I finally found the perfect girl,
I couldn’t ask for more.
She’s deaf and dumb and oversexed
And owns a liquor store……..Shakespeare, page 39!! {And fifty bonus points if ya can tell me where I got the title of this post from.}
Thursday, December 29, 2016
I'll Say She Is!
Shakespeare, page 39!! {And fifty bonus points if ya can tell me where I got the title of this post from.}
Sunday, December 25, 2016
{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 presently; there is MUCH good news to share. Please keep your seats, Boys & Girls!!}
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
Diamonds Are Forever
Seventy five years after The Day Of Infamy, there still isn't a better tribute to all the war-dead {IMHO}, than the Arizona Memorial, pictured above.
She still dribbles fuel oil on occasion - fuel oil that was one of the chief motivating factors of Japan's aggression towards us in the first place. Our Pacific Fleet stood right in the way of Japan's territorial conquests, which were designed to acquire raw materials - like crude oil - for themselves, ending their dependence on others for the goods of war & Empire. And had the whole fleet been in port at Pearl that fateful Sunday, the Japanese just might have succeeded in "chopping off the Eagle's beak."
As it was though, Hirohito's treachery merely "awakened the sleeping giant" - the war that ensued was lost practically at the outset, thanks to our Resolve, and industrial might. That, and the ludicrous over-ambitions of our enemies sealed their fates, just as surely as Japanese torpedoes and bombs sealed the fates of the 1177 innocent, unsuspecting souls aboard the Arizona that horrible Sabbath seventy-five years ago. Had we not been forced to fight a two-front war, it's interesting to speculate how quickly VJ-day might have come, if it were our sole objective. Would the A-bomb have even been necessary, with the full strength of our military focused solely on the unconditional destruction of Tokyo?
We'll never know for sure, of course. But looking at the hallowed remains of the Arizona today, one can still clearly hear the echoes of the awful bloodbath that was WWII, in our current political climate. My generation sadly has a near-equivalent to Pearl with 9/11 - but our resolve has quite frankly "gone out to lunch" as of late, and don't even get me started about our current capacity to wage all-out war the way we did when my Dad and Mom were teenagers..........
May the Powers That Be see with wide-open eyes the lessons to learn from that terrible Sunday seventy-five years past, and may they learn them well - that would truly honor those who went down with this brave, tragic dreadnought, may she and her crew Rest In Peace........................
Thursday, November 24, 2016
Alas, Poor Thomas
Always did love this pic, for some strange reason - poetic justice, mayhap? {insert sinister chuckling}.
Seriously though, I'd like to wish All & Sundry a very Happy Turkey Day - save for you lot across the pond who don't observe the holiday as us Yanks do. You're still included, however, 'cos one of the many things I'm Thankful for every year is the diverse lot of friends and acquaintances I've acquired via this InterWideWeb-thingamabob. Clear and fair enough?
On a personal level, 2016 has seen this Humble Drummer happily frolicking under the cataract {$25 word for "waterfall"} of Grace Our Good Lord has seen fit to continually douse me with. Thanks to said continual dousing, I've become an "embedded sharecropper" on my brother's homestead; my j-o-b is likewise steady and prospering; and my rather shell-shocked psych has taken some real hefty strides in the healing department. Oh, there has been the usual crap-ton of FUBAR moments, but I'm once again fully able to shrug the worst of them off, whilst not missing one single step forward.
Better still, my current circumstances are such that I might - emphasize "might" - have some fabulous news to break to y'all here some time in 2017. For now, let's just say that the preliminaries are essentially finished, and that the foundation has been poured - all it needs is a measure of time to cure properly, before I go Full Tilt Boogie. I'll go much more in-depth presently as time and circumstances allow. And in a truly radical 180 degree shift in my thinking, I absolutely refuse to rush the process in any way. It might have taken me nearly half a century to reach such a level of wisdom, but by golly I did get here in the end! Think "arthritic snail," or "three-legged tortoise," or "three-legged tortoise carrying an arthritic snail," kapish?
And to round things off properly, the real reason why I chose to lead off this installment with the particular illustration-zinger above is a very simple one.
It's how The Donald-Elect is going to feed the homeless next Thanksgiving, dig? {insert more evil chuckling}.
Keep the Baby, Faith - Drummer out.
More anon.
Alas, Poor Thomas
Always did love this pic, for some strange reason - poetic justice, mayhap? {insert sinister chuckling}.
Seriously though, I'd like to wish All & Sundry a very Happy Turkey Day - save for you lot across the pond who don't observe the holiday as us Yanks do. You're still included, however, 'cos one of the many things I'm Thankful for every year is the diverse lot of friends and acquaintances I've acquired via this InterWideWeb-thingamabob. Clear and fair enough?
On a personal level, 2016 has seen this Humble Drummer happily frolicking under the cataract {$25 word for "waterfall"} of Grace Our Good Lord has seen fit to continually douse me with. Thanks to said continual dousing, I've become an "embedded sharecropper" on my brother's homestead; my j-o-b is likewise steady and prospering; and my rather shell-shocked psych has taken some real hefty strides in the healing department. Oh, there has been the usual crap-ton of FUBAR moments, but I'm once again fully able to shrug the worst of them off, whilst not missing one single step forward.
Better still, my current circumstances are such that I might - emphasize "might" - have some fabulous news to break to y'all here some time in 2017. For now, let's just say that the preliminaries are essentially finished, and that the foundation has been poured - all it needs is a measure of time to cure properly, before I go Full Tilt Boogie. I'll go much more in-depth presently as time and circumstances allow. And in a truly radical 180 degree shift in my thinking, I absolutely refuse to rush the process in any way. It might have taken me nearly half a century to reach such a level of wisdom, but by golly I did get here in the end! Think "arthritic snail," or "three-legged tortoise," or "three-legged tortoise carrying an arthritic snail," kapish?
And to round things off properly, the real reason why I chose to lead off this installment with the particular illustration-zinger above is a very simple one.
It's how The Donald-Elect is going to feed the homeless next Thanksgiving, dig?
Keep the Baby, Faith - Drummer out.
More anon.
Saturday, November 12, 2016
Amistice / Decoration / Rememberence / Veteran's Day
However, this time around I feel the need to expand my thanks by making a few observations. For starters, I am desperately heartsick about all the hue-and-cry in the wake of our Presidential election. The Donald won his post legitimately; The Hildebeast shot herself in the kneecaps, 'cos her insatiable lust for power had blinded her long before she ever threw her hat in the ring. What's more, Da Hildebeast's Hindenburg impression has also pretty much destroyed the Democratic Party as a whole, at least in terms of unity between all the factions.
It's much the same across the aisle - the Republican "cadre" are going to have to swallow several bitter pills, and take their lumps with whatever grace they can muster, if they want to be able to work amicably with their new Standard-bearer. In the meantime, we're all going to have to continue putting up with the ridiculous shenanigans the Left are solely responsible for; the whole BLM/ISIS/MoveOn/Soros/deviant-sex fulcrum.
I mean, let's be honest here, Cats & Kitties. The Left has held the penthouse of American political power for the last eight years - why the hell should any type of logical thinker sit idly by, whilst these miserable "not my President" piss-ants run totally amok, just because the Hildebeast got the vicious bitch-slapping her own damn actions ultimately provoked? What gives them the right to take out their gall and bile on the very rank-and-file constituency that GAVE them the freedom to protest in the first place?
The mind boggles - and those Flanders poppies might just as well be hawthorn bushes, if the events of the last few days are any indication. I for one can only hope that the Loyal Opposition will soon spit their thumbs out, and pull on some big-boy/girl pants. If not, well, I'd strongly suggest that they go most carefully, indeed - the Silent Majority is wide awake, and ravenously hungry for some breakfast. And as for Cher and all the other celebutards threatening to decamp, if it were solely up to me, I'd gladly buy all and sundry first-class deluxe tickets, provided they changed their ultimate destination from the Moon to the Sun........
More shortly.
Tuesday, November 8, 2016
Monday, November 7, 2016
Silly Season On The Wane
Oh don't mind me boys and Girls - I'm just doing my last little bit for the Election Effort, however woefully fooked up it might be.
Ergo, I'm re-posting my best work from the '08 election - it kept The Hildebeast out of the White House then, and I'm sure it'll do the same now.
Let the chips fall where they may - GO DON, GO!!!
Tuesday, November 1, 2016
BOO TWO!!!
Oh shit; he must have just seen the latest drop from Wikileaks!! Y'all know the one - the batch that has all them pictures of The Hildebeast in the nude.....
Seriously though, I've dug barfing jack-o-lanterns for as long as I can remember. Hell, I've even gone so far as to make the image a part of most of my online ventures. However, the poor and rather orally incontinent fellow featured here is kinda special to me, 'cos I created and photographed him meself yesterday evening. Took me all of fifteen minutes start-to-finish, it did.
What's his name, you might ask? Why Charles, of course. As in {wait for it..........} "Whazzzup, Chuck!!" And for those of you fine ladies and gentlemen out there who might take against my warped'n'wicked sense of punning humour, please feel free to call him........(wait for it again).......
.................RALF................
More shortly.
Sunday, October 30, 2016
BOO!!!
Okay.....okay.....okay..... just a little pinprick.
There'll be no more..........
.......... but you may feel a little S+I+C+K!!!!!
There'll be no more..........
.......... but you may feel a little S+I+C+K!!!!!
Thursday, October 20, 2016
Celebration Day
{A-la Ben Stein} Woooooowwwwww.........
The Tenth Anniversary of my tenure as a fitful blogger just had to coincide with a genuinely historical event - am I a lucky stiff, or what?
I'll deal with said historical even presently. We kick things off with my debut blog, which appeared on MySpace on this date a decade previous. As a total greenhorn, I quite naturally didn't see the full potential of what blogging had to offer for perhaps six months or so. I simply spent that time throwing random stuff at the walls, just to see what would stick. I soon found out two things - readers of my earliest efforts dug my overall writing style; and politics was a good avenue to instigate some legitimate back-and-forth, so long as nobody got personal / nasty. I welcomed any and all commentary / criticism, again so long as it was not personal or nasty.
Thus was born my first point of pride as a blogger; from that original MySpace blog until this very post, there have only been TWO incidents that went to flame, out of perhaps 550-625 blogs over ten years. All credit goes to my readers - the respect that they consistently show to my humble ramblings is the real reason the incidents of flame are a rare occurrence. And as such, I always try to bring home the blogging-bacon in creative ways, even if I'm dealing with "hot button" subject material.
In time, I gradually became aware of the underlying potential of blogging as a powerful networking tool, and quickly set up links between all my networking nodes and the blog, which did wonders for both my blog readership, and various other endeavours {like my music} I had going at the time. This was way cool as far as it went, but I got the biggest kick out of the simple fact that I could keep my writing chops sharp {as the tagline here has it}, and really turn my brain inside-out any time the mood struck. And rest assured that "the mood" struck pretty damn frequently in those days.
At the zenith, I had no less than six blogs going simultaneously - forcing me to become an adept "plate spinner," until I got tired enough to just use MySpace as the nexus, with the others more or less becoming satellite "mirrors." It didn't hurt either my readership, or the myriad other threads tied into my blogoshpere. Good thing too, 'cos I came perilously close to total writer's burnout more than a few times, before things got streamlined. The last thing I wanted was to end up like good ol' Uncle Ernie {"Tommy" pun intentional} Hemmingway, drowning his sorrows by deep-throating tequila worms 20 out of every 24 hours.
I resolutely run the gamut, in terms of subject matter - everything from food to cars, celebrities to obituaries; hobbies to music; religion to yes, politics; hell, I've even posted several humorous and/or totally whimsical installments, which always go down well {don't as me why, though}. In short, I've covered a LOT of subject matter on these humble pages o' mine. And again, gauging by the feedback I've received, I have to say that my modest efforts have had a positive impact about 97% of the time. That's the most wonderful Gift I've ever had as a writer, bar none. Thank you all for facilitating said Gift, from the bottom of me heart, Boys and Girls. I couldn't have earned such a precious reward without each and every one of you lot supporting this mess so staunchly.
Which is a perfect segue to the historical event I mentioned in the first paragraph. The start of my 11th year as a blogger sees me as a tiny part of The Donald's Presidential campaign - and totally DAZZLED by the HUGE coup he's pulled off. Forget all about all of the spin and rhetoric the lame-stream media is trying mightily to induce and govern. I can guarantee you virtually none of the pundits of any stripe even know just how massive a true masterstroke DJT's debate performance last evening really was. In a nutshell, my Main Man The Donald stole the lame-stream media's thunder a million times over - by quietly arranging a LIVE-FEED podcast on Facebook!!
Better still, the podcast was 100% free of commentary / instant analysis and all the other bullshit that are the l-sm's stock-in-trade. Quite simply, The Donald took his case straight to the public - pure and undistilled - and thoroughly bitch-slapped both the Hildebeast AND the lame-stream media in one fell swoop. What's more, DJT was wearing stainless steel gauntlets, whilst doing the bitch-slapping. While I don't have any figures handy, I'd say it's a pretty safe bet that DJT's gambit absolutely buried the l-sm, in terms of overall viewership.
And here's the brilliant kicker - any type of media viewership generates a certain amount of advertising revenue, either directly or indirectly. Zuckerberg may loathe The Donald's politics, but he's absolutely nobody's fool when it comes down to quickly glomming on to a potential online revenue bonanza, offered up on a silver platter like this. No sir - ol' Snarky-Mark & The Dumbbell Bunch damn well know which side their bread's buttered on, and likely will discretely continue to curry favor with DJT going forward, even if they have to hold their noses, and gag themselves with {plastic} spoons whilst doing so!!
Item: about 30-45 minutes into the debate, the Facebook feed developed a minor glitch, and seized up for perhaps 45 seconds or so. When the feed was restored, there was a rather humorous byproduct of the glitch - the rest of the podcast featured a steady marquee-stream of Facebook emoticons. I might be totally wrong in thinking that both the glitch and the byproduct were evidence of an attempted hack, but I'm basing my speculation on personal observation. The truth could be the polar opposite of my surmise here; perhaps we'll have the gist within a week or so. Circumstantially at least, I'm betting on my surmise.
And there you have it, my Good Friends. My second decade as a humble blogger ought to be even more of a hoot than the first, if last night was any indication. As always, time will tell {about the circus and the wishing well}.
To close things on a high note, let me go on record by stating that I can't decide if'n da Hildebeast looked more like Boss Hogg, or the Sta-Puft Marshmallow Man, last night!!!
What say you?
Next several rounds of Colortini's are on me, my Good Friends. Please feel free to indulge deeply.
More shortly.
The Tenth Anniversary of my tenure as a fitful blogger just had to coincide with a genuinely historical event - am I a lucky stiff, or what?
I'll deal with said historical even presently. We kick things off with my debut blog, which appeared on MySpace on this date a decade previous. As a total greenhorn, I quite naturally didn't see the full potential of what blogging had to offer for perhaps six months or so. I simply spent that time throwing random stuff at the walls, just to see what would stick. I soon found out two things - readers of my earliest efforts dug my overall writing style; and politics was a good avenue to instigate some legitimate back-and-forth, so long as nobody got personal / nasty. I welcomed any and all commentary / criticism, again so long as it was not personal or nasty.
Thus was born my first point of pride as a blogger; from that original MySpace blog until this very post, there have only been TWO incidents that went to flame, out of perhaps 550-625 blogs over ten years. All credit goes to my readers - the respect that they consistently show to my humble ramblings is the real reason the incidents of flame are a rare occurrence. And as such, I always try to bring home the blogging-bacon in creative ways, even if I'm dealing with "hot button" subject material.
In time, I gradually became aware of the underlying potential of blogging as a powerful networking tool, and quickly set up links between all my networking nodes and the blog, which did wonders for both my blog readership, and various other endeavours {like my music} I had going at the time. This was way cool as far as it went, but I got the biggest kick out of the simple fact that I could keep my writing chops sharp {as the tagline here has it}, and really turn my brain inside-out any time the mood struck. And rest assured that "the mood" struck pretty damn frequently in those days.
At the zenith, I had no less than six blogs going simultaneously - forcing me to become an adept "plate spinner," until I got tired enough to just use MySpace as the nexus, with the others more or less becoming satellite "mirrors." It didn't hurt either my readership, or the myriad other threads tied into my blogoshpere. Good thing too, 'cos I came perilously close to total writer's burnout more than a few times, before things got streamlined. The last thing I wanted was to end up like good ol' Uncle Ernie {"Tommy" pun intentional} Hemmingway, drowning his sorrows by deep-throating tequila worms 20 out of every 24 hours.
I resolutely run the gamut, in terms of subject matter - everything from food to cars, celebrities to obituaries; hobbies to music; religion to yes, politics; hell, I've even posted several humorous and/or totally whimsical installments, which always go down well {don't as me why, though}. In short, I've covered a LOT of subject matter on these humble pages o' mine. And again, gauging by the feedback I've received, I have to say that my modest efforts have had a positive impact about 97% of the time. That's the most wonderful Gift I've ever had as a writer, bar none. Thank you all for facilitating said Gift, from the bottom of me heart, Boys and Girls. I couldn't have earned such a precious reward without each and every one of you lot supporting this mess so staunchly.
Which is a perfect segue to the historical event I mentioned in the first paragraph. The start of my 11th year as a blogger sees me as a tiny part of The Donald's Presidential campaign - and totally DAZZLED by the HUGE coup he's pulled off. Forget all about all of the spin and rhetoric the lame-stream media is trying mightily to induce and govern. I can guarantee you virtually none of the pundits of any stripe even know just how massive a true masterstroke DJT's debate performance last evening really was. In a nutshell, my Main Man The Donald stole the lame-stream media's thunder a million times over - by quietly arranging a LIVE-FEED podcast on Facebook!!
Better still, the podcast was 100% free of commentary / instant analysis and all the other bullshit that are the l-sm's stock-in-trade. Quite simply, The Donald took his case straight to the public - pure and undistilled - and thoroughly bitch-slapped both the Hildebeast AND the lame-stream media in one fell swoop. What's more, DJT was wearing stainless steel gauntlets, whilst doing the bitch-slapping. While I don't have any figures handy, I'd say it's a pretty safe bet that DJT's gambit absolutely buried the l-sm, in terms of overall viewership.
And here's the brilliant kicker - any type of media viewership generates a certain amount of advertising revenue, either directly or indirectly. Zuckerberg may loathe The Donald's politics, but he's absolutely nobody's fool when it comes down to quickly glomming on to a potential online revenue bonanza, offered up on a silver platter like this. No sir - ol' Snarky-Mark & The Dumbbell Bunch damn well know which side their bread's buttered on, and likely will discretely continue to curry favor with DJT going forward, even if they have to hold their noses, and gag themselves with {plastic} spoons whilst doing so!!
Item: about 30-45 minutes into the debate, the Facebook feed developed a minor glitch, and seized up for perhaps 45 seconds or so. When the feed was restored, there was a rather humorous byproduct of the glitch - the rest of the podcast featured a steady marquee-stream of Facebook emoticons. I might be totally wrong in thinking that both the glitch and the byproduct were evidence of an attempted hack, but I'm basing my speculation on personal observation. The truth could be the polar opposite of my surmise here; perhaps we'll have the gist within a week or so. Circumstantially at least, I'm betting on my surmise.
And there you have it, my Good Friends. My second decade as a humble blogger ought to be even more of a hoot than the first, if last night was any indication. As always, time will tell {about the circus and the wishing well}.
To close things on a high note, let me go on record by stating that I can't decide if'n da Hildebeast looked more like Boss Hogg, or the Sta-Puft Marshmallow Man, last night!!!
What say you?
Next several rounds of Colortini's are on me, my Good Friends. Please feel free to indulge deeply.
More shortly.
Friday, October 14, 2016
'Twas Fifty Years Ago Yesterday......
..........that the world first {ahem!!} experienced the devastatingly powerful Force of Nature that was my main Man James Marshall Hendrix.
To say he "revolutionized" rock music is a rather gross understatement, at least from my personal view as a 35-year scholar of all things Jimi. No sir - a more correct and very strong case can be made for the notion that JMH revolutionized popular music as a whole, and then spread it all around the globe. I needn't point out that his legacy today is nearly as powerful as his work was whilst he was alive, right up until the moment of his tragic passing.
Be that as it may, this posting is a perfect vehicle for me to illustrate Jimi's perpetual power with both general and personal instances.
First up is this succulent morsel:
"Foxey Lady" is of course another one of Jimi's signatures, close kin to "Purple Haze" I analyzed a while back, and equally familiar to several generation's worth of people across the globe. However, this particular version bears much closer scrutiny. As you can clearly see / hear during the first thirty seconds, this Foxy Lady is chock-full of Jimi's inimitable musical mannerisms. Too chock-full, as it turned out.
Right at the 33 second mark, Jimi seems to have gotten himself into a bit of onstage trouble; the myriad distortions and physical manipulations he rammed through his axe up to this point, have rendered the white Fender a wee bit out of tune. True-blue trouper that the Lad was, he promptly seized an opportunity virtually no one else was even aware of. As Mitch and Noel effortlessly maintain the furious groove, Jimi first lapses into a single-chord drone, and quickly tunes up on the fly, within his ongoing drone. The initial effect is that Jimi simply muffed a turnaround, and was patiently waiting to rejoin the current in proper fashion when he could - the general public being more or less ignorant of the true root of tuning issues, than most musicians would be.
Jimi drones on for ten seconds, then effortlessly rejoins Mitch and Noel with an absolutely mind-shredding lick at the 43-45 second mark that literally screams "I MEANT to do all that!" I had to listen to it perhaps 75 times in succession initially, just to grasp the sheer audacity of what Jimi had done, it was SO subtly potent. Here, I should point out one small but crucial fact. This video is the "officially sanctioned" {by Jimi's Estate} document. The complete unedited video - which SHOWS Jimi working his special magic described above start-to-finish - can be seen in the "Hear My Train A Comin'" DVD from 2013. Which has been one of my most prized possessions for the last 3 years.
There's even more, though. Jimi's delectable musical "cake" here is made even more so by Noel and Mitch, who quite simply kick just as much ass - if not slightly more than - their wildly-talented band mate and frontman. A virtuoso ain't worthy of the title at all, unless they surround themselves with compatriots of similar caliber, and Noel and Mitch definitely fill their roles brilliantly, in this instance.
From the sublime to the ridiculous only takes one {mis}step; which is a perfect segue to the personal aspects. I've long since eschewed any need to explain why I love the man and his work so much, even though we play vastly different instruments. I've spent as much time researching and studying his basic biography as I have researching and studying his music. Ergo, it is entirely proper and fitting to insert the next illustration:
This anomaly finds Yours Humbly surrounded by no less than thee, count 'em THREE musicians of quite high-caliber, indeed. Like Jimi, I can't really do my thing properly without a measure of help from the outside. My band mates here give me all the brilliant inspiration I can handle, and then some! True to Jimi's philosophy, it's all about living in the moment - the past and future simply don't exist. Carpe diem, in other words.
Wellsir, we "carpe-d" and "diem-ed" until the proverbial cows flew home to roost {sic}. And had a right jolly old time of it to boot, IIRC. If nothing else, like JMH, we took the music WAY beyond the point where we first found it, which has probably all but guaranteed my fate of meeting my doom at the brain-chomping teeth of a certain Muddy-Zombie I've heard whispered rumors about........
Am I worried?
HELL to the no, Cats and Kitties - in the end, I'm still locked within Jimi's overall mindset. The story of life is Hello and Goodbye, until we meet again.
Diggez-vous?
To say he "revolutionized" rock music is a rather gross understatement, at least from my personal view as a 35-year scholar of all things Jimi. No sir - a more correct and very strong case can be made for the notion that JMH revolutionized popular music as a whole, and then spread it all around the globe. I needn't point out that his legacy today is nearly as powerful as his work was whilst he was alive, right up until the moment of his tragic passing.
Be that as it may, this posting is a perfect vehicle for me to illustrate Jimi's perpetual power with both general and personal instances.
First up is this succulent morsel:
"Foxey Lady" is of course another one of Jimi's signatures, close kin to "Purple Haze" I analyzed a while back, and equally familiar to several generation's worth of people across the globe. However, this particular version bears much closer scrutiny. As you can clearly see / hear during the first thirty seconds, this Foxy Lady is chock-full of Jimi's inimitable musical mannerisms. Too chock-full, as it turned out.
Right at the 33 second mark, Jimi seems to have gotten himself into a bit of onstage trouble; the myriad distortions and physical manipulations he rammed through his axe up to this point, have rendered the white Fender a wee bit out of tune. True-blue trouper that the Lad was, he promptly seized an opportunity virtually no one else was even aware of. As Mitch and Noel effortlessly maintain the furious groove, Jimi first lapses into a single-chord drone, and quickly tunes up on the fly, within his ongoing drone. The initial effect is that Jimi simply muffed a turnaround, and was patiently waiting to rejoin the current in proper fashion when he could - the general public being more or less ignorant of the true root of tuning issues, than most musicians would be.
Jimi drones on for ten seconds, then effortlessly rejoins Mitch and Noel with an absolutely mind-shredding lick at the 43-45 second mark that literally screams "I MEANT to do all that!" I had to listen to it perhaps 75 times in succession initially, just to grasp the sheer audacity of what Jimi had done, it was SO subtly potent. Here, I should point out one small but crucial fact. This video is the "officially sanctioned" {by Jimi's Estate} document. The complete unedited video - which SHOWS Jimi working his special magic described above start-to-finish - can be seen in the "Hear My Train A Comin'" DVD from 2013. Which has been one of my most prized possessions for the last 3 years.
There's even more, though. Jimi's delectable musical "cake" here is made even more so by Noel and Mitch, who quite simply kick just as much ass - if not slightly more than - their wildly-talented band mate and frontman. A virtuoso ain't worthy of the title at all, unless they surround themselves with compatriots of similar caliber, and Noel and Mitch definitely fill their roles brilliantly, in this instance.
From the sublime to the ridiculous only takes one {mis}step; which is a perfect segue to the personal aspects. I've long since eschewed any need to explain why I love the man and his work so much, even though we play vastly different instruments. I've spent as much time researching and studying his basic biography as I have researching and studying his music. Ergo, it is entirely proper and fitting to insert the next illustration:
This anomaly finds Yours Humbly surrounded by no less than thee, count 'em THREE musicians of quite high-caliber, indeed. Like Jimi, I can't really do my thing properly without a measure of help from the outside. My band mates here give me all the brilliant inspiration I can handle, and then some! True to Jimi's philosophy, it's all about living in the moment - the past and future simply don't exist. Carpe diem, in other words.
Wellsir, we "carpe-d" and "diem-ed" until the proverbial cows flew home to roost {sic}. And had a right jolly old time of it to boot, IIRC. If nothing else, like JMH, we took the music WAY beyond the point where we first found it, which has probably all but guaranteed my fate of meeting my doom at the brain-chomping teeth of a certain Muddy-Zombie I've heard whispered rumors about........
Am I worried?
HELL to the no, Cats and Kitties - in the end, I'm still locked within Jimi's overall mindset. The story of life is Hello and Goodbye, until we meet again.
Diggez-vous?
Monday, October 10, 2016
Two Johns, No Waiting
Rocktober 9 always leaves me with a touch of the melancholy, due to the loss of the aforementioned two Johns - aka Entwistle & Lennon, to be specific. Both were born on this date, four years apart. And both left us way, WAY too early.
Their biographies are well known, and readily available; my intent here is to relate how both impacted my life. Winston Legthigh is a legitimate enigma, as far as I'm concerned. No, I don't deny how big and influential the Beatles were {and still are}, nor John's large influence within the group. Nor his talent, wit, etc. I do have sour tastes regarding his politics and worldview; both being textbook cases of one believing 100% in their own PR, IMHO. But if you overlay the man's basic wit, and especially his brilliant sense of humor on top of the negatives, well, let's just say I can almost tolerate the sour stuff.
I love to see early Beatles interviews, pre-Ed Sullivan. John's humor was incredible, even before he really started "playing the game" with interviewers. There's a cheeky innocence going on that's absolutely priceless, and it's evident up until February 1964 - after that, it vanished - or more likely, "grew up." The only time post-2/64 there was more than a hint of it was his December 1968 appearance in the stillborn Strolling Bones' Rock & Roll Circus - but even that bit was ultimately ruined the instant Yoko opened her big fat yap!!
Big Johnny Twinkle, on the other hand, also had a very, VERY special sense of humor that I glommed on to as soon as I was old enough to understand what the hell it was all about. It also helped that he was on the second record album my brother and I ever had, namely Who's Next. I perfectly knew the lyrics to "My Wife" long before I understood the story they told, or the wicked, hidden humor within said story. In later years, I even had a few goes at singing it myself - since John rarely sang it in the same key twice {judging by all the live recorded evidence out there}, I figured a key-less version would suit me just fine. It went down well enough - didn't even have to dodge one rotten tomah-to - and became the first of two tributes to my dear old Ox that I've done to date.
The second tribute to Boris the Spider's Daddy?
Ironically enough, this is where Winston and John Alec "come together" {pun deliberate} in my personal corner of life. And to put the icing on the whole bloody cake, their synergy came from a dude who was great friends to both {and another huge influence on me} - one Sir Elton John. In a nutshell, I fell in love with Sir Reg's "Empty Garden" the instant I heard it 'way back in the Jurassic days of 1982; a love that was cemented that summer when my brother, sister-in-law and I took in Elton's St. Louis VP Fair concert - featuring "EG" - under the Arch. That gig subconsciously planted a seed in the back of me noggin.
Flash forward exactly thirty years. The Ox's sudden, shocking death in June of 2002 dealt me an emotional blow of rare power indeed - I was almost physically sick with grief. Despite both grief and my bitterness over JAE "dying like a rock star should," I soon called the now fully-germinated seed from 1982 forward into my full consciousness. All I had to do was change three words in the lyric of "Empty Garden," and thus was my tribute to the Two Johns complete. By substituting "Vegas sunset" for "New York sunset," all that was left to do was perform this lovely dual-eulogy as soon as I could, which happened about eight days later.
Thanks to the ninth incarnation of my beloved Cross Town Traffic being a keyboards-bass-drums trio {my ex on the keys}, I was able to quickly concoct a most suitable arrangement. However, I didn't reckon on the piece having SUCH a spine-tingling impact on the boards and in front of an audience. I mean the vibe wasn't there at all during our rehearsals, but boy did it ever spring up quick the instant we took the stage! It probably had a lot to do with the audience; they not only picked up on it from the get-go, they also reflected straight back to us, amplified from anywhere between 250 to 1500-odd times over, depending on which venue we were working. As such, who could possibly miss the import of it all?
LSS, we kept EG in our regular setlists for perhaps six months or so, before confining it to October 9 performances exclusively. And it's been that way ever since, with virtually no dimming of the vibe. Downright harrowing, it is.
And that's the whole ball of wax, my dear Cats and Kitties. May God Bless and Keep our Two Johns - With No Waiting.
Peace in, garbage out, and feel the vibe exactly the way I felt it that first time in '82:
.
Their biographies are well known, and readily available; my intent here is to relate how both impacted my life. Winston Legthigh is a legitimate enigma, as far as I'm concerned. No, I don't deny how big and influential the Beatles were {and still are}, nor John's large influence within the group. Nor his talent, wit, etc. I do have sour tastes regarding his politics and worldview; both being textbook cases of one believing 100% in their own PR, IMHO. But if you overlay the man's basic wit, and especially his brilliant sense of humor on top of the negatives, well, let's just say I can almost tolerate the sour stuff.
I love to see early Beatles interviews, pre-Ed Sullivan. John's humor was incredible, even before he really started "playing the game" with interviewers. There's a cheeky innocence going on that's absolutely priceless, and it's evident up until February 1964 - after that, it vanished - or more likely, "grew up." The only time post-2/64 there was more than a hint of it was his December 1968 appearance in the stillborn Strolling Bones' Rock & Roll Circus - but even that bit was ultimately ruined the instant Yoko opened her big fat yap!!
Big Johnny Twinkle, on the other hand, also had a very, VERY special sense of humor that I glommed on to as soon as I was old enough to understand what the hell it was all about. It also helped that he was on the second record album my brother and I ever had, namely Who's Next. I perfectly knew the lyrics to "My Wife" long before I understood the story they told, or the wicked, hidden humor within said story. In later years, I even had a few goes at singing it myself - since John rarely sang it in the same key twice {judging by all the live recorded evidence out there}, I figured a key-less version would suit me just fine. It went down well enough - didn't even have to dodge one rotten tomah-to - and became the first of two tributes to my dear old Ox that I've done to date.
The second tribute to Boris the Spider's Daddy?
Ironically enough, this is where Winston and John Alec "come together" {pun deliberate} in my personal corner of life. And to put the icing on the whole bloody cake, their synergy came from a dude who was great friends to both {and another huge influence on me} - one Sir Elton John. In a nutshell, I fell in love with Sir Reg's "Empty Garden" the instant I heard it 'way back in the Jurassic days of 1982; a love that was cemented that summer when my brother, sister-in-law and I took in Elton's St. Louis VP Fair concert - featuring "EG" - under the Arch. That gig subconsciously planted a seed in the back of me noggin.
Flash forward exactly thirty years. The Ox's sudden, shocking death in June of 2002 dealt me an emotional blow of rare power indeed - I was almost physically sick with grief. Despite both grief and my bitterness over JAE "dying like a rock star should," I soon called the now fully-germinated seed from 1982 forward into my full consciousness. All I had to do was change three words in the lyric of "Empty Garden," and thus was my tribute to the Two Johns complete. By substituting "Vegas sunset" for "New York sunset," all that was left to do was perform this lovely dual-eulogy as soon as I could, which happened about eight days later.
Thanks to the ninth incarnation of my beloved Cross Town Traffic being a keyboards-bass-drums trio {my ex on the keys}, I was able to quickly concoct a most suitable arrangement. However, I didn't reckon on the piece having SUCH a spine-tingling impact on the boards and in front of an audience. I mean the vibe wasn't there at all during our rehearsals, but boy did it ever spring up quick the instant we took the stage! It probably had a lot to do with the audience; they not only picked up on it from the get-go, they also reflected straight back to us, amplified from anywhere between 250 to 1500-odd times over, depending on which venue we were working. As such, who could possibly miss the import of it all?
LSS, we kept EG in our regular setlists for perhaps six months or so, before confining it to October 9 performances exclusively. And it's been that way ever since, with virtually no dimming of the vibe. Downright harrowing, it is.
And that's the whole ball of wax, my dear Cats and Kitties. May God Bless and Keep our Two Johns - With No Waiting.
Peace in, garbage out, and feel the vibe exactly the way I felt it that first time in '82:
.
Sunday, October 2, 2016
Mein Kampfwagen: The One That Got Away
Rocktober, already? Where the hell does the time go??
Oh well - I've already got a palette of blog goodies lined up for this month anyway, so let that time fly by then, eh?
To kick off this special Blogging season, I'm going to hark back to the late winter of 2015, when I told the tale of TR, my '98 Explorer Sport coupe-wagon. Within said tale, I made mention of "Old Blue 4," which was the 1989 Chevy Suburban my brother kindly sold to me, and left it at that. This is the rest of Old Blue 4's story.
At the time of OB4's acquisition, I was looking for a ride that would be true dual-purpose; a reliable grocery-getter / commuter vehicle, and my first-ever "hobby ride" to have fun souping up and modifying to my wonderfully warped tastes. I'd always liked the 1973-89 "Square 'Burb" design, and OB4's original appearance quietly screamed "Go for it":
Needless to say, OB4 was more "awkwardly gaudy family land-yacht" in his original state than the wild Q-ship I had in mind, but I could easily look past his flaws and see his true potential.
After perhaps two weeks getting thoroughly acquainted with my big wagon, I embarked on the first phase of crafting my vision cautiously by tackling the outer silhouette mods first, whilst researching all things mechanical and electrical for the next several phases. In short order, the vision I had for OB4's external appearance appeared for the first time:
Now that OB4's ridiculous "blang" {"bling" for white trash, natch} was history, I began to get really, REALLY excited about what the end result would be like. Hell, I'd even done the first "custom" touch already, by the simple expedient of retaining both the fore and aft vertical kick-plates from the discarded running boards as ad-hoc mudflaps!! Look closely at the lower rear of the front fender - all that's missing is the simple sheet-metal extension I was going to add all the way around just before painting the buggy. If there was any justice left in the universe, the next few phases should have been a downright blast, given how well my modest first steps turned out.
True to my luck however, there was no justice left in the universe; a scant week later, OB4 became a semi-quadriplegic when his Turbo 700R4 transmission assumed a persistent first-gear vegetative state that was well beyond my means to cure at the time. After a brief, but VERY bitter period of soul-searching, I threw in the towel, and sold off my nifty wheeled project for the proverbial "song".
However, to my unexpectedly great good fortune, when OB4's door closed, the window to TR almost immediately opened up wide - and as they say, the rest is history. I do still miss me 'Burb more than a tad, but I've already moved well on from the outright mourning mess, if nothing else. OB4 was like one of the free samples you can find in the local grocery store on any given day; the sole purpose is to merely whet - not satisfy - a given appetite. My hobby-ride is still out there in the ether somewhere, waiting patiently for me to break a leg tripping over it on search! And so it goes.........
More shortly - the next three rounds of Colortinis are on the House.
Oh well - I've already got a palette of blog goodies lined up for this month anyway, so let that time fly by then, eh?
To kick off this special Blogging season, I'm going to hark back to the late winter of 2015, when I told the tale of TR, my '98 Explorer Sport coupe-wagon. Within said tale, I made mention of "Old Blue 4," which was the 1989 Chevy Suburban my brother kindly sold to me, and left it at that. This is the rest of Old Blue 4's story.
At the time of OB4's acquisition, I was looking for a ride that would be true dual-purpose; a reliable grocery-getter / commuter vehicle, and my first-ever "hobby ride" to have fun souping up and modifying to my wonderfully warped tastes. I'd always liked the 1973-89 "Square 'Burb" design, and OB4's original appearance quietly screamed "Go for it":
Needless to say, OB4 was more "awkwardly gaudy family land-yacht" in his original state than the wild Q-ship I had in mind, but I could easily look past his flaws and see his true potential.
After perhaps two weeks getting thoroughly acquainted with my big wagon, I embarked on the first phase of crafting my vision cautiously by tackling the outer silhouette mods first, whilst researching all things mechanical and electrical for the next several phases. In short order, the vision I had for OB4's external appearance appeared for the first time:
Now that OB4's ridiculous "blang" {"bling" for white trash, natch} was history, I began to get really, REALLY excited about what the end result would be like. Hell, I'd even done the first "custom" touch already, by the simple expedient of retaining both the fore and aft vertical kick-plates from the discarded running boards as ad-hoc mudflaps!! Look closely at the lower rear of the front fender - all that's missing is the simple sheet-metal extension I was going to add all the way around just before painting the buggy. If there was any justice left in the universe, the next few phases should have been a downright blast, given how well my modest first steps turned out.
True to my luck however, there was no justice left in the universe; a scant week later, OB4 became a semi-quadriplegic when his Turbo 700R4 transmission assumed a persistent first-gear vegetative state that was well beyond my means to cure at the time. After a brief, but VERY bitter period of soul-searching, I threw in the towel, and sold off my nifty wheeled project for the proverbial "song".
However, to my unexpectedly great good fortune, when OB4's door closed, the window to TR almost immediately opened up wide - and as they say, the rest is history. I do still miss me 'Burb more than a tad, but I've already moved well on from the outright mourning mess, if nothing else. OB4 was like one of the free samples you can find in the local grocery store on any given day; the sole purpose is to merely whet - not satisfy - a given appetite. My hobby-ride is still out there in the ether somewhere, waiting patiently for me to break a leg tripping over it on search! And so it goes.........
More shortly - the next three rounds of Colortinis are on the House.
Saturday, September 17, 2016
Sunday, September 11, 2016
Indelible Infamy
No, I haven't forgotten what happened 15 years ago today, my dearest Cats-n-Kitties.
Now, ask yourselves one thing - who is more likely to prevent, or even merely forestall a re-run; The Hilldebeast, or my man DJT?
Food for thought, Dear Friends - time to get off the mental diet, and go full-on paleo. I can think of no finer way to honor each and every life lost on this date a decade and a half past. It's the least we can all do, IMHO.
Peace in, garbage out.
Until anon.........
Now, ask yourselves one thing - who is more likely to prevent, or even merely forestall a re-run; The Hilldebeast, or my man DJT?
Food for thought, Dear Friends - time to get off the mental diet, and go full-on paleo. I can think of no finer way to honor each and every life lost on this date a decade and a half past. It's the least we can all do, IMHO.
Peace in, garbage out.
Until anon.........
Sunday, August 28, 2016
Silly Season: Dog Days
Well, with Deb Blabber-mouth Schultz imploding the instant the Hildebeast stole, er, "won" the Democratic Nomination, what else could I possibly title this post then, eh?
Let's face it, Boys and Girls - today's "politics" are something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. And the ongoing - and rather boring - media "spin cycles" merely emphasize how well and truly f*cked we all are. It's hard for me to believe that the hilarious days of "Mad How," {former DNC Chairman Howard Dean}, "The Scarecrow On The Swiftboat," {Current Secretary of Idolatry John "Mr. Ter - EH - sa Heinz-Kerry"}, and the Great Fall of Dan Blather were some TWELVE YEARS AGO!!!! It feels more like a couple lifetimes......
Back in the day, I used to have quite a bit of fun flexing my writing {and satirical} chops on a weekly basis; gleefully ripping apart the latest fallacy to come from ol' addle-brained Howie, and his loyal army of oompa-loompas {remember Kerry's hideous "carrot - tan" from the first VP debate in '04?}. Hell, things escalated for me so much between '04-'08, that I wound up putting together the infamous "Ironmandean" video, and plastered it all over YouTube, Yahoo, and MySpace; as well as a couple hundred random chatboards and indie websites during the bitter end of the 2008 Presidential race. Which subsequently led to some freelance consulting for one former VP candidate I had become somewhat enamored with back in aught-four, as well as a few "chores" for the nascent Tea Party movement, all on the QT. No way in hell was I gonna do anything "official," even back then - I'd sooner volunteer to test the latest batch of anthrax, or ricin!
Today of course, my prescience speaks for itself. We've endured almost eight years under a Moslem "president." We've seen splinter factions of the DNC sprout up "spontaneously," and raise hell with everything from Wall Street to our police forces and public RESTROOMS, for crying out loud. Our economy is in shambles - we're still a "Class B Credit Risk," in the world's economic eyes, remember. We're still fighting "phantom" wars - with REAL casualties - that have little or no connection to sanity, let alone conditions for "winning," exit goals, specific purposes, etc.
Item - the one exception to all of this that, ironically, "proves the rule" as it were, has been the late, great, Andrew Breitbart's single-handed destruction of ACORN - and I don't need to remind y'all what the "payoff" for Andy's neat bit of true public service was now, do I? The poor lad, a year and a half younger than me, ups and expires of "natural causes," seemingly in the prime of his life, just after his big score? I didn't buy it in 2012, and I still don't buy it now. Exception just proved the rule, BTW.
Call me a cynic, call me a bitter old fart - hell, call me "out to lunch, and dinner as well." Guilty on every count - but only because I still have clear memories of happier times and I make the occasional visit to my conscience when the will is weak! You expect me to get all bouncy about an unconvicted, felonious shrew, who thinks we "owe" her the highest office in the land, rather than forcing her to EARN it the same way those of us on the opposite side of the aisle HAVE to do?? Say what you will about The Donald's big mouth - at least he doesn't have a BODY COUNT that trails back a good quarter-century, if not longer!! It's a perfectly straight line from Benghazi back to Vince Foster and Web Hubble, Cats & Kitties. And that line is indelibly etched in blood, dig?
Facts are stubborn things - but then, so are jackasses.
Oh well - my "Ironmandean" video still has clout, thanks to it making the rounds of The Donald's Facebook outpost this past spring. Knowing my luck, he'll win big in November, then immediately appoint me "Anti-Pundit {as in "Anti-Christ"} Czar," then ship me off to Lower Alcatraz, or wherever......
I ain't holding me breath!!
;^)
Let's face it, Boys and Girls - today's "politics" are something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. And the ongoing - and rather boring - media "spin cycles" merely emphasize how well and truly f*cked we all are. It's hard for me to believe that the hilarious days of "Mad How," {former DNC Chairman Howard Dean}, "The Scarecrow On The Swiftboat," {Current Secretary of Idolatry John "Mr. Ter - EH - sa Heinz-Kerry"}, and the Great Fall of Dan Blather were some TWELVE YEARS AGO!!!! It feels more like a couple lifetimes......
Back in the day, I used to have quite a bit of fun flexing my writing {and satirical} chops on a weekly basis; gleefully ripping apart the latest fallacy to come from ol' addle-brained Howie, and his loyal army of oompa-loompas {remember Kerry's hideous "carrot - tan" from the first VP debate in '04?}. Hell, things escalated for me so much between '04-'08, that I wound up putting together the infamous "Ironmandean" video, and plastered it all over YouTube, Yahoo, and MySpace; as well as a couple hundred random chatboards and indie websites during the bitter end of the 2008 Presidential race. Which subsequently led to some freelance consulting for one former VP candidate I had become somewhat enamored with back in aught-four, as well as a few "chores" for the nascent Tea Party movement, all on the QT. No way in hell was I gonna do anything "official," even back then - I'd sooner volunteer to test the latest batch of anthrax, or ricin!
Today of course, my prescience speaks for itself. We've endured almost eight years under a Moslem "president." We've seen splinter factions of the DNC sprout up "spontaneously," and raise hell with everything from Wall Street to our police forces and public RESTROOMS, for crying out loud. Our economy is in shambles - we're still a "Class B Credit Risk," in the world's economic eyes, remember. We're still fighting "phantom" wars - with REAL casualties - that have little or no connection to sanity, let alone conditions for "winning," exit goals, specific purposes, etc.
Item - the one exception to all of this that, ironically, "proves the rule" as it were, has been the late, great, Andrew Breitbart's single-handed destruction of ACORN - and I don't need to remind y'all what the "payoff" for Andy's neat bit of true public service was now, do I? The poor lad, a year and a half younger than me, ups and expires of "natural causes," seemingly in the prime of his life, just after his big score? I didn't buy it in 2012, and I still don't buy it now. Exception just proved the rule, BTW.
Call me a cynic, call me a bitter old fart - hell, call me "out to lunch, and dinner as well." Guilty on every count - but only because I still have clear memories of happier times and I make the occasional visit to my conscience when the will is weak! You expect me to get all bouncy about an unconvicted, felonious shrew, who thinks we "owe" her the highest office in the land, rather than forcing her to EARN it the same way those of us on the opposite side of the aisle HAVE to do?? Say what you will about The Donald's big mouth - at least he doesn't have a BODY COUNT that trails back a good quarter-century, if not longer!! It's a perfectly straight line from Benghazi back to Vince Foster and Web Hubble, Cats & Kitties. And that line is indelibly etched in blood, dig?
Facts are stubborn things - but then, so are jackasses.
Oh well - my "Ironmandean" video still has clout, thanks to it making the rounds of The Donald's Facebook outpost this past spring. Knowing my luck, he'll win big in November, then immediately appoint me "Anti-Pundit {as in "Anti-Christ"} Czar," then ship me off to Lower Alcatraz, or wherever......
I ain't holding me breath!!
;^)
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