FOE

I am not even sure what the dream's initial intent was. It had been in play for awhile. The few moments of the scene I remembered overwhelmed the rest of the story. And it is odd, but once again, it was the final words spoken to me that ended it and caused my eyes to open.

I stepped out of a townhouse that had a front yard made up of fresh asphalt instead of the classic small city patch of green set next to a crumbling concrete strip driveway. My boss; that is I assume he was my boss, was bent down next to the driver's side of a big black four door sedan parked behind our company van. He stood up and signaled me to come over. As I passed the sedan, I could not really see what was inside because of the tinted windows. I could tell however, the car was full of people.

Before I could pass the car, the passenger door opened and a tall black guy stepped out. He was wearing a long black robe , a beard, and a black Fez with no tassel. He turned on me as if surprised. Emblazoned on his Fez in gold were the letters FOE. A horizontal line cut through the O. He glared at me, turned back and walked to our company van. The sliding door opened and he got in. 

The brief moment the car door was open gave me a good look inside the car. In the back seat four more huge people in black robes sat crammed in shoulder to shoulder. All of them were staring straight ahead in silence. All four wore black Fez hats, only two had veils draped over their face. I immediately assumed these were the ladies of their group. The driver wore an all white robe but had on the same FOE Fez as the others.

I rounded the front of the car and stopped. Facing this huge automobile, I noted the resemblance to the Mercedes Benz's of my youth, only instead of the classic Mercedes Benz symbol sticking out of the hood, the hood now sported the same gold letters inside a circle of black found on the Fez's everyone was wearing.

My boss finished his conversation with the driver and turned to me. "Stay here and keep these folks amused. I will be right back." 

Without another word he walked to our company van, got in and drove off. Always eager to please, I approached the still open driver's window with a broad smile and some serious small talk to share.

"So, how do you like this car?"

No response. I followed up with, "It is a beauty."

The driver turned to me wearing a very unfriendly face under that black Fez with the letters FOE pasted on the front. His dark eyes cut right through me.

"I like this car much more than I like you."

................... That is when I woke up. 

BTW, I only share this dream because I remembered it in such detail. I figure that writing it down might add some understanding to the dream. Most times, like now, it did not help to write it down.

Oh Well ........ Keep it 'tween the ditches .....................................

___________________________

This song planted hard before I even finished the post. A long ago tune from my past. Here is "All I have to do is dream", by The Everly Brothers - from 1958. I was six years old.

Feliz Navidad

After taking some time away from the noise and confusion of the world outside my small patch, I decided that instead of another bitch and complain post or another trip down memory lane, I would just follow the lead of so many folks who turn this time of the year to counting blessings.

I admit that counting my blessings is hit or miss with me. It is even worse when counting the blessings of others. And I have always shied away from assuming Life is a bowl of cherries for anyone. 

We all put up with negativity in our lives; some self inflicted, much of it not. It is often easier to stop looking forward with an open heart and open mind. Yet, that is what I am bound and determined to try to do this year. My record is not great. But this is the season from which Hope springs, even if it isn't for eternity.

So instead of counting blessings, as there are far too many to note; instead, just savor those blessings for what they are, what they were and what they might become in the future.

Happy Holidays to all out there on the other side of my horizon.  ........  Merry Christmas! .....Feliz Navidad! ........  And of course Happy Hanukkah.  

If I missed someone, oh well. Just borrow one of the other sentiments. No one will mind.

 Tis the season to un-bunch our panties.

________________________

My favorite Christmas song has to be "Feliz Navidad" by Jose Feliciano 

The New Cat - Next Chapter

Squiggle turned around, sat down and faced the field of battle.

"Yesssssss ...... I have successsssssfully hisssssssed and slasssshed my way to the top."

" They will now heed my every beck and call."

"Today, the Macrum Home."

"Tomorrow ............ "

Squiggle paused in her reverie; licked some blood from her left paw and yawned.

"Tomorrow ........... the World."

"But right now ........... it'ssssssss nap time."

_____________________

Music for this post .............. "Stray Cat Strut", by The Stray Cats.

The New Cat

I have shared my life and my home with many fur buddies over the last forty plus years. Six dogs and too many cats to remember at the age of 70 have puked, shit, and torn up our home from time to time over that period. For every irritating stupid pet trick they pulled, I still came back for more. Pets, no, I can't call them pets; ..... my diminutive four legged fur buddies have enriched my life and probably when it is all said and done and I sit in an urn on the mantel as a pile of crusty dust , well, someone may just note that the furry members of my family kept me sane when I needed to be the most.

Which brings me to the new cat.

We went through a period twenty plus years ago or so when we were fostering momma kitties and sick kittens. At the time we had I am guessing, 8 or 9 other full time feline inmates we called our own. It was a madhouse of too many litter boxes and never ending barf detail. My wife, the accountant, can give you more precise numbers, but let's just say we were tripping over the little bastids. And contrary to the image that I am a contrary ole fart, I was loving Life. Bring em on.

We found our limit. Told ourselves no more new cats. We successfully abstained from adoption or fostering until there was only one cat and one dog left. I reveled in the fact that we now only had one litter tray and the random acts of barfing had become almost non-existent.

But, the quiet and solitude would not last. After three years, neither my wife nor I were happy with just the two critters. We were happiest I guess when the house had more feet zooming around.

I waited for my wife to kick the new pet notion into gear. I waited because if it didn't pan out I wanted to not be the one who had suggested it ........ Nah, I waited for her because I knew she would not be able to stand it. She lasted longer than I thought she would.

Once the idea of a new cat had settled in, she began the online search for one from the available kitties at the NH humane Society where my daughter is the Projects and Program Manager. 

She found a female cat she thought might be good. Named "Squiggle", she was two years old and all black. Black cats don't get adopted as fast as other cats. 

So. we get her home and my wife has come up with a detailed plan to ease Squiggle into our small community. We'll keep her isolated for a time and then slowly introduce her to Maggie and Felix, AKA Peanut, AKA, Little Asshole.This sane introduction lasted two days and then anarchy ensued. 

Maggie likes cats and apparently Squiggle is familiar with dogs and their stupid ways, so nothing more than some warning hisses that Maggie was all to happy to honor. The problems came when Felix and Squiggle had their first face to face.

We had been concerned about Felix attacking Squiggle as he is a tom and tends to strut around like he is some kind of badass. Now mind you, Felix might weigh in at an impressive 7 pounds. Squiggle might hit 5 pounds. Just to look at them, neither was intimidating in any way. 

The first day barriers were cast aside, it did not take long to hear hissing and growling of the kind we know is probably accompanied by claws out slashing. Just as I stand up, Felix comes barreling downstairs while Squiggle sits at the top of the stairs looking demur and cute. She turns around and heads back to her throne on a dresser in the bedroom. 

My little buddy is crushed now. His ego has been bruised and he knows Squiggle is the boss and he is just another asshole under her paw.

We have been through this kind of realignment several times in our past. Sadly Felix, AKA Peanut, AKA, Little Asshole has not. It's been 3 days now and he is still sulking.

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

_____________________________

I am getting better at finding tunes for my posts. Of course, now that I have begun bragging, my next choice will hide for hours. ......... Anyway, today's tune is "Bohemian Catsody". Not sure who arranged it. Enjoy!

A Twisted Happy Thanksgiving

Everyone looked up when Gramps limped in dragging a large bundle wrapped in black plastic. He dragged it over near the stove, dropped the rope and turned towards the expectant faces focused on him.

“Everyone; this year we feast. ……. Ma, I was able to get through the fence. Got a fat kill this year.”

GranMa got right to work. Signaling her youngest to help her, the two of them lifted the bundle and placed it on the picnic table that now served this clan as their table for every purpose.

“Well Jeb, wouldn’t take much to do better ‘n last year. That pitiful kill didn’t amount to shit once the bones had been picked out. …. Barely a decent bite for each of us.

She pulled a huge knife from the space between table planks and began cutting away the plastic.

Gramps scowled at GranMa and stumbled towards his chair. Settling in with a series of grunts and groans, he reached for his pipe.

“Woman, you know last year weren’t my fault, I was laid up. You sent little Jackie out. He did fine considerin you wouldn’t even give him a knife.”

“Fool kid woulda lost it and we only have three left. He did alright I guess. But that squirrel was kinda scrawny.”

Jackie looked up at Grandma with vacant eyes.

“Yeah Grandma, I kilt that squirrel with a rock…knocked him right out of that tree.”

GranMa did not hear Jackie. She was intent on unwrapping the fat kill Gramps was bragging about. She had cut through the line and wrap. She gasped as she peeled back the plastic. Stepping back quickly she brought her hand to her mouth.

“What’s the matter GranMa? What did Gramps bring us for Thanksgiving?”

GranMa shifted her eyes toward Gramps.

“You say you got through the fence? What fence? Not the one around the Big House?”

Gramps had by this time found his tobacco, stuffed it in his pipe and was creating quite a cloud around himself.

Yep. That would be the fence I got through alright. He pointed his pipe at the creature spread out on the picnic table.

He walked into me. How could I resist? Look at him with those fat legs. You cook him up right and we eat fine for the next coupla weeks, okay?

GranMa looked back at the critter she was supposed to cook and then back at Gramps.

“You know we could be in for it if they come lookin.”

“They won’t. You know that.”

GranMa looked at Gramps hard, squinted and pointed a crooked finger at him.

“How do you know old man? ,,,,,,, No one’s ever killed one of their kids.”

______________________________

Happy Turkey Day Everyone! Not sure where this story came from ...... oh yeah. Recently on a TV series called "White Chapel", one of the sleazy characters had cooked a proboscis monkey. Obviously the image and scene stuck with me. Couldn't resist. 

Music today is a nice little ditty by Psychostick/Slipknot - " Give Thanks or Die ". Not your usual music of Thanksgiving. But it is somehow appropriate given the story above.

The Bridge

Mark stepped out of Home Room into the noise and confusion of a school hallway between classes. He did not hesitate. He now knew where his first class was. He turned right and merged with the kids heading deeper into John Hanson Junior High's labyrinth of tight hallways connecting cramped classrooms. The old school was busting at the seams lately what with all the new residential construction going on in Oxon Hill, Maryland.

Jimmy G and his crew stopped Mark near the boys bathroom next to the gym. Jimmy puffed up his chest and shoved Mark hard. His entourage of Elvis haired bad ass wannabe's tightened their circle around Mark. Their Ban-Lon shirts were seriously tucked into thin belted sharply creased Big Mac work pants that almost, but not quite, touched their perfect high top black Chuck Taylor sneakers. They were the local equivalent of ultra cool. They ruled the halls at John Hansen

"Jack here says you called me a punk. .... Right Jack?"

The cro-magnon buddy towering over Jimmy mumbled, "Uh, that's right Jimmy. He said you were a punk ass greaser."

Jimmy squinted at Mark and smiled. "So, what do you say asshole? Did you call me a punk?"

Mark had had his share of these new kid in school encounters over the last 7 or 8 years. He sighed and looked down at this scrawny excuse of a school yard bully. He could almost write the script for the next day or two in his life. 

Punk gets in the new kid's face and challenges him. New kid considers what to do. Does the punk have back up? If so, it won't matter if the punk is bad ass or not. His crew will have their way. Mark decided to speed the process along.The encounter was going to happen regardless. Sooner was better than later.

"Shit Jimmy, I guess I must have called you a punk ass greaser, if that is what Jack here said."

Jimmy's smile faded and his eyes opened up some. He had not counted on this answer. For a moment he was stuck for something to say.

Mark didn't miss this opportunity to press harder. "So what do we do now Jimmy? Get into a fight? And if so, where? I am the new kid. I don' know shit."

Jimmy hesitated. This moment of intimidation had not gone down as planned. He stepped back and poked a puny finger at Mark. "The Bridge - right after school. Your ass is mine."

Jimmy G and his small band of cronies shuffled away, occasionally turning and throwing dangerous glares in Mark's direction. Mark shrugged and headed to class.

"The Bridge" was found on the 1000 yard path that ran through a small strip of woods separating John Hansen Junior High from Oxon Hill High. It spanned Carey Branch, a small creek that spilled into the Potomac River a couple of miles away near Indian Head. It was also a gathering spot for the derelicts who attended both schools. They would gather, smoke cigarettes, sometimes drink, hassle the girls walking through and pick on whatever boy they felt needed it that day. It was often an unpleasant gauntlet for any student outside their clique.

Mark was one such student who found it unpleasant. But he used the path because otherwise walking home the long way would add 15 minutes to his journey. So far, all he had suffered while passing the bridge were some dirty looks, some smirks and a few "Hey New Kid, you suck dicks". Mark also used the bridge because he had learned that to walk in fear would only make his time here in Oxon Hill more difficult. Experience taught him that standing up and taking what came was the fastest way for any intimidation or bullying to stop. It had been his experience bullies did not long pick on people who resisted. Today was to be the day the bullies decided to mess with him. Mark was actually surprised it had taken them so long to tag him for attention. The new school year was in its 3rd week.

Mark was not immune to fear. He was anxious and uptight as he walked through the ball fields to the path that led to the bridge. His palms began to sweat the closer he came to Bridge. He accepted he might take a beating of some kind and was determined to get  it over with. His only problem was how to respond to Jimmy G's assaults. Jimmy was a true runt. Not a dwarf maybe. But if he didn't grow anymore, he would become one. Mark in all his five foot-eight grandeur, towered over jimmy G by 12" at least.

Still undecided about what to do as he came up to the Bridge, he needn't have worried. The decision was made for him. Jimmy broke out of the gaggle of Greasers standing around smoking cigarettes. Jimmy came fast, only giving Mark a second to set his feet. He smacked Mark in the mouth. The appropriate "Whoa's" and "You get him Jimmy" comments rose from the gaggle as they began to encircle the pair.

Jimmy had miscalculated. His blow barely moved Mark's face. Mark looked down at Jimmy. Instead of hitting him, he shoved Jimmy hard enough to knock him off his feet. The Gaggle went quiet and their circle tightened.

"I don't want to fight Jimmy. Fighting is stupid."

Jimmy stood up. "So you are calling me stupid, huh punk?"

Mark looked around. He noticed some bigger kids wearing the same Ban Lon shirt, Big Mac pants outfits hovering over the inner ring of Jimmy's friends. He assumed they were early departing high school kids who also used the Bridge as a go to hangout. They looked mean and ready to tear Mark apart. One of them shouldered his way through the younger punks and faced Mark.

"Jimmy's my brother asshole. He's a pain in my ass, but I won't let anyone hurt him." He dropped his head to Mark's level. "Got it  asshole?"

Mark did not respond. He knew that with all his previous experience as the "New Kid", this one was turning out to be nothing like he envisioned. For the first time, he was scared; really scared. There were a lot of kids sporting hair grease and Chuck Taylors here. They looked ready to live up to their reputations.

Jimmy's big brother moved in closer and again dropped his head close to Mark's ear.

"Look," he whispered, "let Jimmy rough you up some. You rough him up some. Nobody gets hurt after. Okay?"

Mark nodded his head, unsure that Jimmy's brother had that kind of pull over his salivating buddies.

Jimmy was wiping his hands on the dirty rear pockets of his previously perfect Big Mac pants. He once again charged Mark and in a flurry of fist flinging, managed to bloody Mark's nose. Jimmy retreated and grinned. "Whataya think now asshole? You gonna call me a punk again?"

Mark grinned also. The intimidating build up to this fight turning out to be such a minor altercation made him sigh with relief inside while outside he stood tall and did not cower.  "No Jimmy, I won't ever call you a punk again. ...... Now are we done?"

Mark started to walk through the crowd of Blocks. Someone blindsided him with a fist to his ear, knocking him down. Mark jumped up and spun around to see who had thrown the punch. Too many impassive faces, no one looked guilty; everyone looked guilty. Mark stood there a moment glaring at all of them and slowly backed the rest of the way out of the ring.

Life got easier for Mark after that. He had stood his ground and that had gotten him some respect. But what really turned it for Mark was when he tried out for the basketball team and was selected to play. The blocks didn't mess with the jocks as a rule. 

During B-Ball season, Mark was offered a membership of sorts in their crew. The only thing was he had to change clothes. They were not tolerant of the button down collar, wee-juns with tassles look. Mark bought a few Ban-Lon shirts and was already using Chuck Taylors, but he drew the line at wearing Big Macs. He always thought the huge pants legs looked stupid with spindly kid legs sticking out of them.

_____________________

This fight did happen and I tried to describe it as accurately as I could. All the rest was created to try and make what was but one of a million stories of bullies a little more interesting. The next year when we moved back to Bethesda, I had to deal with two more bullies, one of whom really hurt me. The other, well, he never messed with me again. But that is yet another story to tell.

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

_______________________________

For today musical interlude, I picked "Jeremy" by Pearl Jam. I did not know it, but they wrote this tune in response to an incident at a school I think in 1991. A bullied student stood in front of his class and shot himself in the head. 

Yes, no encounter with bullying in my experience made me feel this desperate. And no, I don't think I could know or comment on how desperate someone can become after incessant bullying. I do know and have experienced bullying in my life. I am guessing most of us have. Yet it still happens.

Never underestimate the capacity of Humans to be complete assholes.

Started this post 12 years ago.

Waking Up Laughing

I have been living with an accountant for many years now. I won't pretend to know much about accounting, but after all those years together with my wife, who is the accountant, I probably know more than the average slob about accounting; enough to get into trouble faster than the average slob anyway.

Now that I have established my bona-fidees, apparently there is at least one passed soul who hangs some weight on my ability to answer a tax question for them.

I was in the midst of a dream that would be forgotten as soon as my eyes opened this morning. Yeah, the dream was concluding nicely when out of nowhere Slim Pickens asked me if a bicycle could be used as a tax write off. 

As is the case in most of my dreams I took his question in stride and answered as best I could with what little knowledge I had to apply to my answer.

I told him as far as tax deductions go, writing off a bicycle had at least two problems attached. 

First of all, the IRS does not usually consider recreational equipment as a business expense. Should Slim be audited, they would insist on documentation that supported the use of the bike was a legitimate business expense.

Second of all, I know bikes can be expensive, but using one as a deduction might not be worth the trouble of itemizing versus taking the standard deduction, unless he had other other deductions that would pass the limit set by the Standard Deduction rule. And besides, since he was dead anyway, how much money did he need to hide in the first place?

I looked at Slim. The look on his face was blank. I said, " So Slim, does this help you?" 

Slim cocked his head in that Slim Pickens way only he knew how to do, yanked the straw from his mouth and answered, "Shoot, I was sure I was gonna need some tax help this year and then you go and remind me I'm dead."

I started laughing and that is when I woke up. No better way to greet a new day than with a smile on my face.

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

____________________________

The only tune that would be right for this post has to be "We'll Meet Again", sung by Vera Lynn. It is the theme from the film  "Dr. Strangelove: or how I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb". The image of Slim is from that movie. It is also I think, Slim's best role ever.

Send in the Clowns

And just like that, any Right Wing concerns over Inflation, the Border, and the price of gas have been forgotten in favor of the simmering witches' brew of conspiracies that have comprised most of the Republican agenda these past six years.

The GOP Collective held their first press conference after just squeaking into the majority in the House of Representatives. The first words that slithered out of their mouths were "Hunter Biden". 

Hunter Biden? Wow! The Right has allowed their overwhelming hate of the Left to remove any notion that useful legislation might be proposed from their side any time soon. Payback and stickin it to the Libs is their Number One Priority. In their minds, as small as they are, there is only room for one goal at a time. And Hate Trumps anything else. 

For the last 20 years, the focus of the GOP in Congress has degenerated to where their concerns are less about governing, and more about obstruction and revenge. Advancement of Conservative policy has taken a back seat to their quest to "own the Libs". Now we have a large group of Republicans in Congress who have either forgotten how to govern or have never learned how. So what do they make their first priority in their first Press Conference after the mid term election? 

With puffed chests and serious eyes, these master Right Wing tacticians claim that one of, if not their first act of governing will be going after Hunter Biden (Joe Biden really), then Pelosi, Attorney General Merrick Garland, and every Democrat who has ever stood against them. And while the GOP stands around, happy in their obstructionist and acrimonious circle jerk, the Democrats, as they have for over 20 years now, will be spending at least some of their time trying to manage the insanity of running a government.

The leadership of the Right cannot seem to get past the bones they have been chewing on for so many years. Looking forward is tossed out in favor of trying to bring back the worst of the Past and make it even worse. The GOP, in its current configuration by being overloaded with MAGA- Maniacs and wacko Christians; well, it seems The Grand Old Party is racing towards irrelevancy at break neck speed. The same old stupidity the Right has been focused on these past six years have given a sizable majority of Americans a serious headache. Much of America is now disgusted with the Right. 

The GOP's serious shift to the edges of conservative sanity, combined with them now allowing the Christian Nationalists to own their messaging, has already caused a major draw down on the numbers of actual conservative intellects. And with Christianity losing members faster today than ever before, I see this embracing of the worst of Christianity as a lose-lose proposition for the GOP. But try to point out the mistakes they are making and the result is being labelled a "Libtard" and added to some Winger's enemies list somewhere. The GOP has lost its collective mind and its future does not look good.

They just can't drop their hate and it is going to be their ruin. And because of the damage they have been responsible for over the years I hope I am right. The GOP does not deserve to be in charge of anything.

Regardless, that first press conference claiming mid-term victory over the Democrats was a hollow affair full of only bravado and no substance. It was an event to raise the spirits of a party who knows there was no real victory. They know they had their asses handed to them. Their chest thumping claims of payback will most likely end up as more of the same obstruction the GOP has used in the past. The Democrats own the Senate and the White House for the next two years. What that means is most likely more of the same shit we have had to deal with over the last 20 years.

So have no fear, nothing looks to change much. The same old assholes pulling the same old stupidity while pissing on each other's shoes. It's sad really.

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

** - Cartoon up top from Rolling Stone

______________________________

Before I even picked a tune, I remembered Judy Collins' hit, "Send in the Clowns" . The point of the song may not quite fit, but the title damn sure does. 

All That I Yam

Nancy, one of my Yooper friends, posted the image to the right on Facebook this morning. I have Internet known Nancy and her husband of many years for I am thinking over 12 years now at least. It may be longer, I don't know nor do I give a shit. 12 years is certainly long enough to have decided whether I like this couple from the upper peninsula of Michigan, even if we have not met face to face. It has also been enough time to verify that the image perfectly matches the image of Nancy and Ray I carry in my mind. If you do not like what they are about, give em a minute to pull down their britches so you can kiss their asses.

Maybe that is why I like them so much. I guess we really do surround ourselves with folks who seem to carry similar attributes as we do or that we perceive we do. 

I never really appreciated that the adult I became depended quite a bit on what I dealt with as a child. Of course I know the time spent as a child can have both positive and negative effects on how that child navigates the world as an adult. But for the most part it seems we point out the big, easy to notice negatives or positives of a childhood as the drivers for the adult that results.

What I am appreciating now as an old codger are the under the radar facets I began turning into character traits that would determine what kind of human I would become as I aged out. The image points up one positive or negative trait that I now see had a major impact on my life going forward.

I changed locations as a child like some folks changed their underwear. I learned early to not be surprised that while we had been where we were now for over a year, it was again time to move on as my family was constantly looking for the grass that was always greener somewhere else.

The result of this nomadic lifestyle was I had to develop techniques for myself that helped me slide into the local elementary school social scene as seamlessly as possible. I figured out quickly that breaking into a well run clique was often more trouble than it was worth. So I became comfortable being the loner, the new kid who would always be the new kid no matter where he went. I got so I actually looked forward to a new town, new people, etc. But along the way I found that I got along better with this never ending list of strangers when I did not care to be part of their little groups. 

Oddly that seemed to make me more popular sooner than if I had hung around waiting to be picked to join. I never really did understand the why of it, and I still don't. But not giving a shit about what people think about me has served me well. And though I am sure I have lost the friendship of acquaintances and companions over the years, I feel it was worth it to not eat myself up with anxiety for not fitting in. I became comfortable in my own skin.

We each find our own way no matter how much we seem to depend on others to help us. There is no right way through Life. It is a personal trip that employs many influences which may depend on a support structure of family and friends or not.  The trick as I see it now, is to never use my childhood negatives as an excuse for the kind of adult I have become. I am a combination of good and bad that brought with them the appropriate experiences I hopefully learned from the first time I experienced them. 

Regardless, as Popeye, that old nautical sage once said:

"I yam what I yam. That is all that I yam."

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

_______________________

Musical choice today is a Phil Collins tune I think he wrote for a Animated film by Disney- "On My Way" . Never saw the movie, but the tune seems appropriate.

The Big Red Tinkle

Paul LePage, an ex-governor of Maine and now just another ex-candidate for governor of Maine, had his ass soundly kicked  on Tuesday, Nov. 8th by Janet Mills, a woman much tougher and smarter than he is. It tickled me no end knowing that Asshole Lepage seemed about to cry and later flew off the handle when he realized he was not going to squat in Blaine House again. The wonderful insult to injury Janet inflicted on him is she won  by over 12 points. 

A parting comment of his at his non concession / concession speech pointed up a classic mistake of Republicans assuming that for every American, money is everything. It went something like this: 

"... We missed the message. It's about Abortion not Heating Oil."

Well Paul, I wonder if you even understand the irony of that statement. Asked and answered there big fella. Good job. But something tells me that you, like so many Republicans, cannot or will not understand that material comforts are not always the only thing folks consider when standing in the voting booth. You Wingers have inextricably tied your patriotism to the tail of Capitalism as it slithers,sneaks and sniffs around for any profitable tidbit to add to the already deep pockets that are never satisfied.

There are more of us more interested in the long term health of our country than how much we pay for gas tomorrow. Many of us look to  long term solutions for the bedrock problems everything else is tied to.  Focusing on the piss-ant most recent annoyances and on lies is what the Right focuses on. Selling fear rather than offering solutions is the GOP's stock in trade. It's no wonder your Red Tsunami turned into some Winger octonageranian's weak red tinkle at a gas station in Florida. 

Inflation will go away, but will rear its ugly head again . Crime will go away and probably go up again.  But turning the USA into a one party country like the Right seems bound and determined to do may mean the type of democratic government we have become used to may be gone forever. Admit it, the Right is only patriotic to itself.

Hopefully Paul, you will quickly weasel your way back to Florida.

And Paul, don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out. 

_______________________

Of maybe more interest to others following politics in America is:

None of the candidates running for Congress in District 2 received over 50% of the vote. Ranked Choice Voting will be used for the second election in a row to determine a victor in CD2.  Neither Jarad Golden at 48.2 %. (D) ,Bruce Poliquin at 44.9%, nor Tiffany Bond (I) managed to surpass  50%  of the votes. Ranked Choice Voting will now toss the lowest tally of this three way race and distribute their second choice votes to one or the other of the 2 front runners still standing.

Ranked Choice Voting explained by me, so I'd check the facts if I were you. But this is how it works here in Maine from what I know after two elections of experiencing it. 

• In the general election, on the ballot is a list of the candidates vying for the same spot. The number does not matter. 
• Next to the list of candidates are columns and circles to mark later. They are tagged with "1st Choice", "2nd Choice", "3rd Choice", and so on until the total number of candidates have a corresponding total number of choices listed.
• Mark your first choice. 
• Look over the rest of the field and rank them from 2nd through to the last choice. You have the option of not marking any if you want.
• The general election takes place- votes counted and await the next step.
• If a candidate has over 50% of the vote, the election is over. (Kinda like Overtime in the NFL - if you get a touchdown on 1st possession - game is over.)

Post Election

• If no candidate has over 50% in the general election, Ranked Choice Voting  kicks in.
• The first thing is removing the last place candidate from the field.
• The ranked votes for the dropped candidate are then distributed to that Ballots rankings still in play.
• If no one hits that magic 50%+ mark, the candidate with the next lowest tally is yanked.
• Ranking begins again and continues until someone lands over 50%.

Final snaps of my synapses on this issue - I just made pot brownies and  just had to lick the bowl ........ It is a rule you know.

Anyway ...................................

• The idea of Ranked Choice Voting is the candidate with widest appeal overall wins. 
• RCV is the best recent attempt to thwart the 2 party stranglehold this country has suffered under for hundreds of years
• Puts some electoral power in minority cause blocs of voters.
• It's a no brainer - RCV Rocks!

Yes, I have to close it down now. I guess I left more brownie mix in the bowl than I thought.

Later Gator ...........................................................

______________________________

Even though this song has nothing to do with politics, that has nothing to do with why I picked this tune.

Here's David Bromberg's cover of  "Send me to the 'Lectric Chair".......... Enjoy

 

What Red Wave ?

I guess it was after Gore lost to Bush, the Lesser in 2000 that I stopped staying up all night for an election. If I was going to have to deal with bad news, why torment myself with the slow, excruciating pain of watching the upcoming disaster unfold in real time and in front of me? Staying up late and punishing myself was not going to change any outcome. 

I had played my minor part earlier in the day. ..... Calm down asshole and move on. It will be what it will be. 

Instead of the masochistic pleasure or pain of watching potentially tragic events unfold, I watched episodes of "Utopia", the original British version on Amazon Prime. As has been my habit since becoming an old fart some years ago, I knew after an hour or two on the couch with the TV droning, I'd be out by 10:00 PM and comatose a half hour later; but only as long as I stayed away from live TV. I have no stake in entertainment TV but feel I have plenty at stake on Election Night.

Much to my surprise and pleasure, I woke up to the news that the Right Wingers, who had predicted in loud boastful voices, a terrible Red tide would sweep over our grand land and no Democrat would ever be elected again .......... Well it appears the Right is busy trying to avoid eating the crow America has set out for them. 

Since all the results are not in yet and may not be for awhile, it is apparent that the over the top goals the Right set for this election fell far short of a good time. This was not an election for control of the government so much as it was an election about Democracy, the Two Party system and it's irritating habit of hugging the Middle. The insanity that has taken over the Republicans these past couple of decades will have to wait for the next election to try to again defeat Democracy and the Democrats. 

As for the Democrats, well, they dodged the worst of a bullet. We will know soon how deep the wound is, but overall Democrats should be grateful. They were saved by Independents and I am assuming some crossover Republicans to keep the nation from sliding off the edge and into the abyss on the Right.

All in all, a better result than I had envisioned. 

__________________________

When I voted around 4:00 PM yesterday, I was the 1000th citizen of Acton to vote. They made a small to-do of it and I felt my face go red as I scrambled for the exit. In our small sliver of America, a midterm election of that turnout is a very high count. As yet, I have no clue what four more hours of voting added to the total.

The parking lot up to the Town Hall was packed. I actually had to wait outside in line a minute or so. It was almost too much. Took me five minutes to vote. Well, I never ...............

_______________________

Could not find the one tune that reflected my mood today. Was lookin for an upbeat, but not overly enthusiastic........ Well, I obviously did not find one ....... Wait a minute.

I was scrolling through the titles of songs in my play list in the hard drive and low and behold, the perfect tune popped up. It is not my habit to highlight two songs from a the same band so close together but I called for an exception and since I make the rules, I offer up "You Can't Always Get What You Want", by the Rolling Stones.

I think this song points up perfect;y the results of yesterdays's election.

My Red Face Comeuppance

Take a moment to look over the image to the left. ...... I'll wait.

I posted this without the current edit four years ago on Facebook. I even signed it. I was obviously not happy with Nancy Pelosi. But if memory serves, she was the tip of the spear of my unhappiness with the leadership of the Democratic Party over all. At that point it seemed the GOP  and Trump were running roughshod over the Democrats. I considered Nancy too nice, too civil, too grandma wonderful.

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

I am setting the record straight now and admitting I was wrong, so wrong about Ms. Pelosi. 

It is four years later now and Facebook offered to repeat this ill conceived meme with one of their regular "you posted this x number of years ago, would you like to share again" suggestions.

My first thought was too let it die whatever death old meme's suffer when no one posts them again. But I thought maybe I owed Nancy more than just feeling a tinge of guilt for questioning the size of her juevos. 

What she has managed to do these past four years in the face of outrageous anger, lies, and threats from the Right has made me a convert. Nancy is one tough old broad and I love her. She has fought the good fight, fought the smart fight, and been a burr under that saddle I thought the Right was riding as they mounted their next Crusade to turn this nation into sad imitation of what it started out as.

I won't rattle on, there are dragons to slay today and I hope to help in that effort. I just wanted to admit in public that I once questioned the hard nosed intensity of this woman who always spoke civilly even when she threatened to punch a Winger in the nose.

Here's hoping she will still be Speaker of the House tomorrow and not a lame duck one.

Keep it 'tween the ditches , and VOTE ferchrisakes. It's the only ammo we have to foment change.

_____________________________

On a day as auspicious as this one is likely to turn into, I can think of only one song that might be appropriate. And yeah, being true to my Libtard ways, here is Woody Guthrie's, "This Land is Your Land"

Going Manic

Before the year 2000, I never thought about Depression.  I knew folks suffered from it.  I watched both of my parents deal with it as they approached the end of their run on the planet. Before 2000, I had not yet felt the crush of the dark pit as it wrapped itself around me.

It was in 2001 or 2002, I was talked into being part of the first run of Interferon based therapy for Hepatitis. The regimen called for a year of many painful self injections and pills that made me feel about as shitty as a human can feel. It was pure unadulterated misery for me. I lasted a couple of months.

Seems of all the nasty side affects, down at the bottom of the list in print so small, I had to read it with a magnifying glass; there it was.  11% of the trial patients experienced suicidal ideation.  Of course, I did not find this out until I had already attempted suicide.  Of course, being a rookie, a NooB, an inexperienced suicide hobbyist, I failed.  Half ass attempt for sure, but it certainly scared the shit out of me.  I dropped out of the program.

Ever since my run in with those bad pharmaceuticals prescribed for my hepatitis,  I have had to deal with on again, off again bouts of depression. Thinking back, I was probably depressive to a degree before the medicine, it was only after taking the meds,  the depression magnified and now dealing with it is a constant concern. I wake up many mornings and wonder if today is the start of another depression bender.

The up side........ yeah, there is actually an upside I think .............. The upside is that now, as if to balance out my life's biorhythms, the low notes are offset by wonderful high notes.  I get to experience the joy of mania.  Up is often really up; I'm flying, thoughts move so quickly I have trouble getting a handle on them.  But when I am able to grab one, my focus is impressive.  I guess even bad medicine can have a silver lining.

A friend asked me a few years back what did Depression feel like.  I am sure everyone has their own notion of what it is or isn't.  But I told him that for me it was like existing as nothing, or maybe a kind of non-existence with my eyes open.  Nothing matters.  Nobody cares, least of all me.  The out there world is a fantasy land that is maybe or maybe not just a figment of my imagination.

Hmm .........

And that brings up an entirely new subject. Is Reality nothing but a group figment of our imaginations?

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

_________________________

A song I have always felt was about what I called "being low" when I was younger was "Paint it Black" by the Rolling Stones. When I looked it up with google, they agreed. So enjoy this tune from the mid 1960's.

Times of Degeneration

Back in the early 1970s, college campuses were a melting pot of the possibilities of the Future mixed in with the traditions of the Past.  

The Hippies represented what was the Present and what was coming. The Pat Boone kids, with their clean cut hair-doos and their Ah shucks, the Lord is my Shepard attitudes were doing their best to resist the tidal wave of the rampant hedonism of the  Anti-American Pinko Commies who many perceived to be overrunning college campuses coast to coast. Free Love had been invented, but getting laid was still a crap shoot on any given night down to the Rathskeller.

New ideas and concepts clashed with the old tried and true Leave it to Beaver ideals Americans had been convinced were what had made America the greatest country on the planet.  Blacks were flexing their muscles. Future draftees were burning their draft cards while women began burning their bras and gays were slowly leaving their closets.  The stodgy what used to be was being replaced by the hip new what is coming.

The only common thread tying all the college kids together was they were all horny and looking to occasionally step away from reality or hedge their bets for an overnight lay by ingesting copious amounts of the Demon Rum or Satan's Weed; oftentimes both.

Flash forward to today. 

I cannot say the populations of college campuses break down now in similar demographics as they did back in the early 1970's. I can certainly attest to the notion that similar mindsets have bridged the five decades since I wasted time in college getting wasted. The issues of then are still not settled business among many citizens now and continue to be thorns in the side of the American experience.

The dates have changed. The mentalities have not. The Left still pushes us to tomorrow, the Right wants to hold us back. The Left likes Capitalism to a point. Most see it as a necessary evil. The Right seems to love Capitalism and its captains more than they love the country. These truths are a constant that have been with us since our beginnings over 200 years ago. 

A noticeable difference between the conversations of then and now are the levels of intractability our opposing views have attained. We used to have heated discussions and when people tired of arguing, they often found consensus or they walked away. Today, we don't have conversations, we shout at each other and seldom find common ground. Instead, we dig our heels in even when the facts tell us we are wrong.

Yes, the biggest difference I notice today is the lack of respect we give facts. We have begun favoring our own interpretations of facts or ignoring them completely. It seems our political realities are being framed by our political faith that all too often leaves little room for the facts we should be using to frame our plans or views in the first place. This leaves us with fewer workable bipartisan actions and more built up partisan acrimony.  The one reality almost all of us used to live in has now had to make room for other realities that only exist in the minds of the beholders. 

The words my high school English teacher wrote in my junior year yearbook seem so, so more prophetic now than they did when he wrote them in 1969:

" These are critical times. Degeneration is around the corner.  ....... WATCH! "

I think it is safe to say we have entered the times of Degeneration, yet many of us fail or refuse to see it.

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

_______________________

I had narrowed my musical choice down to four songs, three by Buffalo Springfield and one by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. One group provided members for the later group, so the musicality is very similar. It was a tough choice. I listened to all four several times each. 

What I did was, post all four. "Ohio" and "For what it's Worth" may be be the most famous of the four.  All four are great and always take me back to those days of upheaval in the 1960s and 70s that sadly seem to have reared their ugly little heads once again.

• "Ohio" - Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young  
• "Four Days Gone" - Buffalo Springfield  
• "Special Care" - Buffalo Springfield
• "For What it's Worth" - Buffalo Springfield

Post created from a very rough draft from February, 2009

The Firebrand

Cult members with adoring eyes and clinched fists surround their new messiah. They want to touch him, but he pulls away. That is okay. Just to be near him is enough. 

Their eyes glaze over as he tells them he gets them and understands the tragedies that make up their lives. He promises the impossible and they believe him. They are sure this Heaven sent messenger will set them free and smite down all those who they have been programmed to blame for all their troubles.

The Orange One smiles. He knows now these minions here in East Bumfuck, Alabama are his to do with as he pleases. He has stirred the mob up into a single mouth frothing frenetic maniac. Just a few more words of imagined dangers to really set the hate and discontent accompanied by appropriate hand and arm flourishes and these brain dead stooges will be ready to mount the new crusade that will make him king.

He smiles his best insincere smile, steps back from the podium, raises his arms and does a victory lap in his mind. As he turns to step off the stage, his handler gently grabs his arm to guide this new pretender looking for a throne to the back stage exit and into the limo.

The Firebrand settles his imposing figure into the plush leather seat in the rear of the limousine and leans back. Looking up at the crushed velour fabric ceiling, he mutters to the limo driver, 

"Did you smell the crowd behind me? Sure hope the next crew bothers to take a shower. ........Damn I love the Stupid, just wish they washed occasionally." ........... Where we off to now?"

"Uh, no sir, I noticed no bad smells. I was with the limousine.....  The itinerary says Mobile sir, but it has been canceled. I have been told to head back to the plane."

The Orange One continues to stare at the ceiling. He wonders why Mobile has been canceled. As if he is a mind reader, the limo driver anticipates his next question.

"Your man in Mobile said there was not enough people there and he knows how much you hate small crowds."

"Well okay then. .........  I'm feeling like McDonalds. A Big Mac and fries would be just the thing right now. Oh, order a vanilla shake while you're at it."

"Sir, I am not allowed stop anywhere but the hotel or the airport, you know that."

"Don't tell me what I know."

The Orange One leaned forward and through the sliding window separating him from his driver, he hissed,

"By the way driver, when we get back to the plane, you are fired."

"Yes sir." 

____________________________________

** Thanks to Duff Moses for the best political cartoon I have seen in years.

_____________________________________

I had chosen the music for this post before I wrote it. I offer up "Megalomaniac" by Incucbus. Perfect for this post, especially if turned up to wow. Enjoy.

92.1

Sanford, Maine is a small city close to me here in Acton. It has had a radio station transmitting at 92.1 on the dial for quite a few years. It has gone through more than a few changes; call letters, formats and owners over the 47 years I have been listening. But it is still there because of the impressive height of the tower that sits on a hill called Mt. Hope, overlooking the old mill town.

The big ass tower up on Mt. Hope, uh,Mount Rialto used to rock our socks off.  The disc jockeys spun every tune by hand.  Hard Rock, Jazz, Blues, Alternative and once in awhile even some cutting edge Country.  I remember a Merle Haggard set once.  Along with the opening line, "We don't smoke marijuana in Muskogee", while in the background the disc jockey sucked in hard on the mic, and in almost a whisper, "Sissssssss, ah that's some good stuff man."  

Immediately came the sound of lungs coughing as they expanded past their red line and drowned out the first few lines of the song. They might not be smoking marijuana in Muskogee, but apparently they did smoke marijuana up on Mt. Rialto.

Every night was a theme night.  Blues on Mondays I think.  Jazz owned Sunday mornings.  Alternative, mixed with Pop which mixed with AC/DC and Black Sabbath most daylight hours.  Tie a Yellow Ribbon around Ozzie while Steely Dan waits his turn.  Never knew what to expect. It was great.

The last DJ, Ken Ridley - R.I.P.

The radio at the bike shop was locked on the Mount; we didn't move it. I think it was around 1994 when a Massachusetts concern bought the station and began feeding music to Mount Rialto from somewhere deep in the Commonwealth. 92.1 is still pumping out music as an "oldies" station that has someone knowledgeable programming it. But 92.1 is just another spot on the radio dial broadcasting pre-programmed music without the fun that happens between songs when manic jocks lose their shit and go verbally postal. That was always half the fun of listening to live programming, the chance to hear someone say something outrageous that would twist the panties of any older generation who happened to be within earshot.

This gradual transformation and eventual extinction of the solo radio station pumping out tunes one song at a time at 10,000 watts is almost complete now. I thought we had hit rock bottom when the radio stations were bought up by tone deaf venture capitalists. Almost over night spinning platters were replaced by pre-programmed tapes punched up at corporate headquarters 200 miles away and 50 stations began playing the same songs at the same time.

As it turned out, rock bottom was still years away.

Now all our music is stored, cataloged, and broadcast out of the memory banks of millions of computers sprinkled around the planet through internet cables hanging on poles or buried in the ground. Radio waves now days are mostly reserved for talk radio that often spend their time spewing hate and discontent. There are some older all music stations hanging in there, but the heart of music radio has been torn out and now exists on the Internet. I-tunes, Sirius, Spotify and other music purveyors charge a per song fee or monthly fees to hear the music we used to listen to for free.

It may sound as if I am complaining. It may seem I am not happy about how the Past let me down with the Present it left me. There is no reason to complain, but plenty of reason for at least a moment or two to be nostalgically sad. I grew up on music pumped out of honking big radios filled with rectifier tubes that grew hot and glowed as music worked past the static to make us smile until we were out of range and had to fiddle with a dial to find a new station. I don't miss those days now so much as I appreciate they were there setting the stage for what would come into my life 60 years later. 

Later Gator ............................................

__________________________

Naturally or not, I am picking Merle Haggard's "Okie From Muskogee" 

( Orig - 2/7/2012 )

Will Sanity Prevail?

Now that I have participated in many election cycles over the years, I would think I would be immune to the campaign rhetoric that does its best to scare me into voting a certain way. Both the Democrats and the Republicans do it. Only the Republicans will probably definitely utilize baseless fears supported by bald face lies and then  will predictably not live up to any promises they make to the 90% of the country that really needs their help the most. 

With the Democrats there is at least a snowball chance more of us will benefit, as has been the case in the two years since Biden was elected. The Democrats are the most likely of the two parties to work in bipartisan ways. The GOP only wants bipartisanship if they can dictate all the rules. They have become the party of no program, no sense of direction, the party that only knows how to say no. Their goal is to disrupt and control. Nothing else, contrary to their claims otherwise.

I know, I know, the Right would have us believe the world started falling apart once Biden and his evil cabal of socialist pinko commie pedophile liberals stole control of this country from the only God fearing patriots in the country, the GOP. 

They know for certain if God is on your side, the other side must be wrong. It matters not that many on the Left go to church also. God is a selfish god, a Caucasian god and an American god who only likes white people because they are most likely the people to have deep pockets.

The Wingers blame Inflation and high gas prices on Biden. They still insist that he stole the election. Yet, many of them contend the Jan. 6 traitors were but overzealous tourists. It matters little that they are all either, knowingly lying through their teeth or are so stupid they actually believe their leaders' lies.

The Right's consistent and conscious movement away from using truth in their messaging has done what it came there to do; convince a sizable number of citizens that their lies beat any facts that may be used in rebuttal. Alternate Facts and Unfacts rule, Honest Facts drool. 

In the meantime, the Left still seems to be in a daze. They are not focusing well. The Roe decision is an important motivator, but not as high on the list as bread and butter issues like inflation, immigration, gas prices. Yes, these issues are not any one person or organization's fault. But the Right has succeeded in convincing their minions and now some others, that Joe Biden and his democrats are the sole reason it costs $120 bucks to fill up that pickup with the duallies and the bull balls hanging from the hitch. No, the Left seems to have no answer for this campaign of hateful lies gushing out of the dankest, lowest sewers of the Right. It is hard to debate the truth of something when one side only pushes lies. 

Whatever.

The media is no help either. They help feed the fires by allowing blatant lies to fester and go mainstream through local advertising and by just regurgitating the falsehoods on the evening news like they have some weight. They don't care. They toss us polls that hint that one party or the other is overtaking or being overtaken by the other party. The fact that polls have become wildly unreliable in forecasting the finishes in recent years, again, they just don't care. Stirring the pot  of Anxiety is what it is all about. They want to create the accidents we all have to look at no matter that we shouldn't. Controversy based on hate and discontent sells and who cares if that controversy is based on lies? Lining the pockets of the oligarchs who own the medium is the first priority.

With just over a week to election day, there are not going to be many minds changed at this point. I gave up trying to change minds six years ago. I rant and rave against the stupidity of the sanctioned falsehoods fostered by the Right and then vote against them wherever there is a box to check off.

No matter how it turns out, on November 8th I guarantee when a Right Winger loses, claims of cheating will follow. They have allowed their pitiful excuses of leaders to poison their reality and twist it into some bizarre notion that suddenly Democrats are incapable of winning without cheating; even though most cases of recent voter fraud have come from the Right. 

The only light at the end of the tunnel I think is the prospect for a huge early mid term turnout. If this is what happens, historically this favors the Left. Keep your fingers crossed.

Fuck the Right. Hope that sanity prevails ..............................

___________________________

Tom Petty provided the tune for today's post pick. "I won't back down" pretty much sums up my attitude about any cooperation I may be inclined to offer the Right. A reminder of sorts that they have given this country nothing but lip service for over 40 years.

Skate Park Punks

 I woke up this morning hard. No gentle transition, but a rude awakening as if I was finally giving up a fight and would rather face the day than try to recapture the night. It had been a fitful sleep. But then fitful sleep has become more the rule than the exception in recent years.

I don't often remember dreams after a night of tossing, turning, getting up, laying down, repeat. Last night was an exception.

I was some kind of BMX coach of a group of punks in their mid teens. Not sure why BMX, but it was cycling related and at least that made some sense. 

When I found them at the skate park in Somewhere, USA, they were all hanging out behind the big ramp passing a joint and smoking cigarettes. I recognized one from my bike shop. I had caught him stealing awhile back and kicked his sorry ass out of my store.

When these teen age losers saw me they did not even blink. They kept sucking on the joint and smoking their cigarettes and as if on cue, they all grinned at me. I grinned back. They flipped me off. I flipped back.

Scene shifted to this group of losers and myself at a BMX race. There was also a Freestyle competition going on inside the BMX track. My boys were kicking serious ass in both competitions. A coach or authority figure appeared and accused us of cheating. I flipped him off.

When the events were over and my team and I were tail gating at the van, another authority figure shows up and tells us we are all banned from that event in the foreseeable future. All of us flipped him off.

Somewhere the dream shifted gears and I was attempting to talk one of my punks out of quitting the team. He was the fastest of anyone he had faced in every race he had been in. Trouble at home he said. I replied that all of you losers have troubles at home. Quitting the team won't fix that. I went on to try to convince him to stay, but at some point I was looking at his back as he walked away with one hand flipping me and the team off.

Another scene shift and I notice a blackhead pimple on my shoulder. On automatic like I was thirteen again, I squeezed that sucker to clean out the pore. Instead of the predicted blackhead popping up, a small worm oozed out of the now much larger hole. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed it and yanked with steady pressure like I had been here before and done that before. Slowly I was able to get that worm out in one piece. It looked to be six inches long or so.

That was the end of my fitful sleep of last night. Suddenly I was awake wondering just what the Hell was that?

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

_________________________

When I saw Roy Orbison's song, " In Dreams" on the list Google came up with, I remembered David Lynch's movie, "Blue Velvet" and punched it up. The song was highlighted in the movie as it was lip synced by one of the main lunatics righteously played by Dean Stockwell; making it one of the creepiest scenes in cinema. Lynch did have a way of creating creepy.