A Blast From The Past: Christmas Snickerdoodle

'Twas the night after Christmas, and boy, what a house!
I felt like the devil, and so did my spouse.
The eggnog and turkey and candy were swell,
But ten hours later they sure gave me hell.

The stockings weren't hung by the chimney with care.
The darn things were sprawled on the back of a chair.
The children were nestled all snug in their bed,
And I had a large pack of ice on my head.

When at long last I dozed off in a nap,
The ice woke me up as it fell in my lap.
For some unknown reason I wanted a drink,
So I started in feeling my way to the sink.

I got along fine 'til I stepped on the cat.
I cannot recall what occurred after that.
When I came to, the house was all flooded with light,
Although under the table I was high as a kite.

While visions of sugar plums danced in my head,
I somehow got up and climbed back into bed.
Then what to my wandering mind should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

Then the sleigh seemed to change to a mammoth fire truck,
And each reindeer turned into a bleary-eyed buck.
I knew in a moment it must be old Nick.
I tried to cry out, but my tongue was too thick.

The old devil whistled and shouted with glee,
While each buck pawed the earth and looked daggers at me.
Then he called them by name and the names made me shudder.
When I heard them I felt like a ship minus the rudder.

"Now Eggnog! Bacardi! Four Roses! and Brandy!
Now Fruit Cake! Cold Turkey! Gin Rickey! and Candy!
To the top of his house, to the top of his skull,
Now whack away, crack it with thumps that are dull!"

And then in a twinkling I felt on my roof,
The prancing and pawing of each cloven hoof.
How long this went on I am sure I can't say,
Though it seemed an eternity plus a long day.

But finally the night after Christmas had passed,
And I found that I really could think straight at last.
So I thought of the New Year a few days away,
And I made me a vow that no tempter can sway.

I'm sticking to water, don't even want ice,
For there's nothing so tasty, or nothing so nice.
The night after New Year may bother some guys,
But I've learned my lesson, and brother, I'm wise.

You can have your rich food, and your liquor that's red,
But what goes to my stomach won't go to my head.
So here's "Happy New Year" to you one and all.
I'm back on the wagon, and I hope I don't fall.

{REBROADCAST} Away In The Manger That I Helped Build

{Editorial Note: This piece was originally published on MySpace 12-25-2007, and was always meant to be an annual tradition, before offline circumstances scotched the idea during 2008-2010.  Last year's re-post here revived the notion, and this year finally gives consecutive weight, as well as celebrating the 5th Anniversary of original publication.  A Good Blog is Worth Repeating Until the Cows Come Home!!  My own take on the whole "It's A Wonderful Life" mess, dig?}  

Of all the many, many wonderful things about the Christmas Season, you just can't beat going back to the "source material" as it were, for the absolute best in the warm-fuzzy department.  {Well, DUH - that's what it's supposed to be all about, innit?}

Welcome, one and all, to my first-ever Christmas Blog.  Today's tale is about my most cherished of all Christmas memories; helping my Father build -  from scratch - a full-on Manger / Nativity Scene {small diorama, in reality}.

I was eighteen at the time; freshly graduated from "high screwel," and four months into my professional musical career.  In the late spring of that year, Dad began drawing up preliminary sketches for a new "project" he wanted to try.  My Dad, an architect by profession, was also a journeyman scholar of both the Bible and ancient architecture.  As a youth, I remember him always complaining about how our original Manger looked {it was an "A-Frame" design}.  He'd always grumble "It looks like a Swiss ski chalet, not a Manger!!!"

After many years of this, he apparently got fed up enough to sit down and design "a Manger that looks like a Manger" himself.  He worked on the plans for about two months, then just after graduation he collared me and said "Chris, we're going to have a great Christmas this year - you're going to help me build our new Manger!"  I was a bit reluctant at first - I was then at a three regular gig-per-week mark for the very first time in my life, but I'd already spent plenty of "quality time" with Dad as we built our model railroad together {along with my brother, until he moved out on his own}, so I soon warmed up to the idea.

Once I saw Dad's full plans, I was stunned - he wanted a near-museum quality diorama, instead of the simple building I was expecting to see plans for.  I vividly remember Dad explaining his ideas in detail; what materials we could use, basic construction techniques, how we could light it, etc.  Our years working on the model railroad together had bonded us pretty tight, and Dad was already wise in how to get me excited early on, which always inspired bursts of creativity on my part, which he got quite a kick out of . Even though I wasn't "following in his footsteps" by vocation, he knew that I got my creativity from him anyway, and he was content to let me have free reign, which I'll alwys deeply respect and Love him for.

In reality, Dad knew that if he let me run amok as was/is my wont, some pretty good ideas would emerge.  We got the basic construction finished fairly quickly - a simple plywood design {base and building}.  Even less time was spent on wiring it for lights - two days, as I recall.  Our greatest time was spent in the details - covering the basic structure with it's "proto-Adobe" finish; Dad hand-carving AND "aging" each individual fence post and rail, finding the best looking places for the "boulders" and sparse vegetation; carefully putting hoof prints in the sand, using the actual camels in the scene to "make" the prints for authenticity, etc.

My main contribution came in the Manger's covering and final finish.  Dad wanted a contrasting look betwen the sand-impregnated mud of the building, and the naturally sandy ground.  We tried all kinds of different sand mixtures, using every size we could find, but nothing looked right to either of us.  One evening Dad accidentally dropped a used Mr. Coffee filter on the counter, spilling it's still-wet contents all over.  When I heard him swearing like the Sailor he was in WWII, I went to look, and was startled by what I saw.

"Dad, if we dried out the coffee grounds, and mixed them with the sand, would that give the Manger 'the' look?"  He slowly turned to stare at me, slack-jawed.  "Where in the Hell did you get THAT brilliant idea from?"

"Oh, a certain KLUTZ I know........."

Both Dad and I were blown away by how good the coffee-sand mixture looked - Dad even approved of my painting efforts.  I painted it in differing shades all over, working from darkest to lightest, in separate layers, thus "aging" it gradually, just as Nature does.  Dad was quick to spot my two "in-jokes" right off - tiny spots that I deliberately avoided painting, letting the natural coffee ground color show clearly.

Once the building and landscaping were done, the next problem arose - hay for the interior {well, a manger IS nothing more than a barn/stable, in reality}.   My notion was instant - "Grass, Dad - dried grass." {No, no, no - not THAT type of grass......}  I had just cut our lawn, so I went out in the front yard, and picked up a handful of fresh thatch.  Dad looked at it and said, "No, that won't work, that's Bluegrass - blade's way too wide.  The Baby Jesus will look like he's lying on a bed of palm fronds!  Try the back yard, Chris."

I did, and Dad was happy - "That's more like it - Fescue is just the ticket!  Good job!"  As we neared the finish line, Dad and I both started getting pretty excited; the project looked good from all angles, and when my brother's beautifully hand-painted figures arrived in the mail, we had a small "Christmas in late August" ceremony for the official unveiling.  We patiently waited until it got dark, then we plugged our new Manger in.

My Mom, Dad and I all gasped in unison - it looked SO pretty.  We marvelled at how Dad's simple, but incredibly effective lighting {using only a single bulb, BTW} washed the scene in a way that enhanced textures, color, and ambience alike.  Dad wasn't totally happy, though.  "It's too bright - who ever saw a Manger lit up like a 1950's diner?"  The tone in his voice triggered what I can only describe as a truly "miraculous" inspiration in my head.

"Dad, what about an orange bulb, would that work?"  Again slack-jawed {but smiling ear-to-ear}, Dad went to the storeroom, found the Christmas lights, and shortly the Manger was bathed in the warm glow you see here.  The effect was as dazzling as before, just tastefully muted, somewhat.  NOW it looked like the Nativity Dad had envisioned from the start.

We did indeed have a Magical Christmas that year; despite all the hassles we faced {and overcame} during construction, my Dad and I set the Adult Seal on our mutal bond that summer - and it only got better with age.  The Nativity itself has been in regular use since then.  Now that Dad's gone, it has become my most precious link to him, a symbol of both the Love for the Season in general, the Love for Jesus in particular - and my own specific Love for my Dad.

On this Day, two Millenia-plus odd back, a small Boy was born in a barn, and they Loved Him.  Nineteen hundred and eighty-six years later, that same Boy was re-born in a custom-designed and totally hand-made environment - by another not-quite-so-small Boy and his Dad, who also Loved Him {and each other}.

What finer Gift For a King, eh?

I'm sure that when Dad sees this post, he'll too be smiling..................................................

Just like a kid on Christmas Morning, dig?!!!!!

Merriest of Christmases, and the Happiest of New Years', my Friends - I  Love you all too, y'know..............

{Editorial Epilogue - all-new blogs will resume in a day or three; there is MUCH good news to share.  Please keep your seats, Boys & Girls!!}

The End????

Nope.
Not gonna happen.
Y2K, all over again.  Relax, Boys and Girls - haven't we all got enough REAL shit staring us in the face every day, to worry about Doomsday coming, or more likely NOT coming?

Wait a minute - what the hell was that??!!?!?


!seibaB  wolleF ,lla retfa gnorw saw I ekil skool ti - tihs ,hO
!!nekorb eb ot smees ygniht-bewediwretnI sihT


........ebyam ,yltrohs eroM


**}elkcuhC livE{**

Ain't No Cure For The Yuletide Blues

{Cue Mormon Tabernacle Choir}

Wreck the halls with Barry's Folly
Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la, la 
It's Bush's fault, come on get jolly
Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la, la
Don we now our alternative-lifestyle apparel
Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la, la, la
As we sing this Hope-n-Change carol
Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la, la, la

Burn the Constitution for us
Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la, la, la
Tax the drums, and rape the chorus
Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la, la, la
Fiscal cliff, so where's the pleasure
Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la, la, la
Can not change such horrid measures
Fa-la-la-la-la, la, lah, laaah, laahhhhhhhhh..............

The Greatest Generation

Pearl Harbor; the treacherous incident that "awakened the sleeping Giant."  The "Giant" in question was of course the United States of America.  Our entry into WWII changed the world forever in many ways, both good and bad.

My parents were of the Greatest Generation, and taught both my brother and me innumerable lessons of great value; personal sacrifice and perseverance being the two most important.  Both have served me well to date, but both are played out against a world backdrop that's radically different than the world of the 1940's.  Looking at the Arizona Memorial above, my mind's eye superimposes the remains of the Twin Towers atop the sunken hull in Pearl Harbor; I can truly relate to what my parents endured, in other words.

I just wish today's generations would show a little more backbone when dealing with our modern problems; their inability or refusal to do so makes a mockery of that great sunken hull and all that it stands for.  Item: just as we entered WWII, the Greatest Generation faced a Moslem terrorist threat identical to today's climate, but they dealt with the problem swiftly and effectively, rounding up a bunch of known terrorists and executing all but two in the group.  The corpses were further degraded with gallons of pigs' blood, before the two survivors were released with a stern "this will happen to the rest of you lot if you don't get your shit together NOW."  It was a good 25 years before the Moslems felt bold enough to challenge the interdiction.

It bothers me no end that the US could hardly respond to a world conflagration today the way we did during the Greatest Generation's heyday immediately post-Pearl; we simply don't have the same manufacturing and/or military infrastructure now that we had then, let alone unanimous patriotism, passion for Liberty, personal fortitude, iron resolve, etc. etc. As such, a theoretical WWIII would not augur well for us, IMHO.  Oh, the situation can be corrected provided we have both the heavy patience and strong incentive to do what needs to be done {like the GG did}, but positive changes won't happen overnight; this isn't an "instant gratification" issue.  And I very much fear today's society is too far gone on said instant gratification.

The Greatest Generation wasn't like that at all - they achieved their goals the right way through hard work, fierce determination, a clear focus, and much personal sacrifice, including the Ultimate one.  After Pearl Harbor, they stoically endured both the Holocaust and the equally horrible dawn of the Nuclear age, drawing courage and incredible strength solely from their convictions, period.  And after WWII they labored for the rest of their days  to ensure that the hard lessons they learned would pass down to their offspring.  How ironic that the Holocaust has morphed into Constitutionally-protected genocide {30 million abortions annually}, and the nuclear threat has morphed into the more subtle but equally-devastating conditions implied by today's rampant political correctness / entitlement mentality.  

Was the Greatest Generation's hard work and true selflessness - symbolized by that sunken hull in a lovely Hawaiian Harbor - all in vain, in the long run?  The jury's still out, but I for one am not about to let the final answer be "yes," if there is any possible way I can help it.  It's the least I can do, given all that went before.

I Honor the Arizona every day of my life - how 'bout y'all?

More shortly............

   

Voodoo Child, Seventy Years On

Seventy years ago today, our world was graced by the birth of a true Virtuoso and genius; the one and only James Marshall Hendrix.

Regular readers of both this blog and my old MySpace pages will already know how I feel about the man and his legacy.  Even though he was only with us for 27 years - and has been in that "other world" he prophetically sang about for 42 years - his legacy and influence are still very much a vibrant and vital part of my life.

This fact was driven home HARD to me yesterday evening.  As I mentioned in my Turkey Day installment  last week, I've much to be thankful for, and yesterday I again celebrated the fact the best way I knew how - by having a good old "power-play," just like I regularly did during the salad days.  What's more, James Marshall figured quite prominently, and was actually the "accompaniment" for the bulk of my blitzkrieg.  Although I trotted out my still-up-to-scratch chops frequently in public this past summer, none of those blows came within a country mile of the intensity of yesterday's exercise.

Quite simply, I "got back to where I once belonged."  I'm talking the exact same mindset I had during my first ten years as a working musician; the music and what you can do with it is what's important, period.  And there's zero time for any extraneous non-musical bullshit, to boot.  As such, I unleashed a good ninety minutes' worth of sustained attack that easily qualifies as some of my best work to date.  The audience who witnessed consisted of my Lady Sheila, and her two "kids" Buster and Tippy.  All and sundry were totally blown away by it, much to my surprise and embarrassment.  

Oh, they've heard me on a good tear many times since July, but nothing like yesterday's little banzai.  Each tune I played was a "blank slate," even though I've done every one countless times previous, both in public and private.  And it's this very approach that is the essential link between JMH and myself.  Playing a given song differently each time was Jimi's stock-in-trade, and has long been my mindset as well.  Although I began to drift away from the principle somewhat during the malaise of the last four years, I finally got my head together again yesterday - and the results were pretty damn sweet, let me tell you.

For her part, Sheila could only shake her head in amazement, smiling brilliantly.  Even the kids knew something was up; both came for brief visits during my outburst, and both left with tails wagging furiously, despite all the incredible racket Uncle Chris was happily making.  Like my late beloved Sam, Buster and Tippy are totally cool with the music, and both seem to understand the pleasure it generates.  The pair were instantly in my lap as soon as I finished.  Sheila understood it all perfectly of course, and I'm quite sure the return to my root-mindset will rub off on her in due course.  Hell, it already has to a degree; I've noticed her starting to pick up on the basics of the concept in her own playing during the past several weeks, although at this stage it's more "happy accident," rather than a serious skill-set addition.  Time and much practice will make it so though, methinks.

As for me, yesterday's blow is an excellent harbinger of things to come; the re-discovery of my youthful "extraneous bullshit attitude" will be applied to many other non-musical areas of my life in the weeks and months immediately ahead.  More I will not say now, but rest assured y'all will be hearing some happy news in due time.  I'd like to think that wherever Jimi is right now, he's also smiling brilliantly and giving me a solid thumbs-up; I certainly felt his strong presence with me yesterday, if nothing else.

Which ain't too bad a way to honor the Lad's Birthday, no?

More shortly Boys and Girls; in the meantime, please join me in celebrating Jimi's Birthday in proper style:

Thankful For..........

Two things; one material, the other Ethereal.

The material side is easy enough:

And the Ethereal?  Well, in the simplest vernacular it's the Love Of A Truly Good Woman.

Both have kept me alive {and sheltered / fed / looked after} most of this year; and both have enabled me to continue taking care of business despite overwhelming odds most of the time.

For all of this - and a hell of a lot more - I am well and truly Thankful that God has Blessed me so.  Going forward will be just that much easier for me, thanks to the wonderful bounty I've reaped this year.  Hard work paying off, and all that sort of mess, comprend`e - vous?

Eat your ever-loving heart out, Norman Rockwell - the 2012 Warm-Fuzzy-Powerball jackpot is MINE this year, dig?

Happy Tyramine-overdose Day, Fellow Babies!!!

More shortly.

The Eleventh Hour of the Eleventh Day

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields. 

- - - - Canadian Lt.Colonel John McCrae, 1915.

May God Bless and Keep ALL our Vets, past, present, and future.

"Thanks" is simply inadequate for the services - and sacrifices - rendered by our Military from day one.  My personal gratitude knows no bounds.

More shortly; have a pleasant Armistice {Veteran's} Day, Fellow Babies...............

Hope & Spite

"Voting's your best revenge."
"If Romney wins, we're gonna burn the place down."
"We're gonna raise taxes on the rich by six trillion!"

Ad nauseum.

No more re-hashing the obvious, boys and girls.  The choice for tomorrow is painfully clear.  Four more years of liberalism / socialism running amok - or a significant swing away from such falderal.  The left's behavior in just the last three weeks - where the above quotes source from - is all the proof one should need as to why Barack Hussein Obama and his ilk all need to be FIRED.  

It's finally in our hands now - let's git 'er done!!!

Silly Season - Goose the Fat Broad

Thank God it's almost over.

The final Presidential Debate proved one thing - the current Officeholder should never have been elected in the first place.  He demonstrated this fact throughout the debates, never ONCE mentioning his record of "accomplishment."  Instead, it was the usual "Blame Bush / disparage the opponent / act like a rock star" tactics that {somehow} got him elected in the first place.  Barry even mentioned "organizing the world Community" several times during the foreign policy segments, for crying out loud!!!

Over the last four years we've seen everything from international concerns to the domestic economy proceed in a totally negative direction.  While BHO's policies aren't the root causes, they're nevertheless major contributing factors.  Say what you will about Dubya, his Daddy, or even Dutch Reagan, but NONE of them would have allowed our enemies to become so emboldened as to kill a US Ambassador, let alone innocent civilians - and get away with it.  Reagan put Gaddafi in his place for a good fifteen years with one swift missile strike in 1985; Bush-41 liberated Kuwait and muzzled Saddam Hussein within a week in the 1990's; Dubya had troops in Afghanistan and over Baghdad within a few weeks of 9/11 {and eventually put Saddam out of business for good}.

Barry Hussein?  Well, there was the "Apology Tour" throughout Europe, the Middle, and the Far East in 2009.  I have never seen so much ass French-kissed before in my life!  Bill Clinton must've been insanely jealous.  Is it any wonder that our military's casualty-count began a steep increase immediately AFTER Barry's ridiculous exercise? "American Resolve & Determination?"  For the most part it has been stuck up some foreign dignitary's poop-chute the last four years - and all our enemies know this.  No more "speak softly and carry a big stick;" Barry's philosophy is a limp-wristed handshake, apologetic words, an embarrassed bow, and all the respect that a five year old child can command; whilst leaving the heavy lifting to those beacons of "brilliance" in the UN.

Domestically it's no different.  BHO "saved the US auto industry" by tossing the UAW-thugs billions in Government cheese.  Nobody ever mentions how this killed both the Pontiac and Saturn divisions within GM, nor how the bailouts forced Chrysler entirely out of American ownership {Italian government-subsidised Fiat has the majority interest in the Pentastar brand these days}.  Only the Ford Motor Company passed on the Kool-Aid when it was offered - and their stock is as healthy as ever, and is AMERCAN-controlled to boot.

Our energy policy is in shambles - BHO has cheerfully let EPA regulators run rampant the last four years, and their regulations have killed three major oil pipelines, several proposed methanol refineries, dozens of coal-fired power plants; all while propping up failed endeavors like the Solyndra fiasco.  Almost two million energy-related jobs have been lost as a result, and this doesn't address the ongoing harassment in the oil, coal, and natural-gas fields, either.  I trust I don't have to mention how all of this seriously impacts the rest of our economy - you can easily see for yourself with the five-buck-a-gallon gasoline in California, or even the four-buck-a-gallon MILK in your local grocery store.

Unemployment is stagnant - and has been four four years.
The deficit is growing out of control - and has been for four years.
Congressional spending has been outrageous - and has been for SIX years, which directly led to Bush's fall, Barry's rise, and the awful malaise we've all been enduring under the laughable mantra of "Hope & Change" since January of 2009.  Barry Hussein will never man up and take credit/blame for his disastrous term in office - which is why it should be his ONLY term in office.  His smoke and mirrors have done far more harm than good both here and abroad, and has resulted in American blood being spilled time and again, amongst all the other damage wreaked so far.

Getting Barry out of office is just the tip of the iceberg, though. For any true change to be real and effective, we also need to clean house in the Congress as well.  Pelosi, Reid, and their ilk are just as responsible - if not moreso - than the President for the multiple messes this country is in.  They got the ball rolling midway through Dubya's final term, then cleverly made him the scapegoat just before Barry got the nomination.  They all deserve to be fired with prejudice just like Barry does.  Only then perhaps we can finally start emerging from this liberal Democratic cesspool we've all been in the last four {six, really} years.

For now though, I'm just glad that yet another Silly Season is almost history - they really do keep getting worse after each cycle, and I'm beyond fed up with it all.  Let's all do what needs to be done in a couple weeks, and send these idiots packing!!!  The final power still rests with We the People, but we have to exercise it first.  A 56% voter-turnout ain't gonna cut it, Boys and Girls.  Strength in numbers, dig?

More shortly.

For The Ox & Winston Legthigh

Remembering the Two Johns on their respective {shared} birthdays.

Both had tremendous impact on my life, and both left us way, WAY too soon.  Thanks to a third John {who was great friends to both, and also had somewhat of an impact on me}, a perfect tribute was created about two years after Winston "left the building."  Twenty years later when The Ox cashed in his chips, I was motivated to concoct my own interpretation, which my old band performed numerous times between 2002 and 2004.  To make it fit The Ox as well as Winston, I simply substituted "Vegas sunset" for "New York sunset" in the lyric.  It's one of a handful of songs that always gives me chills and goosebumps every time I play it.

When it was new though, I was fortunate enough to see Sir Reg perform it live with his classic band of Davey, Dee and Nigel on three separate occasions.  Each time reinforced my desire to one day perform it myself, and each time was also a chilling, haunting experience.  I fully intend to revive it as soon as I'm back on my musical feet again; as I said earlier, it's a perfect tribute to the Two Johns {no waiting}.

Oh - what's it called, then?

Empty Garden - and it goes just like this:

Go carefully, Lads - you're both missed tremendously.............

More shortly.

Flux Redux {Slight Return}

The Good Fight has been quite fierce as of late, boys and girls.  Although I've obtained a measure of stability, my footing is still anything but sure, and I'm pulling all the stops to gain the truly firm ground I need to charge forwards.  It's affecting everything in my life, music at the top of the list.  While there is some real daylight at the end of my current tunnel, when I'll ever get out into it at last remains to be seen.  Please bear with me "until," if you would?

More shortly; hope y'all are going to help me do the right thing, come Election Day...............

LILY

Farewell Cherished Rose, you will never flee my heart.

You touched my deepest soul, before we tore apart

You sang out to my weakness, and your giggles seared my brain.

I put you on my pedestal, and our Sparks spelled out your name.

It's clear to see we found our love like a whisper on the wind.

Always stronger after sunset, when the pain came in.

Our footsteps would one day fall there upon Newtown's greenest hills;

The whisper died out long before, my anguish ever will.

Loneliness I`ve had, these empty days without your smile.

This torch I`ll carry for my Rose, so loving and oh so wild.

And no I can't deny, the truth that brings me full to tears;

My words can't express the pain of loss, of my Lady Most Eternally Dear.

It's clear to see we heard our love like a whisper on the wind

Always louder after sunset, when my pain set in.

"Our footsteps will one day fall here upon Newtown's greenest hills;"

The whisper died out long before, my anguish ever will.

Farewell Cherished Rose, you will never flee my heart.

You touched my deepest core, before we tore apart.

Farewell Cherished Rose, from the drummer who lost half my soul.

I`ll miss the little wings of your sweet passion, more than you will ever likely know.

It's clear to see we lost our love like a whisper on the wind

Always sweeter after sunset, when my pain set in.

Our footsteps will never fall there, upon Newtown's greenest hills;

The whisper died out long before, my anguish ever will.

Lyric © 2004 / 2012 Backwards Coffee Music BMI, all rights reserved.

Even though my heart is broken and my soul is in mortal agony - I still Believe.

Even though our beach and castle are gone - I still Believe.

And even though you never heard our song the way I always did - I still Believe.....................

Happy Birthday, Immortally Beloved.

Nine-Eleven

I haven't Forgotten.

Have you???

Silly Season: Send In The Clowns

How dumb do they think we are?

I know that the DNC still has one more day to go, but enough is enough already.  I don't recall many {make that ANY} reports from last week's RNC about delegates wanting to KILL the opposition's nominee.  I don't recall an illegal alien making a keynote speech at the RNC; nor do I recall seeing say, Dan Quayle or Bob Dole acting like they're still movers and shakers within the GOP, the way Slick Willie Pantload and John "Swiftboat" Kerry seemed to dominate "Jackasspalooza" this week.  And I sure as hell don't see how Barack Hussein "saved the US auto industry."  Didn't his attempts to do so only give us the Chevy VOLT????

I could go on and on with the partisan rhetoric, but there's hardly any need to.  Unemployment and the economy have been virtually stagnant since BHO assumed the office.  Thanks to BHO's economic policies, our international credit-rating was downgraded for the first time in the entire history of this country; I hardly need to mention what happened to both our trade and national deficits during this same time-frame.  BHO may have "got Bin Laden," but he's turned his back on the rest of the Mid-East, as well as the Near and Far East.

This could have been somewhat acceptable, had he also got us away from being dependent on OPEC oil - but Barry has had no less than SEVEN golden opportunities in the last 4 years to do so, and he's passed on each and every one.  Hell's bells, General Electric is getting ready to create in excess of 800,000 decent-paying jobs over the next five years - and every last one of them will be in support of their overseas holdings.  Then on top of all that, add in the $1 billion tax-dodge they pulled off this year {with the Fed's blessing} - how could any sane person look at all this and say that we're "heading in the right direction?"

Item - the mean poverty level has risen about 2% annually every year since BHO took office; for almost 20 years before that, it had declined by the same amount annually.  Even if the many minimum-wage proposals on both State and Federal ballots get passed this year, it'll only mean that MORE people will be at or near poverty-level, because the basic cost of living has also begun to skyrocket out of control.  When was the last time you paid $2.25 for a gallon of gas, or $3.00 for a pound of ground sirloin, or $.95 for a pound of butter?  Or even under five bucks for a fast-food "value meal?"

Those of you who answer "Four or more years ago" can take a bow, and relax.  For the rest, well, let's just say I'm not terribly sanguine about the future of this country if BHO manages to keep his job.  His "saving the US auto industry?"  Bullshit.  Aside from Ford, there IS no "US auto industry."  GM has precious few assembly plants left in the lower 48 - and virtually all of its' onetime manufacturing ability has been outsourced to Canada, Mexico, and overseas.  ChryCo?  Last I heard, Fiat was the majority shareholder - the Pentastar brand hasn't been a US-based operation since Daimler bought 'em out back in '98!!

Ironic that of the onetime "Big Three," Ford remains as the only legitimate US auto-maker, with it's own plants, facilities, and financial stability.  And is it any wonder that they didn't accept one damn dime of BHO's oh-so-precious "stimulus" package?  They didn't need to - they bloody well know how to look after themselves THEMSELVES!!!!  A little concept called "self sufficiency," which BHO and the rest of the DNC simply don't have a clue about.  Item - both GM and ChryCo have re-structured their boards two or three times since accepting Barry's cheese; FoMoCo hasn't had a hint of flux at the top since they shit-canned Lee Iacocca......

Anyhow, despite my earlier vow to avoid all this mess this year, I just had to take a peek for myself to see if it's really as bad as I thought.  It's worse!!!  The DNC is championed by the only President to be IMPEACHED in the 20th Century; a lack-lustre Senator who failed his own Presidential bid in spectacularly embarrassing fashion back in 2004; a conspicuously absent Secretary of State {who can't wait to get rid of the damn job in a few months}; and enough other freaks, misfits, and ne'er-do-wells in the rank and file to fill a small stadium, drink the Kool-Aid, and try to make the GOP look worse than them.  It's like putting Raquel Welch and Rosie O'donnel together in the same beauty pageant - only Helen Keller or perhaps Stevie Wonder could miss the painfully obvious............ 

I'm not sorry I avoided the bulk of the Circus this year, boys and girls; I just hope enough of the rest of my Fellow Babies out there are as disturbed by the dog-and-pony show as I am.  Maybe this will be the year we finally climb over 60% voter-turnout for the first time since JFK's election - I dare say we need to.  Barry's had his chance.  Now it's time for him and all his Leftie-crew to go away, so the big boys can come in and start getting our house back in proper order again.

More shortly.

SNJ - Growing Pains

Mixed bag last night, boys and girls.

My third outing at Bobby's didn't quite turn out as I'd hoped.  For whatever reason, I only managed three tunes, spaced out over the course of perhaps a couple hours.  That was bad enough in itself, but the balance of the evening was spent trying to avoid cold shoulders from not one, but two old flames of mine.  And to top it all off, my drum-proteg`e Lady Sheila was once again absent from both my side, and the overall festivities.

I suppose I could have copped out and insisted on playing nothing but the blues, but I didn't want to blow everyone else's night out.  Besides that, I was still looking to connect with some of the Regulars I haven't gone up with yet - I'm still the unknown commodity / new kid on the block, remember.  As it turned out, I did break a bit of new ground on my last tune, but it was only a bit, nothing more.  A rather tasty bit to be sure, though.

As happened last week, my buddy Chris O. tapped me for some fun-n-games to kick things off.  Chris was the "featured artist" this week, so he basically had carte-blanche to put together his setlist.  By mutual agreement, he had me up for the first two tunes, and Drum-Bud Brian played the last two.  I had earlier asked Brian if I could add my ride cymbal to his kit, in my usual left-handed position; he kindly agreed, and that simple gesture was a crucial factor in making me feel the most comfortable I've ever felt in the last three weeks, playing-wise.  This time around, I'd be more than ready to do my thing when the time came.

In due course my first call came, and up I went.  The adrenaline did much to combat the icy chill coming from the old flames on opposite sides of the room {crossfire hurricane of a different sort, dig?}, and the slight half-sneer on me mug as I sauntered up took care of the rest.  The potential for "high drama" never was a match for me when I'm determined about the task at hand, and last night was no exception.  Chris launched Stu and myself straight into a Van Halen tune, and I did something totally unexpected - I simply sank into the overall spirit of the jam, and played what I felt.  No heavy emotional involvement like I'm usually guilty of, or "OK, this is the version of this tune, let's kick some serious ass."  I just relaxed and happily went with the flow, adding chunks of the usual chaos and mayhem wherever and whenever I felt like it.

Thanks to Brian's kindness my true Southpaw attack was unleashed, and boy did I try to make the most of it.  Stu was locked tight with me as usual, so I concentrated on trying to "dramatize" what Chris was doing up top.  True to form, once Chris heard me making with the silliness he started ramping-up himself, and the tune turned into a pretty amusing romp, considering all the ridiculous chances we were taking.  At the tag-out Chris segued us straight into "Turn the Page," and I kept right on grooving in a very loose-and free manner.  My chops were sharp, crisp, and tight; they complemented Stu and Chris's work rather effectively - and yes, even my usual million-and-one mistakes integrated well into the flow.  We flourished out the song in fine fashion, and my opening salvo was done.

I barely registered but nonetheless thanked the compliments from the onlookers I passed on the way back to my table; I was preoccupied, anticipating that cold-shoulder crossfire to suddenly go liquid-hydrogen on me, 'cos I didn't fook-up onstage the way they wanted me to.  Feeling well vindicated, I settled into my table to await the next call.  Unfortunately, said  call came near the end of the evening, ensuring that my overall blow would be the near-ultimate in pithiness; zero chance for me to dig deep into my pro-fusion blazz trick-bag, or boil up some heavy adrenaline, in other words.  Small comfort for me to work for the first time behind Philmo M, and my man Dave B; the long pause between blows had cooled the adrenaline, and the icy crossfire was still there, albeit somewhat muted.

Philmo asked me for an up-tempo blues shuffle; I quickly dug the groove, and our Aggregation took off.  We climbed, rode, and fell our way through the tune, propelled on the strength of my even looser playing.  It worked well enough, but by now the offstage rot had finally set in to a degree, affecting my concentration.  It was enough to make me totally muff the opening to "Candy Rock," and Brian had to be called up to bail things out.  Needless to say, I was beside myself with seething rage over how the play had fallen out for me, affected by outside influences.  After patiently waiting for the night to end, I reclaimed my cymbal as quickly as I could and split - but not before giving short shrift to my good Facebook-Bud Woody Z, whom I didn't even see at the play until that moment!!  Hopefully after he reads this, he'll understand why I was so rude to him and forgive me.

I dunno, gang.  I'm well used to the fact that there are going to be just as many off-nights as "ons;" the bulk of my personal upset stems from the dual factors of offstage tension, and onstage wariness from those new to my acquaintance.  So I blew one song-intro; it's not like I played "Chopsticks" whilst everyone else was making with the Chopin or Strauss.  It's a bloody jam-session, right?  At least give me the chance to correct the mistake before ya give me the hook - I could easily turn the tables by asking for "Killin' Floor" the exact way Jimi did it in Monterey, then call for others to come in after the first mistake.  I'm respectful and totally supportive of the SNJ; I don't see any reason why the notion can't be a mutual proposition, if you follow my logic.

All the above notwithstanding, there will be plenty more SNJ plays I'll attend in the future - one {poor} night does not a tenure make, y'know?  Plus, I'll be damned to the nth degree before I'll let ANY offstage antagonist keep me from fully enjoying the fruits of my musical Gifts.  I'm gonna bounce back like a bag of Superballs tossed into the dodge 'em cars at an amusement park {still paying attention, Mister Brahler?} - b-b-b-b-baby you ain't seen n-n-n-n-nothing yet........

More shortly.