Atmospheric Commentary...
...that's what happens when my head's in the clouds...

With this post, I've just written about a few 'general' things which are floating around in the breeze. A case of turning on the computer, and seeing what happens. Wheeeeeeee!!!

NASH'NUL POLLY-TIX: Well, now, the Presidential Candidates have chosen their running mates. Barack Obama, supposed man of vision who aspires to "change" everything, chose Demagogue...er, Democrat Senator Joseph Biden, who's spent the last third of a century in Congress. And Republican John McLame...er, McCain, who seems to think being held as a hostage qualifies him to be Prezzident, has selected the Lady Governor from Alaska, who, well...she looks good (in fact, she's kinda 'hot'), but she's got no foreign policy experience. Obama, the newcomer candidate with an old-guard running mate; McCain, the old-guard candidate with a newcomer running mate. What does it all mean? It means that both candidates could have chosen better, more-qualified running mates. Not that I was ever excited about McCain to begin with, because I never was...but I was really s'prised that Mr. Obama has basically hunkered down with a running mate who is the textbook definition of 'Career Politician'. I really feel that Obama has really compromised himself with his selection of running mate. Could it be said that the Democrats are now "Biden" their time 'til November?

PRO BASEBALLERS, OFF-BASE: The Seattle Mariners are now beginning to win a few games, largely because they've brought in some pretty good players from Tacoma, their farm team. Not that it doesn't really matter anymore, because the Mariners are still about a thousand games out of first place in their division. In an ironic sense, it's the expensive players who've brought Seattle the most disappointment. Pitcher Eric Bedard, who's making millions, well, where is he? I haven't seen him pitch in over a month. And he didn't pitch all that much before that. Miguel Batista, who was the M's winningest pitcher last year, has become the next-best-thing-to-batting-practice this year. Kenji Johjima, catcher from Japan, got a three-year-multi-mucho-expensive contract renewal this year, and then was largely replaced with another catcher (who, admittedly, is catching and hitting better), but wait...why give your catcher a 3-year contract extension, and then turn around and replace him, especially when the money paid out during that three-year period coulda been used to get higher caliber talent in other departments. Take your pick...just about every position in the field (and in the batting order) could use upgrading at this point.

A HARD RAIN'S GONNA FALL: MSNBC, the breathless 24-7 news channel, is more breathless than ever; they're providing exhaustive coverage of Hurricane Gustav approaching the New Orleans area, threatening to turn into "Katrina II" in terms of devastation, wreckage, carnage, what have you. Weather charts as of Sunday Afternoon are beginning to indicate the hurricane may veer off to the west, and I hope that's the case. "The Big Easy" (I still don't know why they call it that), New Orleans, was almost wiped off the map the last time around. The residents down there don't need to be devastated again anytime soon. So far, almost 2 million residents of Coastal Louisiana have been evacuated, said MSNBC just now. I've never spent any time in that region, but what impresses me, is that, where do ya go? The land down there is barely above sea level for miles and miles; it's not like here in the west where we can head for the hills; in New Orleans, and for miles around, there are NO hills to head for. I hope everything turns out well for the residents down there.

SEE YOU...IN SEPTEMBER: Last year, at this time, I came down with the most awful case of the flu I've ever had. A year ago tonight, August 31st, I began getting really, really sick, all of a sudden, just before midnight. I'd felt for a couple of days that I was coming down with something, but I didn't think it would get as bad as it did. I was basically a Prisoner Of The Flu from September 1st until September 24th, when I finally got brave enough to fight off my dizziness, to drive into town and pick up supplies. September and October are a couple of the nicest months here on the coast, and the flu basically "robbed" me of My September. I've lived down here on the coast for not quite two years, and if all goes will, I will be able to have My September on the coast At Last. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. And I'm also thinking about Flu Shots, too. When you're a kid, you never think about something like the Flu actually resulting in Death. And hopefully there's no little Flu Bug flying around out there waiting to pick me off.

GETTING WHAT HE DESERVES: In Idaho, where I used to live, Joseph Duncan, the guy who killed almost an entire family, and kidnapped the two youngest, a brother and sister, and killed the little boy, was sentenced to Death last week. This is a federal death sentence, so this guy's In A Heap O' Trouble. The state of California wants a crack at Duncan, too. He's suspected of a child-killing there. And he's a suspect in other such incidents in various other states. I should include here that Duncan threw in some acts of perversion before each Murder. This is a case where Crime really hit close, because I used to live in North Idaho; I'd had meals in the very same Denny's Restaurant in Coeur d'Alene, where Duncan brought the little girl after he'd killed her brother. That's where he was taken into custody. I had driven on Interstate 90, which courses past the house where the murders took place, billions of times. Shiverrrr. I'm not one of those who say, "yeah, rrright, kill him, fry him, do all kinds of awful things to him 'cos he deserves it", but I Know He Needs To Die for what he did. Joseph Duncan is not fit to live amongst us. Not unless they house him forever in a Supermaxx Prison somewhere. Those places are scary. No contact, no freedoms of any kind, no Nothing. Forbidding places, as I've seen on a Supermaxx prison website. Suffice it to say that the worst offenders in those places Will Never See The Sun Shine Again. Ever.

GRIN AND PARROT, PART 27: Gosh, this post has become much too serious; we can't have that! Okay, so instead, how about some Parrot Stuff: (I can hear faithful blog-readers groaning, 'oh no, not again....') My little Meyers Parrot, Jill, is a 5-year old little girl, who can sit on my shoulder all day long, like she's doing right now, and in the last couple hours before she goes to bed, she eats. And Eats. And EATS. Where does she put it all? I've read that people who go to bed at reasonable hours have less of a chance of obesity than those who don't. I am a night person. And, let's just say I have extra padding. We could all learn from the birds. They seem to have a built-in alarm clock which tells them, "You must go to bed now". Maybe us human 'beans' have that same clock; we just don't listen to it. I've seen lots of birds, and none of them are fat. Anyway, Little Jill does something which is just so doggone endearing, and it's pictured below:



When I've been away for a few hours, or have come back into the cage room after having been out of her sight for a while, she lowers her head and raises her wings. I know it looks like she's in 'attack mode' here, but that's not the case. She's trying to get my attention. One night, I moved the bird cage into another room, thinking my TV-watching was keeping her up. As I left the cage, she began doing this little pose of hers. Awwwww. And I wheeled her cage back into the TV room. She doesn't like to go to sleep unless I'm within her sight. Of course, after she gets into that "Zen" state of bird sleep, then I'll leave the TV room and quietly turn out the lights.
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In addition to birds never getting fat, they don't need sleeping pills, either. I'm jealous.

Different Sides of Record Collecting:
Some of the oddball bits o'vinyl in my heap...
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Ever since I was a kid, I used to like to go into thrift stores and second hand shops, where I could get records cheap...what a deal it was, to get a record for a nickel or a quarter, and prices aren't really that much different today; depending on where you go, you can still score vinyl for 50 cents or a dollar. I've found a lot of records in great shape, as if people were dumping their long-cherished vinyl collections and converting to CD or later formats. And I've found lots of great used vinyl over the years. The Thrill Of The Hunt, as applied to record bins. I still remember finding an almost-mint copy of a Beatles album for fifty cents. I just about had a heart attack right then and there at St. Vinnie's.
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Once, a record shop owner told me, "record collecting isn't a hobby, it's a disease", and I think he's right. In my case, it's terminal. I'm still buying old vinyl discs which I haven't heard yet...and sometimes, it's actually the 'oddball' stuff that catches my eye: You probably remember Bobby Sherman, the teen-idol on such old TV shows as "Here Comes The Bride"; he had big early '70s hits, like "Little Woman", "Easy Come, Easy Go" and "Julie Do Ya Love Me". Hey, I like good pop songs; I don't care who they're by. And I really liked the strong brass arrangement on "Little Woman". Of course, the B-side of the record could sometimes be a delight, or something unusual, and in this case, this B-side definitely was...



When I first saw this B-side, I thought it had an unusual title. And I looked under the title of the song, where the writer's credit is, and there it says "B. Dylan". Back then, I hadn't heard a whole lot of Dylan stuff, other than "Like A Rolling Stone" which had been on the radio several years earlier. So here it is, folks, Bobby Sherman singing a Bob Dylan song, "One Too Many Mornings". Hearing Bobby Sherman doing Dylan is almost as strange as hearing Bing Crosby singing "Hey Jude" (which he actually does; I have the record!).
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You might remember that even way back in the '60s, the two big Cola makers, Coca-Cola and Pepsi were doing battle, trying to get folks to drink their cola, because after all, their cola is the BEST...personally, I'm a Pepsi person. Coke is okay in a pinch, but I'm a member of the "Pepsi Generation". I remember back in the '80s, when Coke began selling "Classic Coke", which was the Original Coke, and they came out with a New Coke, which to me, tasted like Pepsi! Boy, were cola drinkers in the nation up in arms over that. Getting back to Pepsi, here's a record I won on a radio contest a long time ago, way, waay back in the '60s...


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So when Diet Pepsi came on the scene back in the early '60s, commercials showing young sleek beauties in swimsuits drinking the stuff were plastered all over yer TV screen, the implication of course, being that, "hey, if you wanna look like THIS, you'll drink THIS"..."You can be skinny as we are, if you drink DIET PEPSI"...and a catchy little tune called "Music To Watch Girls go By" (which sounds to me that it's by The Tijuana Brass), supplied the background music. Pop singer Andy Williams came out with an underwhelming Vocal version, which wasn't his best tune ever; it's got too many words crammed into the space of a short song.
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This next record release was probably just the thing bird owners were looking for, back in the '60s. Wanna teach yer parakeet how to talk? Well, all you have to do is get your bird to sit still long enough to listen to the record, and try to learn by it himself, because you could follow the instructions on the record and say "Pretty Bird, Want A Cracker?" fifty million times, and your parakeet would still be sitting in the cage thinking to himself, "what strange noise is that person making, and why doesn't he shut up and bring me some more FOOD?"



Hartz Mountain released this "Parakeet Training Record" way back when; on the label, in addition to a picture of a Parakeet in a mortarboard-type Graduation cap, are the immortal words, "A Hartz Mountain Release". On the record, a comely female voice says things like "pretty bird, pretty bird, pretty bird, want a cracker? want a cracker? want a cracker?", while the announcer-guy says, "a special kind of voice, clear with diction and ripe with enunciation can better teach your bird to talk" or some such thing. At the end of the record are actual recordings of a parakeet trying to talk. I say "Trying" because the bird, after all that training work, is still hard to understand. It's much easier to sleeve the record, stuff it back into the record collection, give the bird some food, and walk away.

For those who are looking for something different in their Musical Diet: In their day, they were Hot Stuff. These were Some Heavy guys. Some of the instruments in their repertoire include bicycle horns, washboard, shakers, whistles and duck calls, as well as 4-string rhythm guitar, clarinet and stand-up bass. You guessed it (or not)...it's Hezzie, Ken, Gil and Gabe, the HOOSIER HOT SHOTS, a novelty band whose '78s were really popular in the 1940's, and sang all kinds of goofy songs which the public ate up like flapjacks on a 30-below-zero winter morning. Later on, after record albums first hit the scene, little budget labels that sold records at astronomically low prices snapped up a lot of these old acts, most of whom were past their prime, but still, these cheapo albums with newer recordings sure sounded a lot better than the old original '78s in terms of sound quality...



Are You Ready, Hezzie? Here they are, the Hoosier Hot Shots, issued on the cheapo-cheapo "Tops" label, in all their glory, doing such masterpieces as "I Like Bananas Because They Have No Bones", "Them Hillbillies Are Mountain Willies Now" and "Meet Me By The Ice House, Lizzie", and this album probably came out in the early 50's, because it features an oval takeup groove, like you find on the old '78s, where the groove going up to the label would actually cause the tone arm to swing back and forth. (Never could understand why oval takeup grooves were used.) Later on, some of this material was used on another, shorter, Hoosier Hot Shots album. I know this, because for some reason, I got a Hoosier Hot Shots album for Christmas back in the '60s. It was on the world-famous "Spin-O-Rama" label, and featured 8 of the 12 songs that were on the Hot Shots album pictured above.

I noticed back in the 60s and 70s, when a group Really Got Famous, the record company sometimes would issue that group's records on a Vanity Label, featuring a design totally different from the standard label which the Record Company commonly used. For example, in the 1970's, after the group Chicago (who recorded on Columbia, the company with the Red Label) got really, really big, their record labels began to use the Cover Photos on the record label. Pictured Below, at left, is "Chicago V" (one of their best albums) from 1972, which featured "Saturday In The Park"; the cover showed a 'wood-cut' version of the Chicago logo, and that cover design made it inside, to the record label itself...



But, it turns out that Vanity Record Labels were being used long before the 1960s. Below, I have a record by Paul Whiteman, a hugely popular bandleader back in the "Roaring" 1920's; this record was issued in Australia of all places (don't know if it was released in the U.S. in this form), and, it's also a Columbia Record. Columbia's '78s back in those old days usually employed a black label, but this label is just a wee-bit different...



Really catchy label design, huh? And that's definitely Paul Whiteman's likeness on the label. On this record, Mr. Whiteman advises you to "Get Out and Get Under The Moon", although he does it in instrumental fashion; several vocal versions of this long-forgotten song came out around the same time this record was released. I bought some '78s from a guy in Australia, and he included this record FREE on my Ebay order, which I thot was kinda cool.

Finally, we arrive back in the '60s from our trip into the Roaring Twenties...imagine yourself sitting at breakfast, slurping up your Kookie Chocolate Sugar-Frosted Crunchy Cubes or whatever went into your cereal bowl. And as you turned the cereal box around to read the cartoons or whatever went onto the back of those boxes, instead, THIS is what you saw...



...yep, an Actual RECORD, featuring the ARCHIES (that world-famous cartoon group that didn't really exist) on the back of that cereal box! Trouble was, you had to eat bowls and bowls of your Kamikaze Crispy-Crunchy Sugar-injected Krackle-puffs before the box was empty, at which point you could take out the ol' scissors and cut the record (which was laminated with a thin sheet of plastic) from the back of the box. The record label would often advise you, "if record slips on turntable, tape a nickel, or a quarter, or an old DC battery label to surface to insure proper play". You could then play the record 3 or 4 times before it wore thru to the cardboard. Ironic, that on the back of the cereal box, is a record by the Archies, who's biggest hit was, "SUGAR, SUGAR".
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With my goofy little digital cam, perhaps I'll do more of these weird postings using photos taken deep inside the cavernous dungeons which comprise my record collection. But I'm done with this one. I'm typing this in the daytime. I think I'll follow Paul Whiteman's advice, and "Get Out There And Get Under The Sun"...

A Fleeting Moment, Frozen...
Even our winged friends pause every now and then...

I remember back when I was younger, always on the go, always trying to impress people, always trying to accomplish 'something'. I guess that's a stage of life we all go through. I used to work 5,6, even 7 days a week. I felt like I was on a treadmill half the time, and the other half, I was too tired to care.

So this photo is for those of you who can't find time to pause and let your mind drift a little bit. It's been said that everyone should take One Hour a day out for themselves, but sometimes it's not possible. I'm still training my mind to slow down; it's gonna take a long, long time before I'm any good at it.



When you're out there trying to keep everyone else happen, don't forget to take time away from the flock once in a while. A good lesson for all of us. (photo taken by me, hope ya like it)
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Another new post can be found directly below this one...

A Rock and Roll Reality Check...
The Posting May be different, but The Blog Remains The Same...

"Omigosh", I thought as I was reading the paper whilst scarfing down a Denver Omelet and Hash Browns at breakfast...there it was...a picture of JIMMY PAGE, you know, Led Zeppelin's guitarist, and the caption said he, together with "Leona Somebody" performed "Whole Lotta Love", one of the Mighty Zep's signature tunes from way back when, at the closing ceremony of the Olympics, in China. Well, the chord structure of the song is really, really simple; it's a song he could play even if he were "Dazed And Confused". And of course, Zep Lead Vocalist Robert Plant's voice can no longer handle the primal banshee screaming techniques it takes to perform the song. So a woman's siren-like voice was used instead. Sometimes even Robert Plant can't do Robert Plant...if you contrast the studio version of Zep's "Rock And Roll" ('Been a long time since I rock and rolled...) with the live version on "The Song Remains The Same", Plant can't hit the high notes he hit on the studio version, which was only recorded a coupla years earlier....
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Still, Zep was a classic "Live" band...they could REALLY jam. "The Song Remains The Same" DVD (pictured above), features 26 MINUTES of "Dazed and Confused", complete with Jimmy Page playing his guitar with a Violin Bow! (That'll make Symphony Orchestra members run for cover...), and interwoven with Zep's live performances are 'fantasy sequences' of each band member; Page, Plant, and bassist John Paul Jones (not his real name) all play mystical-sort of characters...the only 'fantasy sequence' that really doesn't work for me is the one featuring drummer John Bonham, who had a totally different haircut in his 'sequence' than in the concert, (which doesn't do much for 'continuity's sake') and no, I'm not impressed by his motorcycle and horse-riding; really, what kind of fantasy sequence is THAT? But the way Zep improvised in concert was truly something to behold.
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The succintly titled "Led Zeppelin DVD" (a 2-disc set that came out in 2003, pictured below) was GRRRREAT. I am especially impressed with that disc's live version of "Achilles' Last Stand" where Plant's vocals are mixed in louder than on the studio version (which is on 1976's "Presence" album), and Jimmy Page is sweating bullets as he grinds out lead-guitar notes in that ultra-complex song...or how about their performance on "Kashmir", that most exotic of Rock songs...I consider Led Zeppelin to be The Beatles of the 70's, because their music was so startlingly original; the band, love 'em or hate 'em, had a sound all their own.
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There are hundreds of Led Zeppelin concerts available (most on bootlegs), and I can see where a dedicated Zep fan (like me) would want ALL of their concerts on video, 'cos Zeppelin would do things differently during every show. Trouble is, I can't afford them all. But the two DVD's pictured above (NOT bootlegs) are definitely worth seeking out. Zeppelin also had roots in English Folk music, and on the "Led Zep DVD", the group does a really cool set of delicate acoustic performances. And all you thot the mighty Zep could do was play the heaviest sort of rock sludge possible. Which they did. And believe me it's heavy. And tasty. But this acoustic stuff is great in its own way.

The Posting may be different, but The Blog Remains The Same: I wrote all of the above to get to this part of the post: First of all, didn't "Rock and Roll" and "Reality Check" used to be mutually exclusive terms? Secondly, why did I do a Rock and Roll Reality Check when I saw Jimmy Page's picture in the paper today? Well, he looks like THIS now...



Here's Jimmy Page with 'whoever that woman is', cranking out "Whole Lotta Love" at the Olympics closing ceremony in Beijing. Wait...isn't an old guitarist from the West who plays that Decadent Rock And Roll the kind of person China doesn't Want in their country? I see this as some kind of musical coup. Music transcending politics. And there I go getting philisophical again.
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But LOOK at Jimmy Page! He's Old...He's (probably) feeble...he took a TON of drugs way back in them old daze...and his hair isn't gray, it's WHITE! I still can't get used to old guys with gray hair playing Rock and Roll music. They didn't have gray hair when they initially got famous, after all! My Rock Heroes Were Young and Rebellious! Whenever I see some old band full of old, bald or gray-haired guys rocking out, it Just Looks Strange To Me. But every now and then, I see a musician, such as Stevie Winwood, who's been around FOREVER, and he still looks like a teenager. So there's hope. And if there isn't hope, there's always Grecian Formula "16"...
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Finally, a bit of trivia: why did Led Zeppelin spell it "L-E-D"? Because Jimmy Page thought that otherwise, people would go around saying "Leed" Zeppelin, and he didn't want that to happen. And of such small and insignificant details, truly Legends are Borne.

A Walk On The Beach...
...or, "Please bear with me...I've only got 3 more photos"...

My Dad used to have a saying that he'd use whenever I went crazy over something...he'd tell me, in most uncomplimentary terms, that I was going "Hog Wild"...well, okay, what can I say, I guess I've always been that way. And maybe I've gone "Hog Wild" over the little digital cam I recently bought, but really, can you blame me? What with the price of camera film the way it is, it's almost like the Digital Camera gives me an unlimited supply of film. In short, I can snap away until my button-pushing finger falls off, or I reach the 200+ storage limit of the memory card, whichever comes first. And if I don't like the photo, "doink", I can delete it just like that. Why didn't anyone tell me way before this how cool digital cams are? So please indulge me; I've got three more photos here...

I went out today for a walk on the beach...it's the same beach I photographed from afar in the post under this one. Up until late last week, the weather was windy and very rainy, with some pretty healthy winds churning up turbulence on the coast...notice all of the dead sea junk washed up on the beach here. Piles and piles of dead vine-type things. Each vine has a big air bubble at its end...masochistic me, I step on those air bubbles; ***POP!***, they'll go sometimes. That's oddly fascinating to me. Well, hey, perhaps that's the side of me that used to step in mud puddles when I was a kid...



The tide was going out when this photo was taken, leaving all kinds of nature's garbage laying around. What is this stuff? Seaweed? I have no idea. So, it's "dead sea junk" to me. No matter how crowded this beach may become, there's always room for everyone to run around, or sit alone somewhere, seeking solitude. There's something about the rich sea air...just niiice.

I've written about sunsets quite a bit lately (too much?), but the photo below will indeed demonstrate that virtually every night (except when it's gray and rainy), the sun, together with the Earth's atmosphere, puts on quite a show. Tonite, the clouds moved in, and this is the result...



I was sitting on top of the jetty when I took this; it extends quite a ways out. Jetty-sitting is one of my favorite pastimes; I've got the ocean on one side and the bay on the other. And when the incoming ocean waters merge with the bay water going out, some mighty big waves can happen. Today, though, the tides were a little more on the peaceful side. From this perch, I watch the Pelicans dive-bomb for food, with the seagulls following them, trying to steal the fish they've caught. I'm about 10-12 feet above the beach here, and I've spent hours here. There's so much life all around.

This next photo will show beyond all doubt that I Really Don't Understand Everything about this little digital cam yet. I've been looking for some kind of "exposure" adjustment...this picture was taken as night fell, yet it looks brighter than the picture above. Here's a typical Saturday-night gathering on the beach; these folks were burning driftwood, while some further up the beach had brought half-a-dozen pallets and set those on fire. This beach isn't 'touristy' at all; more than anything, this is where people who live around here go. Joe Sixpack and Benny Bluecollar. Low-key, for sure. Maybe that's why I'm so comfortable here.



In the upper left corner of this foto can be seen that big Dredging Vessel that was featured in the previous post; again today, it was entering the bay, going back out, turning around, coming back in, repeating the process over and over. I've researched this a little bit; there's a spot in the ocean just north of here where the dredge vessel is allowed to drop all the muck that it's scraped from the bottom of the bay inlet. Gotta keep the inlet deep enough for ships to pass, after all.
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I took "tons more" photos today, and I'll probably drop 'em here and there within subsequent posts. I don't know if I'm any good at photography, but I enjoy it a lot. It's like, I can take some of the environment home with me when I snap a picture. And it's a harmless activity, as long as I don't fall flat on my face, stumbling over piles of Dead Sea Junk...

A Day In The Life...
...or, "I got a Camera today, oh boy"...

I've been saying I'm gonna get a digital camera for years now. Yet, I was afraid to get one. I compute, I blog and I wheel and deal on Ebay, and yet I've probably got a mild case of technophobia. But, that affliction finally met its match, because I'm "off my nut" about taking pictures. I've got one of those Polaroid cameras like the detectives on NYPD Blue used, the kind where the photo pops out the minute you take it. Handy for crime scenes, I guess. But, no one around here sells the film for it anymore. Earlier this year, I saw a 2-pack of Polaroid 900 film going for over $50 bucks! Gosh.

So I'm new to a lot of commonplace gadgets and gizmos that everyone seems to not be able to live without these days. Honestly, I have never even been UP CLOSE to a digital camera until today. And what a cool toy it is. I thought the owners' manual, for instance, would be un-understandable. And it was. Thankfully, though, there was also an English manual included, and I was on my way to photo-journalistic immortality. These little digi-cams are basically little computers, aren't they? And I found I could skip over portions of the owners' manual because, all of a sudden, things made sense. Yeah, there are still some settings that I don't know about, but I figure, through trial and error, I will one day come to know what they all mean.
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So the next thing to do, once I'd bought the camera, was to take it out to a scenic area and try out the doggone thing. Ulp! "I'm in for it now", I was thinking. But it wasn't that bad. Mainly because the owners' manual contained so many pictures. I've never been a good "print" learner, but give me a picture or show me how its' done, and I'm makin' fast progress. Well, at least I feel I made progress. I guess the thing I can't emphasize enough is how simple all this stuff is. Of course, me being the type of person who complicates everything, I am often my own worst enemy.
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This was one of the first photos I took. It was "took" at the Bastendorff Beach parking lot, some 60 feet above, and about a quarter of a mile away from the ocean. I shot this image thru my drivers' side window, would you believe. You can see the beachgoers' cars way down below; those rock walls in the water are the South and North Jetty, and in-between is how boats come and go from Coos Bay. At top right is a huge vessel which was entering the bay, then leaving it, and it would go out into the ocean for a little ways and then turn back around and come back in again. The first time I'd ever seen this, I thot, "???"...someone told me it's a dredge vessel, which makes sense. It scoops out the waterways so they're deep enough for those big boats to come through. The Ocean's current dumps a lot of sand, rocks, etc. in the "bar" (another name for 'passageway'), so this has to be done periodically. I've seen some GIANT ships come thru there.
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Here's a closeup view of that big dredge vessel (at least I think it's a dredge ship; I could be wrong...). This foto tested out the 'zoom' capability of this small yet sinister camera...I was surprised I could pull this image in that closely. No, the ship's not going downhill; you can see how the horizon is slanting in the picture. I actually did correct the 'tilt', but I forgot to save that correction to my files, so what you see is what you get. But, at least you get an idea of just how big some of these ships are. I bet they're gas hogs, too. And you thot an SUV or a Dodge Ram was big. And ate a lot of gas. Well, they do, but that's beside the point...
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Most of the ships that come into or leave the bay are related to the timber industry; I've seen tons of logs being carted in on big ships, and a large number of barges come in empty and leave full of wood chips produced by the few mills that are still working in this area. From this vantage point, the horizon is about 25 miles away; I've watched vessels come in from that far, and it takes a good hour and a half until they actually reach the bay. That's a lot of water out there, nary a drop to drink.
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This next photo depicts an ocean-version of the Independent Businessman, as he climbs in his little vessel with his faithful crew, to plunder the depths of the deep (?), in search of whatever fish that the U.S. Government will still let them catch. Due to low Salmon Runs further south, it has been decreed that, "fishermen, ye shalt leave the salmon population alone", which has put a big world of hurt on the captains and crews of these little boats.

When the water's really choppy, these small vessels will sink from view in the bottom of a wave crest, until, thankfully, it comes back in view again as it reaches the top. My gills get green just thinking about this...I've been seasick before and it is absolutely no fun. That was back in the '70s when our family went to Westport, Washington, on vacation, and my dad, the ever-fearless creature that he was, decided he was gonna take the family on a Salmon Charter. What a mistake that was...anyway, some of these little commercial boats go out 50, 100 or miles or more and stay out there for several days at a time. I've talked to fishermen who tell me that when they get back to land, they still feel like they're swaying with the roll of the waves. Thinking about that makes me "Dizzy, My Head Is Spinnin'". Ack...
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Of course, every day has a beginning and an end. And today was no exception. The Sun decides to Go and Hide on the other side of the world for a while. Here, you can see folks at the Beach Overlook, congregating in anticipation of yet another Ocean Sunset. It's basically been cloudy and rainy here for the last week and a half, so days like this are glorious. Most places, sunsets are taken for granted, but not here. Sunset watching is a popular sport here. Down below, on evenings like this, folks gather around bonfires on the beach, burning wood pallets, driftwood and anything else they can find. Hey, great as long as it's not some weird Ocean Sacrificial Rite going on down there...

And finally, here it is...the Sunset itself. Before this most recent cloudy/rainy period, which began right around August 1st, sunset was at about quarter to nine...two weeks later, this particular sunset occurred at about quarter after eight. Half an hour more, gone out of the day over a coupla weeks. I try in vain to not think about the days growing ever-shorter...

The sky was mostly clear today with some wispy clouds here and there; here the sun is partially obscured by some clouds over the horizon; each sunset has a personality of its own. I'm actually surprised my little camera caught the subtleties of the colors so well here. And you know, I can never get tired of a sight like this. It's absolutely soul-stirring.
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After sunset, there's still a little daylight left, which is good because I don't drive much at night anymore, and I really don't like driving at night anyway. Headlights in my windshield, headlights in my back window, headlights in my rearview mirrors, no thanks, not if I can help it. Besides, I have someone waiting for me when day is done...

Around 'eight' every evening, Little Jill, my Meyers parrot, begins stretching her wings and yawns with her beak, and she enters that state of hypnotic bliss that human beings spend billions of dollars each year on sleeping pills in order to achieve the same effect. Turned out, though, she wasn't quite ready for slumber yet. When I came in tonite, she chirped a couple of times. It looked like she wanted out of the cage, which I found surprising. Was that because she missed me? Did she want out 'cos she hadn't eaten enough by this time? Am I complicating things once again? Probably...


She swung her way out of the cage and perched on the outside bars and gave me a come-hither look, and the only thing I can figure is that Jill sees me as "the other bird", and so I've come back home to roost. It's a bird thing. I was surprised she wanted out, this late in the evening. So I picked her up, put her on my shoulder, and walked over to the ol' La-Z-Boy, near which I've placed some more food. Typically, she'll go over there and dine, and then fly/hop back to my shoulder. Facts are facts; she gets her way all of the time and I spoil her rotten. What can I say...
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How many of us raid the refrigerator at night; well, this is Jill's version of the same activity. She's consuming mixed vegetables (white container) and all kinds of seeds (blue container), after which she hops off-camera and lands on me. And that's when the wing-stretching and beak-yawning started all over again, and I knew, and she knew, that she couldn't stay awake any longer. Birds just know, almost to the minute, when to call it a day. Obviously, I don't...
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So there you have it. My unexciting version of "A Day In The Life". And, as you can see from the time I posted this (listed below), it's time for me to hop on my perch and Zone Out for a while. Chirp...

Mariners: How much worse can it get?
Words just can't describe how bad the '08 season has become...

I've included waaay too much baseball stuff in my blog as of late, so I've really tried to cut back in that department. I don't wanna be a one-trick pony, after all. But here, I've written about the Seattle Mariners once again. A team that has no tricks...

Remember that sickening feeling when you got called to go to the Principal's office? Or how about that impending feeling of doom when you, as a child, had done something really, really bad, and you knew that some corporal punishment was headed your way? Or, you were called in for a "staff meeting" at work, and when you got there, you were the only staff member present? (That one happened to me.) Or how about the feeling that had been building inside you all day, when you know that on your way home from school, 20 or 30 kids were waiting to beat you up? (That happened to me A LOT.) Or, just think about any embarrassing, intimidating thing that happened to you, and that pit you had burning in your stomach, cos YOU WERE GONNA GET IT!!!

THAT is what the 2008 season has become for fans (if there are any left) of the Seattle Mariners. I quit counting, but I think they're lost 7 or 8 straight on this latest road trip (where they're playing really, Really good teams), and this season sucks harder than a Hoover Vacuum Cleaner in Overdrive. Kinda like that "giant sucking sound" Ross Perot referred to so many years ago. In yesterday's game, Seattle put its best, most effective pitcher on display (Felix Hernandez) and were shut out 5 to 0. So today, the M's used soft-throwing knuckleballer R.A. Dickey against the explosive White Sox offense, which makes about as much sense as throwing a lighted match in your gas tank. KA-BOOM!!! 15-3 was the final score. Hint: The Mariners didn't tally the "15 runs".

I frequently visit the fans' blog over at the Seattle Post Newspaper, because I'm trying to learn more about the Workings of Baseball. Spoken of there are things like arbitration, waivers, on-base-percentages, first-ball-hitting-percentages on a clear day where you can see forever, and all the other technical stuff that fans who are more schooled than I toss about in trying to analyze to the "nth detail" just why this season is so bad, and what M's management shoulda done, and on and on and so forth and yadda-yadda-yadda...I only know that "hey, folks, it ain't working", and the bad feelings are real, palpable, unforgettable, pervasive and omnipresent. All you have to do is watch a Mariners' ballgame. The team is flat, uncompetitive, not patient at the plate at all...swinging at just about every bad first-pitch in every at-bat...

Ichiro, for one, is Spending His Best Years In Seattle. That's almost gotta feel like Life without Parole at San Quentin, one of the oldest, creakiest, most decayed, alienating places on Planet Earth. Raul Ibanez is having a GREAT year for Seattle. Trouble is, we can't clone "Rauuuuul". There has to be some harmony, some collective purpose, some direction and SOME INTELLIGENT MANAGEMENT, or the team will tank faster than the R.M.S. Titanic, which ripped in two, with each half shooting towards the forever-lightless pit of the Deep Atlantic Ocean, plummeting so rapidly through a mile of water, that it plowed into the Ocean Bottom with great force, and the M's are falling just about as fast. A team full of Baseball Wreckage. If the M's were a Catholic-oriented team, this year would be the classic definition of Baseball Purgatory. Not even the Pope could be in a forgiving mood.

If the M's can't win 47% of their remaining games, they will have LOST 100 games this season. Look, I know the M's Will Never Be In The World Series. We all know that, okay? How about, though, if the M's were COMPETITIVE? I could write a million or more words on everything that's gone wrong simultaneously this season for the M's, but I don't have the energy to type that much tonight. Let's just say this year is bad, Bad, BAD. I have never seen a team "grind it out" in such a lackluster manner as this season's M's. This year has been Awful. Totally AWFUL. How bad? Well, this little item caught my eye; it's from a blog called "The Sports Hernia"...

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Desperate Ichiro Tries To Escape

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Of course, Ichiro never really tried to escape. Not yet, anyway. He's got a huge contract, after all. But don't tell me the thought hasn't at least crossed his mind a few times. This year's M's, though, could be featured in one of those "want to get away?" commercials...

Ladies & Gents, Elvis is Still Dead!
Oh No! Not another moronic MUSIC POSTING...

I must be slipping. I failed to notice that the Date of Elvis Presley's death zipped right on by and flew outta here two days ago. He fell from the commode 31 years ago and landed in Eternity, leaving the building never to return. Were Elvis to speak to us from the Great Beyond, perhaps he'd renounce that whole "better living thru chemistry" thing. He'd be 73, were he still with us. Of course, perhaps he'd break a hip getting "All Shook Up". He'd probably get heartburn from those hunka-chunks-o' "Burning Love". And he couldn't "Wear that ring around (his waist)", let alone around his neck. That's 'cos he...got fat, by heck. (Sorry, couldn't resist...)

Actually, concerning that last song, "Wear My Ring Around Your Neck"...I didn't hear that song until the 70's, way after it was recorded. Since I was unfamiliar with romantic fads of the early '60s, I thot upon hearing the song, "how do you get a ring around someone's neck?" "Is this song about choking your sweetie?" Then, I found out that the ring hangs from a CHAIN around your neck. Ohhhhhh...okaaay.... So what would Elvis look like, were he still alive? Well, I found the following picture on the internet, and let me warn ya, it's kinda scary...


















In our fantasy world, we'd have to assume that if Elvis could've looked like this at age 73, although in order to appear that way, he would've needed quite a spot o' liposuction done. I always thought it was really ironic that the title of his last singles was "Way Down", 'cos that's where he's at now. Six feet under. The music lives on, and just about everyone on the planet has written an Elvis book. I've read a lot of 'em, all which paint a different portrait of the singer. Suffice it to say he's an interesting character who Really Could Rock...when he wanted to. At his best, he was something else...now, he's just gone.
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One of the first big hit singles I had when I was a kid was "Respect" by Aretha Franklin. I won it on a radio contest. Even though, as a 13-year-old kid, I would've never bought that single, I did like the song, and it just keeps getting greater as time goes by. (I was more into the rock groups than soul singers at the time.) I've since found many of Aretha's records in discount bins and second-hand stores. Her producer was a guy named Jerry Wexler, who died recently at the age of 91. Unless you were in the habit of reading the small print on the back of album covers, you probably weren't aware of him...but he had a lot to do with the many great songs the Atlantic label put out over the years...such as...














Jerry Wexler produced Aretha, Percy Sledge, Wilson Pickett, and many other influential Atlantic artistes...

The late, great Otis Redding wrote "Respect", and he actually recorded it before Aretha. But, Aretha is the one that came up with that little spelling-thing at the end, you know: "R-E-S-P-E-C-T, found out what it means to me..." And Otis was quoted as saying, good-naturedly, "That girl Stole My Song". Later on, he began putting that spelling-thing into the song when he did it on stage. Ironically, Otis never got to hear his big hit, "(Sittin' On) The Dock Of The Bay" on the radio; he recorded it three days before his plain crashed...into a lake. I've seen Otis' electrifying performance on the DVD of the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival; he was a dynamo. Too bad he didn't live longer.
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Nifty, Nifty! Guess who's FIFTY!!! That much-utilized phrase, which shows up in annoying little cubicle-type ads to announce someone's birthday in the local noozpaper can be applied here to...MADONNA, who may have marginal talent, but she sure knows how to market herself. She's great at it. And nowadays, she's trying to pull off her largest-ever makeover; she's actually trying to live like a Normal Human Being, which may be a s-t-r-e-t-c-h for her. Is she aging gracefully? I honestly don't know. Is her music any better these days? Couldn't tell ya. All I can do is speculate on a time in the distant future, when Madonna's child looks thru her Mom's photo albums and sees pictures like these...

Still, one has to give Madonna credit for being around for such a long time. I really don't want to, but I begrudgingly have to. I imagine those who grew up in the Age Of Madonna maybe view her with a little more validity than I do, but I don't think She's Very Important. Although, when I hear a song of hers on the radio...it breezes by...comes and goes, and melts in my memory faster than a sugar cube in hot coffee.

Madonna's music's not awful, just insubstantial. Although, she did exhibit some nerve when she recorded "Papa Don't Preach", a song which says "I'm Keepin' My Baby"...now, that song confronts a whole lotta issues. And her first hit conjured up more images when she sang that she felt "Like a Virgin...(it) feels like the Very First Time"...Madonna, yer a bad, baaad girl.
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COMING CLEAN: I must admit the "Like A Virgin" single resides somewhere in my record collection. (Hey, I never said I was a musical purist.) The backing track actually rocks pretty well. I found it at a 2nd-hand store for 50 cents. Come to think of it, that's how I acquired a lot of records over the years I'd've never otherwise bought.

The "Throw-away Parrot"...

Just goes to show that appearances aren't everything...

While online a couple of nights ago, I was researching Meyers' Parrots, because, after all, I now have one and wanted to find out more about this curious little bird. In the midst of my net-surfing, I found a true story about a little Meyers' Parrot, titled "The Throw-away Parrot", which can be found at http://www.prettybirds.net/Throwawayparrot.htm. I wanted to express my appreciation to the person who wrote it, and sent off an e-mail, but "Mailer-Daemon" mailed me back saying "no go". I'd gone to all the trouble of writing a long e-mail, and didn't want to see it go to waste. So I've included it here. I'd advise you to go to the above link first, read the story, then, read my follow-up, below...

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I was really touched by the "Throw-Away Parrot" story about the Little Meyers' Parrot. Especially because I now have a little Meyers' of my own, a little girl named Jill. I had extreme trouble from the Bronze-Winged Pionus Parrot I had bought; whoever says Pi's are laid-back definitely hadn't been around my bird. So it broke my heart when the Pet Rescue guy I brought him to "did better" with the Pi in 5 minutes than I had in over 3 months. Maybe I'm just not good at handling birds...some people have the talent/patience for what it takes to train a bird; I guess I don't. As time went on, the Pi (who I'd named 'Ringo) got worse and worse; screeching, throwing things, ripping seed dishes from the cage wall; I couldn't take it anymore.

The bird-rescue guy traded me a little Meyers Parrot he'd been having trouble with. Little Jill had been with a little Meyers Male, "Jack". Jack wouldn't mate; he had no interest. Jack later was adopted out, leaving Jill all alone. She and Jack had repeatedly attacked an African Grey Parrot that lived next to their cage, in a room full of birds and bird cages. I don't know how birds think, or 'if' they think, but perhaps Jill was possessive, or perceived a threat, or whatever. Perhaps the multi-bird environment stressed out Jack and Jill. Meyers' Parrots don't make a whole lot of noise; they're quiet by nature. When I first saw Little Jill, she was sitting near her cage, keeping to herself. I'm just kinda thinking she just didn't fit in where she was anymore.

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The Meyers' Parrot looks drab at first, almost 'mousy'; Little Jill has a darkish-brownish front with a black beak. Not flashy at all. But she'll surprise you; she has bright green feathers just underneath her outer wings and dark green feathers on her tail. She's tiny, compared to the Pi I had owned. The Meyers Parrot pictured below has more green on its chest than mine does. Also, my bird has yellow spots on its wing-shoulders in addition to a yellow crest. There are several sub-species of Meyers' Parrot, all with subtle differences in coloration. Tens of thousands of them fly around in Central Africa, so, unlike the Dodo bird, this species won't be on the brink of extinction anytime soon.

Little Jill can sit on my shoulder virtually all day if I let her; talk about a companion bird! When I arrive home after being somewhere, she lets out a high, shrill, but dainty "Peep!" which makes her sound so vulnerable...she likes mixed vegetables (especially the diced carrots), and more often than not she has orange carrot pieces stuck to her beak. She's also crazy for sunflower seeds, which she munches and crunches to her hearts' delight. She also goes absolutely nuts over broccoli. I'm always having to clean up carrot pieces, broccoli shreds and seed shells, but I don't mind. She's a good little girl. I'll get up in the morning, take her out of the cage, feed her (although she's probably been eating from sunrise 'till I rise), and then she naps on my shoulder, with her head tucked in between her wings. She also likes to go for car rides; she sits on my shoulder and watches the scenery go whizzing by. I can take her outside and she stays on my shoulder, but I don't do that often. Once she leapt from my shoulder, flew about 20 feet high, landed about 30 feet away (her wings are clipped), and then she took off from the ground and flew right back to me. So, that situation ended well, even though she gave me a pretty good scare.

When I'm sitting here in the easy chair, she'll eat at a seed dish I've setup at chairside, and when she's done, she'll fly/hop back onto my shoulder...she'll preen herself there; she'll grind her beak (a parrot sign of contentment); tonight, she went over, got a little carrot cube, then flew back to my shoulder to eat it. Little things like that are just so cool. When I first got rid of my Pionus, I felt so bad about it; I'd tried everything to get him to settle down and be comfortable with me. Little Jill is so demure, gentle, soft-spoken, almost 'dainty' (except for the carrot on her face!), that while I will always be sad over my Pi experiment that didn't work, I'm glad I got her. Little Jill is quite a little girl. She's pretty cool. And I hope she's happy, relaxed and content here.

I was so impressed by the 'Throw-away bird' story, because Meyers parrots are unremarkable in appearance, tiny little birds that perhaps people wouldn't notice in a pet shop, especially if surrounded by more colorful birds. I certainly wouldn't have noticed her. Or maybe I would have; who knows? In many ways, Jill is more like a Good Room-mate. Where she used to live at before, she was in a room with a lot of other birds; she kept mainly to herself while all the others were squawking and screeching. She seems to be just fine with me; she can sleep with the TV and Lights on low; in the daytime, she's content to be on my shoulder with nothing else going on. In turn, that makes ME slow down a little bit. How about that..."bird therapy".

They say that humans mistakenly attach human feelings and emotions to birds, which is probably true. Perhaps the 'throwaway bird' didn't feel all those emotions within, as is written in the bird story I've been alluding to (You really should read it; it's good.). And maybe animals don't 'love' us, because they can't. They're animals, after all. But I know these little creatures need security, need to be cared for, and in their own way, appear grateful to us for caring for them. And it's amazing how a little 6-inch-long bird can develop an attachment to a human being; to them, we must look like Big Monstrous Blobs. But, I've heard it said that when you have a single bird, you become the "other bird". All I know is she seems to need me, and I'm glad I got her.

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The Meyers Parrot is a quiet little bird, not very demanding, and is a good pet for apartment-dwellers or those who have Senior Citizen neighbors who constantly have their hearing aids turned up to maximum volume. Meyers' aren't good talkers; some can learn a few words, but I figure if mine is 5 years old and doesn't talk, she probably won't. That's okay. All she has to do is Be A Bird.

A Parole Request Denied...
Just as well, since He Has Nowhere To Go...

December 8, 1980. Four shots ring out in the night. BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM. John Lennon was killed, and Mark David Chapman, the guy who blew him away, was never again to draw a free breath. From news reports I've read, he was once again turned down for parole today. So he'll sit in Prison for another couple of years until his next Parole hearing, in 2010. This was the 5th time he's been turned down, after having served the first twenty years of his 'twenty years to life' sentence handed down by the State of New York.

This is the man who killed John Lennon. Mark David Chapman. He was once a Beatles' fan, and may still be (which isn't a pleasant thought). He allegedly had little voices in his head that told him to "do it, do it, do it". He would have you believe that he was a slave to his compulsions, that he couldn't keep from doing what he did. And yet, in the January 1981 issue of Rolling Stone Magazine, he is quoted as saying he "drove the final nail into the coffin which is the '60s." So how sorry can he be, even though, once, he did apologize profely in a 1990's segment on ABC's "20/20" program. Yeah, right, Mark, that means a lot...you could've NOT pulled that trigger. You tried to fight those voices. You said so. So you KNEW what you did is wrong.

This is a 2003 picture of Mark David Chapman, who must know, in spite of any hopes he may have for parole, that he's one of the most despised human beings on the planet, and probably wonders if there would be anywhere he could safely go if indeed he were freed. You know, I used to be Very Very Angry at Mark Chapman for what he took from us all. Even if John Lennon wasn't the world's best musician, even if John Lennon didn't write high-quality songs all of the time (especially in his solo career), and especially if John Lennon could at times inflame and irritate people around the planet with his quotations and antics (The 'Bigger Than Jesus' episode of the '60's and his Bed-In with Yoko during the Lennons' early-70's Peace Campaign immediately come to mind), John Lennon belonged to US. He was Our Hero. In 1975, Lennon disappeared from view to raise his son. In 1980, he emerged, once again ready to take on the world, and I was glad to have him back.

Even if Lennon's new songs weren't quite the caliber of "Strawberry Fields Forever" or "All You Need Is Love", they gave hope for the future; we could all grow old and gray together with John Lennon as he rose to once again help define the Music of our times. I was never one of those who clamored for a Beatles' Reunion in the '70s; by that time, all four Beatles had released solo records, and I thought most all of them were pretty good, and had accepted John, Paul, George and Ringo as solo artists in their own right. For John Lennon to re-emerge from his self-imposed exile after 5 years away, though, was exciting. I couldn't wait to hear him again. And he sounded good.

Six weeks after John and Yoko's 're-emergence' album, "Double Fantasy" was released, he was shot dead and the whole world grieved. I know I did. I felt robbed and cheated. Maybe those were selfish reasons, but I Felt A Huge Loss, and for many, many years, I was plain-old-fashioned ANGRY with Mark Chapman For What He Had Done. One of my heroes was gone. It was the first time in my adult life that I had dealt squarely with the spectre of death, and all of the incomplete, loose-ends feelings that death so unceremoniously dumps at our door. I remember feeling a large loss when both Kennedy brothers were slain in the '60s, but Lennon's slaying hit me in the gut. Don't assassinations only happen to religious or political figures? Well, after December 8, 1980, not anymore.

Mark David Chapman took away, from all of us, the right and privilege to see what lay ahead for one of the most creative musicians ever to walk the earth. Just imagine, all the music stored up inside Lennon, waiting to burst forth. More than anything, though, I Looked Up To John Lennon. Perhaps he didn't know what the 'answer' was, but he was always looking for it. We could all know that in spite of how 'establishment' we would all be forced to become as we grew up, that a certain part of us could always remain secure in knowing that John Lennon was Out There. I'm not idol-hungry; I don't care if I ever meet any of the Beatles (a number now sadly whittled down to two); I just wanted to be able to hear from John Lennon from time to time, that's all. To know he was back, that he was alive and well, the same as we would want from any friend of ours. That's all I wanted.

Finally, Mark David Chapman showed those of us, who didn't know already, that anyone, at anytime, no matter how harmless or nondescript their appearance, could Kill Someone Else On A Whim. I resent Chapman for making me aware of that. Up 'till then, I was more carefree somehow; maybe we all were. Chapman showed us a side of ourselves that I wish I hadn't come to know. I have felt angry at people, yes, but have never KILLED anyone. But I could. Believe me, I could. We ALL could. For that reason alone, Chapman had better stay behind bars. Otherwise, Someone Will Get Him. Not me, but someone. I was RED-HOT ANGRY with Chapman for YEARS. That anger finally began to dissipate when George Harrison died in 2001. Another Beatle gone. Harrison's death was different; a case of time marching onward, sooner or later, squeezing the life out of all of us. As sad as I was over Harrison's death, I accepted it more peacefully than Lennon's. And with the passage of time, the sting of Lennon's violent death has abated. Somewhat.

Yoko Ono (shown here in a 2007 photo), dutifully, every two years, speaks out, urging the authorities to once again deny Chapman's parole. Chapman even had the gall to send Yoko a letter in which he asked if he could use Lennon's name in a book he wanted to write, that all the proceeds would go to charity. Needless to say, Yoko was horrified. Yoko continues to keep John's legacy alive; sadly for her, that's just about the only way she can get taken seriously anymore. I have mixed emotions about the whole John & Yoko relationship, but I'm sure they needed each other, and that in some way, they more-or-less "completed" each other. John and Yoko always tried to put on a "good front", but I've read that they'd had some tough times in their relationship, that they got away from each other, but by 1975, were ready to do the "family" thing, and in 1980, they returned to take on the world once again. That makes me wonder how interesting things would be, if John Lennon were around to 'stir the pot' these days...


Finally, lest we forget, here is the man who isn't around anymore. Yet, he continues to influence Pop Culture, and will do so until so much time has gone by that none of what we have ever felt, expressed, played or sung will matter anymore when we're all so ancient that future generations will look back upon us as being heathen primitives who couldn't think our collective way out of a wet paper sack. I don't know all of the details surrounding this photo of John Lennon, other than it had been hidden away, either in someone's manila folder, or undeveloped on someone's roll of film; I do know that this particular photo was never seen by very much of anyone until Just This Year. I wish that John Lennon was back among us; I really do. I wish that Mark David Chapman was still living in sunny Hawaii with his wife; I wish for a lot of things which I'd known before, that are irretrievably lost now. I remember looking at my record collection after I learned he was murdered, thinking, "none of these records would even EXIST without John Lennon." Finally, the last point I'll make here is the Oldest Line In The Book: His music is still alive. Well, yes it is...

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After writing the last line of this post, it hit me that the phrase "Yes It Is" is the title of an obscure song that John wrote (it was the B-side of 'Ticket To Ride'). Here's some of the lyrics:
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If you wear red tonight...remember what I said tonight...For red is the color that my baby wore, and what's more, it's true, yes-it-is...

Scarlet were the clothes she wore; everybody knows, I'm sure...I still remember all the things we planned; understand, it's true, yes-it-is.
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And, a person who can write lyrics like that...must be quite a person indeed.

This Post Was Written in the...
Heat Of The Moment...

Note: I've been told that I should write more music posts. Like this, perhaps?

Remember the old Glen Campbell song, "By The Time I Get To Phoenix"? That is one of the saddest songs ever written; the words echo with pain, disappointment and the disillusionment of a relationship that didn't work out. Glen Campbell's version was close to 3 minutes long. Now, can you imagine an 18-minute version of that song, complete with dramatic narrative, relating the story of a young man who'd tried to leave his sweetheart time and time again, but he just couldn't bring himself to go...but finally, he left...heading eastward from California, going thru Phoenix, Alberquerque, and at last count, he was heading thru Oklahoma to somewhere else...

Isaac Hayes died today at age 65. And he's the guy who did that l-o-n-g version of "Phoenix". The story itself consumes close to 3/4's of the song, as it begins with a hushed little 'tick' on the cymbal, then a keyboard holding one low-registered note floats in, and over that backdrop Hayes weaves his spell, taking that song through emotional undulations that Glen Campbell's version, great as it was, could only hint at. And by the time You make Oklahoma, you feel like your whole world has collapsed in a heap somewhere far behind you. I can't begin to convey the sense of controlled despair that permeates Mr. Hayes' version of that song. It's simply amazing. He did that on other tunes...a 12-minute version of Dionne Warwick's big hit, "Walk On By", and he takes another 10 minutes to essay a burning love he's had for a certain lady for a long time as he finally collapses in a heap at her feet, confessing all; the song is the old soul classic, "I Stand Accused"...some may say Hayes' approach was overwrought and over-dramatic, well, maybe. But give this music half a chance and it'll grab ya, as it did me so long ago.



This is the "Hot Buttered Soul" album, released 1970, which contains Isaac Hayes' version of "By The Time I Get To Phoenix". A one-of-a-kind statement from a master. Like so many others, I hadn't even heard of Isaac Hayes until his "Theme From Shaft" came out in 1971, and I was hooked on that ultra-syncopated backbeat with wah-wah guitar...mmm, a tasty musical recipe anytime. So when, later on, I had seen Earlier Isaac Hayes Albums with Long Songs on them (always a fascination of mine), I bought 'em unheard, and just loved 'em. Still do. Back in the '60s, Hayes, along with David Porter, wrote "Soul Man" and "Hold On, I'm Comin'", both which were big hits for Sam and Dave. So Hayes had a whole 'nother career before he began releasing records under his own name. I'm sad that Hayes is gone; he was a relatively young 65. He'll be up there in Rock and Roll Heaven...or perhaps if there's a Heavenly "Soul Train", he'll be the conductor.
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This next artist passed away back in 1964, but he certainly left his mark, and even though he was known primarily as a singer, and had a ton of hits with mellow middle-of-the-road material, waaaay back when, he was an ultra-hot pianist with his own little combo, and could he ever play and sing the blues. I remember hearing Nat "King" Cole records on the radio when I was a kid; things like "Ramblin' Rose" and "Lazy-Crazy-Hazy Days Of Summer"...and I thot he had a good voice...later on, while still in my formative years, I'd gone to a junk store and found a 78 by the "King Cole Trio" and I wondered if that was the same...sure sounded like him, and indeed, it was. I guess the record companies, in the '50s and '60s, were going for more mellow, middle-of-the-road, mainstream material (don't you hate it when record companies do that?), and so in the later stages of his career, well, ol' Nat didn't play all that much piano anymore. But in the late 1950's, his public was clamoring for some of that Nat King Cole Trio music, you know, the jazzy/bluesy stuff that was so much fun to hear, and that's when this album was made...you've got to realize he recorded it after his sugary songs "Too Young", "Mona Lisa" and "Unforgettable" had hit the charts. So, this album is a step backwards...and yet a step forwards...



This album is best known for Bobby Troup's song, "Route '66", which Nat had a hit with. And if you find yourself tapping your foot to that tune, the rest of this album is like that. It's easy to imagine yourself sitting at a corner-table in a dark, smoky bar, 'After Midnight', listening to Nat tickle the ivories. And, as YouTube videos of his old performances show, he was One Great Piano Player, a fact that Capitol Records successfully hid from me until I began digging thru the past. This record comes highly recommended. It's really great. Because He was so great. In searching for the cover art online, I found that a CD is now available of the "Complete 'After Midnight' Sessions." Hoo-boy; looks like I'm gonna have to get the CD version now. It's got songs my record doesn't have! (Which is how the CD-reissue industry makes a lot of its money.)
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Imagine a music group that features all of your musical heroes...you might think of The Traveling Wilburys, which featured George Harrison, Roy Orbison, Bob Dylan, Jeff Lynne (leader of ELO) and Tom Petty...having those 5 names together in one group was enough to send heads spinning...and wow, their music is great. Well, I have another supergroup for ya; the names aren't quite as big, but if you were a fan of such "progressive" bands as Yes, Emerson-Lake-&-Palmer and King Crimson, imagine those three bands merging together with a sound that is "arty" yet mainstream, without being annoying as some pop music can be. Such a group was ASIA...the group brought together Steve Howe, guitarist extraordinaire of YES; Carl Palmer, manic drummer for Emerson, Lake and Palmer; John Wetton, who sang and played bass for a later lineup of King Crimson before joining the British prog-rock group "U.K.", and Geoff Downes, who was known for playing keyboards for a later version of "Yes", and who'd long been involved in the British Music Scene.

"Asia"'s music initially hit big in 1982, with "Heat Of The Moment" and "Only Time Will Tell", and their first album, indeed, all their albums were just jam-packed with quality music; tuneful, dignified, melodic, and most of all, rocking. I just loved that sound. I've always loved bands with Keyboards/Synthesizers; it adds such a rich flavor to their music. The original lineup of Asia recorded three albums back in the '80s; "Asia", "Alpha" and "Astra", before one or another of the group parted ways for various reasons; still, the band kept going with new members, releasing CD's thru the late '80s and early '90s, and that music is good as well; I've heard some of it. Remember when the group "Yes" would change members from time to time, and yet the "Sound" of 'Yes' remained intact; much the same was also true for "Asia". So anyway, time moves forward and marches on, I hadn't heard anything about "Asia" for a while; indeed, I'd forgotten all about them, until I was in a Wal-Mart (yeah, "I Stand Accused") and upon my wandering back to the music section, I saw this CD on display, front-and-center...



Asia. "Phoenix". Oh Yeahhhhh? YEAH. Cool! With a little red sticker saying "first recording by the ORIGINAL 'Asia' in two decades". How about that. You bet I bought it. After all, I was such a fan of the stellar musicianship of Wetton, Howe, Palmer and Downes and all of the bands they were involved in, before or after "Asia". I played this new "Asia" album twice the other night, and once again, Not A Bad Track On It. "Phoenix" contains some insightful music from these old guys, and boy, is it ever tasty. One song, "Never Again" advocates peaceful coexistence, which this world needs so badly; the final song, "An Extraordinary Life", is especially poignant, seeing as how John Wetton, the singer/bassist, has had heart problems, culminating in open-heart surgery, and my best goes out to him. Meanwhile, guitarist Steve Howe, who has probably Never Played An Easy Song In His Entire Life, has also been appearing and recording with his original group, "Yes", and it would appear he has concurrent membership in "Yes" and "Asia". I could never hope to play like these guys, but wow, are they ever great to listen to.
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So what exactly is "progressive rock"? I tend to think of it as ornate, with classical touches and complex arrangements, the kind of music that consists of a Whole Lot More than three chords, and it's also idealistically intelligent. Some prog-rock goes right over my head (which often happens with "Yes"), but even if it does, it just SOUNDS good. Other prog-rock bands would be Genesis, Kansas, The Moody Blues (to a point), U.K., Electric Light Orchestra (on their early albums), Ambrosia (here and there), Deep Purple (during their early 'Tetragrammaton' period), and oh yes, another of my favorites, Manfred Mann's Earth Band.

Disjointed Continuity...

...that oxymoron pretty-much describes this post...

FUEL PRICES ARE ABSOLUTELY PLUMMETING: (I knew that would get your attention)...actually, they're not, but prices have gone down a bit, although I never thot I'd see the day when $4.09 a gallon represented a lowering of prices at the pump. Maybe, just maybe, though, enough folks have collectively curtailed their driving enough that it's having an effect on gasoline prices. Maybe there's more carpooling going on, or perhaps the ol' SUV isn't being used for commuting or shopping excursions; perhaps more Ford Broncos, Chevy Blazers and their ilk are being kept closeted in the garage, only to be used on the occasional weekend getaway. Still, I'm still seeing a lot of Dodge Rams and Ford Rangers out there, mega-trucks which are almost as heavy as Tanks...so it could be a year or two before gas goes down to, say, what we were paying for it six months ago. Even your everyday average Super-Hero is feeling the gas crunch these days...


Holy Economy! Where's Robin, The Boy Wonder? Well, Batman had no choice but to lay him off...

Finally, a little humor with which to close out this portion of the post...Batman and Robin got run over by a steam roller. After that, what were they known as? "FLATMAN" and "RIBBON". Like I said...a 'little' humor. Very 'little'...
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BROADWAY BRETT?: Turns out Brett Favre didn't have to compete for the quarterback position at Green Bay after all. That scenario was mercifully called off, and Brett is now a New York Jet. Huh? What? (That's what I thot when I heard it, too.) My theory: If the Packers Organization had Wanted Favre, then he would've been the Packers' QB. Brett flirted with retirement at the end of last season, saying he didn't know if he had the energy to play another year. That was just the opening the Packers organization needed. And so for better or worse, the Aaron Rodgers era begins in Green Bay. So why did the Packers not want to keep Brett around? I think that Favre's past interceptions combined with his being somewhat headstrong had something to do with it. Brett was Bigger than the Organization, after all. I think the Green Bay Packers' quarterback position was Brett's to lose. And he lost it with his 'retirement dalliance'. that's my take on it, anyway.

Of course, you may remember that the Jets' first quarterback was "Broadway" Joe Namath. Joe liked to party. All up and down Broadway. He had terrible knees, but a great arm. And now, for a "little" humor, once again...Have you heard about the "New York Jets Cocktail"? Two of them and you forget what your "Namath". (cue rim-shot...or not) As far as Baseball goes, the Team That Everyone's Doing Better Than, The Seattle Mariners, beat a first-place team, the Tampa Bay "Rays" (not the "Devil Rays" anymore) tonite, not that it matters (which is probably why they won), since the M's are hopelessly locked in last place for the rest, lying at the bottom of their division, submerged deeper than Davy Jones' locker. I truly live and die with the M's. In a figurative sense, anyhow.
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A VERY STRANGE BIRD IS THE PELICAN...As I watch Pelicans near the beach, they bring to mind the sinister image of Kamikaze Pilots as they near their targets. These big birds are truly something to behold, and if I was a fish, I'd stay away from the surface, or at least, I'd try to if I thot pelicans were around. But fish aren't really capable of deep thought, which keeps the pelicans happily satisfied...



...his beak holds more than his belly can: Observing a Pelican in flight also reminds me of a biker riding a "chopper" through town with those big long forks holding the front wheel in place and the biker actually reclines a bit when he rides. Pelicans, in flight, actually appear to have their heads cocked back a little bit, and really, a flock of these birds prowling for fish gives off an ominous appearance, like some sort of Avian Death Squadron.

When a pelican spots a fish, it goes into total, wild, abandoned free-fall, as it finds itself careening downward in a sort-of death spiral with absolutely no regard for life and limb (its own or that of Mr. Fish), heading towards its target at a speed approaching Mach I...



...he holds in his beak enough for a week: The pelican gains momentum as it hurtles towards the water as Mr. Fish swims around, perhaps even getting some sunshine near the surface, perhaps jumping above the waves to catch an insect or two, totally aware that Death In The Form Of A Bird is only a split-second away...



...and I don't see How in the Hell he can: SMACK!!! POW!!! BAM!!! Mr. Fish never had a chance. It was an instantaneous, merciless, savage death. I'm sure that those who've lived their entire lives on the Coast might think nothing of this at all, but it never ceases to amaze me. The sheer impact these birds endure, all in the name of food. One would hope that the Pelican's aim isn't off, or he'd acquire a concussion or two trying to spear himself some lunch. In regards to this whole pelican-diving-thing, I perform much the same act in all-you-can-eat restaurants as I dive for food.
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Finally, I'll close this post on a religious note...I recently saw this message posted on the front lawn of a nearby church: "If you're looking for a Sign from God...this could be it." Nice touch; a little bit o'humor alongside the proverbial Fire and Brimstone...although, I'm pretty sure lines like this won't be making the rounds of The Vatican anytime soon.