WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON NEW YEAR'S EVE 'EVE'?
...I'd probably pause and reflect, but what for?
-
I should make some resolutions. I should set some goals. I should do a whole bunch of things, I guess, but the motivation isn't there. I seem to be a more 'internal' person all the time, tending to hide away, feeding my mind with music, philosophy, books, record collecting and guitar playing, of which I do make myself practice a bit more, but I'm not sure if I'm any better. This must be what some folks call a "lull". I sense the time passing; it's whizzing by. Another big ball will hit the ground in Times Square, and presto-change-o, it'll be 2011. Let me try that out a few times. 2011. 2011. 2011. There. Now I won't have any excuse for putting the wrong year on checks. So what do I know the most about? I guess that would have to be music. And I'd like to share some musical things with you.
-
I'm spending this evening with Loreena McKennitt. Her music, that is. She really puts it all together; she seems to have a lot of Celtic elements in her music, and the songs she lays down are just beautiful. I sometimes listen to her CD's as I'm going to sleep; there must be a certain "lullabye factor" in her music. She takes journeys around the world, experiencing cultures, jotting down diary entries, reading dusty old books of folklore and fancy. Then she crafts songs from her experiences. If you can imagine a lady singer doing a sort-of Moody Blues style of music, you have at least an idea of what she's about. Within her songs are lyrics of olde, and her music is soothing, which is a good thing in this ever-more-tumultuous world. She plays keyboards and harp, and her repertoire is quite mystical. It doesn't hurt that she has a God-Given vocal talent which is amazing. You can hear/see her on Youtube. Albums of hers such as "The Mask and Mirror", "The Book Of Secrets" and "An Ancient Muse" are as close to perfect as anyone could want. Her music is Timeless, Ornate, and Dignified. I've been acquainted with "The Book Of Secrets" since 1995, when it was issued; a song from it, "The Mummer's Dance" actually got some radio airplay; I fell for that song, as well as the rest of the album in short order.
-
Fast-forward some 10 years; I walked into a music store and saw "An Ancient Muse" in the CD bin; if anything, this CD is Better than "Book Of Secrets", but maybe I shouldn't look at it that way. These albums describe cultures, their philosophies and ways of old, and intimate that we can learn from Those Who Have Gone Before us. The albums pictured here make for great listening; she's made several other discs; as I'm typing this, I've got her newest, "The Wind That Shakes The Barley" spinning 'round in the player. This album shows Loreena re-visiting her roots and beginnings, and is also a very sweet album. Many of the songs are old, traditionally-based excursions, and especially in this age of plastic, pre-fabricated music, it's great to find music like this. Ms. McK has been recording, evidently, since the '80s, and obviously she takes a lot of care, as well as all the time she needs, to craft these musical creations. And it shows. I must mention that her albums aren't dry literary excursions; her backing musicians get plenty of time to stretch out and enrich the songs, and somehow, all of her songs just seem to flow together in a spellbinding way.
-
I've always been interested in the music of Jimi Hendrix. There's a restless sound in his guitar-work, anchored by the blues, and soaring into the Stratosphere. The Hendrix Family administers Jimi's vast body of music; although only 4 of his albums were released while he was alive, he laid down many songs that were either issued haphazardly, or were laying at the bottom of a pile of tapes, shut away for years. With these CD releases, it's still possible to get New Hendrix Music, close to forty years after his death. He jammed constantly and played off others, and from what I've read, he was a genuinely nice guy caught up with all the pressures of being a Guitar God. Had Hendrix lived, I'm sure he would've gone in some sort of Jazz-Fusion direction; a good example of that is "Jam Back At The House", a tune he did at Woodstock, available on the Woodstock II album or perhaps in other configurations, I don't know.
-
I recommend two of Hendrix's newer album issues; that of "Valleys Of Neptune"(above left) and "Blues", both released by the Hendrix Family; both contain tracks never issued anywhere else, along with updated versions of songs he'd recorded earlier. I'm not one to know every single note of every single song, but in Hendrix' case, each take of a song he did is fascinating. I wish I had one-millionth of the talent he had.
-
I also picked up a third new Hendrix Package, "West Coast Seattle Boy" which is purported to be a "Hendrix Anthology"; the material on the disc was evidently gleaned from a 4-disc Hendrix set, so this CD supposedly brings together all the Hendrix you've never heard. This new CD is a bit on the rough side here and there with some home-made music and incomplete demos, but still stands as More Music By Hendrix, so while I recommend it for Hendrix Fans, I don't recommend it as highly as the other two. But there's never a dull moment on a Hendrix disc.
-
And with that, I'll go now so you can celebrate The New Year. May we all be sharing many new years to come. And I'd like to thank all of you who stop by to gawk at my musings; you've got incredible endurance to put up with me. See ya next year!

ARTIFICIAL LIGHT OVERDOSE...

...As Applied To Seahawks' football...

-

Sunday Afternoon Football. It makes my life complete. At least for one day. That's the way it used to be, anyhow. Having endured one of the worst Baseball Seasons, this year, by Any Team, Ever (Seattle Mariners), I've finally recovered enough to actually tune in to Seahawks' Football games. The 'Hawks are in the AFC's Western Division, and every team in that division has a losing record. So while 'the least losses possible' is a great way to win the division, that doesn't have to be backed up with a great deal of wins, as was forcibly demonstrated during today's Seahawks football game. The division's so bad that a team has a chance of winning if they Lose! Whoopee!

-

The Seahawks leaped out to a 7-0 lead on a first-quarter carry by Quarterback Matt Hasselbeck. In for the score! No one touched him! Neato! Once in the end zone, however, he pulled up lame; he evidently mis-stepped, due to an awkward landing; either that or he was shocked by the fact there was a Hole he could run thru untouched, and strained himself, trying to keep himself from falling over in disbelief. Well, ol' Matthew limped to the sidelines and the #2 quarterback was put in, for the rest of the game. When that happens, most of the time, it means a team will fake its way thru the remaining portion of the game and end up losing, and today's game was certainly a manifestation of that, with the Seahawks being virtually quarterback-less for 3/4's of the game.

-

So, the game was a total waste for the fans in the stands. The 'Hawks would score no more the rest of the way. Actually, there wasn't even much of a reason for keeping the TV on. Thank goodness there was another game going on at the same time on another network, meaning that meaningful football was being played somewhere else in the world. Although, I kept checking in to see how much the Seahawks were losing by again and again. Folks, this is called Football Masochism. How bad are they losing NOW??? By then, the announcers, ever-perceptive, had told the fans (before the game was half over), that "this week's game doesn't mean anything anyhow because Next Week's Game will prove who wins the division, and the Seahawks, win or lose today, will still have a chance to win Next Week!"

-

It's a good thing football fans can't find out, in advance (with the use of a Ouija board or some other means) that "Today's game won't mean anything, so you can just Stay Home and Save Hard Cold Cash". I suppose, though, that Seahawks fans are also fans of the Seattle Mariners, where every game is an exercise in futulity. Like I said, We're Used To It. Also, the vast lockdown Mother Nature imprisons us with, those unyielding Eternally-gray skies full of rain which normally keeps folks in their homes on weekends, forces people to get out of their houses and go somewhere else and do something, anything, legal or not. I'm fully aware of how that feels. I'm sitting in the brightest room in the house with all the lights on and the shades drawn. Call it Psychic Survival. I'm a great candidate for the scourge of ALO (Medical term meaning Artificial Light Overdose).

-

So I thot, "well, tonight will be great anyway, because after all, Sunday Night Football is coming on"! Except that didn't happen. Tonight's game got SNOWED OUT, with Philadelphia's Mayor telling everyone to Stay Home! (Which I imagine Seattle fans woulda done today, given the chance.) In closing, you're right, I didn't mention the opponent's name, 'cos I can't remember it, but it doesn't matter, there's no point, and I'm so dis-interested right now I can't be bothered to go to an internet Sports Page and actually find out Who Else Played Today.

-

So what am I watching now? Re-Runs of "The Smoking Gun Presents 'World's Dumbest Drivers" with commentary by Danny Bonaduce, Tonya Harding and Alec Baldwin, among others. Tonight, the official Dumbing-Down of America has begun. Wheeeee!

In a way, I'm very, very fortunate...
DRUNK DRIVING: NO ONE GOT KILLED BY ME...

This isn't a very lighthearted post, like the stuff you usually see here. But I think it's important, so I'll put it here, 'cause I feel it needs to get out there...

What touched off this post is a news item; in Santa Ana, California, 24-year-old Andrew Gallo was sentenced to 51 years in prison today for the death of Nick Adenhart and 2 others in a car crash in 2009. Gallo went out drinking with some friends, one of whom was supposed to be a Designated Driver, but the Desig-nee himself got too drunk to drive, so Gallo, also drunk, took over the wheel. Adenhart was a pitcher who Made it to the Major Leagues, and had fired off six innings of scoreless baseball in his debut, just a few hours before the crash.

That got me to thinking about times when I drove drunk. I was always More Careful when I knew I was drunk, navigating 'by instrument', telling myself to come to Complete Stops and not to tailgate anyone or exceed the speed limit. I would actually get more paranoid when I drove drunk, and I never had an accident. I'm not saying I Actually drove Better when I was drunk, because after all, I was drunk. But I'm so lucky I never got a DUI, because I was out there on the road. And most of all, lucky because I didn't injure or kill anyone in the process of Being Out There. Drunk.

There were times when I was so drunk that I couldn't see past the hood of my car. I used to get virtually obliterated on Friday and Saturday nights, and perhaps I wasn't the greatest driver while drunk, but I was better than a lot of other drivers out there. Better at not getting caught, anyway. In fact, I've been stopped more when I'm sober...can't figure that one out. As I look back, I got obliterated because that was the only way I could enjoy myself, to get out of ME. I never got drunk on holiday weekends, when I knew the County Mounties were out there in force, and I knew myriad back-alley routes between the bar and home, where I knew (or hoped) the Waiting Jaws of The Law wouldn't be posted, waiting me to sneak by.

If I could be the person I am now, and transport myself back to those (younger) days, I'd definitely take a cab home Every Single Time I got drunk. But I was Stupid back then. Carefully Stupid, but Stupid nonetheless. And I'm so thankful that I never killed or injured anyone in the process of navigating home after-hours. That's life; you can make a mistake in a second, and pay for it the rest of your days. I probably am not justified in telling others not to drive drunk, because I did. But I sure wouldn't recommend it.

I went out on weekends starting from my college days in the 1970's clear up thru the mid-1990's. And I got drunk the majority of those weekend nights. That's quite a streak. I'm not proud of it. I was incredibly fortunate, I guess. No tickets, no killed or maimed bodies in my wake. So what slowed me down? Age. Right around the time I turned 40, the hangovers began hanging-on twice as long as they had previously, and after a couple of hours in the bar, the beer literally started tasting like liquid detergent. I found myself switching over to Pepsi or Coke with increasing frequency. After that, it wasn't hard to just convert myself to Soft Drinks Only. And that's the way it's been, since 1995.

It's the Holiday season now; full of tidings and good cheer. Or at least it's supposed to be. If you drive drunk, may you not kill anyone, and may you always be as careful as I was. But be warned; you're taking your chances every time you drive drunk. I never even came close to having an accident while drunk. (Again, I've been sober during accidents I've been involved in.) But you're not me. The dice may not roll for you the way they rolled for me. So I think of the people killed in this accident, and I think of another young man who'll be serving over a half-century behind bars. Lives gone to waste. All I can say is be careful out there; especially these days. After all, it's the Holiday Season.

I've been driving since 1971. I've only had one at-fault accident between then and now (In 1977). No injuries, no fatalities, not even a scratch. My insurance company Loves Me. On the other hand, I could've been killed in the accident I had in 2001. I have no idea if the other driver was drunk. I guess it's possible. I was sober at the time. Scary for sure.

I THINK THIS SPECIES NEEDS SOME RE-EDUCATING...
...ah, the plight of the Golden Plover...

There is a little bird out here, a coastal bird, that's met with some hard times. I should clarify, not just One Bird, but a species that is evidently threatened with extinction. It's the Golden Plover, and is a fairly large bird, its size from 23 to 26 cm, although I don't know what that is in actual inches; you'll have to do the conversion, but it's probably somewhere along the size of a seagull (which is Not, and probably never will be extinct, beach vultures that they are).

Portions of beach from Bandon (further south than me) to Cannon Beach (further north from me) are being reserved so that the Plover (and his significant other) can lay eggs in designated places, perpetuating the species, and I support that fully. Although, something is funny in Denmark here, and that is, The Plover makes its nest in Dry Beach Sand. On a beach. Where Hawks, Seagulls and Pelicans can swoop in for a delicious 3-Plover-egg omelet. All of the other birds seem to choose nesting locations that are hidden somewhere, but according to the article I read today, the Plover nests right out there, in full view of everyone and everything. Little Kid On Beach: "Mommy, Mommy, LOOK! Real Bird Eggs!" "Junior, PUT THAT DOWN!!!"

It's Survival Of The Fittest out there in the bird world. I've seen different species chasing each other, with the lead bird squawking for dear life. I recently saw the remains of a dead seagull being picked at by Another Seagull. So the Plover NESTS RIGHT OUT IN THE OPEN? HOW DUMB IS THAT? I say that the Plover needs to be re-educated, to establish its home quarters where No Other Bird Species can see it. Case In Point: Near the Cape Arago Lighthouse seems to be where Cormorants nes, in a big grove of dead trees. A big Cormorant community; a bird subdivision, whatever. A case of "safety in numbers" although I'm sure Cormorant nests get raided. It becomes obvious that the bird world isn't the chirpy, carefree existence that we're led to think it is.

So portions of beach up and down the Oregon Coast being converted into Plover-only zones. I wonder, "wouldn't it be prudent to re-locate plover nests in safer places than the Beach?", along with, "Can that really be done or am I delusional?" Perhaps the Plover is so set its ways that it'll suffer the same fate as the Passenger Pigeon, extinct since the early 1900's. I've been around enough birds (wild and tame) in my time, enough to know you can't tell a bird anything. Birds are totally self-centered. Me, Me, Me. Is the Plover smart enough to hide its nest? Obviously not. So federal dollars are being spent trying to preserve areas of flat-ocean-beach so we can lose less Plovers than before. We can only hope the Plovers can be trained to help themselves. But, being birds, that probably won't work. You cannot make a bird sit down and learn something. That's impossible.
-
I couldn't end this post before mentioning that I just finished watching Monday Night Football. The Minnesota Vikings were playing, and quarterback Brett Favre, who was mangled last week, was knocked out of tonight's game early on.Two injured shoulders, a mangled left hand and landing hard on his head on an ice-covered field. It wasn't pretty. This might just be the last game that Favre plays. Has he learned his lesson or will he turn out like the Golden Plover, unable to learn? I admire Favre, have watched him play for years, but, Brett, hey, it's time. It's over. Please...

COMING SOON TO A WAL-MART NEAR YOU...
...that is, if they're not there already...

I don't have much of a problem with going to Wal-Mart when I need to. After all, local people work there, and Wal-Mart allows wages to trickle down to the lowest employee who's been laid-off or fired elsewhere or out-sourced altogether. So I find myself in "Wally-World" every now and then. I usually go in to check out their music section, then stop to look at the Watches in the jewelry department (some decent-looking watches for nine bucks). Don't look at me like that! I bought my Timex watch at a locally-owned store and paid forty bucks for it. Some time later, I went into Wacky Wally's, where they had the same model priced at twenty-nine bucks. But that doesn't have anything to do with anything, not really, although it does. (Proofreading that last sentence, makes me think I shoulda been a Political Speech-writer.)
-
Today I entered the Wide World Of Wal-Mart along with several customers who thought they'd save thousands of dollars...Maybe they do, but I never buy enough at Wal-mart to justify a shopping cart. If I saved thousands of dollars at Wal-Mart with the meager amount I buy there, Sam Walton himself would have to deficit-spend in order to give me all that money back. Anyway, I noticed that as lively, aware and budget-conscious human beings pulled out shopping carts, all of a sudden they assumed a sort-of-mind-numbing vacant stare as I could see their eyeballs expanding, and they were all marching in the same sort of hypnotic trance-step, s-l-o-w-l-y pushing shopping carts..."must have food"..."must have weed-whacker"..."must have D-Con to put in mother-in-law's Orange Pekoe Tea"..."must save more so I can buy more when I come back next week", and that's when it hit me: "Zombie cart-pushers at Wal-Mart! Film at Eleven!" Maybe it's something in the security device you pass upon entering Wal-Mart. "Check in your personality at the door; it'll be here when you leave."

So, whilst ambling around the Weird World of Wally, I saw several cart-pushers going in the opposite direction, and they all seemed to be staring at some distant aisle, as if they were penguins in the Antarctic trying to pick out a distant cousin who's out in the crowd somewhere. Many is the time I've seen a Wal-Mart Zombie Cart-Pusher coming towards me, and I'm the one who has to get out of the way at the last minute. Or a customer will stop right in front of me to pause at an island display featuring Apple Juice or Motor Oil or Real Artificial Hexagonal Swiss Cheese-balls and debate with themselves the psychological ramifications of being able to save a nickel over what their hometown supermarket 25 miles away sold it for. Now, I'm not tiny, plus I have Vertigo, so it's not easy for me to stop on a dime. It takes a while for my bulk to cease movement. I wouldn't want to bump into someone and send them reeling into a display of hemorrhoid cream or electric erasers or, heaven forbid, the aisle featuring the Big Ultra-Humongous warehouse-sized 300-pound years' supply of Kibbles and Bits. That could be tragic. CRASH!!!


"Shopping Carts! SHOPPING CARTS! MUST HAVE SHOPPING CARTS!"
-
Have you noticed those right-in-the-middle-of-the-aisle displays that are full of cheap CD's or DVD movies for five bucks a shot at the Wily, not Wimpy, Wal-Mart store nearest you? CD's or DVD's have been tossed higgledy-piggeldy into that display for you, the customer, to rummage through. Imagine someone dumping ten-thousand CD's on your Living Room floor; that's the picture that's popping into my mind, thinking about it. Oh, It's fun to sift your way through those bins, but at the same time, consider this: Wal-Mart forces you to grovel and grunt your way through a mess of cheap CD titles hundreds of previous customers passed up at regular price, surrendering all human dignity in the process...well, you're not forced if you've become a Zombie-Shopper, which I'm trying not to become.

Well, I stopped at one of those displays today and after sifting through a bunch of randomly-scattered CD's, I came to the conclusion that there were no more than 10 different CD titles in the bin, so some Wal-Mart go-fer must have dumped a hundred (or a thousand) copies of each into the Blowout Bin. What I worry about, is that while trying to reach over the display to get that One Cool Movie for Cheap, I'll fall in, wind up at the bottom, and be the first person on the planet to be crushed to death by a pile of CD's consisting of titles by Placido Domingo, Barbara Streisand, Milli Vanilli, New (Old by now) Kids On The Block, and The Freddy Fender songbook as performed by Neil Diamond. (I actually like Neil Diamond; sorry, Neil) The displays seem to convey a message which sounds something like, "Hey! Come Root Around our Big Tub of Movies and if you don't see anything you like, shop our Regularly-priced movies, which we wanted you to do in the first place."
-
As far as this somewhat prolonged blog posting is concerned, I've been at this for too long. Must...stop...need...food...end...posting...now...

BEING GIFTED...

...It is that time of year, don't ya know...

-

Uh, that would be Christmas-gifted, not Actually Gifted. December 15th, it is. It's the time when presents begin to accumulate under the Christmas Tree, and there's all kinds of package-shaking and rattling going on behind the backs of Parental Authority Figures. I must admit right here and now that I opened some presents before Christmas Morning. I was such a bad boy. In spite of such a huge transgression, I never turned to a life of crime. Of course, I don't have a Christmas Tree, and I don't get presents anymore, but that's enough about me. This blog-post isn't about me. Whoops, it IS about me, 'cos if it isn't, this post will run dry long before it gets boring. You're bored already? Uh-oh...

-

I was trying to think of something to post about, so I thought, "why not list some of the Christmas Presents I got over the years?" So what-all did I get for Christmas in years past? One year, I got a huge Crayola Crayons set; it came in a gold box about the size of a Monopoly (TM) board, and it contained something like 200 crayons. I should've taken better care of it; after 2 or 3 months, I guess I'd quit using it, 'cos I don't remember a lot about it. I was in a grocery store a few months ago, and I came upon a back-to-school display featuring stuff such as erasers, pens, pencils, Pee-Chee folders, and boxes of Crayons. I picked up a box and sniffed, and yep, that old familiar Crayon fragrance eminated forthwith, which took me waaay back, and you know, the Air-Freshener makers are really missing out...how about "Febreze" coming out with a crayon-scented room spray? Come on, guys, get with it! I also liked the 64-crayon size, triple-tiered in the crayon box, with the little crayon sharpener on its backside...that was really cool, although if you actually tried to sharpen your crayon, you'd end up shaving off 1/3rd of your crayon...
-

I was so excited when I got a little JC Penney's portable phonograph one Christmas Day long ago. How long ago? I'm dating myself here, but that little phono had TUBES, and if you turned up the volume too high, you'd blow a tube, resulting in the music sounding something like yer average popcorn-popper or fingernail-scratch on a Chalkboard. So, why make a phonograph that blows out its own tubes? Some things I just don't understand. The phono's lid was only about 2/3rd's the size of its base, so when you closed the lid, the phono's speaker was left uncovered, which was great in the case of seven-inch 45rpm singles; you could close the lid when 45's were playing, but not 12-inch LPs. As a matter of fact, its turntable was a little over seven inches in diameter, which meant that if you played an LP, a little over two inches of the vinyl hung out over the turntable's edge. And the lid would fall and Clomp on the edge of your LP if you weren't careful. I've been trying to find another one of those phonos on Ebay for years without luck. It was a really-cool little phono. I think it was a "Penn-Crest" phono, that being Penneys' trademark for household stuff.
-

One Christmas, I got a little "Craig" tape recorder which held three-inch reels; the same model as used on the old "Mission Impossible" TV Series. Here, I'm dating myself by admitting I had a TAPE recorder. Recording Tape is barely used anymore, what with all the digital technology out there. The tape speeds of my little recorder were one and 7/8's and three and a 1/2 IPS (Inches Per Second), and you changed tape speeds by physically removing or adding a little metal post (capstan, for you tekkies), which allowed the recorder's internal workings to plod along at the same old speed whilst doubling or halving the tape-speed. I wore that recorder out. It got to the point where the recording and playback capabilities got erratic; perhaps the recorder wouldn't record, or if it did, at an almost-inaudible volume, and then upon playback, volume roared out-of-control from the recorder's speaker, yea, verily, like the Mighty Surf. That, too, got tossed by the wayside. "Buy, buy, says the sign in the shop window, Why, why says the Junk in the yard?" (A Paul McCartney lyric there)

-

Some other cool things I got for Christmas: An Etch-A-Sketch, complete with Mercury leaking out of the two direction-dials at the bottom. Are Etch-A-Sketches still even Made? Potential Toxic Poisoning from a Christmas Toy. What a Hoot! One year I got a "Crash-Mobile", which consisted of pieces that, once put together, resembled a Car. Then, you'd smash your Crash-mobile into a wall, and it would break up into pieces, which you'd re-assemble and 'repeat process' over and over until it drove your parents crazy. Maybe Evel Knievel coulda been a product developer for the Crash-Mobile...? One year, my sister and I both received cans of something called "Play-Doh", a goopy substance resembling clay, except that if you didn't put your Play-Doh (TM) back in the can and seal it, it would dry out. Play-doh really smelled good, though. I wonder how many kids tried to Eat the stuff...
-

One Yule, I got a bunch of "Duncan" Yo-Yos, and although I wasn't coordinated enough to do fancy tricks, I had a 'Satellite' Yo-Yo, a 'Whistler' Yo-Yo (as the Yo-Yo spun, little devices attached on both sides would whistle!), I got a 'Butterfly' Yo-Yo, which was basically a basic Yo-Yo turned inside out, but my favorite was the 'Imperial' Yo-Yo. No-frills, smooth and sleek and it had some real weight to it. I loved my Yo-Yos. But they, too, just kinda disappeared with the years. By the way, Tommy Smothers of the Smothers Brothers, is tops when it comes to Yo-Yo spinning. Certainly, he didn't have to worry about any competition from me. I can "walk the dog", I can shoot the yo-yo out ahead of me in a sort of attack mode, and I can do the "round the world" (360-degrees), but for those endlessly complicated Yo-Yo tricks, I didn't have it. Actually, that's the way it's been with me all my life: To a point, I could do anything, and then I'd top-off and could never get better. So I'm not really very good at much of anything.
-

On another Christmas, I was surprised by a big flat trapezoid-shaped box under the tree with my name on it. No matter how much I shook it, I couldn't figure out what it was. I opened it...it was a GUITAR. My Dad hated Elvis, he hated the Beatles, he hated Rock and Roll, and at the time, I never said I wanted a Guitar for Christmas. (Maybe he thought I would sing Hank Williams tunes?) So I held the guitar in my arms for the first time, and going thru my brain was the thought, "what the Heck am I gonna do with this?" Dad showed me a few chords, but basically I tried to play bass notes to records, but I wasn't really playing; Dad said I was just 'plunking', and ya know, he was right. Then again he was Always Right. Right? A few years later at North Idaho Junior College, I saw some classmates playing chords to popular songs, and 'click', got my guitar, and joined in, and went from there. I don't have the coordination to be a lead guitarist; I play mainly chords (another case where I reached a level of proficiency and couldn't get any better). Lately I've been finger-picking; the rationale behind that is, you can't drop a finger...as I age, I seem to drop guitar picks more than I used to. What's up with that?

-

I think the Christmas Gift I got the most use out of was an old G.E. "Mustang 200" portable stereo. You could pile up to six records on the spindle, and after one album (or single) side played, 'Plop', another record came down on top of it. Any more than 6 stacked albums and massive disc-slippage would result. At the end of the record, the tone-arm would lift itself off the record...the mechanics in the motor resulted in a 'click-click-click, whirrr', as the tone arm moved away so the next record could drop down, and then 'click-click-click' some more as the tone arm came back to play another disc. The speakers were attached to the unit, and the whole apparatus, when not in use, could be folded up into something resembling a suitcase. I wonder whatever happened to it. I bought a slightly updated version of it on Ebay some time ago, and I play it once in a while, watching the record spin around, like I used to do way back then. It's a wonder my eyeball muscles haven't gotten all warped out. But maybe they have. My left eyeball actually drifts toward the right side. I was diagnosed with that. Which could potentially take husbands off the hook; it would be okay to be married and still have a Wandering Eye...
-

Somehow, somewhere along the away, Christmas lost a lot of its magic. As a little kid, lying in my bed on Christmas Eve, I thought I'd actually heard reindeer hooves on the roof. And as the years flew past, I still received and gave Christmas Presents, but it didn't mean as much. A few years ago when I drove cab, I asked the boss-lady what she was going to get for Christmas, and her answer mirrored my own outlook: "If I want something, I just go out and buy it", and yeah, that's where I'm at. Christmas is for kids. If kids these days are half as enraptured by the whole holiday-season concept as I was, then all is not lost. But don't say "The Holidays". It's Christmas. Let's not concern ourselves with political-correctness for a while. I'm no religious wacko, but I still, even for just a few moments, get that 'Christmas' feeling, especially on Christmas Eve. It still is special, that Christmas Feeling, even if only for a few hours. I believe Christmas is Holy; I've felt that way all my life. I still remember sitting out in the living room, which was darkened, in front of the Christmas Tree so many years ago. I always felt pangs of depression when the Tree was taken down. I don't like it when things are Over.

-

But this post has to end now, so I'll leave something for you to ponder: Where did all the cool Christmas presents you received when you were a kid disappear to? It's almost like they evaporate into thin air after a while. Maybe they do.

IN MEMORY OF...

...JOHN LENNON, 1940-1980...

Turn Out The Lights...
...THE PARTY'S OVER...

Once upon a time, there were three guys who made football-watching great fun, because they perfectly blended together; Howard Cosell, that pompous so-and-so; the ever-too-serious Frank Gifford, and "Dandy" Don Meredith, who added levity to the general chaos that could only be described as Monday Night Football. Don Meredith passed away today; another member of the Great Original Monday Night Football team is gone. Since Meredith left ABC, he stayed out of the limelight. I wondered what had become of him over the years. He felt his time as a "star" had run its course. So he left. And that was that.
-
Whenever a game resulted in an awful one-sided blowout, and there was no possibility that one team would win against the other, the by-now-familiar refrain always graced the airwaves; "Turn Out The Lights, The Party's Over" with Dandy Don supplying the vocals. As a fan, I almost feel like a charter-member of the Viewers of Monday Night Football Club; that's how long I've been watching (on an on-again, off-again basis, to be sure), and No Other Monday Night football lineup was as good as the Original Three. An Example: Considering This Year's Monday Night team, if I hear former coach John Gruden call former quarterback Ron Jaworski "Jaws" One More Time, I'm gonna Dropkick My TV!!!!! That's an awful nickname, and if I were Jaworski, I'd Drop-Kick John Gruden. He needs it. Dandy Don, Come Back! Pleeease.....

(Photo above, the original Monday Night Football lineup, left to right: Howard Cosell, Don Meredith, and Frank Gifford.)
-
Don Meredith was a quarterback, and a mighty good one from all accounts. Back before the Super Bowl was invented, he twice led his Dallas Cowboys to the NFL's championship game. He evidently played hurt a lot of the time, and he evidently was One of The Greats. That was before I watched a lot of football, so I remember him more as a broadcaster, more than anything. He had fun on the Monday Night telecasts, and because he did, we all did. Meredith was so good, he could even shut down Howard Cosell, which would be a gargantuan task for anyone else.
-
During halftime of tonight's Patriots/Giants game (in which the Patriots have played like a team possessed), Mike Tirico talked to Dandy Don's longtime broadcast partner, Frank
Gifford. Frank said he'd "seen Meredith recently and he was hurting", and he couldn't continue, coming close to breaking down on camera. I think a lot of us feel that way.


Turn out the lights...

IT STILL IS "A DRAG"...
...John Lennon remembered...again...
-
When John Lennon was gunned down THIRTY years ago (how time flies), the inquisitive members of the press shoved their microphones into Paul McCartney's face with questions such as "what do you think?", "how do you feel?", "what do you have to say", etc. etc., and Macca was then supposed to come up with something intelligent, sensitive, and all-knowing, but that didn't happen. McCartney said that John Lennon's death was "A Drag". And he was taken to task for having used that phrase to describe his feelings about Lennon's death. "A DRAG????" Well, it IS a drag. How can anyone be expected to say the right thing whilst undergoing the rampant inquisitiveness of the Press at precisely the worst moment?
-
I read some time back, that when Paul first found out about John's passing, he went to the studios to do some work on a song because, well, he didn't know what else to do. He and others in the studio laid down a few tracks, but Paul was obviously in a "drag" type of mood. The session was cut short, and outside the studio, waiting like a pack of the sharks they are, were the Newsmen waiting to jump on Every Word that McCartney would say. I'm sure that what he felt inside was akin to having your entire system blown up and ripped to shreds. How can you sum that up in a word or two? Oftentimes the emotions are whirling around at the speed of light and it's impossible to say the right thing. Just ask someone who's suddenly lost someone special and see what they say. In my case, I felt gloom and doom as I'd never felt before December 8th, 1980. What happened to him affected me for weeks afterward, and in a way, still does, for usually write a post like this one every First Week Of December. It's something I can't forget.
-
If you look at the Beatles' articles listed on the left margin of this page, (which can also be found at http://www.whatgoeson.com/), a Beatles historian-guy has said that, it STILL is a drag. And YES, it is. It's a drag to hear a Beatles' song, if it makes you remember that John Lennon was fatally wounded. It's a drag to see a Beatles' movie or hear a Beatles' song if it makes you recall that John Lennon was shot and killed. It's a drag to read a Beatles bio or to sift through your collection of Beatles records, compact discs or cassettes, and all of a sudden, think, "oh yeah, John's still gone", which is the way I felt after seeing "Imagine" (the Lennon bio-pic from the early '80s). At the end of the show, after watching Lennon on-screen for two hours, the thot hit me as I exited the theatre that " Lennon is still DEAD." What a drag, indeed.
-
Had this not happened to John, he'd still be alive, right? Well, who knows? Lennon was 40 years old when he met his fate. Had he not been mercilessly blown away, perhaps he might have died of natural causes, or in a car crash, or perhaps getting run down by a bus in New York City. Maybe he would've died from Cancer or Complications of Pneumonia or any number of other things. But at the very least, he would've lived at least a few more years. The reason we have such harsh memories of Lennon's death is that he died an Ugly Death. Ugly, Awful, Terrible, Senseless and Shocking. It's easy to draw a parallel between the deaths of John Lennon and John F. Kennedy. Both were Shocking, and are cases of Unfulfilled Promise. We'll never know what either of them would've done if they'd lived. But in both cases, had they lived, we'd be certainly happy enough to have gone along for the ride. So this is what assassins' bullets do. They negate hope. They cause sorrow. And They injure all of us.
-
I've said in prior postings that George Harrison's death has made it a bit easier to accept Lennon's death. It has to a point, reinforcing the fact that the Beatles were never going to reunite, which is OKAY. Had a Beatles' reunion never happened, John probably would have written some more songs and maybe would've made more records, gone on tour, and m-a-y-b-e reunited with his former band-mates...? I was never one to clamor for a Beatles' reunion, but who knows what John might have done with the 'Fabs' or on his own? From all indications, after 5 years away from the music business, he was all charged-up and ready to go. I guess we'll never know. When the 'Double Fantasy' album first came out (I bought my copy two weeks before he died), I was pleased to hear his voice again. He sounded good.
-
As of December 8th, 1980, all of a sudden we all lost someone whose presence was reassuring. It would've been fascinating to go along, to see how things would've turned out. I've always thought of record albums as "letters from home", letting us know that The Artist is still alive, doing well, and would've represented another step in the process of life as we all grow old together. We were all ROBBED of that when John Lennon, icon that he was, was suddenly no more. A part of me, buried deeply in my subconcious, is still, after all this time, VERY ANGRY about what happened to John Lennon. I think that's true for multitudes of us.
-
And that's where this posting must end. If I write any more than this, things are going to get Really Ugly. Suffice it to say that even though religions teach forgiveness, I don't think I could ever forgive something like this. "To forgive is divine", sure, but I'm not at that point yet. Not even after Thirty Years. Nobody told me there'd be days like these...