The Front Page

As a child, I would often read the headlines on the front pages of the daily newspapers my parents read as they sipped morning coffee. Those headlines were almost always about serious things, adult things, stories about serious incidents, accidents and events that had real consequences for folks faraway and more often, nearby.

Sometimes the stories were of victories or losses in war; maybe a tragic occurrence many miles away or next door. The front page was used for the serious parts of life, not the stupid meaningless concerns of the overactive imaginations of panty bunchers and malcontents.

Unless the paper was a scandal sheet bought at the checkout counter at the local A&P, there was usually  judicious restraint used on the front pages of mainstream  newspapers. Just the facts Ma'am, thank you very much. The pressure to report the news without emotion was a cornerstone of the medium. Serious journalism was hands down, the goal of most daily rags. That isn't to say, silly and moronic issues never made the front page. But for the most part, the news on the front page was printed with serious regard for the resulting impact on the readers. Silliness and inane concerns were relegated to the Letters to the Editor page, the editorial page, or advice help for lonely hearts.

There is no front page anymore. The print media is now drawing its last breaths. The few that are still surviving are doing that, just surviving. Everyone it seems has substituted the Internet and Cable TV for their front page. A result of this is, no matter how Lost in the BoZone someone's view of the world is, there is a front page waiting somewhere just to reinforce their skewed view of the world they exist in. It is an odd coupling of insane notions being paid as much respect as the Truth. Suddenly, the outlandish rumors and insane stories we laughed at while paying for our groceries were now on the same marquee with the real news. No longer is there a perceived difference between the two for many folks. 

Reality TV was born out of this by fooling people their stories reflected Reality. It became clear that knowing the truth was not as much fun as believing the fantasies. Suddenly the "Reality" shows pushed journal news shows to the side. Very few are left on mainstream media now other than 60 minutes on CBS. And they are now under pressure to embrace bullshit journalism that is acceptable to a chosen few.

I had a roommate in college and for awhile after. Toole's life on Sundays was defined by the Sunday paper. He would settle in with the paper in the morning with his coffee and often not come up for air until early afternoon. He did this every Sunday he could, slowly digesting the newspaper a section at a time. It is a ritual I imagine he continues with today. I always imagined it was like going to church for him.

I only bring up Bob's newspaper ritual because back in the day before computers and cable television, information was slowly absorbed, digested, given a chance to settle in. News did not need, nor did it pressure us to make knee jerk decisions about the veracity of the information we were being fed. Yeah, the journalists manipulated and massaged their stories to work us in the direction they wanted us to go. But there was very little blatant outright lies being presented as the truth. The Information networks of back then had more respect for the public who were reading or listening to their news. Now days, the media plays us for chumps more often than not.

I'll leave it there now. 

Later Gators .........................................

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Musical selection today? ..... Hmm..... Well, that was easy.

I googled "Songs about the News". Many choices popped up. I tasted some and then.... a Tom Paxton song released in 1964 popped up. On the first listen, I remembered it. A friend who lived a couple of houses away from me on Roosevelt Street in Bethesda had this song on a Tom Paxton Folk album he had bought. He wore that poor record out.

Here is "Daily News" by Tom Paxton. Enjoy.

Fall of Another Roman Empire?

China has spent decades laying tracks for the future. 

We’ve been digging graves in the past. 

They’ve built cities, schools, trains that move faster than thought. 

We’ve built military bases, debt, and an empire of rust.

This is the first stanza of a poem written by Henry Morgenstein, titled "Tracks in Future / Graves in Past". Apparently it is part of a regular newsletter Henry sends out. He attributes these beginning words to Jimmy Carter. 

I am not a big fan of China by any reach of the imagination, but I do have to concede that these words seem to point out China's interest in moving forward, while America is busy wallowing in the remnants of a decaying past.

The rest of the poem is a salute to China's material and economic growth while not even mentioning their horrific human rights record that continues to this day. Just because a certain population or populations are in a wonderland and loving it, there are billions of Chinese who are not. Too many struggle in dismal conditions while 10 lane highways and bullet trains crowd out their communities. If this is what we want in our future, I say fuck that. Growth should never override the freedoms of the populations who created that growth. That is just repeating the ugly models of the past again and again and again.

History is cyclical and filled with too many repeats to mention. Empires rise, empires fall. Given the hard times and decline we Americans have created for ourselves starting in the 1980s of Ronald Reagan, it would be easy to conclude that though America was once on top, we are now working hard to find the bottom. The class divisions have never been worse, the economic divisions never more profound, and worst of all, we are now struggling to save the country our forebears created so, so long ago.

Yeah, I don't have a very optimistic vision for our country at this point and only a slightly rosier vision of the future of  Humanity in general. We keep shitting in the nest we live in. We deny the negative changes the planet is going through by wasting time pissing on each other's feet while those who don't care continue on their merry way raping the planet and poisoning the chances we might have had to save ourselves. Short term thinking always comes at a higher cost than careful planning.

Whatever happens in the future America will deserve what it has sown and the rest of the World will deserve what they end up with if they don't pay attention to what America did to itself. 

I'd say, "Keep it 'tween the ditches" ..... But why bother? We seem intent on driving into them.

____________________

I know A.I. is causing controversy wherever it pops up. But I have to say, so far when it applies to A.I. manipulated music videos, most of the ones I have seen are awesome. Here is "Child in Tiime", by Deep Purple. This song was released in 1968. The song combines with visuals more in tune with the madness that is our current reality. It hits its mark wonderfully.

Enjoy the visuals and don't forget Deep Purple is generally better enjoyed when the volume is wound up to WOW.

"Die Alone" - A Half Assed Review

Fitful sleep, combined with periods of being awake, is part of my life now. I have become so used to it, when I wake up at Dark-Thirty to  stumble to the bathroom to pee, I will often wonder, will I be able to go back to sleep? Often I cannot get back to sleep. 

One of my first remedies is to turn on the TV. Nine times out of ten, I fall asleep before the first commercial. If that doesn't work, I watch the movie or TV show and then reset the sleep clock to catch a few winks before it's time to feed Maggie and head outside to face our day.

Last night I was waking up every 45 minutes or so. So I turned on the TV and picked a movie I would not normally choose. It was another of the many, many Zombie chomping Apocalypse End of the World extravaganzas, but on a low budget. With a title like "Die Alone", I was sure it would be boiler plate, rehashed Zombies chasing normal people who are stupid enough to get caught kind of movie. I did not expect any twists I had not seen before.

As it turns out, "Die Alone" was a pretty standard Zombie movie but with a few tweaks that caught and kept my attention for the most part. I only remember dozing off once and that was only for a few minutes. I would have welcomed the sleep, but my brain obviously had been stimulated enough, it was not going to let me sleep. It wanted to watch the movie. I almost expected it to ask me to make some popcorn.

I won't repeat comments from the one review I read, but it was a decent movie with less of an emphasis on the actual horrific scenes of Zombies and what they were having for dinner; rather it focused on the characters and their interactions that built to a unique twist at the end.

It was filmed in Canada on what appears to be a typical Canadian budget. I found it refreshing to watch a film that did not take the easy path and glorify the violence between survivors and Zombies. Watching Zombies get mowed down by ever more complicated machines of destruction does nothing for me. This film caught my attention early by creating a mystery in the first 5 minutes. It isn't a great movie, but certainly better than the average Zombie/Apocalypse stupidity that make up much bigger budget films. Zombies were not the center of attention, the interactions of the characters was. Plot and characterizations, not special effects, drive this movie.

The few slow moments do not detract from the overall quality of the film. Yeah, I'd recommend it.

In some ways it reminded me of "The Road", a very good 2009 apocalypse film based on the excellent novel by the same name. There are no Zombies in "The Road". But it has a similar feel as "Die Alone" as it depends on characters and a sincere plot. 

Keep it 'tween the ditches .......................................

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The logical choice for this post would be a tune about, named, or at least containing a vague reference to Zombies. The Cranberries' fine song, "Zombie" immediately came to mind. The problem though, was I used a Cranberries tune for my last post. Two songs in a row from the same group is not allowed per the rules I set up back whenever it was I made including music with posts part of the package. I figured, if I couldn't entertain with my words, I'd include the efforts of people more talented than I as a consolation prize for any disappointments people might have after reading my dribble.

I considered breaking my own rule. I remembered I have always considered self imposed rules with a kind of fluid adherence. If the mood suited me, I broke them in a heart beat.

Without further ado; here are The Cranberries, and their song, "Zombie".

Artificial Intelligence, Day ll

Apparently my brain was not happy with yesterday's post. I asked why. My brain stayed silent on the topic, yet here I am again wanting to write about A.I., dreams, and other things that help make up the nonsense I sometimes obsess over.

I make no apologies about my intermittent preoccupation with nonsense. As a matter of fact, trying to break the nonsense in my brain down into sensible word bites like complete sentences with appropriate grammar tossed in here and there, has always been my first goal when writing.  The real bonus now; fictional nonsense keeps me from my current preoccupation with the evil nonsense passing as Reality right now. At the moment, Reality does indeed suck.

The good news is, since I have been actively trying to make sense of the nonsense in my mind, the nonsense is still there, but at least now, it's almost , on the cusp, close to and nearby word groupings that make a point occasionally.

Hmm ........................

There I go again. I sat down to write an expansion of yesterday's thoughts and by the third paragraph I was off down a new rabbit hole. ........ No, not this morning. This distraction thing of mine is a big reason I don't post. It tends to piss me off unless I am really baked. And lately, I have been less baked and more straight than usual.  ......... Back on Track.

Yesterday, a confluence of minor incidents and accidents were most likely responsible for my brief fascination with A.I. The image up top was the jig-saw puzzle of the day. A Facebook meme regarding A.I. passed through my feed. and then an A.I. video caught me and I posted it for a minute as real. I wrote about it, posted it, and moved on with my day.

Lately, I have the habit of picking a movie or TV show episode to fall asleep to. Every time I tell myself I will stay awake. Every time I don't. It used to bother me as I had been a life long night person. Now, 7 or 8 years into retirement, I have decided it doesn't matter.

So I pick a new movie arrival on Netflix. "Havoc", starring Tom Hardy as a hard boiled police detective who's moral compass is off, but not far from the good guy who used to be........ Not sure when the curtain came down ....... must have been  pretty close to when I started the movie ....... Damn, I hate not knowing when sleep is here and when it isn't. ......

The next thing I know, I am in full dream mode with Tom Hardy. He is not a hard boiled police detective. He is just a working stiff and the two of us are busy parking cars in a huge, to the horizon field of tall grasses with waves of tulips here and there swaying to and fro. The cars we are parking are junkers, high end beauties, and for some reason multiples of the red Volkswagen I learned to drive in so many years ago. Figures, Tom gets to park the high end rides while I am stuck with the junkers and the many Volkswagens. Tom laughs at me as he jumps out of one beautiful car and into another. I am the sad sack watching him enjoy his job while I am seriously hating mine................

I look up the rough dirt road we use to access the field. I see the dust trail of another car being delivered by Tom. When he is maybe 75 yards away, he loses control. The damn fool always drove too fast. .... He loses control and rolls it many times. 

Because Tom is so cool and nothing ever goes wrong for him, when the Porsche stops rolling, it is back on 4 wheels and without a scratch. The car is perfect and so is Tom as he climbs out. He stands with legs spread, his hands on his hips and once again he laughs at me. He turns and begins to walk back up the road for another car. ........... As Tom disappears over the crest of the low hill, all I can come up with is, "You Fuckin Asshole".

My bladder then woke me up and now, here I am trying to write down as much as I can remember of the dream. There was more, but it hangs at the periphery refusing to take part in the tale. I can almost remember, ..... No......... Fuck it.

So there it is, an example of the "New Consciousness" I read about yesterday. Or, as I am beginning to believe, my own personal version of "Artificial Intelligence". Or is there really a world apart from our own that exists just for the dreams we come up with. Maybe Alice in Wonderland is a true story.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ................................

__________________________________

I didn't fuck around this morning finding a song. Almost immediately I thought of "Dreams", by the Cranberries". They are definitely one of my favorite bands. Dolores O'Riordan, their lead singer, was taken from us too soon. I love her voice.

Hope you enjoy the tune.

Artificial Intelligence

I shared one of those short videos that float endlessly around the Facebook pages, It showed a special rig on a boat that was used to clean barnacles off the hides of whales. I share a lot of videos and I assume many are fictional creations for consumption and not random moments of Reality caught by a smartphone. An Internet friend commented on it. He very rarely comments. He leaves likes, dislikes, laughs, surprises, or care emojis almost all the time.

When I checked the notification queue on the right, I was surprised to see he had left a comment. Usually I check the notifications starting with the oldest first and then move up the queue. This morning I opened his comment first.

No matter how careful I am , I still get sucked in by fakery, pranks, and general overall mischief at my expense on an irregular basis. I don't care about the inconsequential fun fakes. I have pulled a few legs in my time myself. But the use of trickery when it matters does bother me. I began some years ago to try to make sure what I shared regarding the serious issues of our lives, politics, religion, social justice, environmental were as above board and honest as I could. I still got burned, but not nearly as much as I used to.

And now we have to deal with A I ( Artificial Intelligence ). It's been around awhile, but recently it has infiltrated everything, Images were first. Now A I is writing stories, homework papers, creating fake news and generally creating a shitstorm out there in the information maze.

How does one trust anything they have not seen with their own eyes, felt with their own hands, or heard with their own ears as it left the lips of the person they were listening to? It's as if anything outside my mind is suspect now.

Believing my eyes and ears is on the chopping block now. Soon, I won't be able to trust even what is going on in my own brain. Of course, given my foolishness as a younger man, I learned then not to place too much trust in what was spinning around inside my cranium; especially when in the grip of one kind of substance or another.

It may just be a coincidence, but just this morning I read a brief story about dreams and how the full on dreams where we participate are more than just dreams. They are a different type of consciousness. Combine the advances in A I coming at us, it looks like we are hard into either finding alternate Realities or inventing them for ourselves. I am not so sure this is a good thing. It appears we headed for some interesting times as we deal with the Real and the Unreal. We are having a tough time dealing with the Reality we are trapped in now. What is going to happen when we have more than one to choose from?

Anyway, just some half baked thoughts I have yet to completely sort out. All I know is if I had some hallucinogens' again, I could compare Reality with the fun One I created years ago when I was young and numb.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ............................... 

_____________________________

Maybe I don't need to re-acquaint myself with psychedelics again. I just googled "Music about Artificial Intelligence". What I found was mind blowing. There were songs written by A I; also songs previously released with new A I video, and at least one group, who had A I write the song and create the video, then put their name on it. Depeche Mode at least, was up front about it. 

I spotted a great Pink Floyd tune, "Comfortably Numb". It's the original song , but with an A I generated video. Not sure how to describe the visuals other than they definitely reminded me of LSD trips form long ago.

Again, I have included both.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

I was going to research to find out who was first. What country first began interring segments of their populations in camps? I decided it really did not matter. Something told me it was a practice as old as Civilization was. Concentration camps have been around since before I was born. As far as I am concerned, that is all I need to know.

What brought this to my attention was a MEME a Hoser friend from Canada put up and passed through my Facebook feed. Oh, he is no Hoser. I just like the term, it is so Canadian. My friend is a stand up guy who more than likely spread more good than I ever did.

After considering the MEME, I decided that the point of the MEME is spot on, though one claim was not correct. 

A prison in El Salvador holds our recent deportees. Many, if not most, are held without Due Process. The hope was removing them from within our borders might remove them from our minds as well. "Out of sight, Out of mind" is a tried and true method to help folks forget the unpleasantries they are responsible for. Works for the current administration, or so they thought.

The problem with the MEME I have, is the claim the El Salvador prison is the first concentration camp created by the US government. From what I have sorted out from the mutated history spoon fed me over the years, is we started building concentration camps back in the early 1800's when Andrew "Asshole" Jackson started rounding up Native Americans and forcing them onto reservations. I guess that was better than just killing them, but it was not right then, no matter what the apologists of today would have us believe.

The solution brought about by the reservation system, with some serious genocide mixed in, was ultimately successful. White men had successfully stolen a continent from the original inhabitants and just as the Crusades were a religious excuse to extend White Power over those pesky Muslims, so was the genocide and containment of the American Indian hidden behind an excuse that used in part, the word of GOD. It was our God Blessed "Manifest Destiny" to own both coasts and everything in between. 

We had a system of control, while maybe harsh, it worked. Our country moved forward and began raping and killing the land instead of the Indians. We became a world power eventually and were able to finally pee in the tall grass with the other big dogs from across the Big Pond. 

Life was good, until it wasn't. WWl, the "War to end all Wars", should have been enough warning to the planet; that out of control Capitalism run by autocrats was a recipe for disaster. No, we needed a second lesson. WWll involved more of the planet and killed millions more people, military and civilian, than any war up to that time.

During WWll, the US government was rightfully paranoid.  There actually were enemies everywhere. We were in a two front war with two countries who were bigger assholes than we were. It was indeed a fight for survival. The rights of many people were put on hold. Roosevelt's Executive Order 9066 placed 117.000 people of Japanese descent in concentration camps. They were treated better than the Jews were, but they were still uprooted, moved and forced to live in barracks like so many other concentration camps created by Man to control populations they considered dangerous.

What this leaves me with is sadness, anger, and a feeling that America is no better than any other country. The lie we have fed ourselves for over 250 years that we embody the lofty morals and ethics created by Man for Man to aspire to, are just words. In the scheme of what is important, a country will pursue its interests without much consideration of what will result and who it will hurt. Self interest will always rule the day.

Bottom line. Nobody should be surprised at what Trump is doing. It has all been done before. And he is at best, nothing but a stupid, very stupid, copycat.

I'll stop here and get off my high horse and shovel the dung now.

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

________________________

At first, when attempting to pick a song for this post, I was sure it would be a bitch to find one I liked. I first googled, "Concentration Camp music". That was a non-starter. Everything seemed to be in Yiddish. I don't know Yiddish except for a very few Americanized words. I decided then to use the title of the post, "Out of Sight, Out of Mind" music. ......... Jackpot. 

Seems there are a sizable number of tunes with the sentiment at their core. Problem was, the first few tunes were all heart rippers: girls who had left me, boys who jilted me, Life can't go on because you will never be out of my mind, tunes.........

And then I came across George Strait's, a take you back to the good ole days of Country Music tune, "Out of Sight Out of Mind". It's tear jerker, but a good one. Old Skool country music was meant to be tear jerking music.

While I was listening to George, I noticed in the queue of next songs lined up on the right, was a great tune from an English folk punk band from ............... wait for it .......from England. I discovered them a few years back. They are political and damn good musicians. The song is "Criminal Justice".

I have included both. Enjoy. 

Diplomatic Realism ?

I recently fell down a rabbit hole comprised of a cluster fuck of ideas and attitudes regarding how international relations between countries should be run according to the new direction our current Asshole in Chief has cozied up to. Since 1998 it has been known as Diplomatic Realism,  It's about a kind of Anarchy, but at the international level.

Instead of continuing to be the planet's top dog, it appears Trump wants to break down the division of power into three spheres of influence between China, the USA and of course Russia.

It is just a new twist on the expansionist mentality that was at its zenith during Teddy Roosevelt's, "speak softly but carry a big stick" period over 100 years ago. Nowhere have I yet read where India is positioned in this division of spoils. I assume Trump takes it for granted India will fall under China's umbrella. This of course assumes there is even a plan or just the usual MAGA dumasses making shit up.

Diplomatic Realism insists a country should worry about its own self interests before all others. Forming alliances are only formed it if there is a profit of some kind for the homeland.  Doing the right thing just because it is the right thing should not be part of any relationship with any other country. 

Trump and his self-interested cronies are definitely working the diplomatic game from a hard line view of Diplomatic Realism. They want to drop alliances that do not obviously help the interests of the USA. In other words, they want to keep doing what America has been doing internationally but without the fluff and PR tokenism we have successfully used for well over 100 years. No more carrots and but in the future, much bigger sticks.

What was once American Imperialism hiding behind the curtain of altruism we used to open doors with,  blunt force will do the job if threats don't do initially. Instead of massaging the shoulders of other countries to get what we want, we plan to become just another thug country that only shares with those countries who toe our line.

Trump and his clown circus are total losers who do not understand nor care that our Nice Guy Imperialism was working like a charm. They have now exposed the USA for the assholes we have been for years. Yeah, we have done good, major good over the years. In the end it has been for our benefit first and foremost. And that is as it should be. Finding a non-violent solution to national security is certainly the smarter move than flinging bombs and entrenching troops in thankless and stupid conflicts, uh ...oh wait, okay, okay, so we blew it a few times, but hey, we are only human and we meant well........ cough, cough.

Regardless of what we used to do diplomatically or what stupidity we used to unleash on any country we thought deserved it, it appears the Trump administration, along with his clown parade we know as Congress, have positioned themselves to up the ante and drop any notion of civility when dealing with other countries. The posturing, muscle flexing and intimidation in my opinion is the first evidence that even the Right is now aware our dominance is on the way out. They don't want to face the music. Eventually, they will have to. I just hope they don't hasten our downfall with the stupidity they have planned over the next few years.

Anyway, just a few thoughts on a subject I have only just recently set my mind to. I am sure once I think I have a better understanding of Diplomatic Realism and its possibilities, I will make adjustments to what I just wrote the next time I feel the need to bring up the subject.

Until then, please keep it 'tween the ditches ................................

__________________________________

A song that wonderfully describes America's Imperialistic tendencies is , "America", written and recorded by Tracy Chapman. Her unique voice, musicianship and wonderful way with lyrics caught my attention back in the 1990s. "America" was slammed hard by the loud mouth Wingers of the day back then; proof that the Right's tendency to hate the truth is part and parcel of how they view the world they think they own.

Anyway, enjoy.

The Wound Licking Phase is Over.

Just what I needed; another political group page inviting my participation in their Trump hate-fest. I actually considered not joining as preaching to a choir of Trump haters is not necessarily a good thing when I am trying to scale back my blood pressure and angst over the absolute cluster fuck that America has become under the wings of  Trump and the Right. ................

Well, I have to be who I am. I am a political junkie. I was was raised in a dyed in the wool Black Republican family who insisted that not paying attention to the government was almost treasonous. And even though I turned my back on the Right many, many years ago, I can't help thinking my family was right about paying attention to government. After all, not paying attention by too many dumasses has created what we have today; a totally dysfunctional government being run by a madman and and a gutless stupid group of sycophants.

This new Face Book group, "My political Voice" is a Libtard haven where the choir seems only interested in venting their anger and disappointment over where the country is today. I am not faulting them as , I am also still in full shock mode and not even close to a complete venting. I assume I will only stop when either Trump and the GOP implode completely or I become ashes to be scattered over Blue Job Preserve at some date yet to be determined.

A question meme popped up with a picture of some of the big dogs of the Democratic party. The question pasted at the top of the group photo was "Who's our best hope for 2028?"

My knee jerk reaction was, "What the ...?" This is too soon. The Licking Wounds phase is not over yet. But after some consideration, maybe five months of wringing our hands and our own versions of the "woe is me" performances is long enough; maybe too long. 

This meme was not whining over what was already done, but a meme that is looking forward. Looking forward is what we need to do. Making plans to undermine the testicular vice grip the GOP has on our country's balls is more important than pissing and moaning about how unfair, stupid and evil the mean people on the Right are. Accept that they are evil and have no interest other than power. Funnel our anger into defeating them. This meme is a start.

Instead of picking one of the choices, my comment on which pol would be my choice went:

"Depends on whether the Democrats want to win or just make a statement like they did this last election. Certainly any of the above choices would be better than anyone the Right puts up. But who really has a chance to be elected when morons are making the call? Hope doesn't win elections, but fear and loathing seems to work like a charm."

But if I had to pick a potential candidate for President, I would pick my governor, Janet Mills. She is as hard nosed a pol as has ever come down the pike. She has already crossed swords with the Orange Shit Gibbon. She still stands tall and won't back down. Plain spoken and smart, our country would be in good hands with her at the helm.

As much as I would love to see her in the White House, sadly, she is 77 years old. It is time for a younger candidate. It is time for a candidate who can play the game the same as the Right. No holds barred and in their face. Winning the White House means winning over the idiots, as it seems they are in control now.

So, if I had to choose one of the above pols to run, I would have to by-pass my favorites, Pete, Corey, Kamala, and Beto and go with the blandest looking white man on the page, probably Gov. Newsom. But no matter who the Left picks, you can bank on my support. Anyone but a Republican. And that is so sad. I didn't used to think that way.

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

_________________________

I wish I had discovered this tune before the election. I didn't, so better late than not at all will have to do. This is, I assume, a homegrown video using the music of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody". The lyrics, they came up with themselves. Everyone can carry a tune. That is not so in my family. 

Please retroactively enjoy, "Bohemian Trumpsody", by the Marsh Family.

Playing for Change

I joined Facebook quite a few years ago. I have tried other social platforms, but so far, none have set any hooks in me. Facebook suits me just fine. Yeah, it is often frustrating dealing with the arbitrary and stupid rules that come out of the blue. But for the most part, as far as I am concerned, the problems for me are minimal.

Facebook, in cahoots with You Tube, have provided me a means to to expand my love of music to levels I have never considered were available before. 

Not even the early days when I danced around my bedroom to Buddy Holly and the Everly Brothers or later when I danced around high on Acid to Led Zeppelin or Vanilla Fudge, did music affect me like it does today. Facebook / You Tube opened a door to music I never knew was out there. The last 15 years have been an audio paradise for me.

Many of my old fart peers contend the good music stopped once the planet entered the 1980s.

Bullshit. There is more great music out there than ever before. So much good new music worth listening to, I will never have enough time to find and hear it all. If someone claims there is no decent music anymore, well, they are talking out of their asses. There is music flowing back and forth to all parts of the world and back again; sometimes with regional twists that improve the tune in subtle and not so subtle ways. 

The problem is seeing the forest but not noticing the trees. The Internet brought so many new trees into our smaller worlds that it is overwhelming for many of of us contrary old farts. Stuck in our ways, opening our minds to anything new seem fruitless. Listening to "Stairway to Heaven", "War Pigs", or maybe "Tie a Yellow Ribbon around the Old Oak tree" is more than enough musical pleasure, thank you very much. Besides, there ain't any good new music, right?

The non-profit group "Playing for Change" has been around over 20 years now. Their stated goal is "Peace Through Music". Incorporating musicians and artists from all over the planet, they produce music they hope will unite us instead of separate us. Music and Art is maybe the greatest unifying force humans have at our disposal. It's a damn pity more of us don't incorporate more of it into our lives.

Without any more words, please enjoy this fine rendition of  Robert Johnson's great Blues tune, "Crossroads". Check out the many talented contributing artists from far flung areas of the world. Play it loud and be proud. That's American music being shared.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ................................

_________________________

Dark Corner

Been gone awhile. There is no specific reason other than being completely disgusted with Americans and what they have allowed to happen in recent years. Tired of the insanity I guess.

Anyway, here is a tune from a group I had never heard of until I heard them while watching the twisted SciFi series "CowBoy BeBop" on Netflix. If you have ever read Old Skool Sci/Fi pulp from the 1950s and 60s, this series will feel familiar. It's a hoot. The real star of the series though is the music. It is awesome.

Okay. The ice has finally been broken ....... again. When I step back from this blog, it is always because something is not right , something is askew, Life is too uneven, too off keel for me.

I withdraw, retire to the internal sanctuary I created as a child when family dysfunctions became too much; too ugly; too dark. My remedies were many; marathon reading and hours spent creating my own worlds. Staying outside until hunger or the dark forced me back in the house. Building a wall with childhood diversions, dreams, and what ifs until my anger or fear of the current family upheaval dissipated.

Beginning to write again is a sign another dark corner has been successfully turned. The dark corner returns to idle mode and patiently waits for me to face it again. The corner is not concerned if I will face it again. It knows I will always come up against it again; I always have. A kind of Yin and Yang cycle I guess. ............ There needs to be balance. It is a constant struggle.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ..........................................

___________________________

Here is "Too Good Too Bad", by The Seatbelts ...................... If you like horns, you just might like this.

A Safe Kitty Picture

Anyone following me on Facebook might notice that I regularly change the cover photo and my profile image. There is no rhyme or reason, I just get bored of the same old images. So once a month, on or near the first, I shit can the old and bring in something new. Sometimes it's an ego building image, but most times the images are totally random.

I do the same with the screensaver images on my computer. This morning I felt inspired to pick a new one. I uploaded from my hodge podge of images, several that just did not fit the bill.

One of them is an image I found some years ago of a group of nuns taking a group selfie in front of Michelangelo's statue of David. I thought at the time it was the funniest picture I have ever downloaded and when I ran across it this morning, I agreed with my first assessment. It makes me laugh every time.

I decided I wouldn't use it for a screensaver because well, looking at David's testicles every time I flip on the computer or change apps; that has no draw for me. Maybe if his boobs were bigger .... but that is neither her nor there; I decided too go with the picture of Felix looking out the big window in the kitchen. Seeing him everyday will remind me just how much I miss the obnoxious little asshole.

The image to the right is what I consider the funniest photo I have ever downloaded. I am not putting it at the top because I am afraid Facebook will now not allow it as a lead  to my post. Just yesterday they refused to allow a picture of a old field weapon at my high school accompany the first few words of a post titled "The Indoor Gun Range".

Hmm ............. Didn't Zuckerberg just recently embrace the notion of total free speech and said FB will no longer flag the lies the Winger assholes have always published regardless of his supposed concern for facts over Bullshit?

Anyway, I decided the nuns deserved another chance in the limelight, even the small one that is "Lost in the BoZone". Their faces are so joyous. They are having an evil good time and fuck the Pope, proving even some tight asses of religion will occasionally let their hair down.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ..............................

____________________

I tried to look past the song that immediately came into my head. I struggled to find some reason not to use it. It is not because I hate the song; actually I like it. It's just that I think I have leaned on it before on some post or rant about my total disgust with organized religion. But because I am, at heart, fairly lazy and I do absolutely have to go to the dump today, here is "Losing My Religion", by REM.

The Indoor Gun Range

The memory of my first LSD trip at my old high school in Maryland stirred up some memories I had forgotten.

Charlotte Hall Military Academy had been a fixture in St. Mary's County, Maryland for  194 years when I first attended. The student body was comprised of some legacy cadets, a few local boys, some troubled kids, some kids who caused trouble, and kids parents just wanted to park somewhere out of the way. I know I felt parked that first year, but I guess I fell into the "Kids who caused trouble category". I had been booted out of the Montgomery County public system after 9th grade.

Strict military regimen was the heart and soul of the school. Life on campus followed a strict schedule. We marched, wore military uniforms, shot M-1 rifles and often marched with those rifles on a penalty track to work off demerits we had accumulated while doing what teen aged boys do, fucking off or fucking up. My first year went by uneventfully except for some minor hazing all new K-dets received their first year. I learned quickly to keep my head down. I finished that sophomore year actually looking forward to going back. I wonder now if the attraction of rules that were not fluid, not up to interpretation might have had something to do with it. The rules and punishments were clearly delineated. I knew where I stood.

The local State Police troop did not have their own indoor gun range to use. From time to time, they borrowed the one on campus located in the basement of the pool building. They would show up in cruisers and personal rides and spend an evening firing side arms. 

I don't know who thought up the prank we played on them. I seem to remember Snake as the one who came up with the idea. But there were at least 3 of us who participated. 

I was a junior at the time. Juniors were not allowed to smoke tobacco on campus. Getting caught smoking or possessing tobacco could mean 25 demerits; more, if we were repeat offenders. Hiding butts in packs was tough to do when inspections happened at the drop of a hat. So I began to roll my own cigarettes. I could hide the tobacco and papers easier than a carton of butts. 

I also had some flavored papers for the occasional joints we might smoke. If memory serves, the ones I had were strawberry flavored, so they were red. I rolled up a few skinny tobacco filled joints. We smoked them down to roach length. Then while the State cops were busy having fun shooting up the basement of the pool building, we put the tobacco roaches under some of the windshield wipers of their cruisers.

None of us hung around to see the reaction, but the next day there was an investigation. I understand that some seniors were questioned because the range was very close to the Senior Smoker in that section of the campus. There were 2 Senior Smoking areas, one behind the New Barracks and one next to the Old Barracks and maybe 50 to 75 feet from the gun range.

I can't verify, but the rumor was, the cops had the roaches tested. Of course they tested for tobacco. The investigation closed almost as soon as it started. I hope the cops got a chuckle out of it. I know I sure did.

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

____________________________

Once again, thinking of a song to go with a post is finding only a blank space where inspiration usually resides.

I used to sing this song so badly off key at age 7 or 8, my parents banned me from ever singing it within their earshot. They definitely regretted allowing me to buy the 45. But damn, I was a burgeoning cowpoke. I had a six gun, a cowboy hat, and several cowboy shirts like Roy Rodgers wore. This song oozed the West I learned to love from movies and TV.

The picture is me playing stud poker with Black Bart (Pam, my baby sitter and it was probably "Go Fish").

Here is Marty Robbins and his chart topping, "El Paso".

Mind Numbing Existence

 "New Lee Highway Blues" is a blue grass song by David Bromberg. Recorded in the1970s, it is one of songs that made me a Bluegrass fan for life and a forever fan of David's. The song is about how tough living on the road while playing music gigs here, there, and everywhere. I did not appreciate the song for its lyrics until I too, went on tour driving Rock n Roll equipment from one end of this continent to the other.

Most of my job played out at night. Load out at the end of gig after midnight, drive hard and fast to the next gig to unload for a morning stage call. Grab some sleep, a few moments of fun maybe, and be back at the gig that night ready to back in the trailer and do it all over again, pounding another super slab hoping dawn comes sooner than later. 

I have tried to calculate the number of gigs I hauled to, but I can't. They often just ran by in a blur while I tried to maintain control. More often than not, I needed the tour itinerary to remind where I was, where I was headed, and where I had been. It could be and often was, a mind numbing existence. 

A lyric in the song succinctly sums up the grind that Touring was for me:

Nowhere to go from here but up or down the road

And nothing over there but the same goddamned town

Take home pay was pitiful, but the excitement more than made up for it. My highs and lows never again reached the intensity levels they often hit while driving for SHOWCO. The absolute joy of walking out onto a stage before the gig and looking at close to 100,000 Rock fans, then settling in behind a huge speaker stack, stage right, and hearing them roar when the Who make their entrance.  Just fuckin awesome, just awesome. 

The other side of the coin, being busted for cocaine and spending a week in jail. Never had I been lower than that night at the Fleetwood Mac concert in Michigan when those cop hands grabbed me, cuffed me and tossed me in the back of a squad car.

All in all, I prefer to remember the good times, but remembering the bad always reminds me the Road was a fickle bitch. I never knew what to expect. So I learned to expect it all and deal with it. The joys and pleasures of the Road along with the failures and pain keep my memories grounded in the real world, and keep my delusions of grandeur from getting out of hand.

Two plus years I did this. Two plus years I lived on truck stop food, Green room grub and the very occasional 4 or 5 star meal I would never forget. From the seedy and seamy truck stops to the penthouse high pockets lifestyle the rich Hip take for granted, I saw and experienced it all. But always, always the mind numbing experience reminded me, as I tried to locate the next hall, I might be a small cog in very big machine; without my kind, the show wouldn't go on.

Keep your Rubber Side Down and your Sunny Side Up ..............................

___________________________

Answering Pipe's Pot Question

I opened my big mouth in a previous post, "Licking the Spoon" and one of my good Internet friends jumped on it and innocently asked in the comment section:

"So, you say each (pot) smoking method is a bit different. Tell me what you find different when smoking marijuana in a pipe compared to other routes."

"Pipe" is a college professor who has been a good internet friend for twenty or so years. He has often voiced an interest in my pot consumption as he has never personally tried pot. Being a college professor, his inquisitive mind has always asked some difficult questions for me to answer. This is one. Maybe it shouldn't be, but it is.

Instead of answering him with a more comprehensive answer in the comments section, I will answer him in today's post

The Pot Culture of the America I grew up in had its beginnings in private social settings. They were private because, well, Pot was illegal and in some states getting busted could mean serious jail time. Right out of the gate, my favorite way to consume Pot was and still is with friends, enemies, strangers on the street. I love the passing of the pipe, the joint, the bong. Many times, getting high is not even the point. It is the group sharing time that pleases me.

But that does not answer Pipe's question. .... Not really.

The first time I smoked pot, it was out of a tobacco pipe Snake's Uncle Charlie had thrown away. The years old tobacco taste ruined any thought of getting high. Plus the pot turned out to not be pot, just some leaves from the woods we dried in an oven. We thought it was pot. It was not. All we got for all that effort were severe headaches.

That first experience was quickly forgotten when Snake and I bought some joints from a local kid in Bethesda. He was a Senior in high school, we were punk-ass junior high schoolers. We went over to the NIH campus across Old Georgetown road and hid in some bushes near the Chimp building to smoke. We hung out there sometimes in the summer because the Chimps were often in cages outside or rather inside with their garage doors open. They were a hoot to watch.

So my first bake was from smoking a joint. To this day, it remains my favorite. Properly rolled joints are the most convenient package to carry pot in, I only need a lighter or a book of matches to make the magic happen. There is no extraneous equipment to carry to possibly lose or break. The downside of a joint though is it is the least efficient means to get high.

Then there are pipes. Hands down, a more efficient and potentially frugal way to smoke pot. Depending on the pipe system, a small amount can hit way above its weight when compared to the same hit off a joint. There are so many variations of the pipe systems, I will just say my favorites are a simple pipe that has never had tobacco in it. 

I still have quite a collection of pipes dating back to the 1960s. My favorites are the ones pictured to the right. The wooden one was given to me by a girlfriend in college. The metal one I bought at a Head Shop. Both are well over 50 years old and intended for smoking Hash, I like them because besides smoking hash with them, they are great for small pulls of pot. They are not pipes that pass around a circle well. Not enough capacity. On those occasions a joint is much better. Using a larger capacity pipe invites packing like a tobacco pipe is packed. Too much doob being burned can become less pleasant as the bowl burns down. Even if using a larger pipe, a screen inside closer to the top is advised. The taste and quality of the smoke improves dramatically.

Moving on now. 

Bongs came on the scene 60 plus years ago. My first bong, I made for myself. It worked well for awhile but then I dropped it and the base plate cracked. It began to leak. There is not a much better way to deliver a lung busting hit than with a bong, if punishing your lungs seems an attractive idea. I can take or leave them; but mostly leave them. They have a level of maintenance I just cannot abide. Bong water left unchanged is the nastiest liquid on the planet. They break easily and are a bitch to clean. I still have one I bought at a head shop in Towson, Maryland back in the day. I broke it and repaired it and then put it away somewhere. I haven't been able to find it for over 30 years now. I would like to find it because it is ceramic and shaped like a dragon.

Then I guess I should mention waterpipes, or hookahs, as the hash smoking ones of the Middle East are called. Absolutely the smoothest smoking, but the least portable. I once built a 4 chamber water pipe. Why would I do that, you might ask? Well, because I could and at the time I was all about finding new ways to ingest my favorite substance. My infatuation lasted an even shorter period of time than my use of bongs.

The absolute most efficient bang for the buck ingestion of Cannabis is eating it. Not eating the buds, but the processed THC that can be extracted from it. No smoke in the lungs, no THC loss because of smoke not ingested. Hands down the healthiest way to use it, if anyone would call ingesting cannabis healthy. My wife loves the edibles I make. She gets her helping dose without any coughing. But for me, smoking a joint is the best.

It is time I buttoned this post up. I could definitely go on ... and on ... and on. If Pipe has any questions now, I will answer them in private.

Ya'll have a good day now, hear .........................

_____________________________

There are a gajillion songs about smoking Cannabis. The earliest song I know of  and like is Cab Calloway's "Reefer Man" recorded in 1932. But my absolute favorite song about pot is "Don't Bogart that Joint", originally recorded by Fraternity of Man that was used in the movie, "Easy Rider".

Best pot song ever.

IN- A-GADDA-DA-VIDA

I once listened to Iron Butterfly's, "IN- A-GADDA-DA-VIDA" over and over and over ..... and over while I tripped on LSD for the first time. It was the Spring of 1969. I was16, almost 17. I don't remember them now, but I had thoughts I was positive would change the world. ....... Okay, so what if I forgot them as soon as I came down. At least I touched base with their greatness for a few hours.

Psychedelics did change me. I spent many days during the next few years high on Acid, Psilocybin, or Peyote, whose psychoactive ingredient is Mescaline.

There was a period Snake and I took many trips in a row. We had bought 300 hits of Purple Micro Dot at 25 cents a hit. Our base price was 75 cents a hit or 3 hits for 2 bucks. And some, er actually a lot of some, we gave away. We put a bit of cash back in our pockets and ate the rest like candy. They lasted quite awhile. Towards the end of the supply, we had built up a tolerance so high, it took 8 or 9 hits to get us off. They were not as powerful per hit as say, the Orange Barrels or Strawberry Acid floating around at the time. For first time trippers or the weekend warriors,  we recommended a 2 or 3 hit dose.

The chip on my shoulder I had carried for so long as a very angry punk seemed to fall by the wayside once I began to eat acid. Yeah, I credit those experiences for calming me down some. Made the transition from trouble maker to a productive adult in the future go a lot smoother.

I remember clearly how the music of "IN- A-GADDA-DA-VIDA" created colors in waves ( I found soon, they were called "trails") that  followed my hand movements and sync'd so well with the beat of the song. It was awesome. 

Never had I seen the world through such a different lens. I wore my face out laughing and grinning so much. in order to regain some control, I went outside behind the barracks. I remember getting on my hands and knees with my face inches away from an ant hill. I watched those little bastids for what seemed like forever. All the while, "IN- A-GADDA-DA-VIDA" continued to blast through the open window in Snake's room on the ground floor of the New Barracks at Charlotte Hall Military Academy.

Playing this 17 minute tune for several hours was a physical experience I was able to repeat with other songs while on Acid. But never was the impact more guttural and soul shaking as that first trip listening to Iron Butterfly.

The last times I tripped were in the early 1990s. I was rummaging around some old stuff from my days as a single man. I found a hit and a half of some Orang Barrels I had stashed from a bigger batch I had bought in the mid 1970s. I split them with Bill on July 4th. I figured their potency would be off as they were almost 20 years old at that point. I was pleasantly surprised. Bill and I got wasted so hard, all we could do was walk around the celebrations and milling crowds down in Sanford. I am sure we had goofy looks on our faces. Since I owned a bike shop in town, I was always running into customers and their kids. I remember laughing quite a bit. No one asked if I was alright, so I guess we hid our condition pretty well.

Bill never tripped again. He enjoyed it, but it was more of a bucket list item for him. One and done.

I was not quite done with psychedelics yet. I think it was the next summer when a friend and I went mountain bike touring up around Flagstaff Lake in the Carrabassett Valley, up country Maine. My friend brought some Psilocybin mushrooms, or "Shrooms" as they are referred to by the tragically hip. It was an awesome time, though not quite as intense as the previous LSD experience at the 4th of July party on and around Number One Pond in Sanford.

I have been thinking more and more about ways to cope with the madness that currently has our country by the short hairs. One thought would be to escape. The option of a physical escape is out of the question. I love my country too much. I could escape into the darkest depths of depression that are always lurking around my corners. But no, that is a misery I will do almost anything to avoid. Then I thought about my days of carefree existence. The days when I wasn't angry; the days when I didn't feel trapped by the many chains out there that look to hook us up. Those were the days I experienced an altered state I now wonder why I stopped.

I can think of no better time in my life than now. I am retired and am not overly concerned about having a bad trip as when I was young, numb and new to the drug. I never did have a freak out kind of bad trip. I always kept at least a pinky or toe in the real world. I would expect, should I do it again, my reaction would be the same. 

It's time to get back on that wagon. .......... Wish me luck.

___________________________

The only song that will do of course for today's post is the full version of Iron Butterfly's,  "IN- A-GADDA-DA-VIDA". If I close my eyes hard, I can still sometimes see hints of the trails I was so fond of back in the day.