So I’m walking back from my friend’s house. He lives a block away and we play music together every Tuesday night. I’m walking back from his place, it’s a three quarters full moon and I cross the street like I always do and walk along the sidewalk towards the house before the vacant lot with the sagging chain link fence. I walk past this last house and there is a skateboard lying in the grass on the front yard. The thing is the same skateboard was lying in the same grass in the same place in front of the same house a week before. Tonight it looks as though it was starting to embed itself into the grass.
I wanted to take the skateboard and week before and I wanted to take it even more tonight but you can’t, I can’t. That’s stealing. Bullshit. Sometimes stealing is just taking something that someone else has stopped caring about. Sure it’s this kid’s property but it’s a perfectly good skateboard that is on its way to being decay. All I have to do is ignore the fact that someone owns it and has a perfect right to let it rot if that’s what they want to do – if I could just ignore that fact I would have gained a working skateboard.
That’s stealing. I know there are plenty of more extreme examples of someone forcefully divorcing someone else from their property but this rotting skateboard, if I were to rescue it from this lawn, would be stealing. Police could arrest me for taking inevitable rot and getting use out of it. Maddening. But these are the rules, we are a nation of laws.
Natural Born Convict
Myself I am not cut out for theft. A lucky combination of a generally honest disposition combined with the worst luck in America has kept me on the straight and narrow. Of course I toyed with petty theft when I was a kid. My neighbor’s baseball ended up on my lawn and even though it had his name on it I took it and used a marking pen to cover the entire panel of the baseball so that his name was obscured. He caught me. Naturally. I shoplifted a pack of chewing gum from Obexer’s Market in Homewood on Lake Tahoe and got caught. Naturally. I peeled the “nice price” sticker off of a Billy Ocean album and stuck it to Metallica’s “Ride the Lightning.” I would surely have been caught if the girl at the counter cared. As it stands I feel no remorse for stealing from Metallica. After their Napster fiasco and the tremendous amount of crap they’ve released over the last decade they deserve a lot worse. I suppose I’ve taken things from work – the usual, pens, paper, white out. Nothing major. I could never steal money, not even from a lousy employer. I wouldn’t be able to look myself in the mirror.
But back to this skateboard. I live in what would be considered a relatively poor neighborhood – but you wouldn’t know that from the amount of expensive toys and junk that the kids around here leave out. If I take a walk down the street or through an alley I could pick up a half a dozen bikes in varying states of disrepair. I think it is an ugly symptom when the poorest amongst us are sucked into the gross consumption – we buy things we don’t need, or even want! We buy just to buy and then we let the things we buy rot as soon as something shinier comes along.
Shit, I’m sounding like a broken record.
Speaking of Stealing…
I’ve recently discovered internet radio. I listen to internet radio at work mostly as my connection at home is dial-up. Sometimes we’ll listen to KZFR, other times KCSC, but just today I discovered a doozy of an Americana station called “Bourbon Disaster Radio.” The station is a sublime blend of classic outlaw country and more contemporary alternative-country and Americana. Get your twang on at: http://www.bourbondisaster.com/.
Honesty is the Best Policy
Seriously. Well maybe it’s just because I’m not smart enough to lie and get away with it. To each their own I suppose and I certainly know of a fair amount of highly successful and extremely devious and deceitful people. But you know, it just isn’t worth it – to sacrifice pride and decency for money or material success. What do I know though? Plenty of people have told me I’ll die broke.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Happy Birthday to Me!
“We all grieve in different ways,
Some people grieve longer than others and
Some people grieve forever.”
-Louis T. Wermann
I’m in a particularly melancholy mood this evening, listening to Celtic-flavored music, sad songs, songs of freedom and loss. My birthday’s coming up. On Saint Patrick’s Day in the year 1971 I breathed my first breath. March, wind, spring. The crocus have started blooming, appearing out of the cold ground and opening for the growing sun. The saucer magnolia in the front yard is ablaze with color and life and the peach in the back should open up completely with a couple of days worth of warm weather over this first weekend of the month of March. This winter has been strange – punctuated with loss and bitter cold. Tears.
I was adopted. It’s a beautiful thing. I was raised by a family of people who love me, but are in some ways fundamentally very different from me. It has given me a tremendous sense of freedom. I learned at a very young age, at least I was exposed to, the concept of sacrifice and loss. I don’t know who my birth parents are. I started to look several years ago but then I met a lovely woman I quickly fell in love with and married and the urgency of that search faded. Now I’m ambivalent about it – about finding people who look like me and share my genetics. I’m happy with who I am. I’m excited about who I may become. My birthdays are tinged with sadness though. There is no way not to think about the woman who decided to give me up.
My dad told me I was adopted as soon as my parents figured I was old enough to understand. I was around five at the airport when he told me that I was not his biological son. I remember a big yellow jet airliner just lifting off from the runway and pointing at it. My dad always recalls that to me as a sign I was accepting and not bothered by this strange news.
It’s weird being adopted. When I think about it – well one set of people chose me. So in that regard I feel special in that I was chosen. On the other side of the coin another set of people chose to give me up. So I was forsaken. I feel a sense of freedom – free from genetic expectations. But I also sometimes feel isolated. It can sometimes be difficult to reconcile these feelings. Ultimately I think it leaves me with a sense of chaos. Sometimes we think we are in control of our lives but at other times that sense of control proves itself to be a crumbling illusion.
So Happy Birthday Anyway!
But what the hell – we are all in this soup together. We’re all swimming upstream. Our lives are all growing shorter. Looking backwards is a fool’s plan or the luxury abided a leisure class of people. Looking back is a luxury, or the ability of a spoiled child to waste so easily and to be so careless. The fabric of order is at best a very loose knit of very questionable material. The likelihood of unraveling is always near.
Saint Patrick’s Day Game Plan
Yeah birthday’s get me to thinking – too much really. This year I’m going to embrace the Chico tradition of going out on the town, enjoying live music, and having a drink with friend’s at an establishment or three. I’ll dress myself from head to toe in green and soak in the sun or rain of an early spring day. I will post a smile upon my face and fortify it with strong medicine periodically. By nightfall I will be worse for the wear. It will be like living an entire lifetime in a single day. I will rise fresh and early at sunrise and I will collapse in a sunken heap at nightfall.
Life is such a marvel. If you can look at it just the right way it shimmers and shines and makes you laugh out loud. Not because it is good and not because it is bad but just because it is. All this, everything around us is.
So Happy Saint Patrick’s Day to you and whatever your plans for the day may be please have a good and a safe day.
Some people grieve longer than others and
Some people grieve forever.”
-Louis T. Wermann
I’m in a particularly melancholy mood this evening, listening to Celtic-flavored music, sad songs, songs of freedom and loss. My birthday’s coming up. On Saint Patrick’s Day in the year 1971 I breathed my first breath. March, wind, spring. The crocus have started blooming, appearing out of the cold ground and opening for the growing sun. The saucer magnolia in the front yard is ablaze with color and life and the peach in the back should open up completely with a couple of days worth of warm weather over this first weekend of the month of March. This winter has been strange – punctuated with loss and bitter cold. Tears.
I was adopted. It’s a beautiful thing. I was raised by a family of people who love me, but are in some ways fundamentally very different from me. It has given me a tremendous sense of freedom. I learned at a very young age, at least I was exposed to, the concept of sacrifice and loss. I don’t know who my birth parents are. I started to look several years ago but then I met a lovely woman I quickly fell in love with and married and the urgency of that search faded. Now I’m ambivalent about it – about finding people who look like me and share my genetics. I’m happy with who I am. I’m excited about who I may become. My birthdays are tinged with sadness though. There is no way not to think about the woman who decided to give me up.
My dad told me I was adopted as soon as my parents figured I was old enough to understand. I was around five at the airport when he told me that I was not his biological son. I remember a big yellow jet airliner just lifting off from the runway and pointing at it. My dad always recalls that to me as a sign I was accepting and not bothered by this strange news.
It’s weird being adopted. When I think about it – well one set of people chose me. So in that regard I feel special in that I was chosen. On the other side of the coin another set of people chose to give me up. So I was forsaken. I feel a sense of freedom – free from genetic expectations. But I also sometimes feel isolated. It can sometimes be difficult to reconcile these feelings. Ultimately I think it leaves me with a sense of chaos. Sometimes we think we are in control of our lives but at other times that sense of control proves itself to be a crumbling illusion.
So Happy Birthday Anyway!
But what the hell – we are all in this soup together. We’re all swimming upstream. Our lives are all growing shorter. Looking backwards is a fool’s plan or the luxury abided a leisure class of people. Looking back is a luxury, or the ability of a spoiled child to waste so easily and to be so careless. The fabric of order is at best a very loose knit of very questionable material. The likelihood of unraveling is always near.
Saint Patrick’s Day Game Plan
Yeah birthday’s get me to thinking – too much really. This year I’m going to embrace the Chico tradition of going out on the town, enjoying live music, and having a drink with friend’s at an establishment or three. I’ll dress myself from head to toe in green and soak in the sun or rain of an early spring day. I will post a smile upon my face and fortify it with strong medicine periodically. By nightfall I will be worse for the wear. It will be like living an entire lifetime in a single day. I will rise fresh and early at sunrise and I will collapse in a sunken heap at nightfall.
Life is such a marvel. If you can look at it just the right way it shimmers and shines and makes you laugh out loud. Not because it is good and not because it is bad but just because it is. All this, everything around us is.
So Happy Saint Patrick’s Day to you and whatever your plans for the day may be please have a good and a safe day.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Politics as Usual and Cheap Useless Crap
Writing about politics, especially on the national level, is incredibly frustrating. It sometimes feels like shouting at a hurricane. I’m glad the democrats have some power only because it re-introduces a missing system of checks, balances, and oversight. Frankly I haven’t heard any democrat enunciating a strategy or platform other than “we’re not them” and in the face of the atrocious behavior of the republican lead Congress during a time of national vulnerability the “we’re not them” approach has finally paid off. But now what? I see that Nancy Pelosi is requesting a brand new jet aeroplane so that she can fly more comfortably between Washington D.C. and San Francisco. What’s another million at this point anyway? In six short years the term “budget surplus” has become an abstract esoteric concept, much like “transparency” and “accountability.” If it were up to me the politicians would all be flying coach and taking taxis. Or better yet the bus – it would give the rich SOB’s a chance to actually see, and likely rub against or be fondled by, the people they are being paid to represent. That’s sort of a joke, the idea that politicians represent working class tax-payers as opposed to the filthy rich. Birds of a feather.
So lately I’ve strayed from politics a bit. Pretty much everyone with a connected cerebellum is getting down on this “war.” How can it even be called a war when the soldiers involved don’t know who it is they’re fighting? Terror? I suppose Stephen King should be public enemy number one.
National politics is a mess. We can agree on that much. So how about local politics? Well here are some thoughts on a few issues that affect us all on a more proximate level.
What Parking Problem?
Seriously. Drive five blocks in any direction and you can find parking. Most of it is even free. The idea that there needs to be another downtown parking structure is ludicrous and an obvious tip of the hat to pressure from a construction-based economy. You want to hear about a parking problem? The first place I lived in San Francisco I would have to drive around in circles for forty-five minutes to find a parking space that was within fifteen minutes walking distance of my apartment. I think we should take the existing parking structure and make it entirely handicapped spaces so that the elderly and the disabled can park close to downtown and everyone else can invest in a decent pair of walking shoes. The exercise will do you good.
I understand this pressure to develop. Unless you work in construction or agriculture the economy in Chico stinks. I’m not anti-development like a lot of folks. I don’t buy into the whole “I got mine” mentality. Chico is a desirable place to live so why wouldn’t people want to move here? More people means we need more housing. So no, I’m not in the anti-development camp. I am, however, against stupid redundant unnecessary and publicly-funded development.
Wal-Mart
Speaking of publicly funded development I have bad news for those of you keeping your fingers crossed that the Wal-Mart Super Center won’t be built. If people keep shopping at Wal-Mart, and Wal-Mart keeps making money, then it will be built. Does it make me sick to my stomach? Yes. Is it economically short-sighted? Yes, but then aren’t we as Americans sort of the keepers of the faith when it comes to short-sighted policy? It seems almost an obligation at this point to make decisions for the immediate future that will permanently screw-up the mid to distant future.
But what the hell? People stayed in line overnight for the opening of both the Krispy Kreme Donuts and the In N Out Burger when they opened. People gave up a night of sleep so they could say they ate a fucking hamburger and a donut on the first day these corporate chain stores opened in our town. A lot of people. So congratulations – I mean, if being the first to sample corporate cuisine is a badge of honor for this great consumer nation then of course there will be more Wal-Marts, more king-sized peddlers of uselsss crap – but it’s cheap! Cheap useless crap. That should be our national motto. Print it on every fucking dollar bill and coin that comes out of our mints. In Cheap Useless Crap We Trust.
Great, are you happy? Now I’ve made myself sick to my own stomach. I’m going to go and take a cheap generic Xanax now. Thank the god of Cheap Useless Crap that Wal-Mart has a pharmacy.
So lately I’ve strayed from politics a bit. Pretty much everyone with a connected cerebellum is getting down on this “war.” How can it even be called a war when the soldiers involved don’t know who it is they’re fighting? Terror? I suppose Stephen King should be public enemy number one.
National politics is a mess. We can agree on that much. So how about local politics? Well here are some thoughts on a few issues that affect us all on a more proximate level.
What Parking Problem?
Seriously. Drive five blocks in any direction and you can find parking. Most of it is even free. The idea that there needs to be another downtown parking structure is ludicrous and an obvious tip of the hat to pressure from a construction-based economy. You want to hear about a parking problem? The first place I lived in San Francisco I would have to drive around in circles for forty-five minutes to find a parking space that was within fifteen minutes walking distance of my apartment. I think we should take the existing parking structure and make it entirely handicapped spaces so that the elderly and the disabled can park close to downtown and everyone else can invest in a decent pair of walking shoes. The exercise will do you good.
I understand this pressure to develop. Unless you work in construction or agriculture the economy in Chico stinks. I’m not anti-development like a lot of folks. I don’t buy into the whole “I got mine” mentality. Chico is a desirable place to live so why wouldn’t people want to move here? More people means we need more housing. So no, I’m not in the anti-development camp. I am, however, against stupid redundant unnecessary and publicly-funded development.
Wal-Mart
Speaking of publicly funded development I have bad news for those of you keeping your fingers crossed that the Wal-Mart Super Center won’t be built. If people keep shopping at Wal-Mart, and Wal-Mart keeps making money, then it will be built. Does it make me sick to my stomach? Yes. Is it economically short-sighted? Yes, but then aren’t we as Americans sort of the keepers of the faith when it comes to short-sighted policy? It seems almost an obligation at this point to make decisions for the immediate future that will permanently screw-up the mid to distant future.
But what the hell? People stayed in line overnight for the opening of both the Krispy Kreme Donuts and the In N Out Burger when they opened. People gave up a night of sleep so they could say they ate a fucking hamburger and a donut on the first day these corporate chain stores opened in our town. A lot of people. So congratulations – I mean, if being the first to sample corporate cuisine is a badge of honor for this great consumer nation then of course there will be more Wal-Marts, more king-sized peddlers of uselsss crap – but it’s cheap! Cheap useless crap. That should be our national motto. Print it on every fucking dollar bill and coin that comes out of our mints. In Cheap Useless Crap We Trust.
Great, are you happy? Now I’ve made myself sick to my own stomach. I’m going to go and take a cheap generic Xanax now. Thank the god of Cheap Useless Crap that Wal-Mart has a pharmacy.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Daytona, Elvis, and Old School Punk Rock
Well it’s Tuesday morning and I am just about ready to ease into the work week. Unfortunately the work week started yesterday. My productivity was probably not near maximum after a blow-out of a weekend.
The Great American Race
The good old boys from Nascar ran the Daytona 500 on Sunday and it was a screamer. Kevin Harvick got a hell of a run and edged out Mick Martin for the win but even more impressive was Clint Bowyer managing to cross the finish line in 18th place in spite of the fact that his car was traveling on its roof instead of on the tires. After the 07 car slid over the black and white checkered line it veered off into the grass and then popped back over onto its wheels at which point Bowyer nonchalantly climbed out of the flaming wreck and removed his gloves while surveying the damage. Martin’s got to be disappointed. One of the older drivers on the circuit this was Martin’s 23rd start at the Daytona 500 and still no victory.
The King vs. Costello
I’ve heard a lot of talk about these musical figures and amazingly it seems like most of the feedback is that Costello is superior to Presley. I suppose this is to be expected from the Indie rock Chico crowd but I have two words for you. Shut up. All of you who really think that Elvis Costello is better than Elvis Presley get on a plane or climb into a van and drive your asses to Memphis, Tennessee and check out Graceland. Pay particular attention to the wall that is entirely covered with platinum and gold records. I’m not trying to maintain that commercial success is the way to judge musical talent but Elvis Presley was the man! By the time most of you reading this were born he was either dead or had become a grotesque caricature of his former self. The bloated cheesey Vegas lounge Elvis may be the image many of you associate with the boy from Tupelo but keep in mind that that was the twilight of Presley’s career. He had been making records for twenty years by then. With his smooth voice, hard playing (Sleepy LaBeef loaned Presley a guitar for a set one night and regretted it because when he got it back it was destroyed simply from the intensity with which Elvis strummed it), youthful good looks and wildly gyrating hips Elvis Presley literally helped to put rock and roll on the map. His influence is felt everywhere today. Bands that don’t even know it have been influenced by Presley.
Aside from that it was when John Waters saw Elvis Presley that he knew for sure he was gay. There is a reason Elvis Presley is called the King.
Of course this is my Nascar watching beer drinking country music listening ass talking so what the hell do I really know anyway? Indie rock has never floated my boat and Costello has always struck me as sort of a wordy dork.
Dog Killer and the Fat Stickies
Sunday was a rough one as after watching the Daytona 500 and, naturally, consuming a fair amount of beer, I somehow managed to keep the dream alive and get myself down to Duffy’s for the Dog Killer reunion show. There’s just something about classic simple, sometimes banal, punk rock music. It is very reassuring and the old-school Chico crowd turned out in force.
Rock trio the Fat Stickies opened up the show with their version of driving chord driven power. The band dawned mono-brows for the occasion. Don’t ask me, I’m just telling you what I saw. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone playing with a full Marshall stack in Duffy’s Tavern. Necessary? Probably not. Bitching? Totally.
That was Then…
So that brings us to today. It is a strange way of life we live here in Chico. My lifestyle includes basically hanging on through the working week, doing what I have to do in terms of shopping, laundering, a little painting or writing crammed in between the eight hour work days – and then once Friday rolls around I spend two days trying to make up for the monotony of the week. Usually this backfires horrifically in a pool of beer and booze and by the time Monday returns, far too soon, my synapses are fried and my I.Q. has dropped about thirty points to near idiot level. I don’t advocate this. If you can get your hands on a trust fund or an inheritance I highly recommend it. Better yet land yourself an executive job so you can party all week long and get paid like a rock star.
That’s all for now!
The Great American Race
The good old boys from Nascar ran the Daytona 500 on Sunday and it was a screamer. Kevin Harvick got a hell of a run and edged out Mick Martin for the win but even more impressive was Clint Bowyer managing to cross the finish line in 18th place in spite of the fact that his car was traveling on its roof instead of on the tires. After the 07 car slid over the black and white checkered line it veered off into the grass and then popped back over onto its wheels at which point Bowyer nonchalantly climbed out of the flaming wreck and removed his gloves while surveying the damage. Martin’s got to be disappointed. One of the older drivers on the circuit this was Martin’s 23rd start at the Daytona 500 and still no victory.
The King vs. Costello
I’ve heard a lot of talk about these musical figures and amazingly it seems like most of the feedback is that Costello is superior to Presley. I suppose this is to be expected from the Indie rock Chico crowd but I have two words for you. Shut up. All of you who really think that Elvis Costello is better than Elvis Presley get on a plane or climb into a van and drive your asses to Memphis, Tennessee and check out Graceland. Pay particular attention to the wall that is entirely covered with platinum and gold records. I’m not trying to maintain that commercial success is the way to judge musical talent but Elvis Presley was the man! By the time most of you reading this were born he was either dead or had become a grotesque caricature of his former self. The bloated cheesey Vegas lounge Elvis may be the image many of you associate with the boy from Tupelo but keep in mind that that was the twilight of Presley’s career. He had been making records for twenty years by then. With his smooth voice, hard playing (Sleepy LaBeef loaned Presley a guitar for a set one night and regretted it because when he got it back it was destroyed simply from the intensity with which Elvis strummed it), youthful good looks and wildly gyrating hips Elvis Presley literally helped to put rock and roll on the map. His influence is felt everywhere today. Bands that don’t even know it have been influenced by Presley.
Aside from that it was when John Waters saw Elvis Presley that he knew for sure he was gay. There is a reason Elvis Presley is called the King.
Of course this is my Nascar watching beer drinking country music listening ass talking so what the hell do I really know anyway? Indie rock has never floated my boat and Costello has always struck me as sort of a wordy dork.
Dog Killer and the Fat Stickies
Sunday was a rough one as after watching the Daytona 500 and, naturally, consuming a fair amount of beer, I somehow managed to keep the dream alive and get myself down to Duffy’s for the Dog Killer reunion show. There’s just something about classic simple, sometimes banal, punk rock music. It is very reassuring and the old-school Chico crowd turned out in force.
Rock trio the Fat Stickies opened up the show with their version of driving chord driven power. The band dawned mono-brows for the occasion. Don’t ask me, I’m just telling you what I saw. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone playing with a full Marshall stack in Duffy’s Tavern. Necessary? Probably not. Bitching? Totally.
That was Then…
So that brings us to today. It is a strange way of life we live here in Chico. My lifestyle includes basically hanging on through the working week, doing what I have to do in terms of shopping, laundering, a little painting or writing crammed in between the eight hour work days – and then once Friday rolls around I spend two days trying to make up for the monotony of the week. Usually this backfires horrifically in a pool of beer and booze and by the time Monday returns, far too soon, my synapses are fried and my I.Q. has dropped about thirty points to near idiot level. I don’t advocate this. If you can get your hands on a trust fund or an inheritance I highly recommend it. Better yet land yourself an executive job so you can party all week long and get paid like a rock star.
That’s all for now!
Friday, February 16, 2007
Living in the 3rd World...
Lately things have been strange in the Howard house-hold. Or phone went dead on Monday. After contacting AT&T we were told that indeed there was a problem with our line, which I had already figured out doe to the fact that when I picked up the phone to make a call there was no dial tone. The first person we talked to told us to "unplug the phone for five minutes and plug it back in." We scratched our head and did as he suggested but alas, that brilliant technical advice did not work. The next person we talked to said that indeed there was a problem with the line and they would send someone out on Tuesday between 4 and 8 p.m. Well 4-8 p.m. came and went and our phone was still dead so I called back on Wednesday and was told "Yeah, we have you scheduled for Thursday between 8 a.m. and 6 p.m. I asked what happened to Tuesday between 4 and 8 p.m. but the lady didn't seem to have any record of that appointment. Whatever.
Well just to make life a little more primative when my wife was taking a Valentine's Day bath she went to turn off the water and the hot water would not turn off! The washer in the faucet had completely deteriorated. So I got to spend a few hours on Wednesday night hacking through our shower enclosure and twisting off the faucet stem, then going to the Home Depot to match up the parts. So at some point on Wednesday we had not phone and no indoor plumbing. Well we got the shower fixed with the help of a little duct tape and plastic but in the process of turning off the hot water I managed to turn off the pilot light to the water heater. No hot water when I woke up on Thursday to go to work. So at 6:30 a.m. I am naked on the floor in the laundry room with a long match lighting the pilot light. Neat.
Well now the hot water is fixed and the guy from AT&T came out on Thursday afternoon. The problem was at the telephone pole across the street and he scaled it nimbly and strung a new line - everything is fine now. I kind of liked it with no phone though.
Well just to make life a little more primative when my wife was taking a Valentine's Day bath she went to turn off the water and the hot water would not turn off! The washer in the faucet had completely deteriorated. So I got to spend a few hours on Wednesday night hacking through our shower enclosure and twisting off the faucet stem, then going to the Home Depot to match up the parts. So at some point on Wednesday we had not phone and no indoor plumbing. Well we got the shower fixed with the help of a little duct tape and plastic but in the process of turning off the hot water I managed to turn off the pilot light to the water heater. No hot water when I woke up on Thursday to go to work. So at 6:30 a.m. I am naked on the floor in the laundry room with a long match lighting the pilot light. Neat.
Well now the hot water is fixed and the guy from AT&T came out on Thursday afternoon. The problem was at the telephone pole across the street and he scaled it nimbly and strung a new line - everything is fine now. I kind of liked it with no phone though.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
The Good Old Days...
Come on over here kids and sit on Uncle Bob’s lap while I tell you a little story about those days long ago when you were just a twinkle in your daddy’s eye. Oh how the world has changed – one wonders how we ever managed to get by back in the 1970’s when I was a small boy.
When I was a small child there were no cellular telephones. I think my father actually owned the very first cellular phone. It was a big square clunky thing that probably weighed five pounds. Back then when my father talked on the phone in a public place it created a big scene – people would stare open-mouthed at the self-important asshole taking a phone call while waiting in line at Taco Bell. In fact not only did we not have cellular telephones, we didn’t even have push button phones! The phones I grew up with were called “rotary” phones. It’s a difficult device to describe but instead of pushing buttons to dial a phone number you put your finger into a circular wheel with holes in it for each number. Then you spun the wheel around and let it spin back into place for each digit you needed to dial. It could take one several seconds to dial a phone number and there was no speed-dial or pre-programmed numbers. This was all before digital technology took over and circuit boards replaced much larger electronic components.
There were no answering machines when I was a child. When you dialed a telephone number and no one was home the phone just rang and rang and after maybe a half-dozen rings you would conclude that no one was going to answer and hang up. Then you had no other option but to wait and try your call again later. There also wasn’t any call waiting so if you were calling someone who was already talking on their telephone then you heard a strange beeping noise called a “busy signal.” I don’t know how we survived to be honest.
The first computer I ever worked on had a memory capacity of 4K. That’s four kilobytes, not megabytes or gigabytes. We saved our information on a strange plastic thing called a “floppy disk.” It was a big deal when we got a computer with 64K of memory, we were really moving up in the world.
Speaking of floppy disks there were no Compact Discs or DVD’s when I was small. While I was growing up the format of choice for music switched from vinyl records to short-lived and ill-fated 8-tracks to cassettes. Compact Discs first made their appearance when I was nearly graduated from high school and Compact Disc players were very expensive. There were not Compact Disc recorders available on the home retail market until much later.
There were no microwave ovens when I was small. Anything you wanted to heat up had to be cooked on a stove-top or in an oven. It often took up to forty-five minutes to prepare a meal! When we got our first microwave oven my dad and I used to take slices of cheese and put them on pieces of salami, then microwave them until the salami rolled up and turned dark and the cheese melted and then crusted into a boiling orange film. Don’t ask me why, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Power locks on cars were a relatively new thing when I was a child – Cadillac cars had had them for awhile but my family never bought a Cadillac. A big brown mercury we later named “The Lemon” was the first car we owned with power locks. I sat in the car at the car lot and operated the power locks repeatedly for a long time until the sales man told me pretty forcefully to stop doing that. I remember not liking that guy much and the car turned out to be a piece of crap.
There were only three channels on television when I was a child and reception on the channel with the best cartoons was poor. I watched it anyway because the programming on the other channels was dull. Color television was relatively new and my family had one color and one black and white television. I still have a little black and white television in my garage that I use more like a radio when there is a game on and I am working out in the back yard.
Yes times have changed since I was a young boy in America. But some things have stayed the same. We had just extricated ourselves from a highly unpopular war in Vietnam when I was young and the Middle-East was a mess. For all of our technological progress more people than not still don’t have access to clean drinking water, an adequate food supply, or medicine. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
When I was a small child there were no cellular telephones. I think my father actually owned the very first cellular phone. It was a big square clunky thing that probably weighed five pounds. Back then when my father talked on the phone in a public place it created a big scene – people would stare open-mouthed at the self-important asshole taking a phone call while waiting in line at Taco Bell. In fact not only did we not have cellular telephones, we didn’t even have push button phones! The phones I grew up with were called “rotary” phones. It’s a difficult device to describe but instead of pushing buttons to dial a phone number you put your finger into a circular wheel with holes in it for each number. Then you spun the wheel around and let it spin back into place for each digit you needed to dial. It could take one several seconds to dial a phone number and there was no speed-dial or pre-programmed numbers. This was all before digital technology took over and circuit boards replaced much larger electronic components.
There were no answering machines when I was a child. When you dialed a telephone number and no one was home the phone just rang and rang and after maybe a half-dozen rings you would conclude that no one was going to answer and hang up. Then you had no other option but to wait and try your call again later. There also wasn’t any call waiting so if you were calling someone who was already talking on their telephone then you heard a strange beeping noise called a “busy signal.” I don’t know how we survived to be honest.
The first computer I ever worked on had a memory capacity of 4K. That’s four kilobytes, not megabytes or gigabytes. We saved our information on a strange plastic thing called a “floppy disk.” It was a big deal when we got a computer with 64K of memory, we were really moving up in the world.
Speaking of floppy disks there were no Compact Discs or DVD’s when I was small. While I was growing up the format of choice for music switched from vinyl records to short-lived and ill-fated 8-tracks to cassettes. Compact Discs first made their appearance when I was nearly graduated from high school and Compact Disc players were very expensive. There were not Compact Disc recorders available on the home retail market until much later.
There were no microwave ovens when I was small. Anything you wanted to heat up had to be cooked on a stove-top or in an oven. It often took up to forty-five minutes to prepare a meal! When we got our first microwave oven my dad and I used to take slices of cheese and put them on pieces of salami, then microwave them until the salami rolled up and turned dark and the cheese melted and then crusted into a boiling orange film. Don’t ask me why, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Power locks on cars were a relatively new thing when I was a child – Cadillac cars had had them for awhile but my family never bought a Cadillac. A big brown mercury we later named “The Lemon” was the first car we owned with power locks. I sat in the car at the car lot and operated the power locks repeatedly for a long time until the sales man told me pretty forcefully to stop doing that. I remember not liking that guy much and the car turned out to be a piece of crap.
There were only three channels on television when I was a child and reception on the channel with the best cartoons was poor. I watched it anyway because the programming on the other channels was dull. Color television was relatively new and my family had one color and one black and white television. I still have a little black and white television in my garage that I use more like a radio when there is a game on and I am working out in the back yard.
Yes times have changed since I was a young boy in America. But some things have stayed the same. We had just extricated ourselves from a highly unpopular war in Vietnam when I was young and the Middle-East was a mess. For all of our technological progress more people than not still don’t have access to clean drinking water, an adequate food supply, or medicine. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
It's Only Money
Treason at Home and Abroad
Recent audits of the on-going fiasco in Iraq suggest a pattern of largesse, casual accounting, bribery, dishonesty and out and out theft. I doubt if anyone is overly surprised by any of this but nevertheless it is absolutely shameless on the part of those involved in this government sanctioned money grab. This is our nation’s treasure, paid for by you and me, being squandered, wasted, and stolen – and this while our nation is at a most vulnerable moment in its brief history. Those who would steal from our nation, weaken us even more at a time of incredible risk and exposure, and who would line their own pockets at the expense of the taxpayers and the soldiers, should be tried for treason. That’s what these actions amount to, siphoning off our wealth, tarnishing what’s left of our reputation throughout Iraq, the Middle-East, and the rest of the world, and putting our soldiers and citizens in greater jeopardy as a result of slowed reconstruction efforts and good old boy favoritism. These people are financial terrorists who know no country that they would turn their backs on America in the moment of our greatest need. Right now this nation needs leaders of noble character and clear vision.
We’ve seen the same kind of incompetence and dishonest accounting in the aftermath of hurricane Katrina. Billions of dollars have been spent and still vast communities continue to exist in a bureaucratic limbo in the form of sprawling FEMA trailer parks. And while these victims suffer, others are getting rich from the spoils of tragedy.
You know this greed in the face of tragedy I do not understand. How has it gotten to this point where so many are willing to exchange morals, ethics, and character just for transitory green-backs? I mean come on, it is only money and money is just a marker. Personally I think it all went awry when we went off of the gold standard. There’s nothing behind the money anymore, it’s only so much ink and paper. Maybe that makes it easier for the criminally inclined to de-personalize the act of stealing.
Happy VD!
Valentine’s Day is upon us. A lot of people have a problem with Valentine’s Day but personally I’m not one of them. A day dedicated to love and passion, cupid’s arrows, blushing, champagne, chocolate, and loving is not a day you will find this writer complaining about. I did a little Wikipedia research on Valentine’s Day and it appears the unofficial holiday has a number of different possible origins including early Gnostic Christian and pagan roots. Typically the Christian celebration was foisted upon conquered pagans who held festivals to their gods as winter began to show the first inklings of transforming into that most magical season that is spring.
The Old Bait and Switch
Early Christianity was masterful at converting pagans to the faith by layering the Christian beliefs over the existing seasonal celebrations. Christmas falls over the Winter Solstice, Easter the Spring Equinox. One of the most interesting examples of the layering of Christianity over pre-existing beliefs arises in Haiti and the Dominican Republic where Catholocism was laid over the African deities that slaves bought with them from their homelands. The combination of ritual and belief manifested as the modern religion Voodoun. For a really interesting read on the subject pick up a copy of ethno-botanist Wade Davis’ classic “The Serpent and the Rainbow.” This book was adapted into a Hollywood movie but the book is actually much more of a scholarly research than Wes Craven’s cheesy suspense horror film it became.
Winter Reading
I’ve also just finished reading a couple of really fun books by Neil Gaiman that treat the subject of modern belief, folklore, and mythology. “American Gods” and “Anansi Boys” are both delightful tales that make for fast reading. Both stories paint a world inhabited by mortals and gods alike who interact in hilarious and mind-bending ways.
Sleaze the Day!
Now it is Wednesday morning as I put the finishing touches on this little bit of writing. I am slightly tired after playing and watching a terrific show at the Off Limits last night. “Iceage Cobra” from Seattle bought the rock in the form of a power trio armed with classic Marshall and Fender amplification, blazing SG’s and high-energy. Chico’s own rock juggernaut “Dirty Sister” kept the energy going with their fine classic metal stylings. It was a beautiful show and if you missed it you missed a good one.
Recent audits of the on-going fiasco in Iraq suggest a pattern of largesse, casual accounting, bribery, dishonesty and out and out theft. I doubt if anyone is overly surprised by any of this but nevertheless it is absolutely shameless on the part of those involved in this government sanctioned money grab. This is our nation’s treasure, paid for by you and me, being squandered, wasted, and stolen – and this while our nation is at a most vulnerable moment in its brief history. Those who would steal from our nation, weaken us even more at a time of incredible risk and exposure, and who would line their own pockets at the expense of the taxpayers and the soldiers, should be tried for treason. That’s what these actions amount to, siphoning off our wealth, tarnishing what’s left of our reputation throughout Iraq, the Middle-East, and the rest of the world, and putting our soldiers and citizens in greater jeopardy as a result of slowed reconstruction efforts and good old boy favoritism. These people are financial terrorists who know no country that they would turn their backs on America in the moment of our greatest need. Right now this nation needs leaders of noble character and clear vision.
We’ve seen the same kind of incompetence and dishonest accounting in the aftermath of hurricane Katrina. Billions of dollars have been spent and still vast communities continue to exist in a bureaucratic limbo in the form of sprawling FEMA trailer parks. And while these victims suffer, others are getting rich from the spoils of tragedy.
You know this greed in the face of tragedy I do not understand. How has it gotten to this point where so many are willing to exchange morals, ethics, and character just for transitory green-backs? I mean come on, it is only money and money is just a marker. Personally I think it all went awry when we went off of the gold standard. There’s nothing behind the money anymore, it’s only so much ink and paper. Maybe that makes it easier for the criminally inclined to de-personalize the act of stealing.
Happy VD!
Valentine’s Day is upon us. A lot of people have a problem with Valentine’s Day but personally I’m not one of them. A day dedicated to love and passion, cupid’s arrows, blushing, champagne, chocolate, and loving is not a day you will find this writer complaining about. I did a little Wikipedia research on Valentine’s Day and it appears the unofficial holiday has a number of different possible origins including early Gnostic Christian and pagan roots. Typically the Christian celebration was foisted upon conquered pagans who held festivals to their gods as winter began to show the first inklings of transforming into that most magical season that is spring.
The Old Bait and Switch
Early Christianity was masterful at converting pagans to the faith by layering the Christian beliefs over the existing seasonal celebrations. Christmas falls over the Winter Solstice, Easter the Spring Equinox. One of the most interesting examples of the layering of Christianity over pre-existing beliefs arises in Haiti and the Dominican Republic where Catholocism was laid over the African deities that slaves bought with them from their homelands. The combination of ritual and belief manifested as the modern religion Voodoun. For a really interesting read on the subject pick up a copy of ethno-botanist Wade Davis’ classic “The Serpent and the Rainbow.” This book was adapted into a Hollywood movie but the book is actually much more of a scholarly research than Wes Craven’s cheesy suspense horror film it became.
Winter Reading
I’ve also just finished reading a couple of really fun books by Neil Gaiman that treat the subject of modern belief, folklore, and mythology. “American Gods” and “Anansi Boys” are both delightful tales that make for fast reading. Both stories paint a world inhabited by mortals and gods alike who interact in hilarious and mind-bending ways.
Sleaze the Day!
Now it is Wednesday morning as I put the finishing touches on this little bit of writing. I am slightly tired after playing and watching a terrific show at the Off Limits last night. “Iceage Cobra” from Seattle bought the rock in the form of a power trio armed with classic Marshall and Fender amplification, blazing SG’s and high-energy. Chico’s own rock juggernaut “Dirty Sister” kept the energy going with their fine classic metal stylings. It was a beautiful show and if you missed it you missed a good one.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)