Photo of the Day

"No Notes"

I wish I'd thought to make t-shirts like this when I played in the Bud Greene Band. I rarely made demands on any bands I played in but I had one for that, and other bands. I stuck to my guns and went "Nah-ah" over the mic if someone in the band forgot and violated it, and after a few gigs it was standard policy. It was for the good of the band and the audience. The policy was called "no notes."
 A few bands out there, like the late Frank Zappa's band, play the entire show back-to-back, but we, like most bands tended to "noodle" a bit in between songs. We kept it to a minimum though, and to be fair on some nights we'd play 45 minutes without stopping...we might go from a Dead tune into a long jam (we were a "jam band" before it was hip) into a drum solo into "Take Five" by Dave Brubeck, back into another drum solo, another jam and finally back into the original tune.
 We did maybe 15-20% originals but basically we were a cover band. My main strengths in such bands are the ability to blend well and stay on pitch with harmony, and being able to pick interesting tunes to cover. I'd pick a Steely Dan album for instance, which was known for the hit, like "Reelin' in the Years" or "Do it Again," but I'd pick, say, "Any Major Dude" or whatever. The hit was burned in everyone's brains but Dan fans would've heard the whole album. We'd start the tune and they'd go "Oh, THAT tune...nice." Whatever song someone might suggest learning had to be voted on, but usually my suggestions made it through committee without much trouble. I once got a band to learn (and SMOKE) "Lark's Tongues in Aspic, Pt. 2" by King Crimson. I rest my case.
 The "no notes" deal comes from something I hate to see bands do, and I wasn't going to let us do it. It's completely natural and understandable, but when the band is about to play a song that most people know, someone (usually the guitar players) will play the first line of the melody before the song starts and completely give it away. It's almost a reflex action and they're only trying to get their sound right for that particular song, but by the time you do start the tune everybody already knows what it is and it loses impact. Maybe it's cheesy but you want that "punch," especially when you're playing a song that's been covered a billion times. It became a band joke. We'd be sitting around after a gig drinking or whatever and someone would say "No notes!" and we'd all crack up. Guess you had to be there. I'm glad I was.
 I'd still like to get one printed and give it to our keyboardist O'. He'd dig it. I can picture us back in the day if I'd had t-shirts made. We'd have all walked out onstage wearing them while the crowd would be scratching their heads. Instead all we had was the voice of the drummer saying "No notes" over the PA. I hated calling my buds out in public but it really made a difference and everybody got on board with it right away. BTW as a remedy I suggested they play a random melody if they needed to adjust their sound, or even play a "goof riff" from some dorky tune that nobody wanted to hear just to fuck with the crowd a bit, but then make them smile when we didn't actually play that tune. That was fun. I'll implement this policy for every band I ever play in. I think every band should implement it. It really makes a big difference. THIS HAS BEEN A PUBLIC-SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT. Have a nice day.

More Numbers/Flexible

This is from a video that shows what happens when a cymbal is struck. A few years ago, when the price of high-speed cameras fell enough to be affordable to the general public, all sorts of cool slo-mo vids started popping up on YouTube. What makes these cymbal vids unique is the sheer amount of flex when struck. I'm a drummer myself and I know cymbals are quite flexible but I'd never have guessed this much.
 I have to mention something here that I talked about in another blog because it's hilarious. Some guy who put up one of the first videos I saw accidentally scared the shit out of a lot of people, including me. Sadly it's no longer up but that's probably a good thing. The guy didn't think to mute the volume or turn it down, so when the cymbal was struck it let out an ungodly roar that sounded kind of like smashing a ten-foot gong, followed by an incredible, low-pitched, whining sustain that sounded like a tortured cellist in Hell or something like that. It was so fucking loud that it literally made me jump in my chair.
 I'm sure the guy felt bad if he read the comments because a lot of people jumped his shit, and rightly so. I doubt he meant to scare anyone but it was just balls-loud and totally unexpected. I thought it was hilarious, once I checked to make sure I hadn't soiled my shorts, but I could understand people being pissed. I really hate he took it down because I wanted to record it and maybe use it in one of my "spooky" songs I sometimes do in the studio. That's how heinous it was. I'd certainly have turned it down considerably. No need to blow anyone's speakers. Some of the shellshocked comments were hilarious. I remember one woman saying "Why in GOD'S NAME would you leave the SOUND on?" I'd say there was a 50-50 chance she wet her computer chair. Bless her heart. Too much.
 Where the numbers deal comes in is I was viewer #969,969. That's an awesome number. What are the odds? I'd say roughly 969,969-to-1. There are lots of people into the numbers thing, including obviously me, and they'd say that if the 9s were flipped you'd get two 666s. I love it. The Number of the Beast twice. Hail Cymbal! 969,969 really is a beautiful number. I definitely enjoyed landing on it.

Here's the vid that this image is from. It's amazing. Don't worry...it's silent.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kpoanOlb3-w&feature=share&fbclid=IwAR3A_9IY3YkPZ_8VN-xKPdscnHadlmVF5-nNpX5S7VCgVzk_9LGGZcmFekQ

Road$ not Taken

I've had several serious "fork in the road" moments in my life but this is perhaps the most intense of all. I guess 99 or maybe more out of 100 people will probably think I'm insane if they read this. They could be right and when I look back on this I wonder myself sometimes...but not for very long.
 Actually this ties in to another such moment in that the forks involved choices about money...one a very considerable income and the other an almost unlimited income. Once I was offered the drum chair in a band that's been on the scene for a very long time and are doing quite well.
 Their drummer was basically the weak link in the chain and they wanted me. After a gig opening up for them a couple of the guys took me aside and offered me the gig right there on the spot but I said no immediately. I didn't know their drummer from Adam but I wasn't about to see him get blindsided and kicked out of his own damn band and have his heart broken, no matter the benefits for me, just because there were better drummers around. There are always going to be better drummers around. Again most people would say I was nuts and that it's just business and I get it, but that's not right. Plus I knew he'd get better and be okay and he did and he was.
 I heard them a couple years later and he'd knuckled-down and practiced and he'd gotten much better and he continued to improve. He has at least one solo CD out if I'm not mistaken. It goes beyond Karma...even though that shit WILL come back to you, and some might not screw someone over from that regard...it was the wrong thing to do to him in the first place; forget what might come back on me. I'd basically be looking him in the eye and saying "Sorry, drummer-dude...I'm taking your gig and your friendships and your income and maybe your girlfriend too, not to mention your dream...just because your buds think I'm a 'better' drummer...but hey, it's nothing personal. Have a nice day and good luck." No can do.
 Even though the band I was in at the time was a better band all-around besides just the drummer, alcohol abuse was starting to rear its ugly head and I had a funny feeling about our future, while I knew the other band at least didn't get shitfaced on gigs like two of us were doing. It wasn't me BTW. I might have a cocktail waiting under my floor tom for after the last cymbal crash but I never touched it before or during a gig. When I realized that the guys were serious about offering me the gig, my potential life in that band literally flashed before my eyes.
 I knew they'd be working for a long time, and well beyond the bar/frat-party scene we were both doing at the time, and touring beyond the US, which they've done. I knew my life would change overnight, and for the better as far as money was concerned. I could picture myself as a part of that thing. They'd been around several years longer than we'd been and they had a bigger following although we were catching them. Our biggest crowd in that band was opening up for them at an auditorium that was packed to the rafters. That was said gig where I was offered the drum chair. I declined further negotiations and took a young lady named Jennifer out to give her a tour of the van instead.
 Anyway the other fork here was about money...lots of money. When I was 18 I got a job with a unique company called Voight-England. They started out repairing smaller, fancy industrial motors, but they managed to swing a deal with DuPont (they never would tell me how they did it) for exclusive worldwide distribution rights for a new and revolutionary product called "heat-tracing strip." It was flat wire in maybe 25-30 different gauges and configurations, and it was used to wrap around pipes to keep them from freezing.
 Instead of having to heat an entire building to warm pipes they could heat them directly. It saved millions of dollars. It was brilliant at the time. It came in on huge spools and I cut it to order and sent it all over the US and around the world, along with whatever fittings and other parts they needed. My job title was "shipping clerk" although I did everything from answering the phone to cutting the grass and even cooking lunch if the large, sweet black woman who usually came in to make lunch was sick. That was a nice perk. The office was in an old house. They'd kept the kitchen, a bedroom or two and a living room/den intact, with state-of-the-art stuff. The big stuff was outside and my area where orders were boxed, with bins of parts and stuff on the walls, was inside, along with several offices. It was half-business/half-home.
 They paid me very well and I loved the job. I was just getting into playing music around town, and I knew I could still play on the weekends at least and make good money during the day. I never thought about it as a career, although it could've been. I enjoyed the homey atmosphere, not to mention a home-cooked lunch every day. On a rare slow day I might run errands or make a mid-morning snack and we'd shoot the shit over coffee. Whenever I cooked there was always a fridge stocked with the finest ingredients. If I made lunch I'd have veggies from the farmer's market and whatever else I wanted to cook- fish, pot roast or "veggie plate" day. It was awesome.
 Where the money thing came in was when we sat down for a talk about my possible future with the company. The two guys who owned it were rich. One drove a BMW and the other a Mercedes. Not only were they flagship models but they were outfitted with upgraded wheels, spoilers and other body mods and every engine and horsepower tweak that could be done and still have the car more or less remain stock. They were good guys but they were 100% about the money. I noticed from day 1 that they spent a huge amount of time on the phone with lawyers and accountants; constantly worrying about where to move this or that money where, to avoid taxes as much as possible, and how making more money meant more taxes and such. It was as if there was a stack of dollar bills above their heads; controlling them like puppets on a string and making them dance to the money tune. It was intense and a bit scary, but again I saw it as their problem, not mine.
 Bill was tall and lanky and wore bolo ties. He looked like a cowboy straight out of the movies. Herb was shorter and had hornrims and a regulation flattop haircut. Bill was a southern boy and was slow and easygoing and quick with a joke. Herb was imported from somewhere up north and he was way more serious and faster-moving. He'd smile at a good joke occasionally and my mission was always to try to get him to laugh because he was what we used to call "a little uptight." When the issue of money came up however it was like a switch being flipped. Their whole expressions changed. It was clear to see that money was at the core of their being. It was remarkable. It sounds simplistic but if you want to illustrate the idea that money doesn't buy happiness, you could use Bill and Herb as examples. When they got off the phone talking to their attorneys and accountants about money they weren't smiling. They were frowning. Always.
 I can't remember the secretary's name but it was probably Vivian or something. She was a trip- she had a huge, silver-white B-52 hairdo. It was textbook and never changed a curl the whole time I knew her. She smoked Virginia Slims cigarettes and maybe she played Bingo or went to church socials or bowling-alley bars on her off time. I liked her. When she answered the phone she'd take-on sort of an upper-crust Bostonian accent or something and she'd say the company name in a slow, exaggerated, elitist and hilarious way. I got so good at imitating her that it even cracked her up. Once I answered the phone and totally by accident I mimicked her. Herb happened to walk by and it caused a big frown on his face. I was like "Oh, shit" because I was totally busted even though I did it by mistake, and I was probably talking to some guy in Japan or wherever, who totally thought I was Viv. When he asked for the shipping department and I pretended to have myself transferred to myself and answered in my normal voice, Herb was not pleased, but later over a scotch he had a grin about it. Gotcha, Herb!
 I have to mention here that it was one of only a few jobs that I absolutely couldn't do high on weed. One thing about good reefer back in the day was that if you got really stoned and were going for a walk in the woods it was no problem to be baked, but if you were in a situation where being high on good weed was contraindicated, it only magnified the situation and made you feel way higher than you actually were. Most jobs, even those requiring intense concentration or memory skills, are more fun when you have a bit of a buzz, but at that job it was impossible.
 I don't really know why but I'd turn into a complete feeb. It was almost like being really drunk on top of being stoned. About the third week I figured that like any job it'd be more fun stoned, so one day I had a few puffs on the way to work. I thought it'd be fun. Wrong. I just sort of stood there with my mouth hanging open, wondering what to do next. It was almost like not quite knowing where I was or why I was there. "What's all this shit?" It's funny because sometimes if you're really high in a public place you can get a bit paranoid and think that everyone in the place knows you're high, even though it's all in your head and they have no idea you're stoned, and aren't even paying attention to begin with. But at that job, somehow they knew something was wrong with me, and it caught me off guard. "Are you feeling okay?" "Ummm..." I was fried.
 I carried around what my friend Leon called my "De-reeko Kit." It had Visine, Hall's Mentholyptus and alcohol preps or moist towelettes, which back then was a fantastic and fragrant blend of alcohol, lanolin and real lemon juice. Even with the Visine my eyes were still red. I'm sure the thought crossed their minds that I might be high but they were cool about it if so and I managed to get through the day okay. Of course my dumb ass thought that had been a fluke and I was smarter and bigger than the issue so I did it again several weeks later. Wrong.
Same results...red eyes despite the Visine...feeling a million times higher than I really was..."Are you okay?"...feeling like I'd been transported to a strange place that was somehow familiar and yet totally alien, and knowing I was there for a reason...if only I knew what it was. "Is this an office or have I wandered into someone's home by mistake? Is that LUNCH I smell? Where am I?" I felt like a dipshit and I was. I had to tell them that I'd taken some cold medicine and they let me cut out early. I don't know if they suspected I was high but again they were cool about it if they did. They were just concerned. To me it was a shocker to feel completely vegged-out on weed and having to rack my brain to figure out the simplest shit. Most days I'd have a doobie in the glove box and I'd fire it up before I got off the gravel road that led to the place, but it was like, "Note to self: Don't smoke grass before work here, dumbass."
 It was a great job and I enjoyed it, as long as I didn't get stoned. If I wasn't busy I'd help Tom change a seal or grind an impeller blade or whatever and I enjoyed that. I remember a few slow, rainy days making an extra breakfast or maybe helping fix lunch, imitating Viv answering the phone, making cheese toast by the panful and even playing them tapes of some of my music, and stuff like Emerson, Lake & Palmer, which they enjoyed. Work was work but the atmosphere was very relaxed and very conducive to productivity. Everything went well until it was almost time for my trip.
 I'd planned a month-long trip to California in a few months and I told them first thing when I applied. Things weren't as busy as they'd soon get, and Tom, who told me about the job, mostly worked on expensive impellers and whatnot but he was always free to pop over and pack stuff up if needed, so they said it'd be no problem. I know it's unusual to take a long vacation before you've worked a job less than six months, but I was clear up front and they were okay with it at first. I can't remember how long it was before I was to leave, but I was well-integrated into the gig by then.
 About two weeks before I was to leave they sent in a guy for me to train, and the next day they sent in another guy. They felt they needed two people to do what I was doing, especially for a month. I felt good about that arrangement because things were getting busier in a hurry. I was showing the guys the ropes and they were doing fine. But about a week before I left there was grumbling that they didn't want me to leave, even with two guys taking my place. To be fair they also noticed my extracurricular activities, like music and such. They even came out a couple of times to see my bands and had a good time and all but they didn't have time for many hobbies. Their gig was money.
 They sat me down one day to talk about things and tell me they'd rather I didn't leave. They also brought up the issue of my "other interests," although not in a negative way really; just as taking time away from what they saw more than I did as a chance for a great career. I'd planned the trip for a while and needless to say I was psyched to the roof about going. There was also love involved...I was in love; my first love, technically, at least that I thought was reciprocal anyway. Turns out she was gender-similar in her love interests, although I didn't know it (and maybe she didn't either quite yet) at the time. I had to go. It was "CALIFORNIA OR BUST."
 Finally this is where it got spooky, at least to me, and also what would make 99 out of 100 people say I'd lost it. I remember discussing the situation and Herb saying "Look, in five years you can name your salary, what car you want to drive, where you want to live." He then proceeded to tell me that it wan on the condition that I basically give up everything else up, at least for the time being. Fair enough. I knew it was a lucrative company and that I could do well but I hadn't thought about it on those terms. Five years is no time and if I hadn't gotten to know them and their lifestyle I wouldn't have believed it, but as it was I did. They never joked about money. They said their bit and more or less sat waiting for my reply, and something creepy happened. I was probably just tripping but if so or not it hit me like a bolt of lightning.
 I know it may sound nuts but it was as if their faces changed right before my eyes. They were looking at me and sort of went blank as they thought about money. It would make people laugh to say that it was almost like an evil presence entered the room, but it was. I saw their god. Not to judge, but I saw how they'd sold their souls as it were, for something that had made them comfortable for sure, but I'm not so sure about happy. It was a sunny day and there was a big Oak tree outside the window and there may have been a bird or two singing but the room seemed to get a bit darker. I knew this was a big deal. It was a turning point.
 Again my possible life flashed before my eyes, and this time both versions...the "executive" me who went to work all week and maybe on the weekends too, and maybe the wife and kids, and not that there's necessarily anything at all wrong with that scenario, especially with the wife and kids, and maybe it says that I'd already lost my mind by then, but it told me to run, and run fast and far away. All this happened while they were sitting there looking at me. It was like they turned into evil cartoon characters with dollar-bill signs in their eyes. The dollar-bill signs transformed into topless Hula girls, whose provocative S-curves were enticing me to sell my soul to the Almighty Dollar.
 I was tempted but then the Hula girls, which had been dancing dollar-bill signs, had now transformed into dancing flames, and I was now on my way to Hell. In my mind I saw cartoon me flee in terror. Well, it maybe wasn't quite that graphic but it was absolutely heavy. I did see a change in their expressions. They were baring their souls to me, and they were green. I thought about a five-year plan where I'd make a bunch of money and then retire and pick up my drum sticks and stuff and go back to business as usual, with a chunk of change, but I knew I couldn't do that. By then it'd be in my veins. I could buy all the drums I wanted but I couldn't play them. I could have the nice house, which would be okay but I'd just get "Stuffitis" and I'd have to have the latest shit, thinking it'd make me happy. I'd be driving the latest BMW but I'd be a douchebag.
 Then I saw myself playing music and whatnot. Whereas before the face in my mind's eye had a serious look, now it had a smile. I wish it hadn't been so cut and dried but they were looking for someone to make their company their top priority and I get it but they forced my hand. I continued to go back and forth in my mind in the few seconds they were looking at me. As hard as I tried to come up with a scenario where it could work for five or ten years and then I could get out of it, it literally scared me to death, and surprisingly so. I saw myself becoming them. "I'm going to California" I said.
 They looked at each other and then me in disappointment but their faces returned to normal. The room seemed to brighten-up again. I'd come to a big-ass fork in the road and I'd picked a side and I was happy about it. I didn't know if I should thinking about or wanting a job there much longer and the feeling was mutual I guess. A couple of days later they called me into an office. There were some boxes I'd packed a few days earlier and they were opened. Supposedly I'd gotten a couple of orders wrong, and sure enough the packing slip which I'd initialed didn't match a few items.
 It's not an utter impossibility I could've made a mistake but I doubt it. I knew it was going a long way away and they couldn't just get a forgotten part overnight. I triple-checked everything, at least. I certainly was never in an altered state of mind on the job and I've always been careful about things like that. It's doubtful but certainly possible I could have made those mistakes, or it could've just been rigged as an excuse to fire me, although if I did make a shipping error or even two it shouldn't have been grounds for dismissal in the first place, but either way it doesn't matter. I went to California. I played music. I had some true adventures. I'm a poor schmuck but at least I'm not a rich asshole. Cheers.

911

Here we are with another anniversary of 911. Guess what...a WHOLE lot more people these days aren't buying the official narrative any more- that a bunch of towelheads with laptops in caves, and the "hijackers" who, according to the flight instructors who tried to train them,  COULDN'T EVEN FLY A CESSNA (did you catch that?) did it, and the official-explanation people are full of shit. Look into it. Wake up. It's your only chance. Have a nice day.

Quote of the Day

"Anyone who doesn't want to clean the world up...to save the planet...please put his or her hand up now." - Paul McCartney

Quote of the Day

"Bear's in your path? It's not your path any more." - trail guide, talking about the importance of letting bears know you're there ahead of time

Quote of the Day

"When you play drums, you're letting go of your ego and serving the music and your bandmates; never yourself. You understand that it's not about what form you're expressing yourself in when your entire self is music." Gabriela Jimeno

Tedi Wants to Be Your Friend

I rarely get on Facebook but I've been slacking in my duty to try to help some of these unfortunate women find honest work. I get friend requests from women pretty often, and it's always the same thing...professionals. They see an old fuck like me and it says "single" on the relationship part or whatever, so It's basically hooker spam. What I didn't realize was that after a certain time, Facebook deletes friend requests that go untouched. I've put up pics of other gals who've sent me friend requests and I had several more I meant to put up, but they're gone. Tedi here is the only one still left, so I'll do what I can for her.
 I have to give Tedi some credit- she actually has a few friends (all male and most taking selfies- imagine that) and several posts. I didn't recognize the language although it may be Portuguese. Seeing as how Tedi's in a foreign country, physical contact is probably out of the question. I reckon she's got the phone/Internet thing down to a science (SCIENCE!) and I bet she takes credit cards.

Tedi's got it goin' on. She's quite the limber lass as you can see. She's got a nice set of titties but I'd bet dollars to donuts they're store-bought. There isn't anything on her page about her interests or hobbies or anything like that, but who gives a shit, right? We certainly know what one of her hobbies is anyway. She's making that hobby public.
 I was a little disappointed though. If I were going to strike up something with Tedi I'd want to get to know her a little...what does she like to do with her free time...what are her hobbies...her dreams...what makes her happy...what makes her tick...I'd want to get to know Tedi for her mind first.
 I hate I missed the other ladies but I'll do what I can for Tedi. She works hard for the money. She's reaching out globally. Show Tedi some love. I bet she'll show you some. Have your credit card ready.

Random Funny: People Under Sedation Say the Darndest Things

I was at the dentist the other day and there was a young sister (sister is a generic term and means white in this case) getting her wisdom teeth pulled. She was coming off the anesthesia...sort of. The nurse was saying "Hellooooo there. Can you hear me? Wake up for me, honey. Do you know your name?" "Mmmmmmmm..." said the girl. "Do you know where you are? Do you know your name?" "Uhhhhhhhhhh...mmmmmmm-hmmmmm." "Do you know what day this is?" "Fuuuck, no." That was pretty funny.

Milky Way Update

Well, looky here. I just did a post about the Milky Way an hour ago, and lo and behold this photo of the milky Way popped up as the random Microsoft image the next time I got back online. Isn't that interesting?
 You might say that it's just another total coincidence, and granted it could be but it's no matter because it happens and we know it. Of course we all know now that every single thing we say, type, text, sext and everything else; every bit of it, is recorded and stored on massive servers. It's NOT just about targeted advertising, it's MUCH more than that; but I'll leave it to you to DO YOUR OWN RESEARCH, and I really would if I were you.
 You know what's funny? Up until a scant few years ago those of us who said that this was going on (because we'd done our research) were labelled "nutjobs," "freaks," "paranoid" or the dreaded "C" word- "Conspiracy Theorists." Want to know what's REALLY going on in the world? Just ask a "Conspiracy Theorist," or the sub-category which I belong to- "Truthers." And yet again I say "What's the problem with the truth?" Well? As I've also said, if people want to mock, ridicule or just plain ignore us it's their business, but if things play out like they may, then these people will be taken by surprise SO HARD that they won't even be able to process it. They won't be prepared in ANY way, even mentally. They'll be shit out of luck. I say this out of LOVE and not FEAR, okay?
 They got the algorithms and AI and all that working overtime to keep track of all our shit, and this kind of thing is the result. Some people who find out that this is really going on will be creeped-out to say the least, and possibly frightened, but those of us in the know are used to it. It's just how they roll. This actually made me smile. I love it. Well done, AI and all y'all. I mean, fuck you, but well done. Have a nice day.

Milky Way Causes Panic in New York

Did you hear about the blackout in New York City a few days ago? Interestingly it happened 42 years to the day after the infamous blackout of 1977, where looting and shooting and such was rampant, and people were selling batteries on the street for fifty times their value and people were freaking out, but that's a complete coincidence, right? Sure it is.
 I've been trying to subtly warn people to put away a little extra water and food, without being a so-called "fear monger," but people can do or not do what they wish. I'd pay attention if I were you. What's the harm in being prepared for an emergency? If you don't believe me, and I suggest you don't, and that you DO YOUR OWN RESEARCH, maybe you'll believe what FEMA has to say about being prepared. Google it, Dylan.
 Don't get me started on light pollution, but when I was a kid we could still see the Milky Way from our front yard in the city, but that hasn't been in play for decades. It's what happened in New York though, and I'm surprised I didn't think of it. They probably haven't been able to see the Milky Way there since the early 20th century, but that's what happened a few days ago. Some people knew what it was but many people panicked because they'd never seen it before. There were lots of 911 calls and such because people didn't know what the hell they were seeing. Some people thought it was smoke from a big volcano; some thought nuclear war, Alien attack; a rip in the space-time continuum; you name it. It's kinda funny but mostly sad.
 This world may be in for a reset, and again, what I, or anyone else has to say about it has absolutely no bearing on the outcome. I have time to look into all this, but I realize most people don't, and even those that do usually don't give a shit anyway. They don't want to think about the possibility of bad things happening and I get it. But giving people a heads-up is light years away from just trying to scare them, dig? My ultimate message is one of hope and joy anyway, although most people don't believe it. All I can do is offer up a studied opinion, and folks can take it or leave it. The Lord is my shepherd, and believe it or not that removes fear, again whether it's simply the placebo effect or not. Give it a try some time. It just might work for you too.
 So seeing our beautiful sky that's been long-obscured by light pollution freaked out New Yorkers. That's a shame. If, God forbid, the grid were to go down, for any number of reasons, then we'd all be able to see the Milky Way. I think about that a lot. AND...if the grid does go down, it means that for some of us, our redemption grows nigh. "For God has not given us the spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." - 2nd Timothy, 1:7. Words to live by. Fear is the enemy. That's the truth. Have a blessed day.

Image of the Day

Got that shit right. They're also EVIL. As I've said, should you ever have the great misfortune to encounter a narcissist, run. Run like the motherfucking wind. You'll thank me later. Have a narc-free day.

Quote of the Day (and This One's a Mofo)

[So far I haven't been able to locate the source of this but if I do I'll do an update, 'cause this is amazing. Have a nice day.]

"Let's suppose, if you were able, every night to dream whatever dream you wanted to dream, and that you could, for example, have the power within one night to dream 75 years of time, or any length of time you wanted to have. Then you would get more and more adventurous, and you would make further and further-out gambles to what you would dream. Finally you would dream...where you are now." - unknown

This is heavy, and it reminds me of something one of my two favorite teachers, Mr. Donald Lytle, once said- "Sometimes it is necessary to go a great distance out of the way, in order to come back a short distance correctly." Beautiful. God bless.

The Narcissist's Whole Gig, Set to an Old Wiener Tune

I took the whole narcissistic thing in a nutshell, at least from the point of the narcissist, and set it to the old Oscar Meyer wiener theme song. Just to make it accurate for the sake of making it fit narcissism, I've added a tag line to it.
 I believe that's called artistic license. By the way it's also called the TRUTH, and the narcissist knows it too. It sure does fit. At least I can fight evil with humor, even if it's lame. That's something the narcissist will NEVER be truly able to do. It's beyond sad.
 If you don't know of narcissism and you happen to stumble across this blog post, which happens, you'll think I'm a crazy person, which, come to think of it, may be true. If however you've gotten close enough to one to figure out what the deal is, you'll laugh your ass off. And that's the point. For something this evil, with all the negative energy, you just have to fight back and laugh in its face. Unlike the narcissist, it shows we're human. And hey, my addition isn't all that bad, if I do say so myself. It even kinda fits the rhyme and rhythm of the original. I just switched words with the original, which was "wiener." How appropos. 'Bout as much soul as one. I'll put a link below to the ancient commercial if you'd like to sing along. Enjoy.

The Oscar Meyer Narcissist Song

Oh I'd love to be an Oscar Meyer narcissist
That is what I'd truly like to be
'Cause if I were an Oscar Meyer narcissist
Everyone would be in love with me
(Except for the folks who really get to know me
And find out what a piece of shit I truly am)

Oscar Meyer commercial theme song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aNddW2xmZp8

A World with No Empathy

Can you even imagine a world without empathy? Actually if that were the case I wouldn't be writing this and you wouldn't be reading it either, because civilization would've died out eons ago, if it could've ever began in the first place. Without empathy there would be no love. No understanding. No bonding. No relationships. No families and no children. And BTW, God bless the children. Can you imagine people with no empathy? They exist. They're not all the evil, satanic monsters who run things either. They walk among us. They might include someone you know. Your friends. Your family. Your significant other. Maybe your ex. People without empathy? THEY'RE NOT HUMAN.

Jukebox in My Head (selection B-64)

"She's Leaving Home" by The Beatles. I could just say "Hey, it's the Beatles" and leave it at that, but of course I won't. History will smile fondly upon the Beatles. No matter what bands you like, you owe a debt of gratitude to the Fab Four whether you know it or not. Pre-Beatles you had Elvis, Buddy and them, but when it comes to what we think of as "Rock" music, the Beatles did it first. They opened the door (actually they kicked it down) for every band that would follow.
 Supposedly George Martin was moved to tears when he first heard the tune and I believe it. What's for sure is that he wrote a stunningly-beautiful string arrangement for it. It's my favorite string part for any Rock song I've ever heard, if you can even call it that. I could listen to the strings alone. It's precise, majestic, sad and simply gorgeous. If it doesn't move you you'd better check your pulse.
 It tells the story of a girl running away from home after meeting a man "in the motor trade," from the parents' perspective. That alone is one of a million reasons the Beatles were so great. It captures the shock and sadness that the parents felt upon learning that their girl was gone. I can only imagine. The line "She breaks down and cries to her husband 'Daddy, our baby's gone'" gets me to this day. That's viciously-sad, man. It's getting me right now as I type. Up until then, most "sad" songs dealt with bad breakups and shit like that. This broke new ground. For those keeping score it's in 3/4, or "waltz" time. Three is the rhythm of the heart.
 It starts out with a harp, which sets the tempo and basically acts as a rhythm-guitar part, but most of the melody is strings. How many "Rock" tunes to this day do you know that start with a harp? Fucking brilliant. In fact, none of the Beatles played any instruments on it at all. I'm pretty sure that was a first too. The vocals are as beautiful as the strings. The chorus is just monstrous. It features Paul singing "She is leaving home" over a call-and-response countermelody sung by John and George. It goes "Sheeeeeeeee" ("We never thought of ourselves") "is leaving" ("Never a thought for ourselves") "hooooooooooome" ("We gave her everything money could buy"). Of course there's an obvious message there. When Paul jumps up into falsetto range to sing "Home" it just rips your face off. Monster.
 I guess the hook is when they sing "Bye-bye." There's nothing quite like it. Since there's no drums on the tune, I guess Ringo went out for a ciggy or maybe something a little stronger. His very absence from the track speaks volumes. He was such an integral part of most of the Beatles' tunes that his absence is palpable. Good ol' Ringo. I had a cat named Ringo. And don't get me started on the silly, useless debate as to whether or not Ringo was a good drummer. Anyone who even has to ask simply doesn't have any ears. He's the best Rock drummer ever to pick up sticks, in terms of playing for the song, and that's coming from a drummer. Anyway this is an incredible tune. You've probably heard it. If so, have another listen and see if it doesn't still slay you. If not, you're in for a serious treat. Enjoy. Bye-bye.

"She's Leaving Home" by The Beatles: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VaBPY78D88g

Random Funny: Eatin' that Pie

I recently met a woman on YT who goes by the name of Cheese. I was telling her last night about a great channel with a guy named Bruce who has several gnarly telescope rigs and who does hi-res photography of the Moon and stars and stuff. He also takes videos in the IR, and catches things not visible to the eye, such as mysterious lights that move and fly unlike traditional aircraft. It's hard to deny that "something is out there" when you see those vids.
 A few minutes ago I noticed that Bruce was having a live stream so I popped on, and there was Cheese. I was really glad to see her and glad she took my advice. I'm still getting to know her and I wouldn't call her aggressive so far, but she wasn't born yesterday. She's polite, witty and very smart. She's only been "awake" less than two years, and all this crazy shit is new and scary and bewildering to her, and I get it. She has a lot to learn but the key is she's learning. She asks some very intelligent questions. She says she feels stupid asking about things most of us already know, but I told her that the only thing that would be stupid is to NOT ask questions. I really dig her.
 I saw her in Bruce's chat and I said hello. Bruce lives in Canada so he speaks fluent French, and American women seem to think that's hot. Cheese made a comment saying "Is it me, or do other people get hot (she used a flame emoji instead of the word) when Bruce speaks French?" Of course there was a chorus of LOLs from some of the other females in chat. I got a kick out of it. She made another comment or two but I don't remember what she said. Bruce was about to close down the show because his pizza had just arrived and it was dinner time. He opened the box to show his pizza. Cheese goes "I'm on your pizza." I lost it laughing. That's dynamite. With all due respect to non-funny women, those who have an excellent sense of humor are a turn-on. Good one, Cheese. You funny.

Injection WTF

[NOTICE: This post is not intended to replace medical advice. It is not intended to diagnose, treat or cure anything besides lack of knowledge. Have a nice day.]
 Here we have yet another drug on the market. It's a non-insulin injection to help control blood sugar. I'm quite sure it's been declared "safe" by the Federal Demonic Association. Yep, it's cool. Hit up. Side-effects? Oh, hell yeah. You know the story on that. All I'll say else is that if you think that meds are the only way to control blood sugar or blood pressure or any number of things, you're quite uneducated.
 The ad says "Helps control blood sugar in combination with diet and exercise." The problem with that is that most people won't bother with the diet and exercise part of the deal. And what they don't tell you is that if you really work hard at it you can control blood sugar with diet and exercise alone. So many people think that pharmaceuticals are the only way to go and they're all you need and they can fix anything all by themselves. It's sad. Look into the meaning of the word "Pharmakeia," which became our modern word "Pharmacy." It's enlightening. It's what the real story is.
 What's curious is that the ad vid for it says "Do not share needles." What, do people shoot this shit? I thought it was intramuscular rather than IV. Do people sit around going "Hey, I just cooked up a batch of Ozempic...can I borrow your needle?" Can you get high off it? They mainlining Ozempic? WTF? I'm just kidding of course and I know they're just covering their asses legally in this day and age of "idiot warnings" (Driver on closed course. Do not attempt.), which, since we're apparently about stupid as fuck, we need, but it really shows how dumbed-down of a society we've become, and that's by design. I keep trying to hip people to that idea but they can't even comprehend it. Could it be because we've all been dumbed-down, yo? Think about it. Look into it. Do it. Seriously, do it. God we're dumbasses.

Over-Singing Songs: Blackbird

Most people over thirty know the Beatles' tune "Blackbird" (written by Paul McCartney). It's one of my favorite songs on the planet. Its beauty lies in its simplicity, and the gorgeous melody and lyrics. Is it about the struggle of black people? I don't know, but it's stunningly beautiful. The guitar part is amazing and there isn't a wasted note in the whole tune.
 The mega-bonus to this track is that it features an actual Blackbird (I think) singing. I don't know how they did it or whether there was human intervention, but the bird's song is perfectly in tune. After the song stops the bird sings one more little line. It's brilliant. I love the song and back in the day bands would play it occasionally, and I always paid attention to how the singer handled it. I wish I had a dollar for every time I've heard people sing it- wrong.
 The vocal part is the ticket though, and so many people who learn the song sing it wrong. How? They over-sing it. It's totally understandable because it's an amazing tune and it always gets a great response from the crowd, but let's just say that most people butcher it. It's not that they don't have good voices necessarily, but they just overcrank it. BLACKBIRD SINGING IN THE DEAD OF NIIIIIIIIIGHT. They add vibrato out the wazoo and they almost sound like opera singers. Sorry, wrong.
 Many times they'll add extra notes and syllables to the words and slur them like a flavor-of-the-month Pop star singing God Bless America and singing five notes over each word, and it's about their careers and what great singers they are rather than the song itself. They could be singing Mary Had a Little Fucking Lamb for all they care as long as they can show their stuff to a huge audience. But I digress. And rant. That's not how it's done. People who do have good voices tend to want to show them off. So how should it be sung? Have a listen.
 Paul sings the first part of the verses calmly, naturally and gently. It's almost a whisper at times. If anything he's not over-singing. It's very relaxed. Then when he sings the last half of the verse that goes "Blackbird fly into the light of the dark black night" (the hook) he belts it a little more. It takes the song to a whole different level, and if he hadn't sung the first half softly it couldn't have happened. He sings that part at the volume most people start the song at. When you do that there's nowhere else to go. You've already peaked. It's called dynamics, and I say it's what separates the men from the boys (with all due respect to women and the LGBTQ, etc. community) when it comes to music. As was typical of the day but generally done with machines today, he doubled that line, which means that he went back on another track and sang the same line as closely as possible to the first line. It makes it thickerer and just saturates the whole track.
 For those keeping score, the way they do it today is copy/paste. They just digitally peel the line off and paste it over the first line. Since doing it naturally will result in a combined part that doesn't quite match perfectly, they simulate that effect by simply adding a tiny bit of delay; usually around 40 milliseconds, but if you compare the two methods it's a weak simulation really. There will be a tiny delay between the two takes done manually; in other words the singer will change notes and syllables at very slightly different times, because, well...we're human, and the digital delay simulates that part of it. But there's more variance than delay covers, such as pitch. There might be an almost imperceptible warble as the pitches of the two takes are slightly different. If you ever get a chance to compare the two methods you'll clearly hear the difference. The machine version sounds sterile, and what's more is they'll often take just one vocal line and use it every time it comes up in the song and it sounds the same every time. Doing it manually it's different every time. Some people still do it that way.
 Well, there's your studio tech lesson for the day. And while I can't claim to be a great vocalist I can sure as hell tell a great one from the rest. McCartney can sing. I know this is an ancient tune and probably beyond "Oldies," but if you ever get to hear someone do it live, or on the off-chance you might actually sing it yourself one day, you'll be in the know. There's a difference. Listen to it. Relax.

Blackbird: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Man4Xw8Xypo

Cosmic Coincidence #73,717,192,709: The Meteor Peeps

Right around the end of 2015 I prayed that God would send me some new friends who were not only believers but also awake. I seemed to get an answer right away that said that I'd definitely meet some new people, but not necessarily face-to-face. I didn't understand what that meant but I pondered it for a bit and went on about my business. Okay, Lord.
 A few months later in Spring of 2016 I was on the meteor page. It tracks incoming meteors. I've been going there for years...I don't know how long. Most times I'd go on I'd be the only person in the world on there. It was like they'd set up the site just for me. Then the meteor activity started ramping up as the Earth entered a massive debris field which we're still going through. More and larger/longer-duration meteors were being picked up, as well as anomalous energy readings that were literally off the charts, and definitely not meteors. More people started logging on, and then I noticed comments and realized there was a chat room. I had no idea.
 I'd never said a word in a chat room and had no plans to, but then I noticed that most of these people were really intelligent, and knew a hell of a lot more than I did. Finally I got up my nerve and made a comment. Next thing I knew I was talking to all these amazing people from all over the world, and mostly through humor I began to connect with some of them. Of course you can put your best face forward on the Internet, but the more I talked to these folks, and some on the phone, I knew that they were genuine. I still talk to many of them almost on a daily basis. All these crazy syncronicities started happening but that's another story.
 One by one these people won me over with their spirit, humor and amazing intelligence. Besides regular people like me who just wanted to learn there were some serious people who really knew a lot about sky stuff, and I realized that beyond meeting some cool people in a way I'd never have thought of, it was also a great opportunity to learn. I've learned more about the sky and space and such from three years in the one chat room than in all my schooling combined, and I studied this stuff. I was blown away. The smart people were very patient and willing to share information freely, and obviously enjoyed doing so. I always say that the heart of a teacher lives there and it's true. It was humbling and incredibly inspiring.
Then one day it hit me...could these people be the ones I prayed for? It sure fit the bill and it made perfect sense out of an "answer" to a prayer that I didn't understand at all. Wow. I'd never have imagined such a thing but I embraced it fully, and I now count a dozen or so of them to be legit friends, if only digitally as it were. Was it an answer to a prayer? Nah, surely not. It was merely a coincidence. Just a coincidence, that's all. THIS HAS BEEN A COINCIDENCE. Have a blessed day.

Interdisciplines (Golf and Drums): The Toski Touch System (rewritten)

I believe that things happen for a reason and that everything is connected. My two-year foray into golf was a great way to get out of the house before we could legally drive, Besides a Pasquale's Pizza joint on the back nine that used to serve draught beer to 15-year-olds, I'd have looked back on it as nothing more than a bit of fun and exercise, were it not for a book written by Bob Toski called "The Touch System."
 I didn't actually read the book, although I've always wanted to, but I read excerpts in a golf magazine. This was a time when EST was happening, and primal-scream therapy was still holding on and the famous Sylvan Learning Academy was actually known as "Sylvan Mind Control." Yep. They dropped that term because it came to sound manipulative, and since it was being done wholesale on the public via TV and entertainment and such anyway by then they didn't need to call it that any more. It became redundant so they changed it to "learning." Same difference.
 Even with all that early New Age stuff the book was ahead of its time, as least for a sports instruction manual. Most books and articles focused strictly on technique and form and repetition and such  The closest they usually ever got to the mental aspect of it, which, like almost everything in life, is more important than the physical, was to say to imagine you were swinging a golf club as if there were a bucket of water hanging from it. That was a very good tip BTW. The Toski Touch System concentrated on how making a good shot made you feel.
Just like in drumming or whatever this was an "intermediate" book rather than one for beginners. It assumed at least a moderate amount of practice and muscle-memory time and such beforehand. It focused on the good shots, and how the brain rewarded you with a dopamine hit or whatever, and training the brain to seek that again in future shots, and automatically do whatever is necessary to make your best shot. It was positive thinking taken to another level.
 When it's time for the shot, don't think about technique so much but more on hitting another shot like the best one you'd hit in a similar situation, and how it made you feel to hit that shot. And by damn it worked. I didn't play long enough to even crack 100 usually, although I did have a few really good rounds here or there, but if by chance I'd kept it up I'd definitely have gone in that direction with golf. It's a little bit of a self-mindfuck maybe, but it's the good kind, and free. Sylvan charged a good bit for "mind control" back in the day.
 I got my first really nice drum kit at 15. I was already driving with my learner's permit, which let you drive as long as there was a legal driver sitting shotgun, and that even included guys who were 16, and would let me drive any way I wanted. I started playing music more and got busier with school. Golf faded into the past, but I took the Toski System with me. I figured it could apply to lots of things, and certainly drumming.
 The problem is in all the years I played drums up until fairly recently, I could never truly relax and let it flow like I wanted to. I tried to keep the Toski System in mind and I was able to use it here and there but it didn't really have as much of an effect as I'd hoped. It wasn't until I got an electronic kit and was able to put in long hours practicing, and have enough time to get into the "Zone" as they say, that the Toski System really came into play. I'm glad I remembered it all those years.
 After a certain amount of time in a row, a drummer or a runner or someone working out or whatever will get into the 'Zone." It's also known as "hitting the wall" or the "runner's high." It's what happens after a certain amount of repetitive physical exertion. After a time the brain assumes that the body is on a quest or mission if you will, and it releases large amounts of adrenaline and endorphins (and possible serotonin and dopamine as well) all at once to help the body on its journey. It hits all at once and it literally feels like crashing through a wall. It's a real  buzz; a high-quality buzz, and it's natural. I can see why some people run not primarily to get in shape, but literally for the buzz. I know of no drug that can induce such a feeling of being energized but seriously relaxed at the same time, with things coming into sharp focus yet demanding less attention, and making a routine that normally takes a lot of effort suddenly become semi-automatic, and your brain and body are each and together working as efficiently as possible and that's what you want. Plus there's a powerful feeling of well-being to boot. Who could ask for anything more?
 It really took me by surprise the first couple of times it happened. Once I got the kit set up and I was practicing a few nights a week for several hours at a time it started to happen. Once when it hit me when I had my eyes closed it was a bit too much and I had to stop playing and turn on the lights in order to get my bearings and "come down" a bit before continuing. It was a lot like being a little too high after eating a magic brownie. Think your own brain can't get you off? Think again. More importantly, and most people don't get this, but the brain can also heal the body just as powerfully.
 All I had to do was play long enough to get into the Zone, and the Toski System came finally into play. Hitting the wall is a trip. I've said before that the only thing I can compare it to is something most people have never experienced, but can probably follow. Back in the day when things were a bit looser, you could get behind a big rig and if the driver didn't care, you could draft him. You'd get within about two feet of his bumper and the trailer would both block wind resistance and pull your car along due to the "vacuum" effect of the vortices created. You could back way off the gas and basically get towed along. It may not have been for the faint of heart but it was no big deal if you knew what you were doing, and you depended on the truck driver to be your eyes and signal you to back off if something was ahead. You might be able to catch a draft driving to Atlanta or Florida or wherever and draft a truck for 100 miles or more and save a quarter-tank of fuel. The sensation of being pulled along was fun too.
 When I hit the wall it's much the same. I can throttle-down about 40% or more, and it almost becomes like I'm just along for the ride. Effort, energy output and even concentration go down, but power, smoothness and accuracy go way up. It's counterintuitive but it's amazing. It's almost like alls I have to do is inject just enough energy to set my hands in motion and they'll do the rest of the work. That comes from muscle memory (where each muscle has its own teeny-tiny brain) mostly, but there's something else at work too.
 Sometimes when I'm really locked in I have a very real sensation of a string running through my body from out the top of my head all the way through my core, arms and legs and then out through my hands and feet and into the sticks and pedals. It's crazy how real it feels, and again at first it was a little unsettling, and what's crazier is that I happened to catch a post by a guy who teaches Martial Arts and is a Chiropractor. He said that after a certain period of repetitive training, it starts to feel as if a string is running through the body. How 'bout them apples? I love it when my weird shit is confirmed. I got in touch with him and talked a bit more about it. The string thing definitely translates between the two disciplines. That's fascinating.
 So when I get into the Zone or Hit the Wall or get Drummer's High or the String Theory or whatever it is, that's when the real practice kicks in, and also the Toski thing. I think: "Okay. I'm there. I can throttle way back and totally relax and let it flow. So, how does this make me feel? Sad? No. Happy? Hell yeah. Locked-in? Check. Fuckengruven? Oh yes. Right then...lock this in. 'Can you dig it, brain?' File this away under 'Zone' for next time. Got it." Then I just shut my stupid brain down as much as I can and get the hell out of the way of my hands and just let them do their thing. It fuels the loop- the more into the Zone I get the more fun it is to play and the more fun it is to play the more I want to play and the more I play the better I get and the better I get the easier I get into the Zone, and the easier, blah-blah...etc., etc.
 It really works, mindfuck or not. Sometimes it takes me an hour or two to get into the Zone, and to really get the full effects it still takes that much or more, but I can get into that frame of mind much quicker as I work on it and sometimes I'm there right off the bat. Once the brain gets into whatever state that is, the rest of the body tends to fall in line and do what it needs to do semi-automatically. Like George Clinton famously said, "Free your mind and your ass will follow." Bingo. George knows. I bet George would like the Toski System, but he's already there to begin with. I never thought that a couple of years farting around with golf and reading an article in a golf magazine of all things would affect me for the rest of my life but as always, you just never know. Thanks a million Bob. FORE, lol.

There's the Door, Y'all

I just this minute figured out why my new neighbors have been acting like such complete assholes. At first they were cool and they even came over a few times and then out of the blue they acted like I'd done something. They live across from me and I cant help seeing them if we're out at the same time.
 At first they'd ignore a Hi or a wave, but lately it's gotten to the point that if I walk out they'll immediately turn off their nice Xmas lights they've strung up all pretty and get up in a huff and go inside, again ignoring even a nod when they're both looking straight at me. It's obvious and it's weird. It's a young couple in their early 20s and they recently moved here from Florida. Id never talk about petty bullshit like this except for the reason they were acting like that.
 Dude came home from his kitchen job piss-drunk. He'd gotten into it with the girl's grandfather and apparently it got really bad. When they were still acting cool they told me that her Gramps was going to move in with them "temporarily" and then find a full-time place to stay. I almost had to stifle a laugh when I heard that. Yeah, that's really gonna go smooth for y'all. None of my biz except that he he was so wasted that he was talking really loudly and I could've heard him inside. I was enjoying the night and I didn't want to go inside, and fuck them anyway. He called one of his best buds I guess because there were passionate "I love yous" toward the end of their call. He was basically blowing his top about this state.
 To his credit I get Bama culture shock. I've seen it many times and made friends with people from all over the place who've moved here. They literally have a WTF look on their faces for a long time, if they last that is. It must look like black and white TV to them, and transported back in time to boot, somewhat like my third-grade photo above of my girlfriend Mary and me during recess, and again I get it. I've been lots of places and it's a culture shock to me too. I get that there's more to do in big cities and the sidewalks don't roll up at 11pm (hey, we're making progress...it used to be 9), but dude, that's your problem.
 I get that compared to NYC or LA or wherever, this is even beyond Mayberry, RFD. It's not that dude doesn't have the right to bitch about things anywhere, and he did pick a shithole of a place to move to compared to most other areas of the state, but he was being a total dick about it and pretty much disrespecting every blade of grass in the State of Alabama, like it's the state's fucking fault that he hates it here. I almost moved to California decades ago and have thought about many other places but I've mainly stayed here and I don't regret it. I think it's what you do with where you are that matters anyway.
 Right...a young couple moves to a completely different world; takes in Grandpappy (not that that's inherently bad), work together in the same restaurant (bad idea); he in the kitchen and she a waitress, and they get to watch each other through a little window flirting and getting hit on and shit, and mix in large amounts of alcohol? Right. Dude you're screwed but please don't blame Alabama. I don't diss Florida. It really did sound like he was blaming this state for his pissant problems. Dude...state line ain't far. He did sound like he was stuck here at least for a while, and having to still pay Florida tax and blah-blah, but you ain't stuck nowhere if you don't want to be. Not to mention being complete fucking assholes. Come on, man. I mean, Cupcake. What are they...Gen V? For "Generation Victim?" Hell yeah they are.
 I did almost laugh my ass off when he was trying to convince his buddy that there was no lottery here. There isn't. No doubt he knew I was outside but either he was too drunk to care or he wanted me to hear his rant too, which wouldn't surprise me by his actions lately. And sister too. Now if she drives by me she'll look the other way. Excuse me, but I think you have a Golden Flake up your butt. Anywho, he was bitching about the liquor laws here, which granted are just antiquated and stupid as fuck, and then he said loudly, "And there's no LOTTERY here!" God that was funny and I was trying not to laugh in case he didn't know I was outside. The neighbor kid had been here for a long time and had just left. I had my laptop out showing him some bands, and it was still on, so he must have known I was there.
 His bud apparently said "BULLshit" so dude went passionately into convincing him. "YES! YES! No, I'm NOT kidding. NO SHIT. YES. YES YEEEEES! NO SHIT. YES! NO! YES! N-NO. NOOO. NO,  NOOOOOO, NOOOOOO, NOOOOOOOOOOOOO...No man...you don't understand. NO, NOOO, NOOOOOOOOOO, NO, They don't have one! N-N-N-NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! You don't live in Alabama! N-NOOO!" He went on for a minute and then he went on to list everything that's fucked-up about this state, and I get that too, but the time to do your homework is before the test. He went on to make up different disrespectful variations of the word "Alabama" and such, and was being such a loud, narcissistic prick that I had to tell myself to stay calm and that he was the asshole, not the state. Asshole.
 He finally ended the tirade against everything from Blue Laws to the Yellowhammer, and ended the call with what I thought were a few too many "I Love Yous" and such. I'll tell a male friend I love him, and maybe more than once, and I'll truly mean it, but I generally don't get all gushy-poo about it. I totally get the thing about hearing the voice of an old trusted friend in times of trouble, and it's just like...well, a bridge over troubled water. I'm not trying to tell anybody how to tell somebody they love them, but all the "I love you toos" were a little thick. For good measure he said he wanted to move back in with his mom already, and then a few more I love yous. It was almost enough to make me wonder...hmm...ah, yes...you know how those doors that go from the kitchen into the dining room swing both ways?
 Well his girlfriend just got back from work, and she's shitfaced and pissed too. No big surprise there but from the sound of yelling and shit it's time to go inside. I wasn't about to let some asshole chase me off the porch. I wasn't going to go all "Sweet Home Alabama" on his ass but I really wanted to. Obviously he hasn't seen any of the real beauty here, or the people, except for restaurant people, who can be from all over, and certainly not typical of the people here. It's not my problem or anyone else here's problem that they don't like their situation. Don't show your asses to me. Man, it's getting loud over there and furniture is being rammed up against walls and they're screaming at each other balls-out loud. Holy crap...that's good for the old man's ticker.
 They need to hold it down. Fuck them, if it gets much louder someone might call the cops, including me. Ironically from what they told me about the old man I'd probably be friends with him by now. They said he was into herbs and things like that and they mentioned some very specific things that let me know he was the real deal, plus he was into hiking and music and a few other things I'm into. They initially were going to have me over for dinner and to meet their cats and the grandfather, and he'd have been welcome here, but they changed their minds in a big way for no other reason than I lived in a state they hated. Heck I could have babysat for them, lol.
 Whatever I wish they'd get the fuck out of here. I hate asshole neighbors anyway, but if they're going to blame all their bullshit on the state, and me, they need to adjust their priorities. We'd welcome y'all with open arms, but not if you trash the place for no reason except that you can't handle your situation so you have to blame things on bad liquor laws and shit, and make up every potty-mouth variation of the state's name that you can think of. I guess you can be an asshole in any state. They wouldn't want you either. Florida's yonderways y'all. There's the door. Don't let it hit ya where the Good Lord split ya. Have a nice day, assholes.

 Well, if this isn't the damnedest update to a blog post I've ever seen. After I finished writing I took my dog for a walk. We went the front way through a huge parking lot/road. We were about to walk around a big truck. There was a car coming from way off but something told me to hang back. I didn't know why but I've learned not to argue with my "Little Voice." Usually cars will give walkers a wide berth. There's plenty of room, but sure enough the car didn't move to the other side. In fact it sped up and swerved toward me at the last second and then straightened back up. WTF? It was deliberate. It was the chick. I might have known. I didn't know her drunk ass had left but it was her car, with Fla plates. She could've lost control and hurt us, and on the one damn night I forgot my phone.
 Usually I take my phone with me and leave the camera pointed at the sky just in case a meteor flies by. I've already caught one. I could've filmed her ass swerving toward me and my dog and looking straight at us, and I might have thought about showing it to the cops. You don't do that shit here or anywhere else. Nupe. That's bullshit. I got back from walking and dude was standing outside in the middle of the road like he was about to get in his car, but pondering if his dumb ass was too drunk to drive. That ship had sailed several drinks ago. Her car was still running with the lights shining on him. It was a bit surreal, and illustrated perfectly a fight.
 Even though they'd been totally shitty to me, I was still going to go up to them and try to take their keys. I didn't want to see them get hurt, or way worse, somebody else, even if they were assholes, but my dog knew something was wrong and he started barking, so I took him back for another spin so he, and I, could cool down. I hope Jack and Jill didn't actually try to drive anywhere as loaded as they were. If I'd been anywhere near that fried I wouldn't have even thought about driving through the parking lot here. Cops patrol this lot all the time and if there's the slightest disturbance they're literally here in ten seconds, since they're totally swarming the roads around here mostly looking for drunk drivers at 1:00 in the morning. I doubt they'd have gotten very far if they did try to drive anywhere. I guess if they'd gotten pulled over for obliterated-driving they'd blame that on the State of Alabama too. Assholes.
Sister, you'd fucking better think twice about EVER doing anything that fucking stupid again. It's one thing to disrespect my state, but if you have to do shit like that you have a serious problem, and one that isn't welcome here. You're a fucking menace and you're fucking with the wrong guy. Trust me, you are. You do that shit again and you're really going to hate this state 'cause you're going to be looking at it from inside a jail cell, and that's no joke. There's your Southern hospitality, sweetheart. "Sunshine" State my ass. Floridians go home.

Random Funny: Describing a Busy Chat Room (Lone Eagle)

If you've ever been to a few chat rooms on YouTube you probably know that some fly by like a blur and some you could make a sandwich in between comments. It depends on how many people are in the chat. I love to read comments and I'd occasionally hop in a chat room to marvel at the comedy and lunacy and outright bullshit but I wasn't about to engage some asshole. I only said anything in one recently.
 Anything up to around 200 people is easily manageable. Up to 500 is not too bad but you have to almost be a speed-reader. Pushing a thousand in chat gets well-nigh impossible. Someone can highlight your name so you can see a particular comment, and even then you might miss it. I've seen chats with more than 2,000 people in them and it's a blur. With all the emojis and shit flying by it looks a bit like an animated graphics cartoon or something. Fancy a chat? Forget about it.
 One of my favorite people on YouTube is a guy who goes by the name of Lone Eagle. Lone is a trip. He's Native and lives in Canada. He's one of the smartest, funniest and most interesting people I've ever met. He thinks outside the box which is of course important to me, and he has a unique way of looking at things as well as a real gift for getting his ideas across in an understandable and humorous fashion. Lone is always smiling. He's so funny that he often laughs at what comes out of his mouth because it surprises him sometimes, and funny is funny. He's one of those people who can't help but be funny. If he makes a mistake he'll laugh at himself too, and that's crucial...it means he's human. Unlike many YouTubers Lone shows his face. You can see his expressions and his body language. He's a good dude and he's not faking it. You can see that. He's the real deal.
 The other night he was a guest on someone's live show. There were several-hundred people in the chat, and Lone and the host were both trying to read comments to them while talking, and Lone pretty much had to give up on it. People are always saying hello to each other. Some are discussing the topic at hand while some are just shooting the shit. Some people get hot with each other, and there can be passionate arguments, or just plain fights. Add in the "animated emojis" and it's a real circus. He was describing the chat flying by, and he goes "Man, when the chat's flying by, it's like: 'Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi, Fuck you, Fuck you, Fuck you, Fuck you.'" I almost fell over laughing 'cause that's exactly how it is. I'd never have thought to describe it that way. That's hilarious, and that's why I watch Lone Eagle. Please chat responsibly, and don't feed the trolls.

Like I've Said Before...

If you want to call me crazy, you'll have to take a number and stand in line. Only one customer at a time please. Thanks. Have a nice day.

The Great Ebb and Flow

The B*ble says that there will come a time of both an awakening and a turning away from God. It also says that a light will be shone upon the darkness, and all evil will be exposed. Sadly it says that even the "elect" will turn away from God.
 As for the turning away, that's evidenced by the satanic darkness creeping rapidly into all forms of entertainment, and anyone who can't see it basically just doesn't want to. It hurts my heart but it's how it is. Think back twenty years or so ago, or even a decade...all this slimy shit that is being rolled out in the media and such would NOT have been tolerated not that long ago, but it's the "frog in the boiling water" analogy. I hate that analogy but it illustrates the deal perfectly.
 As for the "great awakening," or people turning to God, bring it on! In my opinion there IS a Creator, and He loves us. As for the turning away, that's just a part of it too. One reason is that so many "Christians" believe that God will "Rapture them up" and they'll go floating up to Heaven before any of the bad shit starts. I don't think that for a second, and I'm afraid that if all this is real, and it does happen, they're going to be in for a shock. Not having floated up before anything happens is going to make them completely doubt their faith, and they'll reject the God they've believed in. It's sad, but they won't be able to stay the course.
 As far as a society eliminating God from prominence, I've heard all my life that every society that does so is doomed to destruction (see: the Romans, Greeks, Sodom and Gomorrah, etc.). I do know of many examples, and it's a matter of record. I also recently mentioned that the researchers who study the collapse of civilizations, and the reasons why, have observed that a universal trait in all of them just before collapse is a condition known as "sexual ambiguity." We're there. With all this "gender-fluid" bullshit and the like, there you have it. Please don't shoot the messenger. I don't WANT any of this to happen. Only a madman would.
 Whatever I, or anyone else has to say about it has zero bearing on the outcome. I'm simply making observations and sharing my opinions. I don't claim for one second to have "special" knowledge or to be "enlightened," as a good friend recently accused me of. Anyone can look into all this stuff for themselves, which I've been begging people to do in this blog for a long time. The only difference is that I have looked into it, and most people haven't, even for five minutes. Knowledge is power. It's all there for anyone to see, given they have a bit of discernment. Oh, and knowledge erases fear.
 We're ALL a bit afraid in these troubled and uncertain times, whether we admit it or not, and we're all in the same fucked-up boat. With the shit I've learned (through decades of observations) you're damn straight I'd be afraid, but guess what..."placebo effect" or not, my faith eliminates fear. It's truly a blessing to look at all this shit going down and not be afraid. Actually I should rephrase that...it is definitely frightening and it does scare me sometimes, but I don't live in fear. As I've also said, knowing this shit only makes me appreciate the beauty in life that much more. It's like someone who comes back from a near-death experience, and all of the sudden the grass is greener and the sky is bluer and all of that. It's exactly the same.
 Look into it for yourself if you've a mind to. We've all been given free will. Choose wisely my friend. God bless.

Inside the Mind of a Young Artiste

I love kids' art. Who doesn't? Taking a peek into the sweet, innocent world of children is a joy. It's funny how many grownups (including myself, allegedly) try to emulate kids' style and fail miserably. It can't be done.
 I think that once a kid stops drawing houses with the chimney sticking out at a 45-degree angle, a certain phase of childhood is over. I always wanted to have a house that looked like a kid drew it, with wonky windows and a 45-degree chimney. That would be so cool.
 Here we have an untitled piece by one Kennedy Stewart. Kennedy didn't sign this piece and that's a shame, but the name is on the back and I'm assuming it's the artist in question. I paid a buck for it. 99 cents actually. It was worth every penny. I'm going to give it the working title of "Bark Worse than Bite." Let's analyze young Kennedy's painting.
 First there's a lot of orange in the painting. It's a perfect background color both in terms of compatibility with the color of the dog and people, and perfect for illustrating the urgency of the situation. The use of lines to indicate motion and the energy of the bark is fairly advanced. I suppose Kennedy just ran a few lines together on the person in front. That, or they're crapping their pants. I'd say that the person in back has a ponytail and is likely a girl, but the person in front has two. Could it be pigtails? It looks like dog ears. Could it be a "dog person" perhaps? I guess only Kennedy knows for sure.
 I really love the side-by-side ears and I actually remember doing the same thing on my drawrings as a kid. Of course a grownup artist would show them in the proper perspective; one behind the other. Ho-hum. It makes the dog look a million times more badass. Since there are no motion lines near the dog, we can assume that thankfully he isn't chasing the people. He is scaring the shit out of them though. That's a righteous bark. I notice the two dots over the tail. I wonder what Kennedy meant by that. Is it a limited-motion deal? It looks like a umlaut.
 All in all I think Kennedy did a beautiful job on this painting. It's a shame the family didn't recognize Kennedy's artistic skills. I'd have had it framed. I'm glad to own a Kennedy. Best 99 cents I ever spent.