April 28, 2006
RAINY DAYS AND MONDAYS
Hi Paul. It’s been a while since we checked in with you, and so this week we’d like to cover a variety of different news items, if that’s ok with you…
Need you to hold me this way. Need you to want me to stay…
Alrighty then. Let’s start with one of the big stories of the week—the retired generals’ call for the resignation or ouster of Donald Rumsfeld. What do you make of that?
I'll never leave 'cause I need you for me. I'll never turn you away. I'll always want you to stay. I know you, I know your tears. I've seen you cry…
Barry Bonds seems poised to break Babe Ruth’s career home run record, amidst a growing hail of controversy regarding his alleged use of steroids and other performance-enhancers. Where do you stand on the steroids issue?
Fair, fair is a changing word. Fair is an honored promise. Justice if you're still there, I will have my fair share…
It’s interesting how you talk that way, trailing off with the three dots. Anyways, let’s talk a little bit about the bird flu. We haven’t heard much about it lately. And Yngwie Malmsteen is about to go on tour. Is there still cause for concern, as you see it?
Follow your heart like the path of an arrow, that looks for a home in the morning sky. Out of the nest like a small summer sparrow. He knows in his heart he was born to fly…
Chinese President Hu made a state visit to Washington recently, and much was made of the Falun Gong protestor shouting him down before being removed from the press conference. How do you feel about the importance of free speech? And do you consider the visit, on a diplomatic level, to have been a success or a failure?
You and I, an unmatched pair, took the time to touch, to share. Worlds apart the night we met, we braved the odds and won the bet. Not perfect yet, but close enough for love…
And finally, spring is here. We just celebrated Earth Day, baseball season is taking off, flowers are blooming, and boy and girls are falling in love. So, the obvious question: do you suffer from allergies too?
We know what it's all about. Hangin' around, nothin' to do but frown. Rainy days and Mondays always get me down…
Ladies and gentlemen, a warm round of applause for Mr. Paul Williams…
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April 27, 2006
SOMEONE SAVED MY LIFE TONIGHT
...shred letter day...
I recently discovered these and thought I'd spout off about it. for me, the perfect plectrum--big enough to keep a hold of, pointy enough to maintain a precise attack for note articulation, and heavy enough (2mm thick) to stay completely and totally rigid. I cannot fully emphasize just how much improvement in facility this small change from the world of the fender heavy/dunlop jazz III has made. like opening the blinds on a sunny day...
and they ain't just for jazzbo stuff....
...
BODIES
... and the hits keep comin' ...
I don't expect that anyone should be surprised to learn that the sexual abuse extant amongst the clergy was limited to the victimization of children. This article is yet another example of the great shame that has fallen on the RC church--not so much because the acts were done, but because of the concerted efforts to conceal the truth, by punishing those brave enough to speak out (including, in this case, fellow members of the clergy), and hushing up litigants by paying for their silence--and then doing nothing about the problem.
Where is the outcry from the "good" Catholics regarding the culture of hypocrisy and rape in their midst? It absolutely burns me up that I actually believed in, and trusted in the people in this organization for advice on moral and spiritual matters at one time. What a colossal joke. I say, if you want to really change how they operate, and inject some accountability, compel the same penalty as if they were endorsing political candidates...or use RICO (parallels with how they got to Capone?)...after all, if everything can be settled out of court, all they need to do is establish some creative insurance financing to sweep everything under the carpet. Here's the rule I'd like to see: if you commit rape(s), and collude to obstruct justice, no more tax-free ride. Make them pay taxes, and you will see the biggest, reddest tribunal to "cleanse the church" that history has ever seen. it will make the JP2 funeral will look like a seminary picnic...
I know it will never happen, but hell--I can dream...
from today's Washington Post:
Finding Little Solace in Sharing of Long-Guarded Secret
Catholic Priest Who Was Victim of Sex Abuse Draws Fire After Speaking Out
By Michelle Boorstein
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, April 27, 2006; A01
The Rev. James Moran was asking his usual questions during his chaplain rounds one day last summer at Washington Hospital Center: How are you? Would you like to pray together? Maybe take Communion? But one of the patients on his "Catholic" list bristled at the sight of a clerical collar.
The Catholic Church hierarchy's treatment of clergy sex abuse victims was disgusting, the patient told him.
"Believe me, I'm not trying to force Jesus down your throat," answered Moran, a beefy 60-year-old with an agonizing secret he had only recently started to let out: "I'm a victim of a priest myself."
The patient stared at him from the bed. A question came, point-blank: "Then how can you be a priest?"
Moran spoke the words he had said so many times to himself since August 1970, when he was a 25-year-old seminarian. It was then, he says, that an older priest climbed on him one night in an attic bedroom, held his hands down and performed a sex act on him.
"I'm just trying to do the good to offset the bad," he said.
But Moran heard the question in a new way this time. He heard a permission, the possibility of a door opening to a different answer.
Maybe it wasn't possible, he thought, to reconcile his love of God and priesthood with his anger at church leaders who he felt had ignored the victims.
It was time to leave, he decided soon after that conversation, and he arranged to retire May 31 on a medical disability. But first, he wanted to let loose the whole secret -- not just the abridged version. He wanted people to know that the fallout of clergy sex abuse is not over, even if it has waned from headlines. And he wanted to do it during Holy Week, the week before Easter, the time when priests renew their vows.
The decision would bring more pain than liberation.
A Longtime Dream Dies
Moran was a city kid, a good boy among more rebellious cousins. His mother was elated to give her only child to the church, and Moran remembers feeling only peace about his decision. He was coming to the priesthood with no sexual experiences, just as he had dreamed.
The dream died on that summer night in 1970. He was doing an internship at a small parish outside Boston, preparing to be ordained the next year. He panicked: Had his virginity been violated? Could he honestly be ordained?
Moran, who is from Boston, tried immediately to communicate that something had happened, but he was too embarrassed to be explicit. He told his parish supervisor that the priest was gay, hoping to raise red flags. He told a room full of people at his seminary that "there's a problem in that rectory" and that no more interns should be sent. No one followed up. He called rape crisis centers in the Boston Yellow Pages, he said, and was told that only women could be victims.
In the wave of clergy sex abuse cases, the image of priest-as-victim has been mostly absent. An exception is Detroit Auxiliary Bishop Thomas Gumbleton, who made international news in January when he said he had been molested by a priest as a teenager.
But some experts say many priests like Moran won't speak out until they retire. "The wave of clergy victims is just getting started," said Gary Schoener, a clinical psychologist who specializes in clergy abuse cases. As hard as reporting abuse is for laymen, it is even more difficult for clergy because of professional concerns about retaliation, experts say.
Being a priest-victim is complicated, said A.W. Richard Sipe, a former Benedictine monk who has treated abusive priests and their victims. Priests are the ones who guide people to forgive, and priests may also get mixed messages about what is normal.
"You're preaching that this or that is sinful; but, on the other hand, you know from hearing confession all the time that this is common, and you are forgiving it," he said.
In Moran's case, the young priest forged ahead. The attack reflected not on him but on his abuser, Moran told himself, and he was ordained in 1971 before hundreds of relatives and friends. It was a social network that would soon slip away as he became guarded, moving to parishes around Massachusetts and eventually to military base chapels in California, Japan and Florida.
He had heard that sexual abuse victims were more likely to become abusers, and he kept his distance. "Let's say I wasn't big on visiting people's houses," he said.
Although many priests speak of their shared brotherhood, Moran didn't feel it. "It was God and me."
Moran believed he was suppressing his anger, his memories, his conflict. "I ran it , instead of it running me."
All that changed in 2001, three years after he came to Washington Hospital Center as a chaplain. He was in a pastoral care training class that required intense reflection about one's ability to give. While in that frame of mind one day, he and his teachers argued over something seemingly mundane -- they wanted him to lead an additional service, and he didn't want to. Something about that sensation of authority telling him to do something he didn't want to struck a long-silent chord.
"I feel like I'm being spiritually raped," he remembers blurting out. His trainers picked up on his comment immediately, and from then on Moran started telling people that he had been abused: his family, co-workers, other victims in group therapy. But most people had no idea how deep the conflict in him ran.
Just as he started to sketch the outline of his experience, something happened that he had not anticipated: the Catholic clergy sex scandals. It turned out that he was far from alone, which angered and upset him further.
In 2002, he told then-Boston Archbishop Bernard Law about the 1970 incident and received an offer of financial support for counseling and later a $90,000 settlement from the archdiocese, but not what he wanted. "There was no validation of me as a good person," he said of his meeting with Law, who resigned later that year.
Reports about the extent of clergy abuse gnawed at him. The priest supervisor he tried to tell in 1970, the Rev. Richard Johnson, was accused of sexual misconduct by four teenage girls, the Associated Press reported in 2003, citing documents released that year by the Boston archdiocese. The priest Moran alleged had attacked him, the Rev. Anthony Laurano, described their encounter differently and said it was consensual, according to a transcript of a 2002 interview with a Boston church official. Laurano, 81 and retired, faces charges in two separate Massachusetts cases: two counts of raping an 8-year-old in 1991 and four counts of indecent assault on a mentally retarded person over the past four years. A phone message left for Laurano was not returned.
Moran's lower-back pain grew; his cholesterol level shot up 75 points. And his longtime mantra wasn't working. "There was so much bad going on now, I couldn't possibly do enough good to offset it," he said.
The Whole Story
Thirty-five years after Moran was ordained, the Boston archdiocese granted him a medical disability retirement for chronic depression and post-traumatic stress. But he wanted people in Washington to know why he was leaving -- and not just in shorthand. He wanted to stop being jocular, the good kid, a victim who can hint but not outright name his pain.
He picked Holy Week. And that Tuesday, as about 20 hospital staff and patients' relatives filed into the chapel for Mass, Moran took a deep breath. Then he spoke about the bittersweet nature of the week for him and about the whole story, right there, in church, during the most hallowed time of the Christian year.
He railed against church leaders who protect abusers and care more about money than victims. He talked about therapy and the "rationalizations" that kept him in the ministry. Copies of his comments were in the back of the chapel, he said. And when it was over, a burly man came over to hug him. No one else seemed to know what to do.
The next day, a Washington archdiocese official called, telling him that the hospital thought his actions were inappropriate and that the church felt they were accusatory. His priestly credentials were being pulled immediately, he was told, something that usually wouldn't have happened until he retired six weeks later.
Hospital officials, who instructed Moran's colleagues not to comment for this article, said that people at the Mass had complained and that the priest had burdened people in trauma. Although Moran had recently been "more vocal" about his past problems, there was no sign until then that they interfered with his ability to do his work, said Janis Orlowski, chief medical officer at the hospital.
Officials with the Washington archdiocese said Moran left them no choice by saying in his letter that he was leaving the ministry.
"These men literally are responsible for people's souls, so we take it very seriously if a priest indicates he can no longer function," said archdiocese spokeswoman Susan Gibbs.
Moran feels he is being punished for speaking out: "My gut feeling is that I have been raped again."
Advocates of clergy abuse victims who know Moran are livid and say that because he was leaving his position anyway, removing his credentials was unnecessary.
On Easter, five days after he was removed from his job, Moran didn't know where to go. He had celebrated weekend Mass for the past eight years at the hospital, and that was no longer an option. So he drove to a small parish in Arlington where he didn't know anyone and sat in the back, alone.
© 2006 The Washington Post Company
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April 25, 2006
REQUIEM FOR A HEAVYWEIGHT
sad news today of the death of Mr. William Gottlieb, whose claim to fame is a volume of his photographs called "The Golden Age of Jazz." Many of these shots are from that book. Quite simply, he produced my favorite images of my favorite people. I'll let the pictures do the talking.
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April 24, 2006
IF I WERE A CARPENTER
...it's on...
materials assembled, time allotted, all things in readiness, I dove in to the tele project yesterday, smearing grain filler over the entirety of these slabs of swamp ash. this step is far from sexy--involves smearing it in, letting it set, then scraping away the excess with a razor blade (carefully), then sanding down the remainder until it is flat. it's the sanding down part that sucks most mightily. lots and lots of dust. the surface prep--next is sand & sealer and/or primer coats--will probably take a couple of weeks. then the fun starts--spraying coats of lacquer...
as results become more visually interesting, more pics will be shared in this space...
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April 21, 2006
LUST FOR LIFE
...proper diet and regular exercise can make you look younger too...
Happy 59th Birthday to Iggy Pop born James Jewel Osterburg, April 21, 1947. I'm worth a million in prizes.......yes you are, you craggy old knucklehead.
The liner notes say that this chick has been known to show up for concerts dressed in a hospital gown, with tubes sticking out of her, so as to demonstrate the death obsession of St. Paul in the piece she's singing. now, coming out of the punk rock world, I'd still have to say that's a bit f@#$%d up. and also pretty righteous. this recording of bach cantatas is rather wonderful as well. pipes? you don't know the half...
don't I already own a sufficient quantity of rory gallagher recordings? doesn't the 1/3 barroom holler - 1/3 bottleneck slide - 1/3 old-timey acoustic formula start repeating itself eventually? yes, I'd have thought, but these recordings (as anything labeled "BBC" tends to be for anything involving the amalgamation of 'blues' & 'rock' - paging mr. clapton) are rather great-sounding, and the half-live/half-studio menu, with a strong selection of tunes, goes down rather nicely (since the "studio" is probably recorded live in studio anyway, that helps). in total command of his tone, with blooming feedback, careening slide and a rock-solid embrace of the kick-snare, this is rory at the peak of his powers. in terms of pure stratocaster tone, he's my personal favorite. once more around? Sign me up for volume II....
jazz that doesn't take itself too seriously. these gentlemen no doubt had many vodka-soaked, leisure-suited bouts of afternoon hilarity at various southern california holiday inn lounges back in the day (howard roberts was one of those greek fisherman hat-wearers--'nuff said). mr. roberts had a really smooth picking technique, a dark woody tone, and a sense of humor, which comes across brilliantly as his combo surfs the swingline between jazz and lounge. great playing from one of the foremost eminence grise guitarists of the 60s/70s hollywood studio scene. swingin', satisfying, and just a bit kitschy (farfisa, anyone?) at this late date. just be sure to check your stanley crouch jazz snob accoutrements at the door....
clem snide, "end of love" ... a grower, not a shower. personal faves include the title track, "made for tv movie" and "jews for jesus blues" (with its wonderful "now that I'm found I miss being lost" refrain)...I'll have other faves in days to come, I'm sure. someone on amazon called it "the dichotomy between brooklyn and nashville." I can't improve on that.
"fox confessor brings the flood." I have no idea what that means, but I do know that I'm in love with this woman's voice. from time to time, we all need a chick singer to spend time with us...right now, as far as I'm concerned, it's Neko's turn. Hell, I might even get around to sampling some of them New Pornographers I've been hearing about (she's a bandmate). But later. Right now I just want to hear her sing lines like "Hey pretty baby get high with me, We can go to my sisters if we say we'll watch the baby" ... in a blazing contralto reminiscent of patsy cline and the last redheaded sweetheart waitress to break your heart lickety-split. now I have to go back and get her first few records, and if they suck I'll be so bummed. but they won't. I'm not kidding--I want to play in her band...
...
p.s. on today in birthdays. apparently the queen of england (no I'm not talking about morrissey) has managed to remain above ground for 80 years now. that's right: 80 years of taking up space in the most spiritless, meaningless way humanly possible. despite her great wealth and resources, she has managed to contribute precisely zero to the furtherment of anything that would be beneficial to any other humans on this planet. still, shall we wish her a happy birthday anyway? just to be nice? uh, actually, no. we won't. good riddance when she's gone, is about all. and her little dog toto too...
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April 20, 2006
HOMEWARD BOUND
...Hi! I'm Lucinda's dad...notice the resemblance?...
every few years, it seems, I try to write a sestina. I got a kick out of writing my first one in college for one of my writing classes, and ever since then I've taken to it occasionally...the structure involves a strict ordering of end words, whose repetition forms its own rhythm, depending on the length of the lines...it can seem prayer-like, almost like a chant. and it can be comic. here is one of my (new) favorites:
The Shrinking Lonesome Sestina
Somewhere in everyone's head something points toward home,
a dashboard's floating compass, turning all the time
to keep from turning. It doesn't matter how we come
to be wherever we are, someplace where nothing goes
the way it went once, where nothing holds fast
to where it belongs, or what you've risen or fallen to.
What the bubble always points to,
whether we notice it or not, is home.
It may be true that if you move fast
everything fades away, that given time
and noise enough, every memory goes
into the blackness, and if new ones come-
small, mole-like memories that come
to live in the furry dark-they, too,
curl up and die. But Carol goes
to high school now. John works at home
what days he can to spend some time
with Sue and the kids. He drives too fast.
Ellen won't eat her breakfast.
Your sister was going to come
but didn't have the time.
Some mornings at one or two
or three I want you home
a lot, but then it goes.
It all goes.
Hold on fast
to thoughts of home
when they come.
They're going to
less with time.
Time
goes
too
fast.
Come
home.
Forgive me that. One time it wasn't fast.
A myth goes that when the years come
then you will, too. Me, I'll still be home.
-- Miller Williams
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April 19, 2006
DEAD FLOWERS
...my nemesis...
Is there a doctor in the house? Here's my question: I've got the hay fever. Now I can certainly understand the side effects of sneezing, coughing, and so forth, because irritable pollen has collected in my passages and my body is trying to expel it from itself. But why is it that I'm so low on energy? Why are my muscles and joints aching? Why is a little plant dust turning me into such a wuss?
I hate this part of spring. the most beautiful weather of the year and I've got to pop loratadine just to function...re-seeding/irrigating my lawn this week has been ever so much fun....
boo hoo. achoo...
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April 18, 2006
EVERYBODY'S TALKING AT ME
...daddy's tired now...time for nappy...
People are talking. I make this observation because it has been my observation that folks from ‘round the parts—New York, Long Island, New Jersey—aren’t prone to getting into outward discussions on national politics, particularly any potentially contentious issues that might be cause for conflict, since (my theory) it is difficult enough functioning in this antfarm called Manhattan, with all its many ethnic, religious, socio-economic, and other delineations of people. These subjects provide ample grist for an argument, and since verbal arguments can often turn into violence and/or death out on these mean streets, we New Yorkers tend to STFU about them, and go about engaging the next, most immediate objective in our day-to-day. Now, if that objective happens to be in the public sphere—catching a cab, getting a decent bagel, finding an air-conditioned subway car, finding a cop when you need one—those are things about which we will carp and complain endlessly to each other. But if it involves something like abortion, or the war, or even the correct interpretation of the reprobate noun “Giuliani,” we tend to stay mum.
Why, then, am I suddenly hearing audible conversations about George W. Bush and his prosecution of the Iraq War everywhere I go? I have heard people of all stripes—from my office at work to my front porch to any number of random conversations (my republican friend: "I am so mad at George Bush right now..."), in some cases conversations with total strangers—discussing the ongoing malfeasance of our commander-in-chief. It’s quite remarkable, given the fact that issues such as the travails of OJ Simpson (rarely discussed, and only in racially uniform company), or the questionable fellatrix selection of Bill Clinton (only discussed up to the point at which one would stop abruptly, before pronouncing the word “blowjob” in front of one’s boss), never reached this level of open conversation. Michael Jackson? Only in the form of a joke. Death of the Pope? No way Jose...
Readers from around the country might be surprised at my assertion that we stereotypically pushy/talky New Yorkers don’t verbalize judgments and don’t engage in running debates, and moreover there might be some New Yorkers who would argue that we do have a lively public forum where everything is discussed, but I’m not talking about the pages of the Village Voice here – I’m talking about the people we’re around each and every day, whom we respect enough to not raise these issues, mainly because we don’t want to hear their opinions either.
But this Bush fiasco is now very much in the comfort zone. Why? Because there no longer remains any tangible reason for hope of success, nor does anyone still possess any confidence in this government to successfully accomplish anything. The conclusion is now being discussed as a reality and a fact – the Bush administration was a failure. And it has been a failure of historic proportions.
Just ask anybody.
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April 14, 2006
FRIDAY I'M IN LOVE
...y-ee-ahh...what's up?...
happy easter, beaster, passover, pagan fertility fest, tax day, candy for the kids day...all rite and ritual of this annual awakening, which some of us see as a new riot of growth, others as a continuum of cycle, still others as cause for reflection on mortality, or exodus, or penitence. or remorse. or (blimey!) happiness...to my mind, despite the dour anniversaries simplisticly thrust upon components of this weekend (if only to cast a descriptive antithesis on the impending rebirth/resurrection/return/refund that follows), it is perhaps the one time of the year when the pagans have it exactly right, as all aspects are driven by events that are undeniably solar.
Spring and Fall: To a young child
by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
...
April 13, 2006
WOODEN SHIPS
...stratcat's on the left, thudstaff's on the right...
...so important to have whole grain in one's diet...
...mrs. ash sure has one sexy backside...
the usa custom bodies have arrived safely from their birthing grounds in the pacfic northwest...I'm featuring thudstaff's, as his has a bit better grain figure. since mine is going to be an opaque color (fiesta red), I skewed my selection more toward a lighter 3-piece body--with extra coats of primer the finish will be a bit heftier, while thuddy's semi-transparent butterscotch blonde finished number will be more of a gossamer shell, allowing for maximum vibratory sensations (and showing some visible grain)... and tone.
first thing we're going to do is clean them off really well with naphtha, and then start with the grain filler, rubbing it into the wood, packing it in (and cleaning away the excess) with a heavy duty razor blade. There will be some painstaking steps initially. We probably won't do much by way of actually spraying anything until next week. I want to make good and sure that the surface for finishing is as flat and level as possible. in this respect, working with swamp ash is more labor-intensive (or so I've heard). we place our faith in the assertion that its tonal properties are worth the extra bother...
Once this project is finished (July?), between these two instruments we should pretty well cover the gamut of the vintage telecaster tone spectrum, from the early '50s full-spectrum maple twang slab, to the late 50's/early 60's snarly rosewood midrange honker. then we'll be able to play both kinds of music -- country and western...
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April 12, 2006
MAKE 'EM LAUGH
...this is mitch...mitch is a funny guy...mitch is also dead...the part about him being dead isn't the funny part...
Dear Mitch Hedberg, Those Comedy Central specials you did, they didn't really do you justice. Also, when you died, the channel said they'd lost a beloved member of the "Comedy Central family." Was it really a family? I sure wish we could get your thoughts on that one. Because I think we know that most companies aren't like families. Unless you mean the families who backstab each other and steal each other's money and lie and cheat and bullshit endlessly and never see each other after 5pm. Then Dave Chapelle runs away from home. Was it that kind of family?
Just wondering.
Love, Stratcat
p.s. nice headshot.
Some of my personal favorites:
I bought myself a parrot. The parrot talked. But it did not say, "I'm hungry,"... so it died.
In England, Smokey the Bear is not the forest fire prevention representative. They have Smackie the Frog. It's just like a bear, but it's a frog. I think it's a better system; I think we should adopt it. Because bears can be mean, but frogs are always cool. Never has there been a frog hopping toward me, and I thought, "Man, here comes that frog...I'd better play dead." You never say, "Here comes that frog" in a terrified manner. It's always optimistic, like, "Hey, here comes that frog, all right. Maybe he will settle near me so I can pet him, and stick him in a mayonnaise jar.. with a stick and a leaf.. to recreate what he's used to. And I'd certainly have to punch some holes in the lid, because he's damn sure used to air. Then I can observe him, and he won't be doing much in his 16-ounce world."
A dog came to my door, so I gave him a bone. The dog took the bone into the back yard and buried it. I'm going to go plant a tree there, with bones on it, then the dog will come back and say, "Holy shit! It worked! I must distribute these bones equally for I have a green paw!"
This one time I was in a convenience store, and a guy came up and asked me, "What's the score?" and I said, "What is the game? If it's a competition between me and you, and the object is to ask the other guy questions he doesn't give a shit about, then you are winning, one to nothing."
You know, if I made orange juice, I would not be so hardcore on people. I would be more polite, like I would not print 'shake well' on the carton, cause you don't know how good people can shake, you know? I would write, 'Shake to the best of your ability.' Then I'd have a diagram that shows the uninitiated how to shake. 'Alright, put it over here, then put it over here, then put it over here quicker.'
When you go to a restaurant on the weekends and it's busy they start a waiting list. They start calling out names, they say "Dufresne, party of two. Dufresne, party of two." And if no one answers they'll say their name again. "Dufresne, party of two, Dufresne, party of two." But then if no one answers they'll just go right on to the next name. "Bush, party of three." Yeah, but what happened to the Dufresnes? No one seems to give a shit. Who can eat at a time like this - people are missing. You fuckers are selfish... the Dufresnes are in someone's trunk right now, with duct tape over their mouths. And they're hungry! That's a double whammy. We need help. Bush, search party of three! You can eat when you find the Dufresnes.
I went to a restaurant, and I saw a guy wearing a leather jacket, eating a hamburger, drinking a glass of milk. I said, "Dude, you are a cow. The metamorphosis is complete. Don't fall asleep or I will tip you over."
I was in a restaurant and I ordered a chicken sandwich, but I don't think the waitress heard me because she said, "OK, how would you like your eggs, sir?" I tried to answer anyhow: "Incubated. And then raised. And then beheaded. And then plucked. And then cut up. And then put on a grill. And then put on a bun. Shit, it's gonna take a while. I do not have time. Scrambled. You fuckin' confused me."
I had a box of Ritz crackers and on the back of the box of Ritz crackers it had all these suggestions as to what to put on top of the Ritz. It said, "Try it with turkey and cheese." "Try it with peanut butter." Oh, c'mon man, they're crackers. That's why I got 'em — I like crackers. There ain't no suggestion: "Put a Ritz on top of a Ritz." I didn't buy 'em 'cuz they're little edible plates.
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April 11, 2006
SINKING SHIP
"When things have settled down a bit I will pursue as my primary goal in life the killer or killers who slaughtered Nicole and Mr. Goldman. They are out there somewhere. Whatever it takes to identify them and bring them in, I will provide somehow. "
– O.J. Simpson, October 4,1995
"...if there is a leak out of my administration, I want to know who it
is. And if the person has violated law, the person will be taken care
of... I want to know the truth."
- George W. Bush, September 30, 2003
"...there's a lot of leaking in Washington, D.C. It's a town famous
for it. And if this helps stop leaks of - this investigation in
finding the truth, it will not only hold someone to account who should
not have leaked - and this is a serious charge, by the way. We're
talking about a criminal action, but also hopefully will help set a
clear signal we expect other leaks to stop, as well. And so I look
forward to finding the truth. ... I don't know who leaked the
information, for starters. So it's hard for me to answer that question
until I find out the truth. "
- George W. Bush, October 6, 2003
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April 10, 2006
OUR HOUSE
...that's me in the crewcut...
yesterday's family reunion get-together was a consummate joy -- a nice sunny afternoon, with plenty of children at play, adults laughing and getting along, a quality cheroot with the men, some guitar playing, lots of good food, with plenty of hugs, catching up on news, reminiscing, and of course: golf. Most of my family is fascinated by the game, even as a spectator event. In this I am the lone voice of dissent. But hey, if rooting for someone as manifestly repulsive as Phil Mickelson floats your boat, then who am I to poop the party? And a grand party it was. Watching my daughter amongst her cousins filled my heart. It was over far too quickly.
Postscript to last week's Technology Report [portable music]: I've uninstalled XPlay 2, and re-installed the hated iTunes. Why? Well, I loved the sleek interface of XPlay, the speed with which it launched, the simplicity with which it performed updates, its lack of concern with controlling my music files, or creating an "iTunes folder." However, what I didn't so much care for was its practice of utterly destroying the file management system on my iPod itself. after an update on Saturday, I had 1.8GB of music on there--nearly full, with total number of songs=0. Less than ideal. At least iTunes has yet to corrupt the Nano client.
looks like at least three days of springtime weather coming up--warm and sunny. let's have a party...
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April 07, 2006
LAY YOUR HANDS ON ME
...jimmy bruno, jazz artist...
Musical Legend Report – [Pathos Dept.] Jimmy Bruno has carpal tunnel syndrome. If I may, I’d like to offer him the highest jazz compliment I can muster: Jimmy Bruno is a stone-cold motherfucker. Now, he’s always struck me as a pretty conservative guy. He’s got the blazer and the slacks, for sure, but make no mistake: this man can play with anybody. His picking technique is staggering. I have learned a ton about playing guitar, and playing jazz, from his “no nonsense” video, and now I’ve learned that he developed a case of carpal tunnel that was so debilitating, he had to get surgery. I’m just chiming in to say that there are large numbers of us out here who are pulling for Jimmy to come through and keep playing, because chops like that take a lifetime to attain, and it would be a tragedy to see them lost now. It would be akin to blinding a great painter, or maiming a thoroughbred. There is great beauty in those hands. I read on his web site that he’s content that his career might be over. I beg to disagree. Think of all the great work that came from Joe Pass, Herb Ellis, Jim Hall, Pat Martino, Charlie Byrd, even Tal Farlow, later in their careers. Don’t give up yet, Jimmy (perhaps you should drop by the Iridium and sit in with Les Paul?) You’re one of the last ones to carry the torch for great jazz guitar playing, which is why the world of jazz seems so lonely and marginalized right now. You’re it. Get better…
...iTunes no mas...
Technology Report – [Portable Music Dept.] I’ve submitted my middling emotions regarding the iPod technosprawl in previous editions (along with the redemptive aspects of the Shure E2C sound-isolating earphones), and to be as fair as possible, the lion’s share of the negativity was perhaps unfairly placed on the nano chiclet itself, which, truth be told, does an adequate job of playing back the mp3 files loudly and clearly. The actual source of techno agita is actually iTunes, the overarching music organizer from Apple Computer which not only transfers files to and from the iPod, but also connects you to the iStore, keeps tabs on your iSpending, adjusts fertilizer levels in your iGarden, approves lesson plans for your iChildren, deducts invisible taxes from your iPaycheck, sneaks your confidential life information to the covert iSpies, and basically takes a big stinky dump in your iToilet. The thing is a bear, a resource hog. It’s yet another example of a product that people glom onto out of convenience and/or ignorance, which in addition to providing a nominal service, inserts many quality detractors into your experience (other examples: SUVs, The Boston Red Sox, Desperate Housewives, Fox News Channel, Cats). Why does it take minutes to start up when you plug in your iPod? Why does it need so much of your personal info? Why does it interfere with so many other programs that your machine is basically hijacked--you simply can’t use it while you’re doing something else? Why would I want to “subscribe” to a Podcast? I’ve been pointing and clicking for ages. Pretty sure that I’ll remember to make that right-click/save as… when the time comes for me to enjoy the next one—no need for my computer to go soliciting content from the internet all on its own. I’ve had enough spyware issues to last a lifetime, thanks all the same…..And I’ll freely stipulate that it’s quite possible that iTunes is more transparent and speedy on a Macintosh, but in the world of the Windows PC, it is, to put it delicately, fucking awful...
Long story short: workarounds abound, and they’re coming out with new ones everyday. Although it can’t yet connect with, or manage, your portable device, the songbird site looks promising (open source!), and Ephpod has received some good notices. There is apparently a Winamp plugin that was working great until the most recent version, which some reports say, screws up your iPod but good…caveat emptor…..right now, I’m using XPlay 2, and so far, me likey. Check out their site to learn more…
...it's never too cold for shorts at the food court...
Fashion Report – [Fat Men in Shorts] I’ve been meaning to chime in on this issue since the advent of Spring, and would have already done so if I’d continued on with the “This Week in Stupid” series (in retrospect, I was just feeling cranky), but since this is now a phenomenon and not an isolated event, allow me to point out something that should already be obvious to one and all: if your belly is big enough to prevent your shirt from easily tucking into your belt, there is no reason for us to see your kneecaps. Nor should you be wearing sneakers with white socks.
Let me put this another way: I grew up in a resort town, a beach town. Back then, even near the beach, shorts had their place. Men – grownup men – still wore long pants in the summer. Sometimes they were bright green and had absurd duckies on them, and were totally out of place in the church, but (and I never thought I’d ever find myself defending them) they were pants. You know why the Europeans laugh at us? Why they know we’re coming from a mile away? Because we’re a bunch of fat guys in shorts. I won’t even bring up the ball caps. There isn't time. But please, here’s a dollar…buy a clue…(and not a donut)...
Literary Wisdom Report [Bardic Screeds Dept.]
"Nothing is so common-place as to wish to be remarkable."
"Virtue and genuine graces in themselves speak what no words can utter."
"Action is eloquence."
"How poor are they who have not patience! What wound did heal but by degrees?"
"In peace there's nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility."
--William Shakespeare, English dramatist, 1564-1616
Founding Father Report [Scary Yet Relevant Dept.]
"If Tyranny and Oppression come to this land, it will be in the guise of
fighting a foreign enemy. "
-James Madison, fourth US president
(1751-1836)
Happy Palm Sunday to all you Catholics out there! Happy Family Reunion to the stratclan! Welcome home, brother Dan....
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April 06, 2006
THE WRONG N**** TO F*** WITH
...that's funny. he doesn't look like a nip...
from today's NY Daily News:
He slams foul cops in melee
Hasid says he was not beaten, but rough officers used N-word
BY ADAM LISBERG and ALISON GENDAR
DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITERS
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Cops who arrested him after what began as routine traffic stop in Borough Park were hostile and rough and hurled the N-word, says driver Arthur Schick.
The elderly man at the heart of a fiery melee on the streets of Brooklyn said yesterday that he wasn't beaten by cops as some protesters had claimed.
But Arthur Schick, 75, leveled serious charges against the NYPD - saying he was arrested without cause in heavily Hasidic Borough Park Tuesday night and roughly placed inside a NYPD van by cops who used the N-word.
"The van had a high step and I asked for help getting into it. Instead, they pushed me down into the van," he said. "And as I was getting pushed into the van, I fell forward."
It was at that moment, Schick charged, that a cop made a shocking statement: "This is the way we treat a n-----."
"
Which N-word? Nigger? Nazi? Numismatist? Jeez, it's in the headline, the sub-head, the lead paragraph, and various permutations thereafter. N-this and N-that...However, it is far from obvious which word the paper is referring to, and so rather than offend some imagined prudery about language, the News would rather obscure its own clarity of reportage. Why isn’t it possible to read a news story written for grownups, where we use all the words—the ugly and the pretty ones, to convey what actually happened? The state of journalism in this country is just downright sorry… or perhaps the NY Daily N-Word is just too pussy to take on the NYPD...
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p.s. to the anonymous poster who suggested I build an "ariel bender" les paul jr. I'd love to, but that particular model is a neck-through, which means that on top of the sunburst finishing process, I'd have to learn a whole new building technique, whereby the neck is glued to the body. For now, I'll be sticking to bolt-on guitars...
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April 05, 2006
IF I HAD A HAMMER
Hey now! It’s that world-famous star of stage and screen, Mr. Paul Williams!
Hey Paul, Tom Delay just announced his resignation from the House of Representatives yesterday. Your thoughts?
I sit alone for hours, wondering what went wrong and who's to blame. I was there to see a black cloud pulled across the sky, wondering when it was that love began to die.
Surely, you can’t be completely surprised…the Abramoff scandal, the guilty pleas from members of his own staff, and his own indictment, all speak to a culture of corruption and greed. His days would surely have been numbered even if he decided to run for re-election, no?
Fill your heart with love today. Don't play the game of time. Things that happen in the past just happen in your mind. Only your mind. Forget your mind and you'll be free.
OK, I guess it was a leading question, but don’t you think that Delay’s continuous evocations of religious dogma are over-the-top? I mean, nobody’s persecuting Christians. To suggest that an indictment of Tom Delay is tantamount to a crusade against Jesus is, in itself, blasphemous, wouldn’t you agree?
Happiness is happening. The dragons have been bled. Loveliness is ev'rywhere. Fear's just in your head. Only in your head. The fear is just in your head. So forget your head, and you'll be free.
As always, your deep powers of logic and metaphor have added new dimension and perspective to the events of the day. Let’s change the subject then. What are your thoughts on Katie Couric leaving the Today Show?
You were something to remember. Warm and lovely like the sun. Every morning still reminds me, brings a tear that nearly blinds me. One more day to live through. One more day of living without you.
I can tell that this is going to be a difficult transition for you, as it will be for all of us. We’re already hearing stories of wailing and moaning in the public square, and even civil unrest. Al Roker had to retreat to the safety of 30 Rockefeller Plaza after a riot broke out when the crowds were informed that CBS Evening News doesn’t have a peek-a-boo window…Matt Lauer jokingly referred to the NBC Security Center as the “green zone.”
And all the fools have told me, try to find a life with someone new. Share the pillow where a dream once took the time to lie. Having known you I would never even try.
Before we leave you to your genius, opening day is upon us once again. Any thoughts as we head into the hope and heartbreak of the baseball season?
I've walked alone in the sun. Walks that would end in a run.
Ladies and Gentlemen, a warm round of applause for Mr. Paul Williams!!!
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April 04, 2006
BIG TRAIN
...I'll see your schilling, and raise you one big unit...
15-2. Decisive. Impressive. All sportwriters, conditioned from birth to follow the crack of the wooden bats and report on their manly significance, will focus on the accumulation of hits and home runs and the wizened rushmore visage of our patron saint, joseph of torre...
Here's what I saw:
Randy Johnson being Randy Johnson. The slider and the split-finger fastball had bite, the ball was down in the zone, and opposing batters were kept off-balance. The fact that he wasn't overpowering ("only" 3 strikeouts), but pitched, spoke volumes...no walks. control. equipoise. a far cry from his progress this time last year.
Small ball. Until Alex Rodriguez cleared the bases with his grand slam, the first three runs were achieved by knocking in runners with singles. manufacturing runs. chipping away at a (usually, but not this time) very good pitcher.
Pitching and situational hitting (the grand slam was preceded by a bases re-loading Cano bunt, perfectly nudged down the 3rd base line) will carry this team. They have enough depth to survive injuries (but imagine what they could accomplish if everyone stays healthy!). Now that we know the ace of the staff has arrived fully formed, let's see what last season's star no-names can do. and the other ace as well: I eagerly anticipate the first Mussina knuckle-curve of 2006...
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p.s. the Mets look pretty good too...amazin'!!
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April 03, 2006
TRUE LOVE WAITS
...willie mays, the best there ever was...
Say hey! it's opening day...
everyone's in last place, and if my yankees have anything to do with it, they're going to stay there...
analysis: round ball. round bat. hard to hit it square...
Play Ball!!!
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