LITTLE DONALD CROSSES THE BORDER

"I felt like I was crossing The Border." -Donald Trump 04.28.2016 Sometime P.M.

There was a Riot. People got hurt. The Donald had to scuttle about for an alternative escape route.

Well, congratulations, Don. You just "lost" Southern California. My God, what a DICK! He reminds me of Nixon but, dumber and more dangerous.

<End of Political Rant>

Very rarely do I ever get: "Political." For me, it's allot like watching Reality Television. So, fuck that shit. Somebody else can get upset about it. I seem to like saying: "If it doesn't happen within 6 feet of me, doesn't bite, explode or stink, I don't care about it."

Yesterday, I found an "almost NITB" (New In The Box) pair of Asolo Hiking Boots at a thrift store that benefits an animal rescue shelter around here. My perfect size (11 Narrow) and maybe worn for part of a Summer and put away. The "problem" and ostensible "reason" that someone donated these boots is that: When they stored them, the laces actually "rusted" to the bottom "Speed Lacing Clips" and were, previous to meeting my Leatherman Supertool, immovable. I freed them up, loosened the laces, trimmed them and put the boots on. It was like they were made for me. These boots, list price, Retail Brick and Mortar Store, will set you back about $200.00. I know where to get them for about $50.00 less. What did I pay yesterday? $7.00. Some Rich Person didn't care to take the time to fix the lacing problem and donated them. I LOVE Stupid Rich people. And thrift stores. These boots are no longer being made by Asolo (my favorite boot company, by the way. I own two other pairs of their boots.) and are also Gore-Tex, which my other Asolo Boots, are not. The other things I bought at the thrift store were a fishing hat for my Buddy, Stephen and a "Waybacks" (A Band) CD. All said and done, I was out of the thrift store for less than $10.00. Only because I had other stuff to do. Like: Go to Safeway and get a frozen pizza, some dessert (A Boston Cream Cake) and some Decaf Soda Pop. Sunkist Orange and A&W Root Beer. I rarely drink soda. It just sounded good.

 Took some shots of my neighbor's 1931 Crown Victoria Touring Car yesterday.  He had it out parked on the street with its' new "For Sale" sign on it. Ready to go inland to a car show where he hopes to sell it. I'm guessing that it's a ball park figure: "$20K Car." I LOVE Old Cars, too. I've owned a few. A 1948 Dodge Custom Touring Sedan (D-24 with a '53 Driveline) and a 1952 IHC 1 Ton Flatbed Truck, just to name a couple. The list of cars I've owned in my life would take up the rest of this page.

Nice day here yesterday. Typical "Southern Northwestern Spring Weather." Windy, a bit chilly, some drizzle, brief moments of sun and the occasional Cherry Blossom. Rhododendrons are also in bloom. The Stellar's Blue Jays are back. As are many of the migratory birds that frequent the Northeastern Pacific Flyway. I'm smack dab in the middle of that Aeronautical Highway. You can tell what the season is doing just by noticing which birds are in town.

I also picked up a Lifetime California State Parks Discount Pass yesterday for $3.50. Because I qualify for "Disabled Status." I'll be 62 years old in a couple of months, too. Lots of people lost money on their bet that I'd never see this age. Fuckers.

Love, Milk and Cookies,
-Doc

Animation From Old Photo's/Live Action

This is "why" I like film, photography and Art in general.


https://vimeo.com/160024074


-Doc

"THERE'S NO MAGIC IN THAT BOX"

Those words were said to the Phone Company Lineman the other day. It/they were in reference to a computer not being able to "do" anything that its' Operator doesn't "tell it to do." There's no magic in that box.

I discovered one of the things that was bogging down my machine. The newer version of Spotify, my Steaming Music Service automatically updates itself, if you choose that feature. In this case, to a version that loads the LP/CD Artwork alongside of the Artist's offerings. It takes FOREVER to load the rather large litany of Song Lists I have stored in their cloud. (Hundreds of hours of music) Their servers began to "not like me" and would stop loading the lists somewhere around Van Halen and Steve Vai. There was a block of performers, about 50 Artists long, that I couldn't listen to anymore and would get "error messages" during the load about. I deleted the newer version, reloaded a simpler one and it works just fine now, sans Artwork again. It even sounds better, because it isn't wasting all that bandwidth on Album Art. It could be my imagination.

Started the day with coffee and listening to Tackhead. Wonderfully Bass-y stuff with lots of multi-cultural tones. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tackhead I really like both Adrian Sherwood and Doug Wimbish. I was introduced to their music by an Artist Roommate in Hawai'i, back in the 90's. His Brother used to send him mix tapes and some of them included these guys' work. I was infected by their magic. In or out of the box. Their version of  Stevie Wonder's "Higher Ground" is great! Think Red Hot Chili Peppers' cover of the song on powerful mescaline (or something else). A cover of James brown's "Funky President" is way hip as well. The Sherwood remix, especially. I hear too many influences to start naming names. Wimbish has been on so many other people's recordings that it's crazy how he even found the time to be there, recording with them and have any sort of Personal Life. If you've never listened to these guys, do it.

I have more than a couple Friends who's Art has taken over their personal Lives. All a matter of priorities, I suppose. I get caught up in my own "addictions" once in awhile too. So, I "get" how that happens. I spent weeks recording and mixing, re-recording and adding and subtracting "blips" of this and that to a song. That went on for months, here and there. I ended up calling a halt to any further modifications/additions/subtractions at some point. I had to decide upon a Final Cut. Otherwise, I was going to starve to death or develop a bad Studio Rash, Vitamin D deficiency, have a guitar pick become an actual part of my hand, headphones graft themselves to my head, or whatever...My two Housemates were "understanding" about the process and amazed at my tenacity and patience.

I still have problems with my Landline Phone. (I WILL NOT own a cell phone) I am going to have to call the Repair Guy out to the pole again. I don't know what the eventual "fix" is going to be but, at least the internet connection is better. My Friends can just send me emails in the meantime. We just "ramble" on the telephone anyway.

PG&E gave me a nice, biannual gift, this month's billing cycle. A $28.00 cut in the total bill. Yay! I can always use an extra $28.00.

It's supposed to"maybe" rain today. So says the barometer on my desk and the National Weather Service. Cloudy with a chance of Drama, is more like it. The Neighborhood Drama Factor has been Number 1, with a bullet, lately. I have headphones. Nice ones. Poof! The Neighborhood is silent and invisible.

I have Spring Organization to do. Some milk crates full of stuff I never use to move to storage. Storage space to organize. Organizations to Organize...

Coffee. Tackhead. Cigarettes. Maybe a bagel and cream cheese.

-Doc

"Higher Ground," Tackhead Style:

An Older Gem:

 

OH, MAMA, IS IT REALLY MUMBLE, MUMBLE, MUMBLE, AGAIN?

Ever known somebody that doesn't pronounce their consonants? It sounds like they have marbles in their mouth. I notice that allot of people about 20-30 years younger than myself do that. Or, they insert consonants that simply aren't there to begin with. A peeve, "pet" or not, comes to mind. People that say: "Warshington" (or, is it "Worshington?) instead of Washington. A neighbor of mine does that, as do members of his Family. Then again, there's not a High School Diploma among the bunch. I have to believe that it goes deeper than that though. My theory is: They simply don't "care." They've made up their own, regional, ass-backwards, secret language and they're sticking to it. Frank Zappa said something similar about Truck Drivers.

Tom Robbins had a gripe/comment/observation about the overuse of slang. He said something like: "Sure, slang is great if brevity is your objective but, in the end, people end up calling one thing another and that ultimately makes them crazy." He was/is right. The other day, I was In Town and as I was passing one of the book stores, noticed that Tom has a new book out on the shelves. I still haven't got around to reading the one before this new one. Something about Savages or something... I like Tom Robbins' work. He: "turns a phrase well." Which, is a requirement for me reading anything. I tend to favor the Prose style, as you may have noticed. Most of my favorite Writers write Prose. At least most of the time.

My Internet/Phone connections have been on the fritz lately. It's annoying. The Lineman that serviced my line yesterday said there was a "leg" coming off of my line and that he was killing that off so I'd have a "dedicated pipe." All of that sounds vaguely "naughty," huh? To the contrary, it's just Secret Techie Language. "...it will make you crazy." Remember that.

Anyway, one of the things that's not working correctly is Spotify, a music streaming application. Which "kind of sucks" but, that I also don't call that much about because I have TONS of my own music to listen to already. I'm actually thinking of unsubscribing from the service. They Re-Master allot of music and that makes it sound terrible/different than the albums/tapes/CD's I already own. If the Songlists I have created don't stop "not loading" I will kill the service.

Double negative's for EVERYBODY!

I feel like there's something else I ought to be doing right now. I'm going to go find out what that is.

-Doc

    

SUNDAY!

Big John Mazmanian, FUNNY CARS, U.S. Amphetamine Speedway! BE THERE!

Radio spots like this used to fill the AM Radio Dial back in the late 60's/early 70's. A particular radio station, in a town I lived in back then, comes to mind. If you "know" me, you know about the radio station. If not, you probably don't care anyway. I "don't care" anymore either.

I didn't listen to AM Radio back in those days. If I did hear it, it was on somebody else's car radio, which made me want to tell the driver that I needed to take a pee and never return to the car. AM Radio had, roughly estimating here, about three times the commercials as FM Radio and the announcers were either "really high on coffee, cocaine or both. The commercials didn't "talk", they "YELLED!" Buy THIS CRAP! EAT HERE! SHOP AT JEANS WEST! (Where nothing fits) You get the idea.

All the Disc Jockey's had the same hair, according to which hair style was en vogue that week. The "Shag Cut" was very popular, in my region of the country. Karen Carpenter had a "Shag Haircut." Then she died of Bulimia. You've been warned. I cut my own hair back then. It was very long. I got it wet, combed it all forward and whacked it off with a sharp pair of my Mom's Dress Making Shears, about 6" in front of my forehead. It was a kind of Modified Shag Cut. It was also free and didn't lead to an eating disorder.

Over on FM Radio, it sounded like all the Disc Jockey's were either getting allot better weed than you were. Or, were hooked up with some G.I./Sailor/Marine, etc., that was getting some of that Thai Stick Shit being brought back in coffins. I lived in San Diego at the time. There was allot of that Thai Stick stuff. There was allot of Opiated Lady Finger/Temple Ball Hash around. Mexico was a stoner's throw away and if you "knew somebody" you could actually get some pretty decent Mexican Weed. Not that $10 per lid, pissed-on, smells like Diesel crap. Of course, all of that it passe' now, with 20% THC shit laying in the streets to be picked up like candy wrappers after a Block Party. I remember picking up weed laying on the floors of concert halls after shows, just to see what was "out there." Sometimes there was money laying under a seat or the odd nice camera that Joe/Josephine Stoner had spaced out as they left. Mostly, it was black Ju-Ju-Bee's, just like at the movie theaters. I did find about a quarter ounce of some pretty good Cocaine backstage at a concert once, because I was already backstage. Some rich fucker had spaced out his/her stash and pop! Right into my pocket. "Coke? What coke? I didn't see any..."

Those days are long gone, just in case I'm being "monitored" here. I find most dope lore boring and have already satisfied any weird curiosities I might have had about: "I wonder what this shit does?" about dope, long ago. I don't even smoke weed anymore. I used to wake up and go to sleep with it. Besides, Prescription Medication is much better, from all angles. At the very least, you know what you're getting. I just take the stuff that allows me to function at a median level of proficiency and then go to sleep for eight hours. Blood pressure med's have crept into that mix, as have Ibuprofen and the occasional Valium. All "nice,prescribed" as Warren Zevon might say. He didn't die from Bulimia. He may have had a Shag Haircut or two though.  

Mostly, it was all the ritualized behaviors and "Phony Indian Lore" stuff that drove me away from dope. I just got tired with listening to people talk about "which was better, which was best" about various substances and wandered off, scratching my head in disgust, probably looking for girls to chase or wondering what would be at the Midnight Movies that weekend. Not allot to do after working a show at 1 a.m. on a Saturday night. The main decision was: "IHOP or Denny's?" Go home or sleep on a Road Case with a U-Haul Blanket for 4 hours and then go home?

Dude, have you smoked any of the Meshmican (a bastardization of "Oaxacan") Weed that Little Johnny has? It's Totally Rad/Mind-Blowing/Trippy/Floral/Citrus-y/Gooey/Allot Like Turtle Cum...

I never gave a shit about what somebody "called " it, just whether or not it "worked." People still do that "branding thing" with their Dope Lore. It's incredibly boring. Somewhat like talking about a favorite Jerry Garcia Guitar Solo or the like. I once heard someone say that: "Deadheads are the most Homogeneous Sub-Species of Hippies." I knew what they meant immediately. There is NOTHING more boring than listening to some Furry Forest Dweller rave on about how Jerry's Solo at Winterland, Second Set, Dew/GDTRFB 10-31-1973 was so much trippier/gooey/turtle cum-like than the Boston Gardens Solo, First Set, Scarlet/Fire from 04.20-1983. I literally wanted to punch half the people I went to GD Shows with, or just throw them out of the van at 60 mph while driving home, after about 1972. It depended allot on how stoned/tired I was and whether or not I was driving. Usually, feigning a need for a piss stop and squealing out of the gas station in a haze of rear tire smoke, leaving Little Johnny Boring behind, worked just fine. Actually, I usually had my own car and didn't go with a bunch of other people. Me, the Girlfriend and Dog, making sure to have a gallon of wine and some Top Ramen/Peanut Butter & Bread/cheese/mustard/eggs to enjoy in the tent, if driving wasn't such a good idea. Usually, after a Grateful Dead Show, NOTHING was a good idea.

I was going to post a Grateful Dead YouTube thing here but, I've already heard too much of those guys. Kingfish? A close second for "Heard Too Many Times." I worked a couple of Kingfish Shows in the 70's.

-Doc

   

 

COOKIES FOR BREAKFAST!

One of the nicest things about getting older is: You can, if you want to, have COOKIES FOR BREAKFAST! Not that anyone in their right mind, would. But, I might. I also happen to think that Pumpkin Pie is part of a nutritious breakfast. It's in The Pie Group of the food pyramid.

More examples: Nobody cares if you fart really loud. Unless you live in an apartment building with paper-thin walls. Even then, you can accuse your neighbors of "spying on you" and turn the tables. More often than not, it's my neighbors that are committing the noisy offense, anyway. This is still in a hypothetical stage and remains to be proven, until I listen to the audio tapes. Move over, Milhaus.

You can listen to music really loud and claim onset of general deafness. I myself prefer headphones for this activity which, in turn, leads to me singing along like there's nobody else around. As far as I am aware, nobody else actually lives here and the "people" I see are simply imaginary. This works for allot of situations. "Nope, I didn't hear anyone killing a cat last night. It was Ghosts. They're literally EVERYWHERE!"

If you want to have really smelly fish for dinner, every night, nobody notices. Mostly because that Foot Fungus smell is overpowering it. Or dirty laundry or the dead girl in the closet or...

Along those same lines...You may, if you like, leave Limburger Cheese out to "ripen" anywhere. Like, "under the bed" anywhere. I have a suspicion that my neighbor does this. Or, it's his feet.

You may, if you like, NEVER VACUUM THE RUGS in your house. Dead skin is also: EVERYWHERE and allot like ghosts. Even MORE like ghosts, in fact. This same ideology works for dishes, taking showers/shaving/Q-Tipping your ears/changing your underwear, etc.. Especially if you live alone. Shit, of course you live alone. Nobody else wants to smell the cheese under your bed or between your toes.

I have a "thing" about toe cheese. I do not care for that smell. It's like "death." Or, the dead cat in the laundry basket that you thought was simply out for a good walkabout. Then you got that Postcard from Hawai'i, telling you to make a Doctor's appointment. Damn Cat.

Breakfast time is also a great space, a safe space even, for composing naked, flatulent, smelly/ obscene, Haiku's. Can a Haiku fart? Sure, just squeeze it again...Haiku's can be, given half a chance, the Poo-Poo-Cushion of the Poetry World.

You can tell yourself jokes or watch Cats Playing With Dead Mice videos on YouTube for hours and nobody gives a shit. Nobody even knows about it. Except Google, The Feds and your ISP. Hopefully, all of those people have given up watching you because you're an old, smelly person. Or, you're just a boring guy wondering what cats do when nobody's looking.

Things in your refrigerator are also fair game for all manner of Personal Bad Habits Science Week experiments. The tomato you thought just might be the cat, which is in the laundry basket/clothes drier/under the sink or in your pillow case. (They both have the same hair. "Catmato.") Which explains why your pillow cases smell funny at 02:30. I like cats. I am also allergic to them. They know this and want to sleep on my face.

Ah, "yes." Getting Old(er). If I had known what lay in store, I would have done many, many, more risky things and had much, much, more unprotected sex, eaten that thing that exceeded the 3 minute rule for food hitting the bathroom floor, owned faster motorcycles and driven cars into snowbanks while drunk off of my ass, a case of generic beer on the floorboard on the Driver's Side and a lit cigarette burning a hole in the seat cover between my legs, with regularity. I only did that one time, honest. Hey, I was mad at my Girlfriend who was in turn mad at me for not wanting to "settle down." I showed her. When I woke up in a deserted campground at daybreak, birds were singing and all was right with the World. Time for a beer and a Road Flare ignited camp fire.

Unfortunately, "Getting Old is simply what happens when you don't die young." Punishment for all the ants you burned with a magnifying glass and the time you flicked a match at the girl who called you: "Fat's" hair, which "accidentally" caught on fire. What the fuck did you know about matches and hair? You were 9 years old. You weren't really "aiming for her" anyway. Notice that I'm not claiming personal responsibility for this, or any other, "Act Of Childhood Mayhem" I may or may not have committed. "No Film, No Act.", to quote Bill O'Reilly. That's a first. Quoting that Asshole, I mean. Why nobody has started a camp fire using a Road Flare that just happened to be stuck up Bill O'Reilly's Ass, I don't know.

A couple of people, a long time ago, suggested that I "turn myself in to" (and PAY FOR) Werner Erhard's  Re-Grooving Pogrom. Many years later, I found out that Werner is "on the lamb" in Costa Rica from Scientologists that want to kill him and/or he owes back taxes to Uncle Sam. Swell guy, otherwise. I wonder if he's still honoring back order replacement for his Permanent Light Bulbs? His First BIG SCAM. Before the Self Help Stuff. He was probably a Used Car Salesman, too. The folks that took his "Trainings?" They're all Thetans and Totally Obnoxious Movie Stars, now. I once did a search of All The People That Took E.S.T.. Amusing. They might just be YOUR NEIGHBORS! They look pretty normal, on the outside. Inside? See: Road Flare, Camp Fire, Drunk Driving.

Next:"Hell." (Or: "The Post-Nuclear Man Cave.") Sure to be an improvement, with appropriate medication...

"Who Loves Ya', baby?",
-Doc (Yes, I'm wearing a Telly Savalas mask in my  Roger Ramjet Pajamas @ 02:40. Smoking cigarettes, setting the cat on fire, again, and drinking Russian tea. Sue me. Do it! The Fake I.R.S.People's Robot Calling Lady sure wants to.) "People's Robot Calling Lady." Hmmm. I wonder if that has anything to do with that time I slammed the door on My Communist Avon Representative? If "Everything really is: 'connected, like Hippies and Microbiologists' claim, it's not that far-fetched.

A wonderful inconvenience:

LET'S GO RESCUE GRANDMA!

I may be going on a trip soon. To the delightful City of Costa Mesa, Ca.. I'm kidding, there's NOTHING "delightful" about Costa Mesa. The trip, however, IS a possibility. I have been asked, by a Dear Friend, to do my best Silent Bob Hard Ass Routine to help out with a bad situation that involves his Mom and an Evil Nephew. I'm good at Silent Bob, Hard Ass. All that's required of someone performing said act is to stand at Parade Rest, blank expression and stare at an imaginary hole in The Other Guy's Forehead. No words. Ever. An occasional blink is allowed. It makes people nervous and questioning of The Performer's motives. Which, is the point. LEO's will take care of The Dirty Work. I just have to stand there and look vaguely menacing. At any rate, it would be nice to get out of town and remember all the reasons that I don't live in Southern California. My Buddy will hate the traffic. I'm sure we'll find acceptable Alternate Routes of travel.

As I was coming home from The Mall and a Motorcycle Cafe' and Classic Cycle Showroom kind of place, taking a badly inked T-Shirt back for exchange yesterday afternoon, I noticed that the wind had kicked up to about a steady 20 kts. and a storm front was advancing. By the time I got back to The Neighborhood, it was gusting 40 and looking increasingly dark. It took about an hour for the red band of radar indication to reach here. I dialed it up on Weather Underground's long range site and saw that we were: "in for a pound." Of Dog Shit. It rained really hard, that "sideways" kind of rain, for about an hour or so and then settled into a fairly steady rain for the rest of the night. It's still raining. Which is "why" I went out to run errands yesterday. The main thing was to get the shirt turned in and buy some snack food. Mission accomplished. Nothing to do today but wade through some crap in the closet and tidy up The Ranch a bit. Listen to some music and vacuum the floors. The usual Self-Helpful Heloise Routine.

Russian Tea and a couple of cigarettes @ 04:00. Also usual. I'll lay back down, of course. It's "Good Sleeping Weather" outside. More words, later.

My Carpal Tunnel and Tendinitis stuff is giving me pain in my left arm/wrist/fingers. Delightful.

-Doc

A good Warren Set:

    

EVERYONE'S FAVORITE ANNOYANCE

Robo-Calls, Junk Mail, Aggressive Sales People, Moonies, People That Spout Their Political Beliefs On Public Transit, In Bars or Churches, Idiots (in general) and The Hits Just Keep On Coming... I could go on for hours. I find most "Lesser Animals" (sic) to be more agreeable than Humans. "I Love my Hamster but hate my Neighbor." You know the riff.

Recently, I discovered that some telemarketer/scammer/phisher type had actually been able to hijack my "default phone number settings" in gmail auto-complete. What was the purpose of that action and how would it benefit someone else? I am going to guess: "It would allow a 'spoof call' to be made, through my machine without me knowing about it." Ha! I check my logs, Buck-o. I change settings and passwords, often. No slippery bastard is going to burglarize my emails (except, of course, The People I Voted Into Office or are engaged in Espionage or Surveillance for the Common Good.) and commit dastardly acts against my circuitry and/or Gray Matter. Well, that's probably "wishful" at best. I am thoroughly convinced that there is all manner of shit-trickery going on behind my LCD Screen.

I was, however, "concerned" when I found that I had an Auto-Complete # attached to one of my many "Profiles." Some A-Hole in Lost Angels had inserted it. I suppose the truth is, they were "bouncing" off of another number and were actually in Costa Rica drinking a Lime Ricky Don't Lose That Number on the beach.. I have received Spam phone calls from the same number. One that was threatening me as they pretended to be the IRS, was marginally creative. Humorous, since I have not, legally, paid taxes in about 25 years. I am "exempt" from paying them, period. I won't go into the "why" about that. You'll just have to accept it as: The Gospel According To Doc. Try scratching your head. It sometimes works for me when I have that "dog that doesn't 'get it' look on my face." Cock your head to one side while you perform this action, too. It does NOT work if you leave out any of the pieces. Kind of like a Jigsaw Puzzle.

Allot of people that I know have reoccurring "problems" with their computers. Mostly, I discover that these same people NEVER perform ANY of their routine "house keeping chores" on their machines. RAM clears, temp file dumps, defragmenting and optimization, malware scans, making sure their various anti-virus/malware/hijacking/ambiguous 2nd Users/Spyware, etc., apps. are currently functioning correctly and updated, scanning those very same apps., etc.. You get the picture. These people are either (a) Stupid or, (b) Unaware of said actions. "I remember MY first computer." Actually, it didn't belong to me. It was the property of Maui County Libraries. Either that or the Community College where I learned to do basic operation of something like Windows and Commodore 64 stuff. I'm dating myself, both chronologically and in general. "With a Schizophrenic, you're never alone." No, I'm not a Schizo. A loaf of bread has never invited me to go surfing or dance the Meringue. (OK, there was that ONE TIME outside of Minneapolis after a Grateful Dead Show...) I just like saying those words.

Apparently, I like saying LOTS of words. You know The Type...Willing to engage a Fire Hydrant in conversation regarding Schopenhauer's used Kleenexes and whatnot. Whaddya' got? Yea, we can talk about that stuff.

This morning's listening:

Wanna' Buy Francisco Pizarro's Prosthetic Leg?

-Doc





   

IN LIEU OF WEEKENDS...

...I believe it was Les Claypool from Primus who said: "Funny thing about Weekends, they just don't seem to mean as much when you're unemployed." I suppose the same rule applies when one is "Retired." I know Friday Night doesn't mean Doodly-Squat to "Me or Bill's Parrot" anymore. A Kilgore Trout reference, somewhat obscure but, if YOU like Vonnegut like I like Vonnegut, you got it.

Sitting here at just after Noon O'Clock, listening to Tom Waits, having a third cup of coffee to go with the second painkiller and just watching the day fritter itself away. Typical. "Spring" in Temporarily Humboldt County. Another quasi-obscure reference with its' roots fully sunk into the 60's. Spring in Humboldt is like "Winter" in Panama. It just doesn't seem to mean much. There are TONS of those kinds of "ism's" in the World. Don't get me started, you'll regret bringing it up in the first place.

Panama has been "In The News" of late. A couple of Heads of State losing their jobs and some Chinese guys getting their Tiny Little Commie Dicks caught in the proverbial wringer. Couldn't happen to a nicer police lineup of Cavalier Financiers, huh? I betcha' Donald Frump has a few offshore accounts out there. (I know, I know, I promised, forever ago, that: "This thing would never get Political.") Sue me.  I know Donnie Dearest would. As a parting shot: Who, in their right mind would vote for that fucker's hair? They can't be voting for The Man... It's gotta' be the Crazy Hair.

So. Tom is spouting off, Poetry Slam Style, "Spare Parts." It, the song, reminds me of seeing/hearing him in Sandy Eggo, somewhere around Horton Square, in some vomit-floored Sailor Piano Bar (It's all Gentrified nowadays but, you can still find a joint with Vietnamese B-Girls hustling Sailors and Marines for $20.00 Champagne Cocktails if you really try to.) Back in the early 70's. Tom had been drinking, not The Piano. God only knows what else he was into in that crap-washed Border Town. I hated living there. I console myself that: "It was a long time ago."

"...The jukebox has to take a leak..."

"...The telephone needs a cigarette..."

"Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Nooot Meee..."

-Doc

 

SONNY!

The Sonny Landreth show was really good. I haven't been to a concert that I had to pay for, that I liked that much, in quite a long time. Read: "I rarely go to concerts that I have to pay for." Really. I simply: "Know Too Many Guys/Speak The Language" to have to pay. Not that I want a Free Ride. I'm fully willing to perform some menial duties for my admission.  My "dues" are: "Paid In Full." Once you have the shtick  down, it's not that difficult to: "Talk your way into a show." It's all smoke and mirrors anyway.

Regarding "Paying Dues..." I had the displeasure of working some really awful shows in my previous incarnation as a Lighting Designer. One will always stand out: Bad Company at The Starlight Amphitheater in Sandy Eggo. The band's "Tour Manager," a guy who, literally, looked as though he'd been "poured into" a pair of too tight leather pants and platform soled shoes, BAD British teeth and an attitude to match, wanted to tell me "how to do my job" one evening. He threatened to "climb my ladder and tech me a lesson" as I was focusing lamps upon Gaffer's Tape X's onstage.

I, in my usual Levi's, Chuck Taylor Low Cut's and some obscure Rock n' Roll T-Shirt, just looked down at the Guy, waggling a 16" Crescent Wrench and said: "Come on up, Leather Boy." I knew he couldn't climb the ladder in Those Shoes. He stomped off, cursing me, to find the show's Promoter. Bill, the Guy Running The Show, told him: "Leave my Lighting Guys alone. They're Professionals." Which, of course, only made Leather Boy angrier. I traded The Finger's and Fake Smiles with him for the duration of the show, fully expecting some sort of physical altercation with him after the show.

It never came to that. His SUPER FANTASTIC LIMEY ROCK BAND was given a luke-warm reception by the So-Cal Crowd and he was snorting some raspy stepped on blow backstage as we started our Tear Down/Strike/Pack It Up For Tomorrow ritual. Never saw the fucker again.

The only negative at the Sonny Landreth show was having to explain to some youngster that he was "sitting in my seat" and I wanted it back. Youngster attempted to school me on the finer points of "seat saving" whereupon, I suggested to him that perhaps pouring a beer into the seat he was now occupying might do the trick. I got my seat back.

Met some nice Locals at the show, particularly a Photographer that has taken some nice shots of my Buddy, Mark Karan. I recognized his name from those photo's. Nice Guy. Got his business card and will swap lies with him later. He rents Hammond Organs to bands passing through town. NOBODY wants to lug around their favorite Hammond B-3 on the road. Too many BAD THINGS can and usually DO happen during said cartage.

I took a few Snap Shot type photo's during the show. I think I forgot to "up" the film speed to ASA 800 or so, which may have been a "good mistake" since the Theater had a white backdrop behind the stage. So, my light meter was reading all the white "bounce-back" from that. I'm not up to speed on photographing concerts indoors, with a digital camera, yet. My little "entry level" Nikon Cool Pix unit wasn't really designed for that stuff. I am, after all, A FILM GUY, anyways. No problem shooting an indoor show with film. The lighting at the Sonny show wasn't all that conducive to photography, either. The overhead stage lights were pointed toward the "Dance Area" in front of the stage.

Anyhow: Good show, got a Shuttle Ride home and woke up the next day without a hangover or a black eye. Perfect!

-Doc

GOT THE FOG, COFFEE AND LAUNDRY BLUES?

This'll cure ya!

Doing the "Gig Rags" laundry and drinking coffee in the fog. I'm going to see Sonny tonight. I was going to go see Coco Montoya last night but, I was just too tired to remain vertical until 01:00 and rock out. Yes...I'm "getting old." Thanks, for reminding me. I'll try to take some photo's. I'm not "checked out on" interior no flash digital photography, yet. Hopefully, this will be the lesson I need to learn. How hard can it be? Just adjust the ASA to 1600, 3200, Auto Exposure and go for broke.

Just a quick note. I'm: "busy." Spring Cleaning and running around to do.

https://youtu.be/MMB7Xf_7JDs