I Miss You Frank

The other day I mentioned I had thought about Frank Zappa off and on as I wrote my Flash Fiction post #8. Images of Dental Floss, Montana, and Zircon encrusted tweezers danced like sugar plum fairies, well maybe it was really bounced around aimlessly and they weren't sugar plum fairies but more like big badass bikin mamas with apples stuck in their mouths. Anyway, I thought about Frank and how much his music and personality had influenced my warped sense of what was important in this Life and what wasn't. I even punched up "Hot Rats" and played "Willie the Pimp" a few times at volume wow on my wannabe high end headphones that were now approaching not old age but ancient relic status. I was in the groove.

So tonight I spent some time visiting some bike shop blogs I have linked through my sister bloggin ship CRUM Cycles. I am sure it was no coincidence that I found it on a site that emanates from that bastion of Charm, Bawlemer, Murland. You see he was born and raised close by. He is a native son and I would be too if I had my druthers. I lived there for some years but it just isn't the same as being born there. It never is. Sorry about that.....I get ahead of myself. When that happens I tend to fall behind and then I get nowhere fast........

Baltimore Bicycle Works, a very hip and cool shop if you want to base said hipness and coolness on the town they exist in and on their blog. Well they had some great videos embedded. First up was a video of a blind trials rider. This guy did things on a bike I can only do in my wet dreams. And he's blind. Awesome stuff. I will be poaching their link for a post at some point on my strictly commercial to draw in paying customers blog about all things cycling and a few things in between.

Well one video led to another and I spotted in their recent posts section, "Frank Zappa plays the Bicycle". First I must say that Frank and I go way back. At least I thought so. It was in 1967 when I picked out "Freak Out" from the pile of albums the record guy had in his delivery van. I was sure I had pretty much discovered over the years about all there was to discover about Frank. And I knew he had odd and amusing ideas about what music was about. Many called him a genius. Some called him an asshole. But no matter what, Frank was never boring. When I punched up this video, it was a clean cut Frank dressed in one tight fitting cool hip suit of an early 60s rocker standing on the set of the Steve Allen Show. A very young Frank. In front of him were two bikes and Steve Allen. It is hard to describe what went down because I am still not sure, but it was classic Frank Zappa. Bizarre, clever, witty. The audience, Steve, and I loved it.

As it is with those You Tube videos, they always try to hook you with more videos that are in some way directly or even tentatively connected to that first video that sucked you in. I watched Frank's last interview before he died. I watched his last real interview of substance a year or so earlier. I watched him on the Johnny Carson Show. I watched him giving Congress a hard time back in the first efforts of Tipper "I'm still married to Mr Global Warming" Gore to save our children from the evils of Rock N Roll music. The man was awesome. He got in their face. He did not back down. When his testimony was over, in the background an unidentified Congressman could be heard, "Well we sure had a bear by the tail. I don't think I ever heard anything like that even during the Mafia hearings." Or to that effect - not a ver batum quote.

The video that made me realize why I respect Frank so much was his appearance on I think an early version of Crossfire during CNN's early days back in 1986. They definitely had a tiger by the tail. He was sure Ronald Reagan had set the table for a theocratic fascist state. The tight asses on the panel were absolutely caught off guard. Reagan walked on water back in 1986. Now we are just waiting for the Second Coming. When that happens Frank won't turn over in his grave. He'll shove his skinny arm through the casket and flip us all off.

So in conclusion I have sifted through more than a few videos and decided the following "Three-Fer" is a good representation of what Frank was musically. He was this and more, but these three give a good taste. Enjoy.

Note - Frank's lyrics can be unsettling to timid and sensitive minds. The middle video, "Frank Zappa on Acid" is well, let's see...... I liked it fine and Tipper Gore most assuredly would not. That should be warning enough.







I know Frank's laughing his ass off somewhere.......................

(842 / 6118)

Up To Their Old Tricks Again

The Liberal Media has been up to their tired old tricks it seems. Committing the same felonious assault on the "truth" the Wingers have come to expect and it would seem in a perverted turn about, love. Those Liberal bastards are not giving them their due by vastly under reporting the numbers of the faithful hordes who have been making Patriotic Pilgrimages to the belly of the beast we call DC. They know because they read about it on their favorite Winger blog. It was really 50,000 irate citizens who answered the call by Michelle "I am Holier Than Thou and Loony to Boot" Bachmann to come for a day of fun in the Sun protesting the Commie Conspiracy disguised as Healthcare Reform. Not the paltry 10,000 the Left leaning Pinko Press claimed were there.

Now I was puzzled over this obvious discrepancy between the Patriots and the Commies. Someone had to have their thumb on the scale. So I dug a little further. Perused some more traditional Conservative sites for their take. What I found was shocking. Apparently that old school Conservative stalwart, The Heritage Foundation, has been overrun by the stinking Liberal Conspiracy. I am sure it was a hacker. Had to be. The wing tipped blue tie wearing folks over to Heritage would never agree with any fact also presented as fact by the Pinko Libs who control the Press. It just couldn't happen. Say it ain't so Joe.

In an effort to be fair though and not seem to be leaning Right when we all know I lean whichever way Beck tells me to, I offer up the claims made by various "experts".
~The righteous and lovably honorable Representative from Minnesota, Ms Michelle Bachmann scanned the crowd and figured there were at least 20 to 45,000 faithful followers hanging on her every word.

~Rep. Torn from the Great State of Georgia figures she might have missed the few sitting in trees. He claims up to 50,000 stepped up to be counted.

~Franklin Raff, who has the honor of producing G.Gordon Libby's radio show figured there were close to same numbers that showed up in September, about a million he guessed

~Apparently one DC Cop who was there to protect the crowd from harassment by invisible Liberals contends there were maybe 3500 God fearing Patriots. He must have been a Liberal Plant. Not once did he pull his weapon out and brandish it. Would a real Patriot ever miss that opportunity? No, I don't think so.

~And of course those poor folks over to the Heritage Foundation with obviously a gun held to their head fell in line with the mainstream Liberal estimate of around 10,000.

I ask you. Who are you going to believe? A woman who we all know would mother our children if we asked or some dirty Commie who wants to kill our children and leave our parents to die slow painful deaths at the hands of an uncaring government? Come on now. Be honest.

So that I might cheer myself up and forget this fall from grace one of my go to Conservative voices has suffered, I decided to check out some images of this happy get together last Thursday. To all appearances it was your typical mass gathering of families enjoying their right to be stupid. The creativity shown by some of the signs was a refreshing change from the usual Right Wing rhetoric. Notice the wonderful association and use of graphics as they point out the obvious connection of Dachau Concentration Camp prisoners and what we will become if Healthcare Reform is passed. I'm convinced. Especially now that those Left Wing losers have brought Hitler back. I just knew those Commies would team up with him again.

So folks if you value the Truth. If Facts mean anything to you. I plead with you not to be sucked in by specious claims coming from the Liberals who control the News. Rather than believe what you see, be safe, Believe what Beck tells you. After all he is the only sane one among us.

I now leave you with this touching picture of some fellow citizens who trudged through the belly of the Liberal strongholds from my neck of the woods. Almost brings a tear to my eye.



Don't let The Man get you down....................

(717 / 5276)

Ft. Hood

Predictably and following in the footsteps of thousands of blog tongues wagging at the moment, this post is about the Ft Hood shooting. It was a horrible act by an obviously deranged man whose motives have yet to be completely understood. It is one thing to mourn a soldier's death from war, a much different matter when they are victim of totally senseless violence. My sympathies of course go out to the families and loved ones of those shot. I cannot even imagine they were prepared for something like this.

What strikes me at this point though is the absolute deluge of misinformation, partial information, and no information that has fueled the knee jerk responses I have been reading here in Blogotopia. Honest Partisan actually said it better than I, but then he always does. - "However natural such an impulse might be, it's also worthwhile to withhold any application of today's shooting spree to the political narrative one lives by (at least until more facts are in), especially with a topic as fraught as this one in post-9/11 America. I doubt that will happen in large part, though." He was right on target.

It is understandable for us to make assumptions in the backs of our minds. But clear thinking people will do this and then give that first knee jerk response a chance to settle down as we look for more information to finally make up our minds. I will admit my first thought when I caught my first word of this tragedy, "Jeez, I hope the shooters/shooter were not Muslim. A terrible situation can only be made worse if this is so." You see, I made an assumption even if it was in the form of a wish it weren't so kind.

Unfortunately it appears the main suspect is a Muslim. "Here we go", I thought. And so far my worse case scenario is playing out as predictably as I hoped it would not.

I read more than a few right of center blogs. I do this not because I am Right of center, but because they often have insights and opinions that I find interesting and challenging to my own take on how things are. I am still capable of changing my mind and cutting them out of my loop seems wrong. After all, I was raised in a Right of center family.

Of the first four Right-ish blogs I read, only one seemed willing to wait and see what really went down and why. The other three were off and running at their mouths about how Muslims are untrustworthy, dirty lousy losers who should never be allowed in the military in the first place. Each had their own special knee jerk response, but the rush to judgement had been made. It just had to be religiously based violence.

The New York Times has to this point the best background information I have heard or read. Reading it raises more questions about this sad incident than it answers. But at least I know more about the person who is accused of this crime.

I guess the reason I have even posted this is to maybe offer what little condolences I can and to notify those who rush to judge, they are not helping the situation by their inaccurate portrayal of a situation even the authorities admit they have yet to completely sort out.

Later...................

(567 / 4559)

99 Beads on the Wall

No matter how comfortable I get in my own little rut, I can always count on friends and acquaintances to commit drive by assaults on that comfortable little rut. One friend in particular seems to find the edges of my comfort zone every couple of years or so. I have known this younger fellow for maybe 20 years now. I first met him when he was an awkward teen trying to figure out which way was up. 20 years later he is still looking.

I feel a special kind of kindred feeling with this guy. We both grew up feeling out of place and not really like one of the family. He had more trouble with it than I did. He had good reason. At least my out of place feeling was never thrown in my face by the loved ones around me. His was. I guess our situation as children was not unusual, just some of the normal lousy dynamics that can exist in a dysfunctional family comprised of more than a few spouses, ex spouses, and half siblings all tossed together. I weathered my storm. He is still working through his even though he is well into his mid thirties.

So a few years ago my friend is in the bike shop. I had not seen him in quite awhile. The normal how ya doins, and bike related subjects passed the time. Out of nowhere, my friend blurts out that he is Gay. Suddenly the conversation stops. He is looking hard at me for some facial expression that will let him know how I feel about that.

"Yeah, so what. Good for you. Told your family yet?" I know enough about his family to know this little revelation had to go down like a fart in church.

"Most of them won't talk to me now."

"So. It's a win/win situation for you. You get to be open about what we all knew anyway and they leave you alone now. Isn't that what you want?"

"I want them to accept me for who I am."

I am no mental health professional with degrees, but I know this guy and he has always done whatever it took to be noticed in a family that could not have cared less for him. "Well, they noticed you. Happy now?"

"Uh, No"

The conversation went this way for way too long. It got to the point that I wanted to boot him out of my shop. He was Gay. He was still miserable. Life still sucked. I get it. You can leave now.

But then his tendency to be a gossip kicks into gear. He begins to list all the recent trysts he has had and with whom. All local folks I either knew or had dealt with at some point in the shop. Several of them were closet Gays I guess and this guy was outing them in my bike shop. This made me very uncomfortable. I did not want to hear about it. He was Gay. Let's leave it at that. I have no interest in knowing with whom or how many. He left.

Over the following couple of years I would see this fellow on occasion. He still owned bikes, but rarely rode them. He was more about owning nice bikes than actually putting them through their paces. About a month ago he swings in. Again with the how ya doins and normal catching up conversation. And again out of the blue he tells me He is moving out. He will no longer be staying with Mom.

Now this was news. He had lived with his mother since the day I met him 20 years previous. My interest had been lit up. Then I made my mistake. I asked him why.

"I want to move closer to my mosque. The closest one to Sanford is in Dover."

"Your Mosque? What the Hell are you talking about?"

"Oh yeah. I am a practicing Muslim now"

Again he looks at me hard looking for my reaction. For once I have nothing to say. I have known born again Christians, a few folks who converted to Judaism, and several who had found Buddha. But never in my 57 years have I known someone to convert to Islam. I was caught way off guard.

All I could muster up was something like, "Islam huh? What's your Mom think? What about the rest of the clan?"

"I gave up caring what they think. Islam has saved my life. I have a new family now."

I have learned the hard way that freshly born agains are very sensitive to any criticism one might have about their new found faith. Certainly letting them know my feelings regarding organized religions is not the first thing I should be assaulting them with. So I kept my mouth shut.

"Well, what do you think?" My friend is insisting on getting some kind of reaction. What a pain in the ass he can be.

"You don't want to know what I think."

"Yeah. Yeah I do."

So I told him my opinion on organized religion. Any organized religion. I was not flattering nor was I going to water down my disgust for organized religions. I finished with how I thought it was great he thinks he has finally found his path to Happiness, but if he was looking for anything more from me, he was pumping a dry hole.

That was several weeks ago. Last Thursday, my friend stopped by the shop to buy a couple of tubes. At least that was his excuse. Before he left, he handed me the prayer beads and the copy of the Qur'an you see at the top of the post. I remember standing there with what had to be a dumb look on my face. Had I not let him know in no uncertain terms that I was a happy Heathen, Infidel, person who did not pray? And here he is handing me the tools of a religion with the obvious goal of trying to convert me.

I said thanks much, but don't expect me to be buying a prayer rug to go with them. I brought the book and the beads home. I have the beads hung from the same hook my cable to transfer photos from camera to puter hangs. The Qur'an I have placed next to the Bible I have which sits next to my Dictionary, my Thesaurus, and my political theory reference book. I have actually cracked it and read some of it.

The obvious contradictions my friend wears so publicly now could only happen in this country I think. Or a country that embraces the type of diversity we do. While I think he still has not found himself yet, at least he lives in a place that allows him to keep looking. I really do hope he locates some kind of center in the mess that is his Life. And more power to him if he finds it using the Qur'an.

Keep the Faith....................

(1173 / 3992)

Mainers Have Their Say - Tolerance Denied

I should be pleased with the vote from yesterdays referendum election. Based on the percentage of questions I voted on, I came away voting more with the winning side than not. This is an unusual situation I find myself in. Generally I tend to find my vote as futile against the tide effort. Yeah I should be pleased. The problem is the two questions I really had hoped would go my way did not.

We now can set up Pot dispensaries for the distribution of Pot to sick folk. That's nice and a step in the right direction. TABOR failed by a good margin. Again great. The excise tax failed. We also approved one bond to help fix bridges, roads and such. And finally, the last tally I saw, the Constitutional amendment proposal was being shot down. All good in my opinion.

It appears Mainers are not as independent as I thought. Holier than Thou knuckle dragging pot stirrers from out of state were able to mobilize enough brain dead Mainers to overturn the Gay Marriage law passed awhile ago. Fueled by fear tactics that "Homosexuality will be taught in schools", instead Maine decided that intolerance would be taught instead. Yeah, this one really pissed me off.

The other question had to do with School consolidation. A program to force the independent system we had into a top heavy bureaucracy that takes away local control of our schools. We had our chance to make it go away but well, apparently more brain dead Mainers were mobilized and it is still there this morning.

So with my vote, my batting average was an astronomical .714 and I should be pleased that so many Mainers showed up to vote for an off year election. And yeah, part of me is pleased we had so many participate. I should be the good sport and shake hands. Screw that. This ain't no game between friends. This election was about what my state stands for. And right now, I don't feel very inclined to stand shoulder to shoulder with my fellow citizens. We caved to the agenda of outsiders who wish to jam their narrow minded morality down our throats. Or worse, Mainers really are this narrow minded and I have been living in a fool's paradise all these years.

I'm off to lick some wounds.......................

But then I saw this and it made me grin.



Thanks to Nickie Goomba for turning me on to this.

(385 / 2819)

Not Sure What to Say - Except Thanks

At a State Softball Championship many years ago, I won a game with two in the park home runs. I batted in a total of 7 runs with those two hits. That was the first game we played that weekend. Surprising everyone, Acton won the State Championship. This event would not be noteworthy except for the fact that I had never hit a home run ever. And I was nursing one of the worse hangovers I had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. The previous night at the campground I had stayed up all night with a friend from the Netherlands who was visiting us in Maine. We swapped shots of Tequila for a few hours and then switched to Sour Mash. About 4 AM I passed out I guess. I hit the home runs some 4 hours later. The rest of the weekend of ball and beer, I played the best softball of my life. I was in the Zone. I batted close to .700 for the series and even played inspired defense behind the plate.

Fast forward or slow forward, take your pick - Awards time for the State Championship. I stood there in the line up of poorly uniformed white guys from Acton waiting for our trophies. I knew one player on our team would be highlighted with a "Most Valuable Player" award for being the best of the best. To be honest, I expected the award. I wanted the award. Everyone on the team expected me to get the award.

I did not get it. I will always remember that moment. One of the few times my efforts were way above average and I was snubbed. Our "coach" was not my biggest fan. He instead pushed for another player on the team to get it for his "overall efforts throughout the season".

I got over it. It was only adult softball ferchrisakes. But what I took away from it was the knowledge that if you expect to be slapped on the back, often times you get smacked in the mouth. Life is a crap shoot and I should never ever think I am deserving of anything more than a how ya doin or maybe someone holding a door for me as I enter with my hands full. My sense of entitlement is well muzzled.

The recent attention brought to me through a couple of blog awards brought this moment of my past back. Doc and now Mauigirl have given me some much appreciated but unexpected recognition of all the time I have spent writing what's inside me. Rather than go on about how much I think I don't deserve this or don't deserve that, I will just say Mauigirl, thank you very much. You have made my day. I mean that.

This one has rules of engagement. Simple rules thankfully. I am requested to pass it along to four other blogs I feel are deserving of recognition. Simple in the request maybe, but not so simple in the execution. But let's give it a shot.

Carlita - a Maine blogger now living in the belly of the beast we call DC

Yooper In Crackerland - Just cuz he shares a Mainers dislike of strangers in his driveway.

The Frumpy Professor - A man who refuses to allow his demons to get the better of him.

Snave over to Various Ecstasies - A sensible and level headed guy from Oregon struggling to make sense of shoe trees and such.

Keep it 'Tween the Ditches........................

(582 / 2434)

FFF # 8 - The White Hole

"Warning: choking hazard, small parts, not suitable for children under 3 years" was what the Li'l Edgar Allan Poe Posable Figure box said, but Johnny didn't listen because he was almost thirteen so he ripped off the head and ate it. Without a seconds hesitation the rest of Poe followed his head down the impressive gullet of this typically always hungry teen. Johnny burped, picked some of Poe's hair from between his massive molars and looked up at his dad. "Can I eat the box too Pop?"

The hulking figure crammed into a chair at the other end of the anti-matter table looked at Johnny. He was perturbed with the interruption, but well, it was "Bring Your Kid to Work Day" and little Johnny was his pride and joy after all. The Director looked around the table at the group of bored and disengaged Sector heads. This meeting was in need of some entertainment, some small diversion to get these guys back in the game. Besides it would have been rude to not show some gratitude for the gifts brought him by the Sector chiefs from the Fringes. "Sure son, why not? Dinner's not for a few more hours." The box, the Styrofoam inside and the bar code disappeared in a flash of teeth mashing. "That's my boy!"

What a bunch of stuffed shirts he was dealing with today. It never ceased to amaze him how the representatives from the Fringes always carried themselves with more self importance than the staff who shouldered the bigger load near Headquarters. He smiled or grimaced. With him there really was no difference.

"So where were we gentlemen?"

The representative from Sector 3 continued his report. "Before this unseemly interruption, I was filling the Director here in on some odd goings on at the outer edge of the Expansion in my territory. It seems some of the Matter that is self aware has found the key to what is really going on. I submitted a report some time ago and it obviously did not make it to the good Director's desk. Gentlemen, we may be in trouble. If Matter has figured out what we are doing, then it's all over for us."

The Director sat with his massive head propped up with one of his massive hands. He looked bored. Everything was a crisis with these clowns. Some Matter somewhere sneezes and these flounders from the Fringes get all panicky and nervous. Damn he hated dealing with issues that meant nothing in the over all business model set up many years ago. The plan, once implemented, could not be reversed. And these boneheads should know that. But he did need to humor them. Their participation was key to completing the plan on schedule and under budget.

"So, just send an asteroid their way and take them out. Standard procedure when Matters get out of hand is it not?"

Sector 3 Chief looked annoyed at the interruption but answered the Director's question. "Uh yes sir, it is standard policy to snuff out any hint of resistance. But this Matter is different. They have figured out how to defeat the use of Asteroids and such."

This meeting was really starting to piss the Director off. Underlings who needed their hands held at the drop of a hat just rubbed him raw. The Director straightened up and dropped his hand hard on the table. The whole room shook. "What do I have to do here ferchrisakes? Draw you guys a freakin map? Come on, you know policy. Just fire out a Perforation and take care of this Matter. End of story." The Director placed his head back on his hand. With the other he flipped his massive fingers dismissively. "Go on, Continue."

Sector 3 Chief shifted his weight uneasily. He had never felt the anger of the Director before. He was still new. Only on the job now for a couple of epochs. But he hadn't risen through the ranks because he was timid. Stiffening his back he cleared his throat. "Well it appears they have stumbled upon the secret of.......The White Hole."

The silence in the room was deafening. The Director snapped his head up and stared at Sector 3 Chief. His mouth began to move, but no words came. Murmurs from the rest of the Sector Chiefs turned into chaotic discussion among themselves. The Meeting had gotten out of control.

"Silence!" The Director was now on his feet and leaning hard on the anti-matter table. It bowed under his copious mass. "That is impossible! White Holes are still just a theory. No one has been able to prove their existence."

Sector 3 Chief stood his ground and stared back at the Director. "Yes sir that is correct. We have yet to prove or disprove the possibility that White Holes can exist. But how do I explain that the six Perforations and then the Tear I sent out just disappeared? No reports. Nothing. And in the meantime, a new anomaly has been noticed in that sector of the Expansion and the Matter I intended to take care of still exists. I have been over this with the slip stick boys and they have concluded the only answer is indeed a White Hole."

The Director was not ready for this. Matter only existed to feed their expansion into this universe. He could not get his mind around the idea that the Matter created by his forebears had now discovered the one weapon he and his kind feared the most......Anti-anti-matter. If true, his race had finally overstepped their abilities and created the means of their own demise. The Director tried to imagine a hole that could eat darkness, thus producing Light. As he understood the notion here, Light produced in such a fashion indicated with a high probability that their race's bogeyman, Anti-anti-matter came through as a byproduct. His limited intellect in things scientific stopped him from even being able to conceptualize the concept. He sat back down with a plop. The room shook and the various cool drinks of liquid Matter on the table tipped over. He sighed. "So where does this leave us?"

No one spoke. Eyes were cast down at massive hands clasped in nervous grips. Everyone around the table just sat there as if struck dumb. Little Johnny, who had been mindlessly looking out into the nebula, turned and said, "Gee guys, Dad always told me when I was little, never be afraid of the Light. The Light would never hurt you."

The silent tension in the big room broke. These heavy wieghts representing the far flung territories of the Empire relaxed, some even grinned. The Director was smiling or grimacing again. Sector 3 Chief managed a nervous haha as he sat down and straightened the copious collection of sheets he had used for notes during his presentation.

As the meeting settled down, Sector 6 Chief remarked, "Yeah guys, no need to be all positive and up. Things could be better you know. There isn't always Light at the end of the tunnel. And every cloud doesn't have a silver lining. Just keep thinking negative and all those pesky Matters will take care of themselves."

The Director let his head settle in on that massive hand again. His face once more the face of a bored and overworked bureaucrat. "Okay. Settle down guys. We have quite a few more Sectors to hear from. Who's next?"


__________________________________________

For some unknown reason this, I kept thinking of Frank Zappa while I wrote this. Zircon Encrusted Tweezers, Montana, and Dental Floss Tycoons came to mind more than once. Anyway, I am once again left wondering where the Hell that came from?

I had serious issues with the ending. Must have re-written it 3 or 4 times. Still not sure.

(1302 / 1852)