations about my American faves (like Ali, Tyson and Foreman) while the barman and locals would try to educate me on their local, regional, and national heroes. And...the bar served Brains. Not the organ in your skull....the beer. Brains lager, Brains bitter (better than Guinness in my opinion) and Brains SA (legend has it that the SA stands for Skull Attack. It doesn't mix well...with oxygen). What a lovely, tasty, full-bodied brew!
The Blue Moon - Pittsburgh, PA
If you've heard that the Blue Moon is a gay bar....you've heard correct! The nice thing about the Moon is that no one there cares if you are or are not gay. They joint prides itself on being an "everyone bar". A friend first took me there almost a dozen years ago. I got to meet the owners, manager and staff and found them all to be great folks. Over the years, I've done a lot of web work for the place, so I found myself spending more and more time there. I've made a number of great friends through the place and I'll be the 1st to defend any one of them or the bar itself. The Moon is where my best friend and I go for our regular Tuesday Night Out. The bar has a Cheers-like atmosphere...everyone knows everyone. Among the regulars are gay and straight alike. Just people out for a drink...who don't want drama, pretension, or bullshit. Some come for the drinks specials, some for the poker machines, and some come for the drag shows. These have become especially popular due to a local winning on Ru Paul's Drag Race. While I personally don't think much of this person, his appearance on the show, as well as his ensuing notoriety, have been a boon to the Moon's business...so all is good in the hood. The Blue Moon is right smack in the heart of the Lawrenceville section of the city. There are other bars in the area and surprisingly little drama. Sure...it has it's moments...but what inner-city bar doesn't? The prices are reasonable, the beer is cold and....you can still smoke there! The Moon is probably best know for it Iced Teas (the alcoholic beverage...not the brewed stuff). You get bang for your buck there. And, if you just happen to be looking to meet someone 'friendly', you could do worse than the Moon. It's a great place filled with great people.
If you've noticed, all of these joints have one thing in common. Good memories. That's what makes a place special. It's not the amount of money spent on decorating the place, or how loud the sound system is, or how many varieties of beer they sell. No, it's the people that frequent the place that make it special. If a customer is treated well and has an enjoyable experience, they're likely to come back. If they keep having good time after good time, they're likely to become a regular....and memories will be made there. If you noticed, none of these are "corporate" type joints. Not a flashy joint among them. A bit of neon, a place to sit and have a drink with friends, and maybe something to munch on...be it pretzels, chips, or a sammich. That's really all the decor any bar needs. Just fill the place with good people and cold beer, and you have the recipe for a good time.
Below is a list of some of my favorite bars/pubs that I've frequented over the years and why I like them. Maybe, if you too are a social drinker, you'll compile your own mental list of some of your fave watering holes. So, without further adieu and in no particular order:
Rascals (aka The Cage) - Dover, OH
Back when I still lived in Ohio, this was my regular nightspot. My girlfriend and I would be there just about every night. She'd shoot pool (and shark everyone in the room) while my buddy Jackson and I would knock back many a beverage and shoot the shit. Most of my friends hung out there too, so it was a natural gathering spot. Sometime before I'd moved to the area, I guess the place was called The Cage, so those of us of a certain age always called it that. As long as I've known the place, it's been called Rascal's Saloon.
I got to stop in there last year while in the area. It was nice to see that little had changed (aside from the prices and some of the faces). Within 5 minutes, it was just like old times...except Jackson wasn't there (I heard he quit drinking) and my ex girlfriend was nowhere around. But Pottsy and Burris were still there, as were a few other familiar old faces. It was nice.
Davis Tavern - Steubenville, OH
Ah, the Davis Tavern. The epitomal neighborhood bar. There is a neighborhood in Steubenville, OH called Pleasant Heights, and PH (as we called it) was home to this joint. Nothing fancy. Cheap drinks, fried food, a jukebox, a TV, and friends and neighbors all hanging out. I remember my friends Nick, Mark, Paul, and many others hanging out there many a night. It was nothing special...but the times I spent there with friends were. In recent visits to the Ville, I've seen that the Davis Tavern is no more. Nothing lasts forever....
Joe & Dixie's Cloverleaf - Dover, OH
Again, back to the Dover/New Philadelphia area. While I actually lived in New Philly, Dover was where I usually would hang out. Joe's, as my friends and I usually called it, was a small tavern. Most days, it was nothing special (except for the original fly...but that's another story for another time). In the late 80s, the owners started booking bands there. The band I was in at the time (The Swingin' Caddilacs) played there often. Dixie became like a surrogate aunt to us. Her husband Joe, while a bit cranky, was always good to us. My friend Ken Snyder and I spent many a night there trying to destroy our livers. Always a good time.
Fodi's Bar - Pittsburgh, PA
This is a really old bar, just about 2 blocks from my house. It's been there for about 90 years. My granddad, who died in 1957, used to drink there. Up until a few years ago, Rose was still tending bar. She remembered my granddad! This is one of those old school, old man bars that is now trying to survive in the 21st century. When I 1st started going there in the 90s, there was no jukebox, only the TV (usually on A&E or Court TV). There was a poker machine and a pachinko machine! That was it. Well lit, with a great old wooden backbar, this place had stayed the same for ages. The drink prices have always been low. They still are...but they have raised with the times. You can still buy a round of drinks for 4-5 people for $10 or less. It's just a little neighborhood bar. One of the younger Fodis, Vicky, is running the place now. She's dragged it kicking and screaming into the 21st century. The place has karaoke on Wednesdays and live entertainment a couple nights a week (usually solo or duo acoustic sets). I always love taking friends there that have never been there before. It's usually an eye opener for them. But, most times, I just like to go down there for a quiet beer or three, see what all's going on the neighborhood and chew the fat with whoever is around. It's a nice place...and I hope it always stays that way.
Mother's Junction - Kent, OH
When I was in college, Mother's was my 2nd home. They had reasonably priced drinks, yet avoided the nickel/dime/quarter drafts that many other college bars used to sell off their old kegs to students. What Mother's had better than any other joint was live music. Whether it be rockabilly, reggae (a house fave), ska, punk/new wave (hey, it was the 80s!), you could find it there...and it was usually better than anywhere else. Mother's had house drinks like the Futhermucker...never knew what was in it but I knew it could mess ya up! The only 2 downsides to the place were the stairs leading up to it (Mother's was upstairs from another bar, Ray's) and the bathroom...which is 2nd only, in my memory, to CBGB's in nastiness. If you had to go, you waited until you really had to go. It was that bad. I got to play there a few times in a few different bands. Lots of great memories there.
The Lighthouse - Cardiff, Wales
You may think it odd that I'm adding this place to my list of faves, as I was only ever there once. But it was memorable for a number of reasons. This was the first "pub" I was ever in. Traditional pubs, or public houses, in the UK are different from American bars. They tend to be smaller, homier, and more comfortable. These are the places the locals frequent. Another major difference was that the beer choices are far more limited. While in the US, most bars like to have as large a selection as possible, most pubs in the UK (at least back in the day) rarely had more than 2-3 choices...usually made by the same (usually local or regional) brewery. The Lighthouse was no exception. They had 2 beers on tap: Bass and Master Brew. Having never heard of Master Brew, I opted for a pint of Bass. The barman informed me that the keg was being changed so it'd be a short wait. Being a typically impatient Yank, I threw caution to the wind and ordered a Master Brew. To this day I'm thankful that I did! This lager was wonderful! My friends 2Tone and Baldy took me there and we had a blast! I drank pint after pint of this wonderful stuff...only to never find it anywhere else! This is one of the charms of the small local pub. Master Brew, it seems, is made by a very small local brewery and is only served within a small radius. Excellent brew if you can find it!
The Huntsman - Leicester, UK
Again, the small, local pub...British style. In 2004/early 2005, I found myself involved with a gorgeous British gal. Airfare was cheap (usually $200-400 round trip)so we often hopped back and forth across the pond. The Huntsman was/is a small neighborhood pub near where she was living at the time. She loathed the place. I loved it. It was dirty (probably hadn't been Hoovered since Thatcher was in office), dank, smoky, and my kinda place! It was filled with characters! The regulars loved to harass me about being a Yank (and blame me for "our Mr.Bush" and his foibles). I gave as good as I got and was accepted by the folks there. My main reason, however, for frequenting the place was the beer. They had Ansell's Mild on tap. This stuff was like drinking liquid velvet! And it had a kick too! A few pints and my head would be feeling fuzzy. This is one of the things Americans never seem to understand about beer. If it must be served ice cold, it's probably because it tastes like crap and has no body. British beers, contrary to popular belief, are rarely served "warm". While not served as cold as American beers, it shows off the flavor and body of the brew. American beers tend to be watery. British beers tend to have body. It's like comparing a can of Campbell's chicken soup to a steak. I don't know about you....but I'd rather have the steak.
The Decade -Pittsburgh, PA
Long live the memory of the Decade...the home of Rock and Roll. Anyone who was anyone played there at one time or other...self included. The list of famous names that performed in this relatively small, overpriced, city college bar would astound those who have never been there. As a semi-regular patron (and performer), it was nothing unusual to be standing next to Danny DeVito or Randy Quaid at the bar. I got to hang out with Jack Nicholson there. But the main reason everyone went there was for the music. There were cheaper bars for sure...but the quality of the live entertainment in this joint was, and still is, unmatched. Almost any night of the week, you could walk in and hear a great band of almost any genre. Whether you enjoyed punk, blues, R&B, country, rockabilly, folk, whatever....if the band was good, they played at The Decade...at least once. I was there every Sunday for blues. Mondays or Tuesdays were usually punk rock. The rest of the week, all you had to do was look on the calender to see who was playing. I saw great acts on their way up (Horton Heat) and on their way down (The Romantics). I took the guys from Los Lobos there after a show at Graffiti and David Hidalgo wound up sitting in with the band. Always a great night there...regardless of who was playing. Lots of friends and contemporaries were always there. To many, it was a second home. When Dom closed the doors of the place, we all knew it was the end of an era. Many places have tried to fill those shoes...but found it impossible.
The Royal Oak - Cardiff, Wales
Back to Cymru. I frequented this joint a few times during my travels. Once to perform and the rest just because I liked the place! While I'm unsure of it's total history, the place seems to have been around for ages. It has a long standing tradition as a boxing bar. Boxing is king in this joint...and the generations of boxing memorabilia that line the walls proves it. I had a number of great conversations about my American faves (like Ali, Tyson and Foreman) while the barman and locals would try to educate me on their local, regional, and national heroes. And...the bar served Brains. Not the organ in your skull....the beer. Brains lager, Brains bitter (better than Guinness in my opinion) and Brains SA (legend has it that the SA stands for Skull Attack. It doesn't mix well...with oxygen). What a lovely, tasty, full-bodied brew!
The Blue Moon - Pittsburgh, PA
If you've heard that the Blue Moon is a gay bar....you've heard correct! The nice thing about the Moon is that no one there cares if you are or are not gay. They joint prides itself on being an "everyone bar". A friend first took me there almost a dozen years ago. I got to meet the owners, manager and staff and found them all to be great folks. Over the years, I've done a lot of web work for the place, so I found myself spending more and more time there. I've made a number of great friends through the place and I'll be the 1st to defend any one of them or the bar itself. The Moon is where my best friend and I go for our regular Tuesday Night Out. The bar has a Cheers-like atmosphere...everyone knows everyone. Among the regulars are gay and straight alike. Just people out for a drink...who don't want drama, pretension, or bullshit. Some come for the drinks specials, some for the poker machines, and some come for the drag shows. These have become especially popular due to a local winning on Ru Paul's Drag Race. While I personally don't think much of this person, his appearance on the show, as well as his ensuing notoriety, have been a boon to the Moon's business...so all is good in the hood. The Blue Moon is right smack in the heart of the Lawrenceville section of the city. There are other bars in the area and surprisingly little drama. Sure...it has it's moments...but what inner-city bar doesn't? The prices are reasonable, the beer is cold and....you can still smoke there! The Moon is probably best know for it Iced Teas (the alcoholic beverage...not the brewed stuff). You get bang for your buck there. And, if you just happen to be looking to meet someone 'friendly', you could do worse than the Moon. It's a great place filled with great people.
If you've noticed, all of these joints have one thing in common. Good memories. That's what makes a place special. It's not the amount of money spent on decorating the place, or how loud the sound system is, or how many varieties of beer they sell. No, it's the people that frequent the place that make it special. If a customer is treated well and has an enjoyable experience, they're likely to come back. If they keep having good time after good time, they're likely to become a regular....and memories will be made there. If you noticed, none of these are "corporate" type joints. Not a flashy joint among them. A bit of neon, a place to sit and have a drink with friends, and maybe something to munch on...be it pretzels, chips, or a sammich. That's really all the decor any bar needs. Just fill the place with good people and cold beer, and you have the recipe for a good time.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
When My Worlds Collide
I'm the sort of person who tends to compartmentalize things in my life. It's weird...but it works for me.
Case in point, today. I was doing a show with my band, Memphis Mike & The Legendary Tremblers, today and decided to merge a couple of my personal worlds...at least a couple of my musical worlds. Allow me to explain...
In this band, we play loud, usually fast, boogie-kinda rock and roll. Some call it rockabilly (we don't), some call it country rock, some call it blues, some call it surf. Like Sam Phillips, we just call it "rock & roll" maaaaaaan. Sure, I like to incorporate blues, country, jazz, surf, rockabilly, punk, etc. into my playing. It's called having my own style. When I do solo shows, it's usually just me and a resophonic guitar, playing a lot of side guitar, and attempting to play 'down home kinda delta blues'. I rarely, if ever, play slide on electric. But today was different.
I've been in a different mindset lately about music. I've got the band, plus I've been doing solo shows, plus I've joined another band on bass. I've been writing (and rewriting) a fair bit...so my mind has been all over the place. As I was getting ready to leave for the show today, that little voice in my head (the reasonable voice...not the one that sounds like Mrs. Bates...HAHAHA Joke Son!!!) told me to take my slide with me.
As I waited for my bass player to swing by, I grabbed my writing guitar (my old Gibson ES 120T), tuned it in a G tuning and started playing some of my solo acoustic stuff...trying to decide whether or not to play some today at the show.
We got to Jay's earlier than usual, so we had to a chance to actually warm up a bit. The voice in my head told me "play some slide". I detuned my 1960 Gibson 175 down to an open D and started playing with the old "Mystery Train" riff. It was sounding good. The rhythm section, as usual, picked right up on it. They started out simply then got more into the groove. We did a couple verses of the song and a solo or two. I liked it!
During one of the sets (we played 4 sets today...so it was either the 1st or 2nd set), I opted to do this song for the (admittedly sparse) crowd. This joint, Jay's, is more of a sports bar/restaurant kinda place. Not exactly known for rock and roll. The few folks there, were there to see us...not sit inside and watch the game.
The crowd dug it. They seemed a bit taken aback that we played this song, this way. In fact, we did a 2 song medley, "Mystery Train" & "Big Boss Man"...sort of my own nod to back when I used to occasionally play bass for Sleepy LaBeef. (If you've ever seen Sleepy LIVE, you know he's the king of medleys)
Most importantly, it felt GOOD to play this electrically. The 175 was not the ideal guitar for it...but it sounded pretty good from where I was standing. I may have to look around for some clunky old electric to start playing slide on. This could become another part of the ever-growing show. We tried a version of "My Babe", the old Little Walter song (written by Willie Dixon, who wrote almost EVERY blues song) later on in the 3rd or 4th set. It went over OK...but the rhythm section was neither ready for it, nor do I think they felt it. We'll have to work on that one.
Anyhoo, it was fun to stretch out and do something different. I try to do this a lot in different areas of my life...but music, I've always compartmentalized. It just may be time to get uber weird! HAHA!
OK...I'm done rambling...for now. Got some business stuff to deal with. A musician's work is never done.....
Case in point, today. I was doing a show with my band, Memphis Mike & The Legendary Tremblers, today and decided to merge a couple of my personal worlds...at least a couple of my musical worlds. Allow me to explain...
In this band, we play loud, usually fast, boogie-kinda rock and roll. Some call it rockabilly (we don't), some call it country rock, some call it blues, some call it surf. Like Sam Phillips, we just call it "rock & roll" maaaaaaan. Sure, I like to incorporate blues, country, jazz, surf, rockabilly, punk, etc. into my playing. It's called having my own style. When I do solo shows, it's usually just me and a resophonic guitar, playing a lot of side guitar, and attempting to play 'down home kinda delta blues'. I rarely, if ever, play slide on electric. But today was different.
I've been in a different mindset lately about music. I've got the band, plus I've been doing solo shows, plus I've joined another band on bass. I've been writing (and rewriting) a fair bit...so my mind has been all over the place. As I was getting ready to leave for the show today, that little voice in my head (the reasonable voice...not the one that sounds like Mrs. Bates...HAHAHA Joke Son!!!) told me to take my slide with me.
As I waited for my bass player to swing by, I grabbed my writing guitar (my old Gibson ES 120T), tuned it in a G tuning and started playing some of my solo acoustic stuff...trying to decide whether or not to play some today at the show.
We got to Jay's earlier than usual, so we had to a chance to actually warm up a bit. The voice in my head told me "play some slide". I detuned my 1960 Gibson 175 down to an open D and started playing with the old "Mystery Train" riff. It was sounding good. The rhythm section, as usual, picked right up on it. They started out simply then got more into the groove. We did a couple verses of the song and a solo or two. I liked it!
During one of the sets (we played 4 sets today...so it was either the 1st or 2nd set), I opted to do this song for the (admittedly sparse) crowd. This joint, Jay's, is more of a sports bar/restaurant kinda place. Not exactly known for rock and roll. The few folks there, were there to see us...not sit inside and watch the game.
The crowd dug it. They seemed a bit taken aback that we played this song, this way. In fact, we did a 2 song medley, "Mystery Train" & "Big Boss Man"...sort of my own nod to back when I used to occasionally play bass for Sleepy LaBeef. (If you've ever seen Sleepy LIVE, you know he's the king of medleys)
Most importantly, it felt GOOD to play this electrically. The 175 was not the ideal guitar for it...but it sounded pretty good from where I was standing. I may have to look around for some clunky old electric to start playing slide on. This could become another part of the ever-growing show. We tried a version of "My Babe", the old Little Walter song (written by Willie Dixon, who wrote almost EVERY blues song) later on in the 3rd or 4th set. It went over OK...but the rhythm section was neither ready for it, nor do I think they felt it. We'll have to work on that one.
Anyhoo, it was fun to stretch out and do something different. I try to do this a lot in different areas of my life...but music, I've always compartmentalized. It just may be time to get uber weird! HAHA!
OK...I'm done rambling...for now. Got some business stuff to deal with. A musician's work is never done.....
Thursday, September 13, 2012
The End of the World
I used to write. A lot. I always loved my creative writing classes. I'd usually have my assignments finished before the class was over. I wrote short stories, plays, lyrics, poems. Sometimes I'd just write gibberish, just because I could.
My high school teachers and college professors always loved my writing, or so they said. My dad always figured I'd grow up to be an English professor. (I have yet to grow up, so that is still an option)
I eventually turned my writing in two directions: music and journalism. I've been writing songs since I was 12. If I was really good at it, you'd probably be familiar with more of my work! My journalistic writing...there's another story. I started out writing for underground mags and papers like Bull Dada and NOW. When I was 15, I was published in Rolling Stone (under a pen name). I think I made a whopping $155 for that one! (Big money to a kid in the early 80s)
I eventually took a break from journalism to focus more on music. I think we all know how that turned out! Not too bad. No major, global successes but I've enjoyed a fair bit of small-time notoriety. The critics love me. For those unfamiliar, that's usually the kiss of death for sales.
I returned to freelance writing about 10 years ago. For a few years, I was writing a regular column for an Australian magazine called Big Beat of the 50s (published by the Australian Rock & Roll Appreciation Society). I've written all sorts of writing assignments since then...including a rousing bit of copy for a trade school. It takes some level of skill to make a dry, technical course sound exciting. It was a challenge though...and actually a fun one.
I've never really stopped writing. I write for my own pleasure. Most of the time, I'll just scribble down a line or three in an old note book and forget about it. Sometimes, I find them and give them a read. On occasions, I can still knock out a good one.
Today, while nursing a mild hangover, I had the seeds of a poem growing in my head. As the day progressed, it grew and grew until I had to finally write it down. It's a dark, morose and mildly macabre little tale...akin to the dark, brooding stuff I often wrote in high school.
So, without further adieu, I tip my hat to Messrs. Matheson, Price, Heston, Waits, and Smith, and present you, dear reader, with my latest bit O weirdness:
"Alone At The End of the World"
All alone at the end of the world
with nowhere left to go
There's nothing left for me to eat
but this old dead pile of crows.
Walking down the street
I passed an old Dodge up on blocks
the work remains unfinished
so I guess I'll have to walk.
The grapes have all gone sour
and just wasted on the vine
the bottles remain empty
like a cheap whore's Valentine.
No more ruminations
from the self-centered Rumi Nation.
There's no one left to listen to
each person's agitations.
Nothing left to do
and nowhere left to go.
Nothing left to drink
but this bottle of Old Crow.
At the downtown intersection
of 4th and Market Streets
I lay down in the middle of the road
knocked out from the heat.
I finally stopped my screaming
a couple days ago.
There's no one left to hear it
that's how the story goes.
I broke out all the windows
of every store in town.
I had no other reason
except I liked the sound.
Ashes ashes all fall down
no one left to fill the urns.
I set fire to my father's house
just to watch it burn.
No memories left in this old world
except those that are my own.
The world has ended quietly
and I'm left here all alone.
Gosh, I hope you weren't expecting something GOOD! Like I said, these days I write for my own pleasure. If you enjoyed this, THANKS! If you didn't, thanks anyway for taking the time to read it.
OK...I'll shut up now. Sorta kinda....
My high school teachers and college professors always loved my writing, or so they said. My dad always figured I'd grow up to be an English professor. (I have yet to grow up, so that is still an option)
I eventually turned my writing in two directions: music and journalism. I've been writing songs since I was 12. If I was really good at it, you'd probably be familiar with more of my work! My journalistic writing...there's another story. I started out writing for underground mags and papers like Bull Dada and NOW. When I was 15, I was published in Rolling Stone (under a pen name). I think I made a whopping $155 for that one! (Big money to a kid in the early 80s)
I eventually took a break from journalism to focus more on music. I think we all know how that turned out! Not too bad. No major, global successes but I've enjoyed a fair bit of small-time notoriety. The critics love me. For those unfamiliar, that's usually the kiss of death for sales.
I returned to freelance writing about 10 years ago. For a few years, I was writing a regular column for an Australian magazine called Big Beat of the 50s (published by the Australian Rock & Roll Appreciation Society). I've written all sorts of writing assignments since then...including a rousing bit of copy for a trade school. It takes some level of skill to make a dry, technical course sound exciting. It was a challenge though...and actually a fun one.
I've never really stopped writing. I write for my own pleasure. Most of the time, I'll just scribble down a line or three in an old note book and forget about it. Sometimes, I find them and give them a read. On occasions, I can still knock out a good one.
Today, while nursing a mild hangover, I had the seeds of a poem growing in my head. As the day progressed, it grew and grew until I had to finally write it down. It's a dark, morose and mildly macabre little tale...akin to the dark, brooding stuff I often wrote in high school.
So, without further adieu, I tip my hat to Messrs. Matheson, Price, Heston, Waits, and Smith, and present you, dear reader, with my latest bit O weirdness:
"Alone At The End of the World"
All alone at the end of the world
with nowhere left to go
There's nothing left for me to eat
but this old dead pile of crows.
Walking down the street
I passed an old Dodge up on blocks
the work remains unfinished
so I guess I'll have to walk.
The grapes have all gone sour
and just wasted on the vine
the bottles remain empty
like a cheap whore's Valentine.
No more ruminations
from the self-centered Rumi Nation.
There's no one left to listen to
each person's agitations.
Nothing left to do
and nowhere left to go.
Nothing left to drink
but this bottle of Old Crow.
At the downtown intersection
of 4th and Market Streets
I lay down in the middle of the road
knocked out from the heat.
I finally stopped my screaming
a couple days ago.
There's no one left to hear it
that's how the story goes.
I broke out all the windows
of every store in town.
I had no other reason
except I liked the sound.
Ashes ashes all fall down
no one left to fill the urns.
I set fire to my father's house
just to watch it burn.
No memories left in this old world
except those that are my own.
The world has ended quietly
and I'm left here all alone.
Gosh, I hope you weren't expecting something GOOD! Like I said, these days I write for my own pleasure. If you enjoyed this, THANKS! If you didn't, thanks anyway for taking the time to read it.
OK...I'll shut up now. Sorta kinda....
Monday, September 10, 2012
11
11 years. Has it really been that long?
I can still hear your voice. I can hear your laugh. I can hear you calling me Micha. I can hear you arguing with me. I can hear you breathe. But you're still gone. And I still miss you and I still love you.
We knew that "we" couldn't be. We knew that we had to go our own ways...but we always stayed in each other's life. Until that day. I remember trying time after time to call...but the phone lines were down. I have never been so scared.
I large part of me died with you. A large part of the world died with you. I was sure I'd never be happy again. But...I am.
I know you watch over me. I'm pretty sure you had something to do with her coming into my life. I don't see how else it could have happened. She's young, beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful, caring, talented...everything you know I need in my life. She's good for me. I try to be good for her...but I'm still a mess.
The legal mess wages on. There are days when I think it will go on forever. I'm over it. I'm trying to get my life together again. I'm cancer free. My ticker is still damaged...and will be forever. I try to be happy. I have lots of reasons to be happy. I'm pretty sure your hand has guided mine in many instances.
I've been out of work all year. I wonder if you had something to do with that too. Maybe it's your way of telling me it's time to do something else. I just wish I could talk to you. You were so good with advice. You were more disciplined than I'll ever be. Damn...I miss you.
I'm playing music more. I'm sure your hand guided that. I'm playing bass again too. It feels good. I'm hoping to start touring with a few different acts. We'll see what time brings.
I was finally able to keep my promise to my grandmother and Aunt Ann. I got my dad and sister talking. Dad finally got to meet his granddaughters. It meant so much to them. And to me. I get weepy just thinking about it. You know me...Mr. Waterworks.
One of my nieces just got engaged. Her fiance...I met him a couple of years ago. He came to visit with Nancy and the girls. He seems like a good kid. He's a firefighter. Noble. I think they'll make a good home together. I wish the girls could have known their auntie. I think they'd love you.
It still hurts. The pain never goes away. I have become accustomed to it though...it's become a part of me. I laugh a lot more these days. I've accepted it. Kind of hard not to, eh? I still pull your photo out now and then...although, to see your face, all I have to do is close my eyes. I know you're still there.
I love her you know. As usual, I think I suck at showing it...but I try. And try. It's funny, there are moments when she reminds me of you. You two couldn't be more different...but maybe, those moments when she reminds me of you...maybe that's you working through her. I don't know. I'm getting weirder. Maybe it's just me getting old. Damn, I have a lot of gray hair now. I'll always remember you pointing out my first gray hairs. And I'm still sure YOU caused them! HAHA!
Oh my little petitsa na poby. I feel lost a lot of the time. I feel like I'm just spinning my wheels. I don't think I'm done here. I just don't know how to make it happen anymore. I feel lost.
Oh well. It's another year gone by. The world has gone crazy. There is so much hate today. I'm almost glad you don't have to see it. I worry about what's going to happen to this country and the world. I think things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.
I hope you're at peace. Just know that I will always love you. But, I must be among the living and I'm lucky, she loves me and I love her. I probably don't deserve her. I'm just happy she puts up with my grumpy old ass.
I'll see you where I always do. In my dreams. If you can, give me a nudge. Push me a bit. You know how I get when I'm like this. You were always able to get my ass moving when nothing else could.
I'll see you soon.
Namaste my love.
M
I can still hear your voice. I can hear your laugh. I can hear you calling me Micha. I can hear you arguing with me. I can hear you breathe. But you're still gone. And I still miss you and I still love you.
We knew that "we" couldn't be. We knew that we had to go our own ways...but we always stayed in each other's life. Until that day. I remember trying time after time to call...but the phone lines were down. I have never been so scared.
I large part of me died with you. A large part of the world died with you. I was sure I'd never be happy again. But...I am.
I know you watch over me. I'm pretty sure you had something to do with her coming into my life. I don't see how else it could have happened. She's young, beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful, caring, talented...everything you know I need in my life. She's good for me. I try to be good for her...but I'm still a mess.
The legal mess wages on. There are days when I think it will go on forever. I'm over it. I'm trying to get my life together again. I'm cancer free. My ticker is still damaged...and will be forever. I try to be happy. I have lots of reasons to be happy. I'm pretty sure your hand has guided mine in many instances.
I've been out of work all year. I wonder if you had something to do with that too. Maybe it's your way of telling me it's time to do something else. I just wish I could talk to you. You were so good with advice. You were more disciplined than I'll ever be. Damn...I miss you.
I'm playing music more. I'm sure your hand guided that. I'm playing bass again too. It feels good. I'm hoping to start touring with a few different acts. We'll see what time brings.
I was finally able to keep my promise to my grandmother and Aunt Ann. I got my dad and sister talking. Dad finally got to meet his granddaughters. It meant so much to them. And to me. I get weepy just thinking about it. You know me...Mr. Waterworks.
One of my nieces just got engaged. Her fiance...I met him a couple of years ago. He came to visit with Nancy and the girls. He seems like a good kid. He's a firefighter. Noble. I think they'll make a good home together. I wish the girls could have known their auntie. I think they'd love you.
It still hurts. The pain never goes away. I have become accustomed to it though...it's become a part of me. I laugh a lot more these days. I've accepted it. Kind of hard not to, eh? I still pull your photo out now and then...although, to see your face, all I have to do is close my eyes. I know you're still there.
I love her you know. As usual, I think I suck at showing it...but I try. And try. It's funny, there are moments when she reminds me of you. You two couldn't be more different...but maybe, those moments when she reminds me of you...maybe that's you working through her. I don't know. I'm getting weirder. Maybe it's just me getting old. Damn, I have a lot of gray hair now. I'll always remember you pointing out my first gray hairs. And I'm still sure YOU caused them! HAHA!
Oh my little petitsa na poby. I feel lost a lot of the time. I feel like I'm just spinning my wheels. I don't think I'm done here. I just don't know how to make it happen anymore. I feel lost.
Oh well. It's another year gone by. The world has gone crazy. There is so much hate today. I'm almost glad you don't have to see it. I worry about what's going to happen to this country and the world. I think things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.
I hope you're at peace. Just know that I will always love you. But, I must be among the living and I'm lucky, she loves me and I love her. I probably don't deserve her. I'm just happy she puts up with my grumpy old ass.
I'll see you where I always do. In my dreams. If you can, give me a nudge. Push me a bit. You know how I get when I'm like this. You were always able to get my ass moving when nothing else could.
I'll see you soon.
Namaste my love.
M
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Coke or Pepsi?
Coke or Pepsi...does it have to be a choice between the two?
I rarely drink colas. In fact, I've never been a huge fan of cola (unless there's bourbon mixed in there). But seriously though...why is it a choice between these two? I think it says a lot about our country's mindset. Either/or.
I used to spend a lot of time down south. One of my favorite things about the southern lexicon was their habit of referring to ALL soft drinks as "Coke". You'd be sitting in a restaurant or diner and the waitress would ask if you'd like a Coke...then she'd ask you what kind you wanted. Always cracked me up. My ex girlfriend, born and raised in Tennessee, would always refer to my (then) beloved Mt. Dew as "yellow Coke". (It's actually a bit more green....but I digress)
I used to live on Mt. Dew. Since my heart attack 5 years ago, I've gone caffeine-free. I prefer orange soda now. Orange Crush is always in my fridge. Fanta's orange soda is pretty good too. Once in a while, I like a grape soda. Or a nice cold root beer (sarsaparilla when/if I can find it!). So why all of the ballyhoo over Coke and/or Pepsi?
Simple. They're the 2 biggies. 2 large corporations who want your money. Somehow in the past 30 years, soda, colas in particular, have become a dietary staple. When I was a kid, a soda was a treat. What happened?
I'll tell you what happened. These corporations decided that they weren't making enough money with their global sales. They decided, FOR YOU, that you should drink more soda. Rather than rely on each person's individual tastes, they started an aggressive, never-ending campaign for your money. Remember New Coke? It was a genius strategy. The New Coke tasted flat and bland. But once Coca Cola released Classic Coke, it sold like gangbusters! There was Pepsi Lite (I think that's what it was called). It was Pepsi with a lemony flavor. And Crystal Pepsi. Cherry Coke. Cherry Pepsi. Vanilla Coke. When I was a kid, I remember getting chocolate Cokes at restaurants & diners. Now that was a treat! The war for your money was on! And we all bought it and we all drank it.
Back in the day, I was a Mt. Dew fan. Horridly sweet, with loads of caffeine. And...owned by Pepsi. Coke has it's version too...Mellow Yellow. Does anyone remember Royal Crown Cola...RC? I haven't seen that in a while. As far as colas go, I actually liked that one! I liked Jolt too...do they even still make that stuff?
Thirty years ago, hardly anyone would have a soda in the morning. It was just too sweet...too fizzy. Maybe with lunch...but not 1st thing in the morning. Well, thanks to corporate product placement in movies and TV, its now not unusual for someone to get their morning caffeine fix from a Coke or Pepsi rather than a cup of coffee or tea. And let's be honest, shall we...none of it is exactly good for you. And yes, while there are "diet" soft drinks, they're every bit as bad for you....possibly worse.
When I was in high school, we had a little snack concession...run by the marching band I think...in our school cafeteria. I never ate lunch at school, but would often have an afternoon study hall there. I'd grab a Mt. Dew and a Slim Jim most days. The Mt. Dew was neither in a bottle nor a can. It was a fountain drink....and usually watered down. 10 years later, it was commonplace to see Coke and/or Pepsi vending machines in schools. That disturbed me. These corporations had taken on the same mindset as hillbillies training bloodhounds or looking for wives. Get `em young! I don't think I ever saw an RC Cola machine in a school.
Regardless of you preference....Coke, Pepsi, Mt. Dew, Dr. Pepper, Sprite, etc...they're probably owned by one of these 2 major corporations. Chances are, your day just isn't complete without something these corporations has deemed a vital part of your daily intake...and at great cost to you. The cost is not only your money but your health. There's some truly bad crap in these drinks! Even my Orange Crush! I won't go into the chemistry of it all...but we all know it's not good for us. Don't we?
If you're wondering why you can't shed that weight, or why your child is obese and is developing high blood pressure at age 9, think about what you're eating and drinking. The corporations have taken over our lives to the point where we all blindly sit back and ingest the crap...and pay them for the privilege. Doesn't really make sense when you think about.
For a list of Coca Cola's products, look here: COKE LIST
For a list of Pepsi Cola's products, look here: PEPSI LIST
So which will it be for you, dear reader? Coke or Pepsi? Or will you just say No Thanks and go have a glass of tap water. Or maybe squeeze your own juice. The corporations don't want you to do any of that! They want to serve you...at a price. They'll give you convenience in a bottle or a can. No pesky filling up a glass or having to take all that time to squeeze an orange. It's all ready for you. Just open it up and take a drink. There you go...nice and sweet....and fizzy too! Feels good going down your throat...doesn't it? Keep on drinking. You're a slave to it now. All you have to do now is choose....Coke or Pepsi.
I rarely drink colas. In fact, I've never been a huge fan of cola (unless there's bourbon mixed in there). But seriously though...why is it a choice between these two? I think it says a lot about our country's mindset. Either/or.
I used to spend a lot of time down south. One of my favorite things about the southern lexicon was their habit of referring to ALL soft drinks as "Coke". You'd be sitting in a restaurant or diner and the waitress would ask if you'd like a Coke...then she'd ask you what kind you wanted. Always cracked me up. My ex girlfriend, born and raised in Tennessee, would always refer to my (then) beloved Mt. Dew as "yellow Coke". (It's actually a bit more green....but I digress)
I used to live on Mt. Dew. Since my heart attack 5 years ago, I've gone caffeine-free. I prefer orange soda now. Orange Crush is always in my fridge. Fanta's orange soda is pretty good too. Once in a while, I like a grape soda. Or a nice cold root beer (sarsaparilla when/if I can find it!). So why all of the ballyhoo over Coke and/or Pepsi?
Simple. They're the 2 biggies. 2 large corporations who want your money. Somehow in the past 30 years, soda, colas in particular, have become a dietary staple. When I was a kid, a soda was a treat. What happened?
I'll tell you what happened. These corporations decided that they weren't making enough money with their global sales. They decided, FOR YOU, that you should drink more soda. Rather than rely on each person's individual tastes, they started an aggressive, never-ending campaign for your money. Remember New Coke? It was a genius strategy. The New Coke tasted flat and bland. But once Coca Cola released Classic Coke, it sold like gangbusters! There was Pepsi Lite (I think that's what it was called). It was Pepsi with a lemony flavor. And Crystal Pepsi. Cherry Coke. Cherry Pepsi. Vanilla Coke. When I was a kid, I remember getting chocolate Cokes at restaurants & diners. Now that was a treat! The war for your money was on! And we all bought it and we all drank it.
Back in the day, I was a Mt. Dew fan. Horridly sweet, with loads of caffeine. And...owned by Pepsi. Coke has it's version too...Mellow Yellow. Does anyone remember Royal Crown Cola...RC? I haven't seen that in a while. As far as colas go, I actually liked that one! I liked Jolt too...do they even still make that stuff?
Thirty years ago, hardly anyone would have a soda in the morning. It was just too sweet...too fizzy. Maybe with lunch...but not 1st thing in the morning. Well, thanks to corporate product placement in movies and TV, its now not unusual for someone to get their morning caffeine fix from a Coke or Pepsi rather than a cup of coffee or tea. And let's be honest, shall we...none of it is exactly good for you. And yes, while there are "diet" soft drinks, they're every bit as bad for you....possibly worse.
When I was in high school, we had a little snack concession...run by the marching band I think...in our school cafeteria. I never ate lunch at school, but would often have an afternoon study hall there. I'd grab a Mt. Dew and a Slim Jim most days. The Mt. Dew was neither in a bottle nor a can. It was a fountain drink....and usually watered down. 10 years later, it was commonplace to see Coke and/or Pepsi vending machines in schools. That disturbed me. These corporations had taken on the same mindset as hillbillies training bloodhounds or looking for wives. Get `em young! I don't think I ever saw an RC Cola machine in a school.
Regardless of you preference....Coke, Pepsi, Mt. Dew, Dr. Pepper, Sprite, etc...they're probably owned by one of these 2 major corporations. Chances are, your day just isn't complete without something these corporations has deemed a vital part of your daily intake...and at great cost to you. The cost is not only your money but your health. There's some truly bad crap in these drinks! Even my Orange Crush! I won't go into the chemistry of it all...but we all know it's not good for us. Don't we?
If you're wondering why you can't shed that weight, or why your child is obese and is developing high blood pressure at age 9, think about what you're eating and drinking. The corporations have taken over our lives to the point where we all blindly sit back and ingest the crap...and pay them for the privilege. Doesn't really make sense when you think about.
For a list of Coca Cola's products, look here: COKE LIST
For a list of Pepsi Cola's products, look here: PEPSI LIST
So which will it be for you, dear reader? Coke or Pepsi? Or will you just say No Thanks and go have a glass of tap water. Or maybe squeeze your own juice. The corporations don't want you to do any of that! They want to serve you...at a price. They'll give you convenience in a bottle or a can. No pesky filling up a glass or having to take all that time to squeeze an orange. It's all ready for you. Just open it up and take a drink. There you go...nice and sweet....and fizzy too! Feels good going down your throat...doesn't it? Keep on drinking. You're a slave to it now. All you have to do now is choose....Coke or Pepsi.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Finding My Gypsy Soul
Gypsy. You've all heard the word. Some of you may even think you know a thing or two about gypsies. You probably don't. I used to think I did...until now.
I've been attempting to research my family for years. A major stumbling block was always my great-grandfather Albert. He came to the US in the late 19th century. One would think that finding a ship passenger registry with his family listed would be relatively easy in this day and age. Not so.
Here's the problem. My great-grandfather used an assumed name in the US until just prior to his marriage to my great-grandmother Lizzie Nauman. The story I was always told by my grandmother and great aunts was that just before their wedding, Albert told Lizzie he had to confess something to her. Meyer, the name he had been living under, was not his real name. His reasons for using it were never clear. He informed her that his true name was Zigan and he would understand if she didn't want to marry a Zigan.
OK, I never understood that. I don't think that my grandmother and/or her siblings understood it either. However, in doing my research, I think I've solved the mystery. In my research I kept coming upon a term: antiziganism. In short, it means anti-gypsy. The story of my great-grandfather's surname started to make sense!
Gypsies (or the Romani people) have been despised for centuries. One legend has it that they were cursed for harboring the baby Jesus. Another has it that they made the nails used to crucify him. Both can be pretty much discounted as the true Rom most likely came from India (very likely of the Jat people...traceable via a rare form of glaucoma that seems to effect only the Jat and the Rom). No...we're not Egyptian either.
The Rom are nomadic. My family has a long history of it's members being reticent to settle anywhere. Even I, having lived in my home for 22 years now...I often feel drawn to move on. The Rom have always been outcasts...outsiders...another feeling that I'm all too familiar with. Even among my peers, I always come across as the odd man out. Could this just be my natural state? If so, I'm happy to finally have a reason!
In my research, I've found that the family name, Zigan, probably comes from Hungary (who knew? I was always told I was German through and through!). Coming from Hungary, this means that we come from the Sinti people of Europe, most probably from the Estraxarja ("from Austria").
In short, to most, I am still just an American. Fat, uncouth, uncultured & classless like the rest. That said, the more I research this probably branch of the family, the more I recognize. The music feels familiar to me. My own music has often had some of the qualities of Romani music. My song "The Nightstalker" in particular has a very "gypsy" feel. When in the UK, I spent a brief bit of time with the Travellers, who are yet another branch of the Romani tree.
The Rom live their own way. I, too, have always lived my own way. I can hear many now arguing that many do this...but in my case, it has always just been how I am. I've never felt the need to "fit in" or to conform. Perhaps this is an inborn trait I share with my distant Romani bloodlines.
You may call us what you will. Be it Zigan, Cigan, Ijito, Gitano, Cikán, Sigøjner, Zigeuner, Mustlane, Dyipsi, Mustalainen, Gitan, Xitano, Cigány, Sígauni, Gipsi, Zingaro, čigānu, čigonų, żingara, Sigøyner, Cygan, Cigano, țigan, Ciganka, Zigenare, Çingene, Sipsiwn, Sinti or "gypsy", we are who we are. Time has not erased us. No culture has erased us. Even Hitler could not erase us.
I find great comfort in finding this missing piece to my own personal puzzle. Thank you to my great-grandfather, Albert J. Zigan, for coming forward to his bride-to-be and asking her acceptance...and an even greater thank you to my great-grandmother Lizzie for accepting him. In that time, to marry a man who was for all intents and purposes, a gypsy...and outsider...took great courage...and love. Those are two traits I like to believe that I share.
I have much more research to do on this subject. Each answer I find opens up more questions. The journey for this knowledge is fascinating and self-fulfilling. I hope that each person reading this can find the same fascination with their own blood.
For anyone interested, here's a photo of my great-grandfather Albert J. Zigan (center) with his father-in-law Michael Nauman, my great-grandmother Elizabeth (Lizzie) Zigan, and one of their 13 children. It's great to finally have some history to go with these faces that I've viewed for 46 years and recognize as family!
I've been attempting to research my family for years. A major stumbling block was always my great-grandfather Albert. He came to the US in the late 19th century. One would think that finding a ship passenger registry with his family listed would be relatively easy in this day and age. Not so.
Here's the problem. My great-grandfather used an assumed name in the US until just prior to his marriage to my great-grandmother Lizzie Nauman. The story I was always told by my grandmother and great aunts was that just before their wedding, Albert told Lizzie he had to confess something to her. Meyer, the name he had been living under, was not his real name. His reasons for using it were never clear. He informed her that his true name was Zigan and he would understand if she didn't want to marry a Zigan.
OK, I never understood that. I don't think that my grandmother and/or her siblings understood it either. However, in doing my research, I think I've solved the mystery. In my research I kept coming upon a term: antiziganism. In short, it means anti-gypsy. The story of my great-grandfather's surname started to make sense!
Gypsies (or the Romani people) have been despised for centuries. One legend has it that they were cursed for harboring the baby Jesus. Another has it that they made the nails used to crucify him. Both can be pretty much discounted as the true Rom most likely came from India (very likely of the Jat people...traceable via a rare form of glaucoma that seems to effect only the Jat and the Rom). No...we're not Egyptian either.
The Rom are nomadic. My family has a long history of it's members being reticent to settle anywhere. Even I, having lived in my home for 22 years now...I often feel drawn to move on. The Rom have always been outcasts...outsiders...another feeling that I'm all too familiar with. Even among my peers, I always come across as the odd man out. Could this just be my natural state? If so, I'm happy to finally have a reason!
In my research, I've found that the family name, Zigan, probably comes from Hungary (who knew? I was always told I was German through and through!). Coming from Hungary, this means that we come from the Sinti people of Europe, most probably from the Estraxarja ("from Austria").
In short, to most, I am still just an American. Fat, uncouth, uncultured & classless like the rest. That said, the more I research this probably branch of the family, the more I recognize. The music feels familiar to me. My own music has often had some of the qualities of Romani music. My song "The Nightstalker" in particular has a very "gypsy" feel. When in the UK, I spent a brief bit of time with the Travellers, who are yet another branch of the Romani tree.
The Rom live their own way. I, too, have always lived my own way. I can hear many now arguing that many do this...but in my case, it has always just been how I am. I've never felt the need to "fit in" or to conform. Perhaps this is an inborn trait I share with my distant Romani bloodlines.
You may call us what you will. Be it Zigan, Cigan, Ijito, Gitano, Cikán, Sigøjner, Zigeuner, Mustlane, Dyipsi, Mustalainen, Gitan, Xitano, Cigány, Sígauni, Gipsi, Zingaro, čigānu, čigonų, żingara, Sigøyner, Cygan, Cigano, țigan, Ciganka, Zigenare, Çingene, Sipsiwn, Sinti or "gypsy", we are who we are. Time has not erased us. No culture has erased us. Even Hitler could not erase us.
I find great comfort in finding this missing piece to my own personal puzzle. Thank you to my great-grandfather, Albert J. Zigan, for coming forward to his bride-to-be and asking her acceptance...and an even greater thank you to my great-grandmother Lizzie for accepting him. In that time, to marry a man who was for all intents and purposes, a gypsy...and outsider...took great courage...and love. Those are two traits I like to believe that I share.
I have much more research to do on this subject. Each answer I find opens up more questions. The journey for this knowledge is fascinating and self-fulfilling. I hope that each person reading this can find the same fascination with their own blood.
For anyone interested, here's a photo of my great-grandfather Albert J. Zigan (center) with his father-in-law Michael Nauman, my great-grandmother Elizabeth (Lizzie) Zigan, and one of their 13 children. It's great to finally have some history to go with these faces that I've viewed for 46 years and recognize as family!
Monday, August 13, 2012
Uneasy Times: A Possible Modern Theocracy
I've been reading about the Church of Latter Day Saints (the Mormons) lately. I'm a religious man yet as an American, I believe all are free to believe as they see fit...or believe nothing if that is their wish. I try to see the value and merit of all religions. I have a rather syncretic belief that God taught the various cultures the same things, but in contexts that each culture could understand.
When most of us think of Mormons, we think of polygamists, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, Utah, and clean cut white folks. They don't drink, smoke, or tell dirty jokes. Hell, they don't even drink coffee or tea! While many may find this odd, these (with the exception of polygamy) aren't reasons to look down one's nose at someone.
But there's more to the Mormons than meets the eye. I do not claim to be a scholar on the subject and I'll admit that there is a lot more to read on the subject...but what I have been reading strikes me as truly disturbing.
While in college, I had heard that the Mormons were more of a cult than a religion. The more I read on the subject, the more weight this claim seems to have. I've heard comedians make jokes about the Mormons (my personal favorite is "Mormons - aka Jesus: The Western").
Before I go any further, if you are a Mormon, please correct any mistakes or misconceptions I make here. I am not trying to offend anyone. That is far from my purpose. As a Christian, I have to say that I do NOT understand your religion.
The Mormons believe that their God, Elohim is a man. He comes from an even older god. They believe that Elohim has/had thousands of wives. They believe that Elohim comes from the planet/star Kolob, which is allegedly the closet star/planet to the throne of God. Kind of sounds like science fiction to me...but again, to each their own.
The Mormons believe that Jesus and Lucifer (the Devil) are brothers. According to their beliefs, when Elohim created the Earth (to be inhabited by his progeny) Lucifer and Jesus had different ideas about how it should be done. Lucifer and a third of the god people of Kolob were turned into the Devil and the demons.
Now here's where it starts to get REALLY weird. The good god people of Kolob became the white folks (Caucasians). Those that didn't bother to get involved were cursed to be black (Negros). Oddly enough...I have yet to find out where Asians fit in. So far, it seems that the Mormons are an inherently racist group. They claim to have changed their views on this...but are very vague as to just how.
So, Elohim and one of his god people wives came to earth as Adam & Eve and started filling up the planet with people. Fast forward a few thousand years (and ignoring evolutionary theories) and Elohim returns, again as a man, and impregnates Mary so that Jesus can be born into a human body.
(yeah...I know...I'm confused too. If the man, Elohim, could create a planet through some metaphysical mumbo jumbo, then why did he need to have sex to put his son on the planet? A lot of the Mormon teachings have to do with sex. A lot! Hence...the whole "cult" status.)
Jesus allegedly had 3 wives (one who was supposedly Mary Magdalene) and a brood of kids before he was crucified. One of his descendants was Joseph Smith: the founder of the Church of Latter Days Saints - The Mormons.
When Jesus died, he magically appeared in North America...to the indigenous people (what we used to call Indians). The Mormons feel that these people are actually Israelites...which I'm sure will come as a surprise to some of my Native American friends.
The story drags on for a bit...battles with some group or other. A book of magic golden plates, containing this unique bit of pre-American history, was buried in the ground. Enter Joseph Smith.
Smith, a scryer (or psychic), says he was directed to these books, miraculously translated them to English as the Book of Mormon, and "restarted" the church...allegedly a return to the original church of Christ.
In reading up on Joseph Smith, it appears that he was very sickly and had failed at everything he had tried before...from running a business to years of crop failure as a farmer. His history strikes me as one of a man desperate to leave his mark...to be famous for SOMETHING.
Smith had his followers...otherwise you wouldn't be reading this. The history of the Mormon church is bizarre. Sometimes they're pro polygamy, sometimes they're not. Sometimes they're racist, sometimes they're not. Sometimes they believe in blood atonement (human sacrifice of sorts), sometimes they don't.
Perhaps it's this Mormon history of waffling that explains Mitt Romney. He can't seem to make up his mind on anything. The one thing he is clear about is his faith. He is a devout Mormon. He believes strongly in the church of his father and his father's father. This sounds nice...except the Mormon church of the elder Romneys is the more racist, polygamous, blood-spilling church.
Even more disturbing is that Joseph Smith tried to run for President of the United States. His goal was to turn the US into a Mormon theocracy. Could this be Mitt Romney's goal? It sounds feasible to me.
I would strongly suggest that every voter in the USA familiarize them self with the Mormon church. If by some miracle Mitt Romney becomes President, we're all likely to have to live under Mormon rule. And let's face it...Americans are too lazy to fight any more.
But...the Mormons have magic underwear! So at least take the time to research those!
Again...if I've offended anyone, Mormon or not...I apologize. That is not my intent. I just find the whole Mormon religion truly bizarre.
When most of us think of Mormons, we think of polygamists, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, Utah, and clean cut white folks. They don't drink, smoke, or tell dirty jokes. Hell, they don't even drink coffee or tea! While many may find this odd, these (with the exception of polygamy) aren't reasons to look down one's nose at someone.
But there's more to the Mormons than meets the eye. I do not claim to be a scholar on the subject and I'll admit that there is a lot more to read on the subject...but what I have been reading strikes me as truly disturbing.
While in college, I had heard that the Mormons were more of a cult than a religion. The more I read on the subject, the more weight this claim seems to have. I've heard comedians make jokes about the Mormons (my personal favorite is "Mormons - aka Jesus: The Western").
Before I go any further, if you are a Mormon, please correct any mistakes or misconceptions I make here. I am not trying to offend anyone. That is far from my purpose. As a Christian, I have to say that I do NOT understand your religion.
The Mormons believe that their God, Elohim is a man. He comes from an even older god. They believe that Elohim has/had thousands of wives. They believe that Elohim comes from the planet/star Kolob, which is allegedly the closet star/planet to the throne of God. Kind of sounds like science fiction to me...but again, to each their own.
The Mormons believe that Jesus and Lucifer (the Devil) are brothers. According to their beliefs, when Elohim created the Earth (to be inhabited by his progeny) Lucifer and Jesus had different ideas about how it should be done. Lucifer and a third of the god people of Kolob were turned into the Devil and the demons.
Now here's where it starts to get REALLY weird. The good god people of Kolob became the white folks (Caucasians). Those that didn't bother to get involved were cursed to be black (Negros). Oddly enough...I have yet to find out where Asians fit in. So far, it seems that the Mormons are an inherently racist group. They claim to have changed their views on this...but are very vague as to just how.
So, Elohim and one of his god people wives came to earth as Adam & Eve and started filling up the planet with people. Fast forward a few thousand years (and ignoring evolutionary theories) and Elohim returns, again as a man, and impregnates Mary so that Jesus can be born into a human body.
(yeah...I know...I'm confused too. If the man, Elohim, could create a planet through some metaphysical mumbo jumbo, then why did he need to have sex to put his son on the planet? A lot of the Mormon teachings have to do with sex. A lot! Hence...the whole "cult" status.)
Jesus allegedly had 3 wives (one who was supposedly Mary Magdalene) and a brood of kids before he was crucified. One of his descendants was Joseph Smith: the founder of the Church of Latter Days Saints - The Mormons.
When Jesus died, he magically appeared in North America...to the indigenous people (what we used to call Indians). The Mormons feel that these people are actually Israelites...which I'm sure will come as a surprise to some of my Native American friends.
The story drags on for a bit...battles with some group or other. A book of magic golden plates, containing this unique bit of pre-American history, was buried in the ground. Enter Joseph Smith.
Smith, a scryer (or psychic), says he was directed to these books, miraculously translated them to English as the Book of Mormon, and "restarted" the church...allegedly a return to the original church of Christ.
In reading up on Joseph Smith, it appears that he was very sickly and had failed at everything he had tried before...from running a business to years of crop failure as a farmer. His history strikes me as one of a man desperate to leave his mark...to be famous for SOMETHING.
Smith had his followers...otherwise you wouldn't be reading this. The history of the Mormon church is bizarre. Sometimes they're pro polygamy, sometimes they're not. Sometimes they're racist, sometimes they're not. Sometimes they believe in blood atonement (human sacrifice of sorts), sometimes they don't.
Perhaps it's this Mormon history of waffling that explains Mitt Romney. He can't seem to make up his mind on anything. The one thing he is clear about is his faith. He is a devout Mormon. He believes strongly in the church of his father and his father's father. This sounds nice...except the Mormon church of the elder Romneys is the more racist, polygamous, blood-spilling church.
Even more disturbing is that Joseph Smith tried to run for President of the United States. His goal was to turn the US into a Mormon theocracy. Could this be Mitt Romney's goal? It sounds feasible to me.
I would strongly suggest that every voter in the USA familiarize them self with the Mormon church. If by some miracle Mitt Romney becomes President, we're all likely to have to live under Mormon rule. And let's face it...Americans are too lazy to fight any more.
But...the Mormons have magic underwear! So at least take the time to research those!
Again...if I've offended anyone, Mormon or not...I apologize. That is not my intent. I just find the whole Mormon religion truly bizarre.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Urinal Cakes & Ice Cream
Kinda sounds like a comedy routine, doesn't it?
The young'un LOVES candy. One of her faves is Skittles. Now I'll whole-heartedly admit that I've enjoyed a Skittle or two in my day...but nowhere near as much as the young'un does. She can eat a 5 pound bag of them in one sitting. My only real problem with Skittles is their smell. I think they smell like urinal cakes.
For those unfamiliar with urinal cakes, they are the deodorizing pink 'cakes' placed in urinals in public restrooms to keep the odor to a minimum...basically because most men are too fucking lazy to flush a public toilet. The smell is somewhere between Fruity Pebbles cereal and baby aspirin. That's what Skittles smell like (to me).
It's not a particularly horrible smell...although a tad sweet smelling. The problem for me is this: when she's eating a bag of Skittles, and the smell reminds me of urinal cakes, my brain equates this with the stench of a dirty public restroom...and I want to gag. Sorry, it's just how my brain works.
**********************************************************************************
I scream! You Scream! We ALL scream for Ice Cream!!!!
Really now...who doesn't enjoy ice cream now and then? In my 46 years, I don't believe I've ever met a person who dislikes ice cream. Sure...there may be reasons one shouldn't eat it (it's full of fat and sugar)...but who doesn't enjoy it at least once in a while?
It's summer. It's hot out. Perfect weather for ice cream. My only problem with it? (and let's be honest...you KNEW there would be one) You have to eat it really fast or else it becomes a runny, drippy mess. And worse...it warms up.
It was a hot and humid day...so the young'un and I ran to the store to pick up some ice cream. I, for one, could not WAIT to get home and dish up a bowl of ice cream. Chocolate! My fave!!!!!! But...we don't have central air. Usually not a problem...but this summer has been pretty nonstop heat-wise...so it's 81 degrees in the house. Not really uncomfortable...but not ideal for enjoying a leisurely dish of ice cream.
I dolloped three delicious scoops into a bowl and the race was on! I have issues with food. I like my hot food HOT and my cold food COLD. I also have major issues with textures. (don't get me started on strawberries and kiwis...2 fruits that I WOULD love...if it weren't for their textural issues)
Trying to enjoy ice cream in an 80+ degree house is a challenge for me. Eat it too fast...BRAIN FREEZE!!!!!!! We all know what that is. You eat or drink something cold too quickly and you get a headache that has to be comparable to a major stroke or brain aneurysm . It's agony. Luckily, they don't last long.
Eat the ice cream too slowly...and for me, this is an even worse problem. The ice cream melts in the bowl and becomes a tepid mess of thick, chocolate goo. Sure...it TASTES the same...but the texture of the ice cream has changed...and I can't really eat it. It's a cold food that it no longer truly cold...and the texture is gone. Ruined. At least for me.
So I have to gobble it down...but not so fast that I get the dreaded BRAIN FREEZE. Luckily, in my 46 years on this planet...I've pretty much mastered this. Sure...my table manners deteriorate to a level that would have guaranteed me a smack in the head from my grandmother...but, to me, it's necessary.
OK...I'm sure this has been more information about my own personal quirks than you really needed to know...but you read it. And I bet you laughed. And I bet some of you are every bit as weird about food as I am!
Time to go play with the cat. Meow. (the heat is getting to me....)
The young'un LOVES candy. One of her faves is Skittles. Now I'll whole-heartedly admit that I've enjoyed a Skittle or two in my day...but nowhere near as much as the young'un does. She can eat a 5 pound bag of them in one sitting. My only real problem with Skittles is their smell. I think they smell like urinal cakes.
For those unfamiliar with urinal cakes, they are the deodorizing pink 'cakes' placed in urinals in public restrooms to keep the odor to a minimum...basically because most men are too fucking lazy to flush a public toilet. The smell is somewhere between Fruity Pebbles cereal and baby aspirin. That's what Skittles smell like (to me).
It's not a particularly horrible smell...although a tad sweet smelling. The problem for me is this: when she's eating a bag of Skittles, and the smell reminds me of urinal cakes, my brain equates this with the stench of a dirty public restroom...and I want to gag. Sorry, it's just how my brain works.
**********************************************************************************
I scream! You Scream! We ALL scream for Ice Cream!!!!
Really now...who doesn't enjoy ice cream now and then? In my 46 years, I don't believe I've ever met a person who dislikes ice cream. Sure...there may be reasons one shouldn't eat it (it's full of fat and sugar)...but who doesn't enjoy it at least once in a while?
It's summer. It's hot out. Perfect weather for ice cream. My only problem with it? (and let's be honest...you KNEW there would be one) You have to eat it really fast or else it becomes a runny, drippy mess. And worse...it warms up.
It was a hot and humid day...so the young'un and I ran to the store to pick up some ice cream. I, for one, could not WAIT to get home and dish up a bowl of ice cream. Chocolate! My fave!!!!!! But...we don't have central air. Usually not a problem...but this summer has been pretty nonstop heat-wise...so it's 81 degrees in the house. Not really uncomfortable...but not ideal for enjoying a leisurely dish of ice cream.
I dolloped three delicious scoops into a bowl and the race was on! I have issues with food. I like my hot food HOT and my cold food COLD. I also have major issues with textures. (don't get me started on strawberries and kiwis...2 fruits that I WOULD love...if it weren't for their textural issues)
Trying to enjoy ice cream in an 80+ degree house is a challenge for me. Eat it too fast...BRAIN FREEZE!!!!!!! We all know what that is. You eat or drink something cold too quickly and you get a headache that has to be comparable to a major stroke or brain aneurysm . It's agony. Luckily, they don't last long.
Eat the ice cream too slowly...and for me, this is an even worse problem. The ice cream melts in the bowl and becomes a tepid mess of thick, chocolate goo. Sure...it TASTES the same...but the texture of the ice cream has changed...and I can't really eat it. It's a cold food that it no longer truly cold...and the texture is gone. Ruined. At least for me.
So I have to gobble it down...but not so fast that I get the dreaded BRAIN FREEZE. Luckily, in my 46 years on this planet...I've pretty much mastered this. Sure...my table manners deteriorate to a level that would have guaranteed me a smack in the head from my grandmother...but, to me, it's necessary.
OK...I'm sure this has been more information about my own personal quirks than you really needed to know...but you read it. And I bet you laughed. And I bet some of you are every bit as weird about food as I am!
Time to go play with the cat. Meow. (the heat is getting to me....)
Monday, July 30, 2012
One For The Guitarists
I've been playing guitar for a loooooooong time. Almost 35 years. A lot of folks will tell you I'm pretty good. I still think my best playing was when I was 15. But if there's one thing I have learned, it's that a lot of guitar players sell themselves short. They tend to rely too heavily on effects.
Now I'm not putting down the stomp boxes. I own a couple of them (although I rarely use them). It's fun to make some weird noises with them...and sometimes, it's nice to enhance your sound with them. That said, too many pickers hide behind them. A distortion pedal hides a multitude of sins. Throw in a delay, a wah pedal, a chorus, and a few dozen other effects, and your actual playing, your real skill, is hidden behind a wall of noise.
QUIT SELLING YOURSELF SHORT!
OK, we all wish we could play like Danny Gatton or Joe Pass. They were geniuses. Sadly, a lot of younger guitarists out there probably have no idea who these cats were. So, if you're a guitar player or you know a guitar player (especially a young player) please show them these videos.
These are some of the best of the best. Very little effects, if any, are being used. I'm not say that these are the guys you HAVE to listen to...but you probably should. There are countless other GREAT guitarists out there. I just picked these cats off the top of my head...because they are all so damned good, they will hopefully inspire you to find your own sound...without the effects. Then, should you choose to use effects, you're going to sound even BETTER!
Remember: the guitar has 6 strings. You have 10 fingers. You have the advantage!
Enjoy!
M
Now I'm not putting down the stomp boxes. I own a couple of them (although I rarely use them). It's fun to make some weird noises with them...and sometimes, it's nice to enhance your sound with them. That said, too many pickers hide behind them. A distortion pedal hides a multitude of sins. Throw in a delay, a wah pedal, a chorus, and a few dozen other effects, and your actual playing, your real skill, is hidden behind a wall of noise.
QUIT SELLING YOURSELF SHORT!
OK, we all wish we could play like Danny Gatton or Joe Pass. They were geniuses. Sadly, a lot of younger guitarists out there probably have no idea who these cats were. So, if you're a guitar player or you know a guitar player (especially a young player) please show them these videos.
These are some of the best of the best. Very little effects, if any, are being used. I'm not say that these are the guys you HAVE to listen to...but you probably should. There are countless other GREAT guitarists out there. I just picked these cats off the top of my head...because they are all so damned good, they will hopefully inspire you to find your own sound...without the effects. Then, should you choose to use effects, you're going to sound even BETTER!
Remember: the guitar has 6 strings. You have 10 fingers. You have the advantage!
Enjoy!
M
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Reality Sinking In
If you know me, then you know I lost my job January 1 due to county-wide funding cuts. I had a choice to either transfer to a different site in November or stick it out until the end with my clients, many of whom needed assistance in securing alternate housing.
Well, I chose to stick it out with my clients. It seemed like the right thing to do. I figured a position within the agency would open up sooner or later or I'd just find another job. This turned out to not be the case.
I had some money stashed away, so I figured I'd be set for a while. I also was expecting a decent tax return, so I figured it would all work out.
Well, the car needed a lot of work, so that got put on the back burner until the income tax return came in. Then the IRS decided to take my tax return and give it to my student loans. Then I got hit with a couple of surprise bills. We all know the story. Life is good at throwing curve balls.
Every day, I looked for jobs. I sent resumes, filled out applications, set up a profile on Monster.com, all the usual stuff. Alas, the county-wide funding cuts hit everyone in my field. I tried for an old job of mine (my personal fave job of all time!) but when I sent my resume through their website, it never got to my former plant manager, so she had to give the job to someone else. Just my luck.
The days to turned to weeks and months...and still nothing. Without a car, it limited what I could/couldn't do for freelance gigs. It also limited my ability to go out and book music gigs (which in the past was always my fall back income).
Here it is July...and I'm still out of work. Boo hoo, I know. Reality has finally kicked in. Money, which was already tight, is about to get even tighter. I've exhausted my UC and the state is screwing around with my EUC paperwork. I'm still job hunting. I've had a few good interviews...but still nothing.
So, I need money...and I have to do the one thing I've always dreaded. I have to sell off some of my guitars. Just reading what I typed fills me with dread. The economy is bad, so I know I probably won't get what they're worth...but ya gotta do what ya gotta do, right? A man's gotta eat! I got bills to pay, like it or not.
OK, I'm not looking for sympathy here. That and $1.50 might get me a cup of coffee. If you're reading this, maybe you know someone doing some hiring...or on the look out for a nice guitar at a reasonable price. Either way, it'd be a help.
These are the 1st ones going up for sale:
1959 Harmony H1214
Washburn 12 string
1961 Hilo Soprano Uke
and most regrettably, my Republic WB Triolian resophonic
Well, I chose to stick it out with my clients. It seemed like the right thing to do. I figured a position within the agency would open up sooner or later or I'd just find another job. This turned out to not be the case.
I had some money stashed away, so I figured I'd be set for a while. I also was expecting a decent tax return, so I figured it would all work out.
Well, the car needed a lot of work, so that got put on the back burner until the income tax return came in. Then the IRS decided to take my tax return and give it to my student loans. Then I got hit with a couple of surprise bills. We all know the story. Life is good at throwing curve balls.
Every day, I looked for jobs. I sent resumes, filled out applications, set up a profile on Monster.com, all the usual stuff. Alas, the county-wide funding cuts hit everyone in my field. I tried for an old job of mine (my personal fave job of all time!) but when I sent my resume through their website, it never got to my former plant manager, so she had to give the job to someone else. Just my luck.
The days to turned to weeks and months...and still nothing. Without a car, it limited what I could/couldn't do for freelance gigs. It also limited my ability to go out and book music gigs (which in the past was always my fall back income).
Here it is July...and I'm still out of work. Boo hoo, I know. Reality has finally kicked in. Money, which was already tight, is about to get even tighter. I've exhausted my UC and the state is screwing around with my EUC paperwork. I'm still job hunting. I've had a few good interviews...but still nothing.
So, I need money...and I have to do the one thing I've always dreaded. I have to sell off some of my guitars. Just reading what I typed fills me with dread. The economy is bad, so I know I probably won't get what they're worth...but ya gotta do what ya gotta do, right? A man's gotta eat! I got bills to pay, like it or not.
OK, I'm not looking for sympathy here. That and $1.50 might get me a cup of coffee. If you're reading this, maybe you know someone doing some hiring...or on the look out for a nice guitar at a reasonable price. Either way, it'd be a help.
These are the 1st ones going up for sale:
1961 Hilo Soprano Uke
This is a sad time for me. I'm not a materialistic person...but my guitars are such a big part of my life...always have been. I know I'll get over it...these are just objects...and they can (and will) be replaced. It just sucks having to do this.
I never thought that at my age, I'd have to resort to this. Sheesh........
OK, enough of my whining. It's time for me to look on the bright side. I feel good. My health seems pretty good. A lot of people love and care about me. AND I have these to sell...which is more than many in my situation. So no sniveling here. I gotta do this.
Fingers crossed that I'll have a new job SOON!
Thanks for taking the time to read this.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)