Living in spite of life

Picked up my first drumstick in 1965 in our basement on Highland Ave in Salina Kansas. My brother has always been the talented musician in our family. He's an accomplished blues bassist and jazz guitarist. I can't (never learned) read music. But rhythm. Ahh, rhythm. It has always been there in me. I didn't put it there. It was hard-wired with my program when i came off the assembly line in 1947. Yes, that's forty seven years past 1900. Like as in, old. I have friends who are half my age though and I'm truly grateful for that. I have one musician friend who is even younger than my kid. My dilemma is that my emotional side - my spirit if you will - has never quite matured past late teens.

So what? Well, it's my blog and nobody reads it, so why not. I write. Makes me feel good. And the other thing that makes me feel good is drumming. I've been at it now for, what - maybe going on 7 years. What happened to the 35 some odd years since I first picked up the sticks? What happened? My life got in the way of my living. And, hey, you know, I've got a friend who is struggling with that very thing I think. She's 30 years my junior, but what's time anyway. Yeah. Life in the way of living. Now that's maybe profound.

So this was taken today. Our band, The Blue Lizard Band, played for free at this festival along with all the other hapless entertainers who will never likely "make it", but who give it a go. And me? Yep, playing the drums. Playing some Stevie Ray Vauhgn, Steely Dan, Beatles, Clapton, all the folks who did make it and whose music is so etched into my brain that I can play it with eyes closed. Listened to it for 40 years. I'm finally, finally drumming. It is a joy and a gift that has richly blessed me. Living. Now that's what life's about.

The big Ringtone in the Sky....

Ok. I was listening to Pandora tonight - mainly because there was nothing else on TV but Michael Jackson. Even on the BBC. So I'm closing down, shutting off, logging out - and lo and behold, there he is again!!! Come ON!! Geeezuz, you guys, he hasn't been dead one fucking whole day yet and you're cashing in on the ringtone rememberance thing. So this is NOT my fault, let me just say that right now. You and your insenitive goddam marketing shark-like "let's cash in on this NOW" fucking attitude has driven me to this. Sorry Michael. they just won'tlet you alone.

I didn't bite on the ad (I'm sure it's not just an "ad" nowadays, but called something else cyber-geeky, intel-bot-market EZ pop-up- shop thing). I might have been further insensed. You, of course have your 'Thriller' and 'Billy Jean, that little toad's not my baby'. But I tell ya, the photo of Mike up there is a 'dead ringer' for Bob Marley. You certainly can't moon-walk to Buffalo Soldier, but who knows, maybe it's a match made in heaven.

We might be soon hearing some remakes like "Already Dead" or "Dead Melodies" by Beck, or "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" by Warren Zevon, or the like.

And I'm sure yet tro come - trust me, folks are working all night on this shit - Your bobble-head dolls, T-Shirts of "MJ's Last Concert", somebody will market that fucking glove. Enough. He was a talented, amazing man, but - Enough. We've so far to go.

Hey....have a good one...

Hey! How come when I sign in to this goddam blog I have to type all the same shit I always have to type? It asks you to check the box that says "remember me". Well, all I can say is that this fucking machine might be pretty smart but it sure as hell can't remember me. Not that it would want to. I'm a non-rememberable sort of person.

Ever come to work in the morning and you're just, well, pissed? I mean, you know, just generally pissed off. I mean geezus fuck, ya had to get up and leave your dreams, the nicest part of your day really. Get up and stand in water, dry off, put on something that pissed you off because it's not what you wanted to buy but you didn't have the money and now on top of everything else it makes you look like the truly fat fuck that you have become. So, you amble in and drop your shit on your desk and try to muster the courage to get some coffee. Which generally means that you-will-have-to-face-someone-and-talk-to-them. Ugh! Fuck you. Go away. (but I smile and report dutifully that why, yes, I had a great weekend too)

You make it back to your pen luckily without being noticed. so far so good. Enter the "morning person". God fucking damn, these people should all be shot. Just fucking shot. Argh! Another long, slow sip of coffee and a glaring blood-shot stare across the rim of the cup that tries to send a message "I have a shiv and I am going to shove it into your ribs in two fucking seconds". Nope. the morning person doesn't see this. too many honey bees, birds and flowers flying around them to notice. "Hey, good morning!. Want to hear something funny?"

You finally break the crust of mold around your vocal chords and ask, "Did you see a sign on my wall that said that I wanted to hear something funny?'

"What?" a puzzled half-frown smiling look.

"I said did -you - see - a - fucking - sign - that - said - I - want - to - hear - something - funny?"

"Uh, no."

"Well, that's because there is no sign that says I want to hear something funny!"

They walk away shaking their head and you chortle into the caffeine.

Then there's the ol' "Have a good one." comment. I love those. Have a good what? Have a good jump off the Aurora Bridge? How the hell did they know I was considering that earlier? And why stop at one? How about "Have a good two? or three?

Just leave me alone. I have to get this fucking article written about the Optomist Club's annual picnic last week.

It's always something............

I weep.

Time w a r p

I’ve been experiencing these phenomena for a few years now. I’m not a scientist or a physicist or any kind of a cist, so not having such a brain makes it difficult to postulate and hypothesize and the like.

It’s the occasional slowing of time. It seems to be activated by pushing one of those buttons next to an elevator. It doesn’t seem to matter which one you push. They both set it off. I’m having a busy day, a lot to do, gotta get somewhere and suddenly find myself in front of an elevator facing these buttons. As I push it I think, “uh oh. Dammit, here comes that time warp.” Sure enough, it warps. Wow. I look at my watch and the second hand has slowed to a n o t h e r d i m e n s i o n. The elevator door slowly opens after the car goes through its arrival paces, ka-rumph, tssh, silence, then the merry little ding or tone. People are rushing out in another world I’m sure, but here they have Twilight Zone warped faces and voices, s c u s m e u u u h …

And what are people thinking when they are waiting for the ding in this time warp zone when they stand right at the crack in the door like they are going to just step right in because no one of course will be coming out?

So I get in with this person and join the merry party madly underway IN the cab. A group of people thrown together, who all have a single goal which is to get the hell out and away from the other people. But they caaan’t. they can’t. They are in “the dastardly time warp” and they are trapped. Not only that, but some warped, evil bastard has piped in the world’s shittiest music. This only adds to the time warp. Somehow this music plays at normal speed, when the time has s l o w e d d o w n.

So the car stops, one of the button lights go out, ka-rump, tssh, silence, ding, and the guy way in the back of the cab with the enormous box is the one who summoned this particular floor. He struggles to the front, pushing my uncomfortably into a woman with an ass as big as this guy’s package. Of course, he has to push the guy out of the way who was standing at the crack in the door, waiting on this level.

Another guy gets in and all eyes watch as his finger hovers ever s o s l o w l y towards his floor of choice. Will it be….D’OH! The sonofabitch hits one of the floors below mine. Now I gotta wait for this yahoo to have his entire, complete ride while I’m still on my journey.

By this time I am sure it is sometime next Tuesday. Funny, I’ve missed three nights sleep but don’t feel tired. Finally, ka-rump, tssh, silence, ding, and it’s MY TURN by God! I work my way to the front of the elevator (I’m now the guy furthest in back) and exit, bumping into the guy who was waiting standing at the crack in the door on my level.

And time returns to normal.

The Yawn Master strikes again...

On the train

When I go to Chicago I always take the train from O’Hare International into town. It’s part of what living in the city enables you to do. You can get around without owning a car. I’ve never been a ‘city dweller’ really. So the things I notice are probably old hat to many of the seasoned urbanites.

Chicago has some old commuter cars in the “L” fleet. Somewhat like the older cars on the Paris Metro there are sections of seating that allow one to choose (if not crowded) which direction they may sit while hurtling through the blurred urban flotsam. I don’t especially like going backwards so always choose to see where a future instant death may await.

As you get closer to town the train cars become more populated. This was the case today. I was at the very front of the ‘looking towards instant death” section. Several folks, stop by stop, toddled into the “hurtling backwards” section and thus we all faced each other, all players in the boring experience of strangers riding together.

So this one guy yawns. A wide, gaping yawn, telling of his day and lack of sleep prior. Well, sonofabitch, there I went, yawning in response. And I thought, what the hell makes us do this? Someone yawns and it’s like some sort of suggestive tuberculosis spread rapidly throughout the area of influence.

Then I had an idea. Here I am, facing a small group of the most bored expressionless people one could hope to meet, almost like a choirmaster sitting at the head of the class. I will have an experiment. I mustered a really expressive, fly-in-the-mouth yawn.

It was magic. In turn, about half of the folks facing me yawned. So after another stop I bellowed out another world-class yawn. My choir responded and nobody had a clue they were now being manipulated by a harsh yawn-master who controlled all. A couple more times just to amuse. What fun. What sick fun. And now you know the confessions of a yawn-master.

....Your news starts RIGHT NOW!

Que music and logo…spinning in…..5, 4, 3, 2……

Channel 5 news starts right NOW!

Good evening. Among our top stories tonight – President Obama unveils new administration policies on health reform – what are they and when do they take effect?….Iran – unsettling news from election results…..see what the new prices are at the pumps – this could set back summer travel plans for many….see what happened in a north bend neighborhood that has the whole community talking – and Jeff, what do we see in the forecast?

Will we have sun tomorrow? Will we have rain? Check back in 20 minutes. Over to you Chris Egan –

Did the M’s break that 25 game losing streak finally? We’ll find out in the next segment.

We’ll be back…

Blab la bla, big mattress sale…blab la bla…blab la. Bla. Bla bla…bl bl blab bla home equity loans at lowest blab la bla….this is Jody. She was diagnosed with pre cancerous cervical blab la bla, but her story has a good ending blab la bladie bla bladie bla bla….this is steve. Steve had some horrendous fucking heart problem or stroke or something…blab la bla bladia blab la…but maybe it’s not too late for YOU, blab la…looking at some goddamn fucking horses now, blab la bla…..several ads for shit coming up on the networks this week…some inane ad for the new Conan Obrian show…

Que music and logo…spinning in…..5, 4, 3, 2……

And we’re back!

President Obama gave news on health reform, we’ll see what that’s about in the next segment. Election results in Iran are causing unrest, more from our correspond-------------------hisssssssssssssssssssssssss----well, we’ll have that in a moment. Jesse, what have we got for our viewers tonight. Jean, you wouldn’t believe what a Seattle man went through to get his curb fixes, more later. Thanks Jesse, always some good tips and advice. Still no fee from Iran so we’ll head to Jeff for some weather updates. Jeff? Right, well, we’ve had some weather. Will it continue? What was it? More just ahead.

Thanks Jeff. Chris, how ‘bout those M’s?

Yes Jean, how ‘bout those M’s. did they play up to expectations today? More coming up just ahead.

We’ll be right back…….

Blab la bla, big mattress sale…blab la bla…blab la. Bla. Bla bla…bl bl blab bla home equity loans at lowest blab la bla….this is Jody. She was diagnosed with pre cancerous cervical blab la bla, but her story has a good ending blab la bladie bla bladie bla bla….this is steve. Steve had some horrendous fucking heart problem or stroke or something…blab la bla bladia blab la…but maybe it’s not too late for YOU, blab la…looking at some goddamn fucking horses now, blab la bla…..several ads for shit coming up on the networks this week…some inane ad for the new Jay Leno show…

Que music and logo…spinning in…..5, 4, 3, 2……

And we’re back!

More to come on the administration’s new health plan announcements, what they are, what they mean to Americans and when all this will happen. Tune in tomorrow at 5AM for the latest. Chris?

M’s open a new series with Baltimore tomorrow. Find out what questions we will ask about their winning or losing and why somehow you will never know.

Thanks Chris, Jeff….how about that wake-up forecast?

Thanks Jean. Tomorrow when you wake up it will be dark, that is if you get up early. Expect a commute and some conditions, tune in at 5AM for all the latest. Back to you Jean.

Thanks Jeff (some newscaster banter and forced laughter)

We’ll be right back…

Blab la bla, big mattress sale…blab la bla…blab la. Bla. Bla bla…bl bl blab bla home equity loans at lowest blab la bla….this is Jody. She was diagnosed with pre cancerous cervical blab la bla, but her story has a good ending blab la bladie bla bladie bla bla….this is steve. Steve had some horrendous fucking heart problem or stroke or something…blab la bla bladia blab la…but maybe it’s not too late for YOU, blab la…looking at some goddamn fucking horses now, blab la bla…..several ads for shit coming up on the networks this week…some inane ad for the new Jay Leno show…

Que music and logo…spinning in…..5, 4, 3, 2……

And we’re back!

Good night from all of us at King 5.

And I sit there in a daze. What the fuck did I just watch for 30 goddam minutes and why do I feel so uninformed? Geezus! There’s a black bear walking across the street…what’s King 5’s number…..?

Oh, to be a Navada Architect

I like to keep up on all the professional licensing requirements....

I get this news letter every quarter from the fiendly folks in Nevada. They make it a quest, a passion, nay - a driven obsession to castigate as many professionals as they possibly can. With the relish and gusto of Reno 911, the Nevada board goes about its duties...

Special Legislative Edition

The 2009 Nevada Legislature adjourned June 1. Below are summaries of the three board-proposed bills which were signed into law in May. All three laws became effective immediately. If you have not complied with any of this from June 2, you are in deep shit.

The next issue of Focus, due out later this summer, will outline other proposed professional hosings and legislative news of interest to registrants.

Written contracts required for registrants

SB49 requires registrants have written contracts with their clients prior to providing professional services. Basic elements that must be included in the contract are outlined in the new statute. The law allows a registrant to begin providing services, if the client agrees in writing, that services may be provided prior to a contract being executed. The law also provides exemptions from the requirement, including an exemption for circumstances when the client and registrant agree, in writing, that a contract is not required.

Chapter 623 of NRS is hereby amended by adding thereto a new section to read as follows:

1. Except as otherwise provided in this section, an architect, registered interior designer or residential designer shall execute a written contract with a client before providing professional services to the client. He shall, without hesitation, doubt or malice, stand up on the conference room table, drop his trousers, grab his scrotum and repeat with raised fist, without error, the code of ethics set forth by the Nevada state Legislature.

2. A contract created pursuant to subsection 1 must contain, but is not limited to, the following:
(a) A description of the services to be provided to the client by the architect, registered interior designer or residential designer;
(b) A description of the basis for compensation and the method of payment, even if you're not getting jack shit for your services;
(c) The name, address and certificate number, address of birthplace, name at birth (if different from present name), number of fingers and toes, and length of tongue of the architect, registered interior designer or residential designer and the name and address of the client;
(d) A description of the procedure or excuse that the architect, registered interior designer or residential designer and the client will use to accommodate additional services, including trying to get compensated for just plain fucking up;
(e) A statement identifying the ownership (if anyone admits to same) or reuse of documents prepared by the architect, registered interior designer or residential designer; and
(f) A description of the procedure to be used by the Owner to terminate the architect in cold blood.

3. An architect, registered interior designer or residential designer may provide professional services to a client before the execution of a written contract only if the client agrees in writing that a written contract is not needed because he has no intent on paying the architect a fucking red cent.

4. A contract created pursuant to subsection 1 is not required for professional services rendered by an architect, registered interior designer or residential designer:
(a) For which the client will not pay compensation (already said that);
(b) When, after full disclosure of the requirements of this section, the client agrees in writing that a contract meeting the requirements of subsection 1 is not required (already said he was not paying a fucking red cent); or
(c) To a person who holds a certificate of registration as a landscape architect pursuant to chapter 623A of NRS who mistakingly thinks that anything green will have a chance in Hell of growing in this God-forsaken piece of shit state, or a person who is licensed as a professional engineer, who thinks it's worth building anything in this piece of shit state, pursuant to chapter 625 of NRS.

Pere La Chaise

Oh Pere La Chaise, your past lies quietly

      under the deep green shade from summer sun,

under the cold steel light of winter cloud,

      under the feet of those who pass over you.

And seasons pass over your silent world.

      And your peace to me an eternal gift.

As I ponder the lives of your citizens

      so rich in talent that give joy to me.

So fearless in pursuit of expression.

      So tormented for the quest of their schemes.

Oh Pere La Chaise your stone city crumbles

      as moss and earth work to claim your remains.

I will have what you give to me to enjoy.

      You give me courage to follow my dreams.

I.B.S. on a Sunday afternoon

It's 5PM on Sunday.  My neighbor has been using his fucking power washer now for 4 hours straight.  He finished the lawn and the edging earlier.  And the power blower.  All of course with gas-powered equipment which means you get little bits of shit and dirt and grass And the noxious gas exhaust fumes over the fence with prevailing breezes.  Yes, those same breezes I was looking forward to enjoying on my deck, catching up on the week's reading, maybe a snooze. I missed the earlier part of "Yard-and-Building Maintenance Bonanza"  while we were at church.  That's the other thing.  Goddam if we didn't make it to church today to get all prayed-up and forgiven and shit (hoping it would last for awhile), than we get home and within two fucking minutes I'm blaspheming and all sinned-up again.  Way to help me out, neighbor.

Geezus H. fucking Christ!  I suppose folks in say, southern California are used to this cacophony of ear drum assault on Sundays, but this is the Northwest for Pete's sake.  (Who the fuck is Pete anyway, and why is it always for HIS sake?).  I'm on my 2nd round of Excedrin now to quell my I.B.S.  (Irritated Brain syndrome)

So my neighbor has now power washed every bleeding square fucking inch of all that he owns, mobile and stationary.  I swear to god.  I think he's working on the croquet mallets next.  Why in god's name do you have to wash a fucking tree?  Well, there you go with the NW thing I guess.  Moss.  If the guy climbs up on his roof next I'm going to consider a Capital Offense.  I mean my whole yard and house are rumbling with this goddamn machine right on the other side of the fence (which WE bought, thank you.  "Hey Greg, would you like to share the cost on this fence?  It is for our mutual benefit.  Naw, that's ok.  If you want to build it go right ahead.  can you do it from just your side?")  Well, fuck you, Jim.  I guess that started my I.B. S. awhile back.

I think I'm going over to Lowe's and look for the noisiest goddam machine I can find that will run on its own for about 8 hours without refueling, wait until maintenance-boy has his annual 4th of July yard picnic with his drunken relatives and their brats, fire the sucker up and have my band practice in the yard.  Next to MY fence.

bird cage liner bounty..........

A sign of the times.  We get most of the notices for our jobs in the local daily Journal of Commerce.  Lately there hasn't been shit.  But the foreclosures now pretty much spread out over our whole conference table.  We don't confer much in here anymore.  Oh, I guess there's the ocassional meeting with our accountant to tell us how bad it is.  Not a good room to commit suicide in necessarily.  the windows don't open up and if they did you would plummet only 3 feet to a bruising and possibly smattering of goose crap on the ground below.  

I suppose you could shoot yourself but I don't own a gun.  If my mood doesn't improve I'm guessing someone will perhaps do that for me.

Only consolation is that the other firms in town, all the hoity-toity, whoopte-doo architectis are losing work too.  Guess the design awards and coffee table books will be a little slimmer this year.  Too bad.  I was getting tired of looking at the same shit anyway.  Hey, have a great day - and don't take any wooden nickels.  I think we ain't seen nothin' yet.  GDII - bring it on.

Lewis County man pleads guilty to sex with dogs

CHEHALIS — A man accused of having sex with his two dogs admitted in Lewis County Superior Court he would be found guilty of cruelty to animals.

By The Associated Press

Related

• Archive | Lawmakers vote to make bestiality illegal in this state

CHEHALIS — A man accused of having sex with his two dogs admitted in Lewis County Superior Court he would be found guilty of cruelty to animals.

The 21-year-old from the town of Cinebar, Troy Whitson, was sentenced Monday to 30 days in jail and a deviancy evaluation. He's restricted from owning animals for two years.

His malamutes have been placed with new owners.

Prosecutor Michael Golden told KITI Whitson is a member of a group known as the Furries who identify with an animal and dress the part in makeup, ears and tail.

Golden says Furries gather for social events but having sex with animals is not part of their normal behavior. He says two other Furries who met Whitson witnessed the animal sex and turned him in.

Copyright © 2009 The Seattle Times Company

I was going to let this pass like gum on your shoe and then read the part ".....of their normal behavior...."  What, I ask, is normal about dressing up in dog costumes for a social event, other than Halloween or being a mascot at a sporting event?

I'm getting a visual of several "Barf"'s from Space Balls going around with drinks velcro'd to their paws.  And, ya know Chehalis isn't too far away from I suppose what one would call civilization.  I was going to say something like  - 'I suppose I could understand this if it were in _____......"  But, no, I can't understand it.  Not even for a minute.  

30 days in jail and a "deviancy evaluation".  What the fuck is that?  Who decides if this is deviant?  Maybe the wednesday morning coffee group at the front window table of Kalich's Dairy Dan Family Diner.  

"Jim?"  

"Yup."

Ed?"

"A, yup, that's a deviant."

"Lester?"

"Boy's got a problem there."

A 5 minute meeting and Les takes the verdict over across the street and that's that I suppose.  I do so enjoy the newspapers.