A Tom Waits Kind Of Sunday

If you like Tom Waits, you have a good jump on what I'm saying. Just one of those lazy, nuthin' to do but watch paint dry kind of Sunday afternoons where you're trying to figure out what to eat that night and stay entertained until a good movie comes on TV or something/anything. I'll take an earthquake ala mode any day of the year, f'er Chrissakes. Anything but this slug line of boredom and wondering what all the Church People might be up to. Speaking of which...

A Truly Lunatic State Senator from Snowflake, Arizona (Where most people are either Mormons (Jack or not), Idiots, Drunk, or getting ready to blow themselves up in their sixth grade science project style Meth Lab) has suggested that the state declare mandatory religious service for all citizens of that already sufficiently batshit nuts state. I'm not even going to glorify her by mentioning her name. I mean, come on...Ya' got Sheriff Joe Arpaio and that goofball "puts her makeup on with a snow shovel" Lady Governor already. What's next? An American version of Sharia Law? (That's right, I said it.) Compulsory Hitler Youth Style uniforms  for all students in Public Schools and awarding "A's" in Science class for kids that actually believe that Earth is 6,000 years old and that humans rode dinosaurs like Roy Rogers?

T-Rex woulda' made Roy toss his salad before biting his head off while eyeballing Dale with bad intent.

Which might (or might not) lead us onto some really weird byline about Space Aliens delivering Golden Tablets to some hick farmer in New York, leading to Magic Underwear, Group Sex Marriages, Baptising The Dead, Faked Indian Wars, etc.. or something equally as weird. Been there, seen that. I lived in Salt Lake City, Utah for awhile. After living in Park City, Utah, home of the U.S. Ski Team and all manner of Hedonistic debauchery to be enjoyed in that "Set Your Watch Back 50 Years At The Border" state, SLC was a real bummer. The Skinny Tie Bicycle Boys knew better than to come to my apartment doors at least. A sign with something like: "Missionaries, Piss Off. I know what you did to the Pacific Islanders." went on the door(s) late Saturday night and came down before Monday morning. There was, despite popular opinion outside of the state, a thriving "Backlash Counter Culture" going on there as well. Lots of Artists, Musicians, Weirdos, Party Animals, on and on the list could go.

O.K., so, forget the Golden Arches, I mean Tablets. Forget Moroni blowing a Charlie Parker solo from the top of the Grand Temple. Ain't gonna' happen so there's no use even imagining it. People that have been blinded by Dogma and intoxicated by regimen, a false and ritualized Normalcy and routine are already in their own "Personal Version Of Hell." Just don't invite the rest of us in for your party. Not when the price of  admission is no less than 10% of one's ostensibly immortal Soul.

I got stuck hitchhiking in Strawberry, Arizona, once. The Town Sheriff, who also owned the town laundromat, let me sleep next to the dryers in back. The drunk locals were taunting me as they exited the town pub and it might have become ugly at some point. Not allot of Hippie Hitchhikers going through Strawberry. Weird little place, that town. North of Payson, on the Mogollon Rim. It's probably lightened up a bit. Or, not. Good place to get eaten by a mountain lion though.

I have very little use for the entire state of Arizona. (Excepting the area north of Flagstaff) It's kind of a smaller, more fucked up version of Texas. Or Arkansas, Indiana, certain parts of Florida and a few other Confederate States. Yes, Indiana. It might as well have been a Confederate State. "Certain Secret Societies" sure liked the place. Ohio, too. Maybe Michigan, outside of the Metropolitan areas.

My Mom, a staunch Conservative, has long held the belief that EVERYBODY East of the Rocky Mountains is a Card Carrying Cretin. The Rocky Mountains and Arizona aren't even on first name speaking terms. I lived just outside of Grand Canyon Nation National Park and that was OK for about 7 months or so. My Wife drank herself to death in Bisbee. Her Niece was murdered in Phoenix this past Friday morning. Fun little state ya' got there, folks. By the way, along with compulsory church attendance, there's a rider on that piece of toilet paper legislation to broaden Open Carry Laws to include all public places. The lyrical question: "Can I Bring my Gun Into Heaven?" rears it's pointed head. Thank you, Cracker. A wonderfully profane/humorous/smart Hillbilly Punkish sort of musical group from somewhere around Santa Cruz. I forget their whole story. They used to be Camper Van Beethoven, born in some Grateful Dead Show parking lot. I like both bands and listen to them often.  

Guns In Bars? "What fun! That's a Bingo!" ("Ya' just say: Bingo, Hans.") Nuthin' better than a bunch of drunk Nuts in a dark room with guns. Don't get me completely wrong here, guns, by themselves are O.K.. It's only when they're placed in the hands of Stupid and/or Psychotic or Drunk Individuals that "guns" become dangerous. Automatic and Semi-Automatic weapons do not belong in Chuck E. Cheese restaurants either. NO GUNS AROUND KIDS, PERIOD.

So the World is FUCKED. But, there's still Tom Waits on Sunday afternoons in Northwestern California...

-Doc

      

  

Through Bein' Cool

I haven't been "Cool" for eons, it seems. Like I give two shits. Around here, "being cool" entails knowing all the dope lingo, a couple groovy local musicians (which there are, to be sure) and have that retro-Seattle Grunge thang goin' on wit' y'er Bad Self. Ya' gotta' have at least one bad tattoo, also. Maybe even some dead relative or Ex-Girlfriend's name plastered on your neck. Or, the local Area Code. That seems to be really popular, too. Fuck me, runnin'. Away.

Anyway. I have short hair now. I'm too Old to have long hair. Old Guys should simply realize that long hair is something you do while your hair is still thick and luxurious. My hair has always been very "fine" in texture but, there used to be allot more of the individual follicles. Now, if I were to grow it long, I would just look like one of those Old Perv's in Hollywood tryin' to score an ugly young chick with nice breasts. I look terrible in leather pants and I know it. Besides, Young Chicks these days (most of 'em, it seems) have nothing between their ears. Yea, sure their "stories are shorter" to quote Neal Cassidy, but I've not met one Gal in her 20's-30's that can name all of The Beatles' real names. While the proposition of screwing the consciousness out of some young "Hippie Chick" (besides that I HATE the smell of Patchouli) has a certain attraction, what to do "afterward?" Smoke weed and watch cartoons? I don't smoke the shit anymore and modern Cartoons are just Right Wing Propaganda. Consider the Power Puff Girls or Teen Avengers, Power Rangers, etc.. Pure Dystopian Horror Stories with X-Ray Vision and/or Time Warping, Super Powers. And lots of meaningless nut-kicking n' stuff. "Ow, My Balls!" I'll take Bugs Bunny and Rocky and Bullwinkle over that shit, any day.

I may NEVER have been truly "cool" to begin with. I've heard it said, more than once with no prompt, that: "I'm kind of a cross between a Hippie and a Punk." I think those people got it right. And, as such, I never gave a crap about "being cool" for the obvious reasons. Being part Punk, I wanted "Anti-Cool" and as a Hippie, I just didn't give a fuck. I was/am/will always be "weird." If that's not "enough" for ya', I don't care. I am "comfortable in my own skin" and that's pretty much what matters to me. If you find it interesting, fine. If not, there are lots of other people in the world to talk to. Go find them.

I decided to listen to some Devo on the Sennheisers (There, I'm "cool.") this morning. I just "felt like it." I started with the usual anti-hits. Satisfaction, Whip It and Girl U Want, etc.. Now, I'm just letting the songs "play through." Pass me on the fourth hole and go try the nine iron out. I have always liked Devo. Played them so much at one of the places I lived in the 80's that my neighbors truly hated me. I was just digging the sound of one of the guitars. A Guitar Player (which I am) will listen to some Other Guitar Player wank off into his amp for hours and study his chops and sound nuances. It's a "given." Then, we'll whip out our own axe(s) plug into our favorite "device" for making it loud (Mine's a Roland Workstation) and try to be creative, too. We know it makes other people crazy but, we don't care. We're chasing that mythical Dragon Of Sound/Timbre/The Tone Monster. In other words: "Getting it dialed in, just right" and walking away with a shit-eating grin on our mugs. It's allot like a kid making a turd in the toilet for the first time. "Mom, look what I MADE!" You wave "goodbye" to it, even. Wipe. Flush.

"Being Cool" is NOT at the top of the list anymore. Nor was it, ever. Homogenous emotive actions/vocalizations and dress codes, piss off. Speaking in Hipster Code, toss off into a sock slathered in hand lotion. I speak English well. So much so that people find me "suspect" because I don't speak like I have marbles in my mouth and/or drop consonants. (It's only "OK" if you're from Boston) Or "yell" when I talk. That one REALLY bothers me. I CAN FUCKING HEAR YOU! I'M TWO FEET AWAY! Like yelling makes one's point seem more important or some shit. Thank you, Desiderata. "Go placidly amongst the haste and noise. Avoid loud people..."  Point well taken, Ancient Dude.

"Dude." There's One Guy named: "Dude." That's it. Nobody else is named: "Dude."

Have A Nice Day/Piss Off, Wanker,

-Doc

 https://youtu.be/jadvt7CbH1o (Auto-play disabled by YouTube) Sorry about the adverts. Not my fault. Besides, you should have Spotify or the original album or something, anyway.

Or, this: (Devo with a fresh hot wax and chrome buff-out.)

       

 

Rain. "Sort Of." Tent Repair, For Sure.

.02" accumulated over the last 12 or so hours. "More on the way," "they" say. We could use about 12" or so. Full-on Monsoon, gully washer kind of affair.

Let it flood Downtown, which is basically at Sea Level. It did exactly that earlier this year when we got allot of rain all at once and there was a very high tide, simultaneously. I'm on a Limestone cap at about 160' above that elevation, on a raised lot that will never flood, unless a large Tsunami rolls up the old creek beds that pass through and around the golf course and "flats" that're a stone's throw away.

One or two of the reasons "why" I picked this old place. (That and the fact that it's one of two apartment buildings anywhere around this neighborhood) Actually, the original main body of the building is the same age I am. Built in 1954, by a guy that worked in one of the large lumber mills. The walls are all solid Red Oak, no insulation at all, just flat-stacked 2"x4" boards nailed one on top of the other. Solid as a brick shit house. Rides out earthquakes really smoothly as well. It "flexes." Mo' bettah than masonry, anyday.

Up early this morning. Saturdays are one of the three days per week that I can take a nap in the early afternoon. My Noisy Neighbor has an appointment with his Dialysis Clinic. Truth is: I wake up this early, often. I like that it's dark and quiet outside and I get to listen to and watch the World wake up around me. The Aleutian Geese fly over on their way to or from the river and the smaller birds start having their chirpy little conversations in the shrubbery outside. Soon, the Geese will leave to go back to Alaska and that signals True Spring. As we sit right in the middle of the Pacific Flyway, allot of birds come through here twice a year. Right now it's mostly Stellar's Blue Jays and Finches. Later on, Swallows zooming around looking for nesting sites, Robins pecking for worms and such and lots of smaller song birds doing what they do. The occasional Osprey and Eagle, Red Tail Hawk, Owls and other Raptors...

More Spring Cleaning stuff and reorganizing around here today. I think today will be "closet day." Move some accumulated junk into my storage Cubby and just tidy up that space. Maybe fix my old Walrus tent too. I goofed up when I took it down last time I used it and it needs a patch. Gorilla Duct Tape and some kind of epoxy will do. Some "other company" bought them out a few years back. MSR?

Anyway..."Field Repair." I don't care if it's ugly, it just has to work correctly. They aren't making those tents anymore. Two person, mountaineering, four season tent with tons of space inside and twin vestibules, single door, buttons up tighter than a piccolo snare drum. Bullet proof, unless one "goofs up" and puts a pole through the fabric while taking it down. It does have some UV damage from prior use. Not a big deal, since it was purchased at a pawn shop for $75.00 instead of the $300.00 they cost new. I've only used it a couple of times. I have other tents anyway. Just not a roomy, four season one. Camping Season is right around the corner.

Very similar to the tent I own. Basically, they're the same.

Wish me, closet space making and Gorilla Tape luck,
-Doc

New "Icons Of Weirdness" Shelf

I collect stuff. Lots of it. Mostly idiosyncratic, eccentric, kitchy-koo-koo type stuff. The weirder, the better. I am a weird guy, period. So "They" tell me, since I was about 8 years old. I perceive it to be an asset.

So, I decided that I had too much weirdness on one shelf in the apartment. Ya' gotta' spread The Weird around. Believe me, there's more than enough to go around. In here, anywhere. The World is the "wrong kind of" Weird. I tend to prefer my own brand. Old habits, stuck in a rut, high-centered and outta' gas. Pretty good shelf builder though.

Listening to Little Feat. Time Loves A Hero stuff. Good work music. Not that putting up the shelf took very long. About 10 minutes. Two metal brackets, a level and a screw gun. Done. New weird stuff already cleaned up and in place. It was "something to do" today.

I built the new shelf out of a piece of 100 year old Redwood that I rescued from a scrap heap, pulled all of the old square nails out of and sanded, years back. I rescued about 50 linear feet of the stuff in all. My old Landlord (a real East Bay Scumbag) stole about 20' of it. I clipped him $1,400.00 on rent for having human shit backing up into my shower that he seemed to have a problem in hearing about. I spent a small fortune on bleach and had to shit, shower and shave at a friend's place. I figure we're about "even."

The wood in question was a supply shack behind a Mexican restaurant in a harbor I used to live in about 8 years ago. It's amazing what people want to "throw away." I rescue wood like that and re-use it. All the shelving in this joint are made of that wood, save one, which came out of a coffee roasting place that has since burned down. "Get it while it's hot."

Tonight's menu: Spicy curried rice with a chunked, sauteed, pork chop and Lima beans with a couple of beers. Hearty, simple, quick-fix kind of meal. "Stick-To-Y'er-Ribs-Weather's-Turning-Wet-and-Cold" kind of meal. It's supposed to start raining this weekend. I made soup yesterday. Put too much barley in it, which I'll have to "fix" later. No problem.

Shelf work done and Little Feat over, it's on to "The Departed" with Nicholson and all the Young Wunderkind from Southie. One of those movies I could watch twenty times, as if I were on a boat 500 miles from the nearest TV signal, the tour was six months long and there were only 200 VHS tapes onboard. Happens all the time. Every guy that's spent time out to sea knows the drill.

Yea, I know...It's overplayed. Every Red Sox Games for the rest of our lives. So what. My best living Friend is from Lawrence. My best dead friend was a major Bo-Sox fan, from Jersey City, although he claimed to be from Pawtucket, Rhode Island. I have his ball cap. (Good deal for having to fight City Hall and get him properly, Militarily, buried, huh? He was a Marine. He didn't deserve an "unmarked, group grave.") Besides, they're an American League team and don't play the S.F. Giants, unless it's the World Series. They got Pablo Sandoval from us this year. His choice, if he wants to lose the World Series. "If" and "when" Boston makes it there again. Not a Boston hater, just a Giants fan.

I don't get tired of hearing this song or this band. Punk Rock with banjo and bagpipes? You fuckin' bet ya'.

-Doc

Tie Match

Dublin 1, Dortmunder, 1. Tie match.

Steve Vai, 10.

The Doc awards points upon merit and spirit, not simple play. Substance. Context. Continuity. Guts. Glory.

Watch it. It's LOUD. And very bass heavy. 'Nuff said?

Today was "Family Day." Catch up on all the dirt, etc.. Bavarian First Family, Irish "Second Family." Love 'em all. Sweat, stink, peccadillos and warts, especially. The patent side of Love. Absolute.

Is time patience or: patience time? Or, are we all patent? At any rate, Love rules. Trust rules. Faith rules. Accommodations aside. All is dependant upon Circumstance and Trust. And 60 CPS hum. Ground.

Ask me again in 10 years.

So far, this evening: Knob Creek, Pabst Blue Ribbon and Family "rule." And, Steve Vai. Joe Satriani. Steve Morse. Thin Lizzy. The house is rockin' on the Sennheiser's. I don't "bug" my neighbors, at night. What would be the point of that? (When one has a good pair of 'phones?) None, I would say.

Besides, music just "sounds better" through a good pair of headphones. I'd rather something "better" (Nakamichi Top Line's) but, I got a groovy deal on these fuckers. $30 rather than $200. Don't ask me "how." They're "discontinued" anyway. One shot deal.

I Love All Of My Family. All Four Sides.

I am a Lucky Man. I have more than three "real" friends, both legs and eyes, ears, eight cameras and a couple of neighborhood dogs that seem to like me.

3's, 5's, 7's and 11's. "Primes." Bet on 'em, every time. Always go "red." Don't waste your time on nickles and dimes. Quarters pay better. 1/4 of "anything." It hurts less if you lose.  

-Doc

Whose Dreams Are These, Anyway?

I have very strange dreams. Hi-Fi Seven Channel Stereo, Technicolor, Imax Theater Quality, Well-Scripted and Cast Dreams. I have no idea "what" my Subconscious is working out. Last night/early this morning was no exception.

There was a Girl In A Leopard Suit, (which was cool but, she was kinda' scary) some old Drinking Buddies and a guy from some made-up band that was being a dick. That's the Cliff's Notes version, anyway. I'll keep The Perticulars to myself. I own the Copyright.

Anyway, I have no idea where these dreams come from. I like the ones that happen when I'm awake allot better. At least, I get to be The Director.

Good coffee, cigarettes and some kinda' Nature Show sounds better at any rate. It's a common "wake-up routine." At least it's almost 70 degrees in the apartment, which is nice. Don't have to turn on the heat when I get out of bed. Just throw on the Alaska Ships' Supply sweatshirt, put on the slippers, start coffee and roll a couple of smokes.

I've never really been a fan of "Regular Old American Cigarettes." I used to smoke all kinds of weird foreign butts, just for diversity's sake but usually buy Peter Stokkebye Turkish Export or something now. They're all "bad for ya'" but, I don't feel like quitting just yet. I'm not planning on running The Boston Marathon or anything.

Frank Zappa used to say that coffee and cigarettes were like food, for him. Then he got Butt Cancer, which was probably more due to his consumption of Burnt Weeny Sandwiches than from smoking. I'll let ya' know in another 10 years or so...

I just have to toss this one into the gaping maw of noise appreciation:

Sorry about it being a re-master, which was tweaked in 2012. UMRK and RYKODISC did this with allot of FZ's stuff, over the years. Some good, some not so much. This one's "OK" but lacks the analog hot beef injection. Oh well.

"You Are What You Is..." (It Is What It Is?)

Love and Meaty Gristle,
-Doc Anchovy

p.s.: Happy St. Paddy's Day. I couldn't care less. My Family is Bavarian.

I Woke To A Terrible Thought

Actually, it was prompted by one of those commercials for Christian Children's Fund, showing the kid in icky water, one girl with a tear running down her face and the guy that looks like he may have eaten a few of those kids at some point admonishing Rico Americanos to pony up for Jesus and Save The Children. I wonder what the "administrative" costs of that Pogrom are. The guy with the Burl Ives beard doesn't look like he's missing any meals.

I hate those ads. Really. They used to have Sally Struthers in them. Until it became apparent that she had, possibly, subsidized her personal quest to become Mrs. Jabba The Hut (with lipstick and tits) with funds siphoned off from the campaign.

Seriously. If you're a man (who likes women that look like women) reading this and the thought of waking up next to Sally makes your legs cross involuntarily, you know what I mean.

Which leads to another disturbing thought/question: Were/are Rob Reiner and Sally secretly closely related? Rob the Anti-Cigarette Man (who made off with a significant amount of State and Federal dollars that never saw the likes of a classroom or billboard) and Sally are "two peas in a pod." A grotesquely HUGE pod, to be sure. Heck, they may or may not have been incestuous Lovers on All In The Family. They also, at some point, may simply conjoin to form one Gigantic, androgynous, Super Jabba. A Typhoon of cellulite. Ew.

Anyway, I digress. Waking up with shit like this in your head is what "sleeping with the TV on" is all about.

God bless you, Carl Reiner. But, you created monsters... Good ones like Marty Feldman and Peter Boyle, withstanding. They can stay. Meathead and What's-Her-Name, rot in Hell.

So, I decided to "get up" for awhile, make a pot of Constant Comment tea and have some toast, jam and Little South American Children's Feet.

Now, I'm watching "WW2 In Color," which is much more civilized. I have a semi-morbid fascination with that war. Plus, I just like watching the Krauts get their asses handed to them. Yes, my Family is Bavarian. Yes, The Nazis stole our Family Farm, below Berchtesgaden. Yes, we're Ashkenazim. Yes, I'm "bitter."

My Uncle, Hal, was a P-47d pilot and Base Commander in S.E. England toward the war's end. Flew "top cover" for his guys on D-Day. He blew up allot of shit, got shot down in France, was bayoneted through both lungs, had his teeth kicked in and left for dead (to be rescued by a French farmer) by the Heiny's when he came across a machine gun nest but, never shot down another pilot. Uncle Cookie Brush, via one of Werner Von Braun's V-2 rockets, gave him a send-off to Belgium. Landed right on the airstrip he was due to take off from, a couple 1,000' away. Hal's the Family Patriarch War Hero. Bird Colonel, USAAF/USAF, (ret.) Good man. He's 95 years old and I dread the news of his coming passing. He's my Mom's "Big Brother." I have none of his genetics. I'm a dyed in the wool Peacenik. Well, except that I think that building a Disneyland in The Middle East is a good idea (after it cools off).

War "Blows Dead Bears." I missed the Vietnam Draft by three weeks. I was #012 and 1-A. I would have ignored the letter and joined the Coast Guard. As things were, I was having allot more fun doing lighting design and carousing with Rock Stars. Shooting little guys, in black P.J.'s, in a jungle just wasn't going to work out for me. Besides, I suck at "taking orders." From ANYONE.

So. "Good Morning." Have a pleasant "Pi Day." 3.1415. 3/14/15. Embrace Fibonacci.

By the by: It's also Albert Einstein's Birthday! I'm already drunk on Relativity so a party would be a waste of good booze.

-Doc

     

A Lovely Little Bug or...

...The Gift That Just Keeps Giving. Virus of some kind that has been making cyclic rounds in these parts. Likes to go for walks around the body, pretend to "go away" and then comes back somewhere else. Or, mutates into Virus #2 or whatever. I have my pet theories about it but I'm not a doctor, just another Patient. So, what to do? Stay hydrated, eat as much as you can and don't trust a fart, this go 'round. Last time it was: "Cough until you experience pulmonary prolapse." That wonderful "Cough until you dry-heave" or crack a rib thing.

Long and short: I hate being sick. To the point of becoming a Howard Hughes type. Compulsive hand washing, all that. Avoiding public places and touching things that many already have.

Upon that note:

The sound's not that great but, you get the idea. The whole show:

-Doc