Touch-Me-Not Memories

Sometimes I'll go back deep into my memory banks just to see what I can remember. It's a blast and sometimes I can't believe what I can recall. The earliest memory I can access is a clear image of myself standing in front of a record player at my great-grandmother's house; watching the record go around and around and jiving on the tunes. That I'd become a musician is no wonder.
 Other than that one of my earliest memories is of Touch-Me-Nots. If you've never seen any up-close, or especially if you have kids, you owe it to yourself to check out these unique plants. They put out seed pods that literally explode when touched; hence the name. They're hair-triggered, and plucking them from the plants requires a very delicate touch. It was a bit like baiting a mousetrap without setting it off on your finger. I think that helped my dexterity early-on.
 Actually, "implode" might be a better term. The pods were made of sections that would curl violently inward. Seeds would be scattered hither and yon, and it was a very effective method of spreading seed. They were also incredibly fun to play with. In fact I couldn't believe something so cool (and explosive) existed in Nature, and for free. My grandmother knew how much I loved them and she grew them for years, although I doubt she ever had to plant any seeds again after the first time. I miss my grandmother.
 I'd love to find out how much force (joules?) they put out. For their size it must be massive. If they were as big as a football they might actually be weapons. There's so much force involved that they actually make a sound. You can literally blow on them and they'll explode. Ha, that's what she said.
 Like most boys my age, and well before this "gender-fluid" bullshit kicked in, I played army. We were always looking for cool ways to blow the enemy soldiers into oblivion, but that usually cost money, as in having to buy fireworks or gasoline. An M-80 would truly fuck-up some army guys. For free though, you couldn't beat Touch-Me-Nots. A well-placed Touch-Me-Not "grenade" could take out a half-dozen guys, no problem. The thing with Touch-Me-Nots is that it only knocked them down and they were able to return to battle in short order. With M-80s...not so much. We had a little "Arlington" for them. War is hell.
 What made me think about that was a random vid that popped up in my feed. It was about caterpillars who feed on them. The caterpillars suffered the same fate as the army guys, with no damage. They lived to eat another day. The video is three minutes and well-worth watching. It's on the BBC channel so you know it's pro-shot. High-speed cameras show the pods exploding in super-slo-mo, and the occasional caterpillar being launched into the air. It's awesome. Kids today...they just don't know the things they miss out on. I wouldn't trade a good Touch-Me-Not battle for 1,000 hours on a smart device. If you do grow them, and I hope you will, handle with care. They'll startle you if they go off unexpectedly. It's loads of fun. Give it a try.
 WAR IS NOT HEALTHY FOR CHILDREN AND OTHER LIVING THINGS. Have a nice day. Peace.

Touch-Me-Nots in action, with flying caterpillars: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJ5dQ_Pdfac

A Tale of Two Cars (rewritten)

Of all the so-called "New Wave" artists, Gary Numan was one of the quirkiest of them all and a big fave. He had a monster hit, and rightly so, with a tune called "Cars." It was a stripped-down, funky, danceable, rockin' tune. It had a catchy synth line, and a percussion effect that's still one of my favorites. It has a sound like a cross between a whipcrack, handclaps and a gunshot. It's on the last beat of every bar in the "chorus" as it were and on every-other beat in the verse.
 It really brings out the backbeat and powers the song along. You could listen to it now and say it was "dated," but I think it stands the test of time as well as anything. I could listen to it every day. "Here in my car, I just don't know where I are, should not have stayed at that bar, might get my ass pulled over in Cars...da-doop, WHAP! Sha-doop, da-doop, WHAP!" No, not really...I can't remember the lyrics just this very second.

 Imagine my surprise when I found out that Nine Inch Nails covered it, and that Gary was standing-in and playing keys on some of their shows, and it was on YouTube. I couldn't click fast enough. Oh, HELL yeah. The ultra-bright white stage lights that accompanied the aforementioned electronic backbeat really drove it home visually, but I was immediately struck by the sheer power of this song. Reznor doesn't fuck around. Neither did Gary.
 I thought Gary Numan looked like a million bucks, especially considering he's been around since Day 1 of MTV, at least. I always suspected he might be a robot anyway, and he did little to discourage that idea during his earlier career. Bonus points for the whiteface thing. Seeing him with NIN he didn't look a damn day older, at least from a distance. He looks healthier. A music video can make your day. Maybe he's a clone...
 I was also exposed to a monster drummer- Ilan Rubin. His energy caught my attention in about two seconds. The way he moves his body and reaches his sticks to the sky and slams his drums like someone tearing down the Berlin Wall or whatever is what the backbeat is all about. Ordinarily I'd say he was purely wasting energy, but in this case, where the backbeat is so strong and is actually the hook of the song, it should be emphasized with everything you've got. I'm right there with him on that. It's how it should be. I checked more into Ilan and found to my great delight that he's one of those rare drummers who could blow your mind with chops, but instead plays for the SONG. He sounds like a basic meat-and-potatoes drummer most of the time but he's anything but. He does do drum solos occasionally and he manages to hold your attention.
 Good ol' Gary Numan. He'a a character. Good ol' Nine Inch Nails. They're characters. They may be satanic, but so is about every other band in the mainstream. It's a shame but it is what it is. Maybe that's why the backbeat is so powerful. Rock & Roll is the "Devil's music." Yep. Such is life. Rock on.

"Cars" by Gary Numan, with official video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Im3JzxlatUs

Live, with NIN: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6qlUFKFHNIU

First Big Gig (Opening for Starbuck)

A vid popped up in my YT feed the other day and I had to check it out. It not only took me back but it put things in perspective for me...I'm old. Back before indoor plumbing was invented I was taking some music courses at a community college and I signed up for Jazz band. I didn't know it at the time but it was the best thing I could've ever done. The instructor was named Skip Perry and he had a very successful lounge band called the Skip Perry Trio. There were two other drummers in the Jazz band who'd been there at least a year ahead of me. One was a white dude whose name I can't remember and the other was a black guy named Hosier who's a friend of mine to this day.
 I thought I was maybe a bit better than the white dude although it's never a contest, but I thought Ho was a better drummer than me. Since they had tenure they played drum kit on most of the tunes and I played percussion. I didn't mind at all. Playing drums and playing percussion are two very different things, and I love both equally. A neighbor kid asked me the other day what the difference is and I told him that if music were a stew, the drums would be the meat and potatoes, while percussion would be the spice. I don't know if that's a valid explanation but it got the point across.
 I did play drums on a couple of songs, and apparently it was enough for Skip to decide that I was the best choice to replace his drummer when he left. It was a big honor and I was surprised. Skip taught me more about playing in a band than everyone else put together. I've mentioned how he taught me how to sing and play drums at the same time, which I absolutely could not do before. He was very patient and he worked with me until I was able to do it. I owe a huge debt to Skip. RIP Skip.
We heard that a band called Starbuck was doing a concert there. They needed a warmup band and since they were kinda jazzy they decided to use us. It was a big deal and we were stoked. We set up our gear as they were doing soundcheck. It was terribly exciting but I wasn't nervous. Any chance of my having stage fright was eliminated on my first real gig, where I played to a crowd of 750 or more people at a convention. I learned early on how to turn that energy into a better performance. I noticed something strange about the drum kit. The drummer was right-handed while the percussionist was a lefty.
.The kit was set up normally for a righty, with the toms going small to large from his left to right. On the other side of his hi-hat though was another kit that mirrored the righty kit precisely. It was like one big conglomeration with a common hi-hat. I figured that at some point they'd do a dual drum solo with the percussionist playing the mirrored kit and that's what happened. It was massive. During the solo they both pretty much played the same thing, but one drummer would do a fill left to right while the other would do exactly the opposite. It reminded of me of the classic "I Love Lucy" episode where she was dressed like Harpo Marx and she and the real Harpo did the "mirror" thing. It was amazing and very creative.
 I'd cobbled together a percussion rig and it sounded pretty good. I had a Roto Tom, bells, cowbells, a timbale, finger cymbals, shakers and stuff and some bongos. I had a splash cymbal and then all my trademark "found sounds" like sawblades and a big Coca-Cola sign as my "gong." Someone had given us a bird feeder that had a hollow metal pole and a round base. The base was made of spun-steel, which is basically how some cymbals are made. Since it was round and bowed like a cymbal, I had to test it out when we got it. It sounded so good that I just crammed the pole into the ground and kept the base. It had a short, white-noise-type sound like "TAH." It was beautiful. After our set the percussionist literally came running over to my rig to ask me what the black "cymbal" was. When I told him he laughed, and he gave me his number in case I ever found another one. I looked but never did. That was a big thrill.
 The video was really cool because it showed the band playing today, interspersed with footage of them playing around the same time we warmed-up for them. They had a big hit with a tune called "Moonlight Feels Right" and of course that was the tune on the vid. I was glad to see they were still playing today, and they had most if not all of the original members. I'm not positive it was the same drummer but I think it was. The singer and percussionist were the same. The song was unique for a Pop hit because it had a Marimba solo. The video showed him playing the solo both now and in the past and it was very well-done. It didn't just take me back in time...it yanked me back. All those cool memories came flooding back and it was a wonderful trip down memory lane.
 Some of the old-timers may remember the song, but have a listen if you happen to want to know what Pop music was like back in the day (kinder and gentler, to say the least). "Moonlight...feels right." Good stuff. I didn't remember a chick singer in the band, and I have to award mega-bonus points for the drummer having a Gretsch drum kit with single-headed toms, which they rarely make. What a classic tune, and you know what...moonlight really does feel right. If you listen to the tune, enjoy.

"Moonlight Feels Right" by Starbuck: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89RNX-ktD3Y

Drugs are Bad: Benzos

[ 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.]
 We all know that drugs are bad, but I'm not talking about street drugs; I'm talking about drug-drugs; meds, and specifically in this case, Benzodiazepines. That includes drugs like Valium, Clonopin and Xanax, of which the latter two are widely prescribed these days, even to children as young as ten. And that brings me to my first rant.
 I read an alarming (disgusting and depressing, really) article on how kids who misbehave in school are handled. In my day we got sent to the principle's office to cool down. This article said that in around 97% of all cases the kids bypass anything like that and are sent straight to the school nurse, who prescribes meds instantly. That's sick if you think about it.
 I was never a bad kid and I made good grades but I always had excess energy. It served me well at times and it was a pain in the ass at others. If anything I self-medicated to slow myself down a bit, but having excess energy didn't cause problems for me or anyone else. I didn't need to be medicated. You have excess energy...guess what...you can find something to do and burn it off. It's simple. I remedied that "condition" in the best way possible- I took up drumming. I realize not everyone has that option but there are countless other natural ways to deal with the issue, which isn't really an issue at all unless the child is hurting themselves or another. Excess energy? Go kick some field goals. Run laps. Take a hike. That sort of "medicine" has side-effects too...you get healthier, you might find a passion, you'll sleep like a rock without the need for even more meds, and you'll be better for it. Don't get me started on the side-effects of normal meds.
 Nowadays they label energetic kids with a "condition" and instantly run for the prescription pad. If the parents don't want their kids medicated to fuck and back and would rather get to the root of the problem rather than just turn their kids into zombies (imagine that), it's tough shit. They can go to court and have the kids removed if the parents try to refuse them giving their kids meds, which are just as dangerous as cocaine to the body. And you think there's not an agenda in this world. It's diabolical. Think about it. Wake the fuck up. Please. If you don't give a shit that's too bad, but if you don't care about your kids, or you think they need to be medicated with toxins and nothing else, you're an ASSHOLE. You are. I think they should at least try other methods first and at least give them a chance, before they just dose our kids. Anyone have a problem with that idea? Okay, on to the adult Benzo scene.
 I've been in the music business basically all my life and I worked in the restaurant biz over 15 years, so I've seen every type and degree of substance issue there is. I've seen everything from people who can go out and have A beer or A drink and then put it down and go about their business, and I've seen people drink and drug themselves to death right in front of my eyes. I know what someone looks like when they're dying and it's gutwrenching. In between I've seen people get in trouble and even lose their jobs and even their homes and families. I've seen it all and I've made some observations along the way.
 I've known quite a few people who were on prescribed Benzos. At first they did seem more relaxed and maybe even a bit happier, but after a few months the drugs didn't seem to have the same effect (tolerance), and after a couple more months they were actually more anxious, and not just by a little bit. Compounding the problem was the added anxiety of realizing that the meds weren't working in some cases, and they felt much worse than before they started taking Benzos. At least half of them exhibited signs of depression. They were sluggish, cranky and forgetful, and much of the time they complained of not feeling well or even normal. To recap, that's called side-effects. Rant #2: If people think that meds are the only way to treat something, and they're willing to take a pill that may help one thing but can potentially cause ten bad side-effects, and they get sick (requiring more meds), it's on them. In many cases there are other ways. Know this.

This is the GABA receptor in the brain. It's what normally controls anxiety and stress and such, and it's also what you're fucking with when you take anti-anxiety meds for an extended period. I don't know exactly how it works but I think one thing it does is release an enzyme or whatever that eliminates cortisol, which is a stress-causing hormone. The point is it's your body's natural stress-relieving system. God knows we live in stressful times  and we all are overwhelmed at times, but if we're stressed, is automatically running to the doc for meds the best choice? You tell me. Sadly for some it's the only choice.
 The GABA receptors look a bit like fingers or corals or something but you could think of them as flower buds. Interesting they have specific areas that receive different chemicals including ethanol and even Benzodiazepine, as you can see. There's also receptors for THC and several other things we think of as intoxicants. The thing is, your body produces its own version of these substances. I don't think our brains were originally designed for a day when their owners would have a script for Benzos, but I could be wrong. Did you know that not only does your body make ethanol (alcohol) from the sugars you eat, but your brain also makes its own THC, which is the active ingredient in reefer? Party on, dudes! It also produces its own DMT, which is the most powerful psychedelic substance known, and makes taking acid seem like drinking a beer. Some say that it's released shortly before someone dies, and can even account for the "near-death" experiences some claim to have. Or there really could be an afterlife. Just sayin' as they say. The brain is a wonderful thing. Most times anyway.
 I'm concerned about some people close to me who've been taking Benzos (at least) for quite some time. I'm not so much worried about them being on them, it's coming off of them I'm worried about. To be fair some of them may never have to worry about that because they may take them forever, but at some time for whatever reason, people will be coming off them, and I hear withdrawals from Benzos are no joke. I started hearing years ago that Benzo withdrawal was much, much worse than even heroin, and I had a hard time believing that, although I certainly didn't disbelieve it. I've never seen any heroin in person or seen anyone detoxing from it, but I do know it's rough as hell. The thing is, even though there will be addictive issues and cravings and such for life, the actual physical process of smack withdrawal is over in about a week, while Benzo detox can take years for some people, and some report that, while they're much better and happy to be off the drugs, they never quite get back to the way they were before, and that should raise alarms.
 Granted everyone is different, and meds affect people differently, and some lucky people have no problem withdrawing from Benzos, but at the same time I saw quite a few utter horror stories. If nothing else I've learned that tolerance to most substances increases over time. There are two ways to deal with that. The natural urge, and what most people do, is up the dosage to keep getting the desired effect, and most docs will be happy to up your dose. OR, you can back off and decrease your dose. You can also come off drugs (any drugs) the same way. You didn't just start out taking a massive dose of something; you increased gradually, and you can quit the same way. Unfortunately most people don't go that route.
 Since I was concerned about the people I love I clicked on a few vids and I was literally shocked. Sure enough it seems that for some, coming off of Benzos is a living hell. I had no idea. Apparently most people don't either, even doctors. It was crazy to hear about people still having so many horrible symptoms months and even years later, and for the first week or two most people were completely unable to work or even cook or sometimes go to the bathroom without help. That's a lot of shit to go through, especially for a drug that might actually make things worse. Not a one of those people would have started Benzos if they could've gone back and done it over. It's rough, man.
 When I started this I thought about my friend Paul, whom I've mentioned before. Paul is completely, hopelessly and tragically fucked-up for life because of MEDS and meds alone. He's a paranoid, delusional, sad, empty shell of his former self, and it's the drugs that did it. I hope I'm wrong but my gut tells me he may not even be around much longer. I've only spoken with him once since he cursed me out for suggesting he try herbs. He called me a couple of years ago in a panic. I thought at first he was actually calling me up to see if I had any herbs or anything natural that might help, since he knew I was into that stuff. He doesn't believe herbs work at all, which just goes to show indoctrination and the hold the pharmaceutical industry has over us all including doctors. He could be a poster child for Phizer or whomever.
 He called to tell me that he was freaking out because he was running low on Xanax. He'd had to take extra that month because of extra "panic attacks" and he needed more to get him through the end of the month but his doctor was out of town and no other doctors in the office would write him a script. He was about to come unglued. I told him I had several very mild herbs like Catnip and Peppermint and such that would at least help, and he told me to quit preaching at him, which I wasn't doing. I told him I was only trying to help, and I'd be happy to make up a batch of tea and even drive it over to him, which was a long drive. He cursed me so I wished him luck and hung up. It was a damn shame to see that.
 Paul was articulate, funny as shit, generally relaxed; he had friends and girlfriends and he enjoyed his work. He rode miles on his bike and he was in good shape. I was working with him when all the shit started so I saw it from the beginning. He had an episode where he had a lot on his mind and he couldn't sleep. After a few days he was punch-drunk and after a few more he was tripping. It had happened to me and a few other friends so I knew what was going on. If you don't get sleep it's almost 100% like tripping on acid. Your body produces adrenaline to keep you going, but it's toxic to the body so the brain produces a chemical to get rid of it, and it's one atom or molecule different from pure LSD. Paul was tripping without being at a Dead show.
 I told him all he needed to do was break the cycle and get a good night's sleep, whether he had to drink a big bottle of wine or wear himself out on his bike or even take a sleeping pill, but he wouldn't take my advice- he had to see a doctor. For one thing I knew that if he talked to the doc in the condition he was in they'd probably think he was crazy all the time and write him scripts for tons of drugs, and I think that's what happened. He stopped by on his way back from the pharmacy and showed me all his new pills. I tried once more to tell him he only needed sleep and he'd be good as new in just a day or two but he wouldn't hear it. He had Xanax and Clonopin, plus I think also an antidepressant or two, even though he wasn't depressed. At least not yet. He asked for a glass of water and gobbled down his first round of pills and he hasn't looked back.
 A few days later the tripping was completely gone because he finally had a good night's sleep. Even though he was 100% back to normal he continued taking the meds. I don't know why. He left the restaurant where we worked and got a sweet job with ATT. He got married and had two beautiful girls. They had a nice home in a nice part of town. I didn't see him every day after that but I'd see him every other week maybe and I talked to him all the time. Over the next few months he became distant and withdrawn. His sense of humor had vanished. He was getting nervous and irritable, and he even started tripping again, but not from lack of sleep...it was from the meds. Sleep was no problem. He slept all the time because he was so depressed. Finally he lost everything. His wife left him and took the girls and the house. After many sabbaticals and extra vacations and things, and the company being extremely patient with Paul, he finally lost his job last year. He's in a tiny apartment with his dog and his meds and not much else. I guess he's on unemployment now. It's wrong.
 For the last twenty years-plus, whenever we talk on the phone it's never "The girls just started high school" or whatever...the first thing out of his mouth is always "They're still trying to adjust my meds." After the industry destroyed his life he still has complete faith in it. It's brutal. This is OUR system, people. If you want to look into the beginnings of medicine itself (ALL medicines originally came from plants, BTW) and why it might be dangerous in some cases, look into "Pharmakeia." I miss Paul. There's not much left of him. Say what you will...he didn't need all those damn drugs, and anyone who thinks he did is an idiot, including the doctors.
 Speaking of, back in my day doctors understood that Benzos were meant for short-term use, and some sort of other therapy was generally employed. Now it's just "Medicate...on to the next patient." In fact they might order a different round of treatment before automatically prescribing drugs. Not any more. The problem is the aforementioned GABA receptors. At first the meds work with the GABA receptors and inject more of the feel-good chemicals or whatever that enhance the action of the natural substances in the brain, but again it only works for occasional or short-term use. After a while; usually six months or so, the brain has been completely rewired, and can't function without the drugs.
 The chemicals in the meds are much stronger (and much more toxic) than what the brain produces, so it tells the GABA receptor there's no need for the natural substances and it literally shuts off. When seen through an electron microscope the tips of the receptors are withered just like flower buds. They quit working altogether, and it can take up to three years or more to get them to grow back. Look it up. It's a double-whammy if someone wants to quit. Since the natural system is no longer in place, removing the meds leaves someone way in the red as it were. Guess what...if these people go to the doctor, and many do, they'll generally tell them not to come off the meds, or they'll write scripts for even more meds, and the cycle continues. My friend Champ says it's the most evil sales plan in the Universe and he's right.
 Learn something new every day but I had no idea that Benzo withdrawal could be so devastating to some people. I can say without hesitation I'd never take them regularly. No way. Occasionally perhaps but regularly, never. Except for Valium they're way too strong for me anyway. After a couple of hours I'm null and void. Next day they left me depressed, groggy and feeling like dog shit. Maybe thet's why people keep taking them but they weren't for me. From what I've learned about meth and heroin withdrawal, Benzo withdrawal is about like trying to detox from both of those at once and then some. It bummed me out to hear how bad it was for some people. Again everyone's physiology is different and it's also dose-related, and some people have no problem coming off Benzos, but apparently they're the lucky ones. Very lucky.
 I only read the articles and watched the videos because of my friends. The snippets of rumors about Benzo detox being so rough kept popping up in my head. I think my brain wanted me to look into it so I did. It goes to show just how fucked the system is, but most people are fooled. If you have a strong stomach feel free to look into it for yourself. It ain't pretty. If you do learn about it you'll be ahead of the curve- even doctors. I wish my friends would gradually reduce their doses and eventually get off that shit, but most of them are absolutely convinced that they can't function without it, and once their brains are rewired, they really can't.
 The medical community does nothing to counteract that idea. The industry? They WANT us to be sick. If people took care of their cars like they should, and changed the oil and such and kept it healthy (otherwise known as "an ounce of prevention"), how would auto mechanics ever make any money? Think about it. It's completely irresponsible but it is what it is. I wish Benzo people all the best and I hope more people find out about this situation because I really hate to see people get hurt.  Have a mellow day. Don't do drugs.

Majestic TV Theme Songs from the Past

I just heard the theme song from the vintage TV series The Virginian. Boy, was it majestic. I had to grin at how perfectly it fit the rough-and-tumble atmosphere of the Wild, Wild West, or at least how it's been presented to us. The song just grabs you and takes you along for the ride. Part of that is because it's a real orchestra with real humans playing real instruments, rather than a guy with a keyboard and samples and MIDI and stuff. There's a huge difference actually, and your brain knows it whether you're directly aware of it or not.
 Music began purely as language...a conversation, and the first instruments were drums. If there was a wild animal on the prowl or whatever, the drummers would gather and play and the sound would carry to the next village. They'd change the rhythms depending on what was going on, and then the drummers in the village over would respond, and then pass the message along to the next village in line. They might have a slow, easy rhythm that meant "Have a nice day," or maybe a fast and frenetic rhythm to say "Danger, Oog Robinson!"
 Music evolved directly from that as people built different instruments, but to make music that has any real feeling to it, you must use humans, and they still have to have a conversation, although directly through their instruments. If the guitarist does a lick the drummer might accent that. The drummer and bass player usually lock in, and that's a conversation that becomes unspoken. You start a tune and check with the bass player to make sure things are groovin' and he says "Yeah" with a nod and so you lock that in and then maybe go off to comment on what the keyboard player is doing. That's a musical conversation. I realize that sadly an entire generation of people has grown up listening to nothing but computer music, but deep down their brain craves the real thing. It's been proven scientifically, yo.
 I was really surprised that I could remember the theme note-for-note and play along in my head and catch every countermelody and everything, and I haven't heard this tune in close to 100 years. I definitely have a memory for music, and I'll definitely add this to the jukebox in my head. This tune is about as upbeat as it gets for orchestra music and it practically dares you not to watch the show. All the horn stabs just shout "action." The flute trills after the horns state the first phrase of the melody are classic. For those keeping score they're very fast triplets, or groups of three notes...1-2-3, 1-2-3. It adds a "rolling" or "wheel within a wheel" effect. It's perfect for the horse majestically galloping along or wagon wheels flying by.
 Moreover, while it has a bit of a "suspended" effect in some of the chords (see: music theory 101), which lends a sense of adventure and the unknown, it mostly has a major-key feel. As most songs of the day, and as mandated by law in past times, the song resolved to a big major chord at the end. Major chords have a "happy" feel while minor chords sound sad. In this case it tells the listener that there's going to be some action for sure, but in the end the good guy wins. In much of modern theme songs; again done synthetically, they often end on a suspended or even a minor chord, which would indicate an uncertain ending or even a bad one.
 In this day of antiheroes and bad guys really being the good guys, it's appropriate I suppose. That one thing in music affects everyone, and much more than most people would ever know. A song that ends in a suspended or minor chord can be cool and all, but it leaves the brain (which is paying much more attention to the song than we realize) in a state of unresolved confusion or sadness. I realize that the theme needs to fit the mood of the show, but which ending would be healthier just from a mental-health standpoint? Music is very powerful that way. It's also a gradual downward trend I've seen over a long time, so this is also a commentary on the direction society is taking, since art imitates life.
 Speaking of life, it's really true that a composer could be put to death for ending a song (for public use anyway) with a minor chord, or using a Tritone, which is a certain interval that gives a very powerful feeling of unease, tension and even fear. it was utilized first in modern music, and well after laws were changed, by bands like Black Sabbath and King Crimson, who used it strictly for the dark and spooky effect. People a couple of centuries ago and beyond understood the powerful, either/or effect of certain chords, and knew that lots of people could all be affected at once, so in some places it was made illegal. Adding a major chord to a minor-key tune would drastically change the mood and what the composer was trying to say, and a few rebelled. They never composed again.
 These days most people would never hear music like this and they'd find the Virginian series to be laughable. They wouldn't know a trumpet from a violin and it's understandable. They're only exposed to artificial music. I mean it's music, since it has notes and shit, but it's mostly machines. There's no conversation at all. People mostly hear music that fits the darker vibe of current times. Good or bad? Please listen responsibly. Have a melodic day.

"The Virginian" theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjjUlljGNK0

That Booty

It seems like gigantic asses are really in style these days but I really don't dig it. To each their own (hey, I did it...I was "PC" automatically without having to stop and think, hit backspace and retype the pronoun) but I think it's nasty. I realize guys dig it on females but I think it looks like they swallowed a giant water balloon.
 Is the rear-end in this photo a joke? I guess not. This might be too much even for the dude that did that tune about "I like big butts and I cannot lie" but maybe he'd love it. Maybe if I were a dog I'd hop on that shit but as it is it makes me queasy. Speaking of the "Big Butts: song, I bet it bumped-up business in ass-enhancing by cosmetic surgeons by 30%. I bet so.
 I wouldn't get near this ass after a walk around the block on a hot Summer's day. And I hate to get too clinical, but with that much ass, how does one go about finding the openings? And there are asses that make this one look like a mosquito bite. What's worse is that these days some people are getting gargantuan asses on purpose, and some of them don't look real. But you know what they say...the problem with the world is that one-half of it can't understand the pleasures of the other, and no truer words have been spoken. As sure as I'm sitting here about to hurl, there's some dude who'd hold up a 7-11 to get some of that duke. But seriously, people pay lots of money on ass and hip enhancement, but so many of them go so far beyond adding a little "shake-it" that it looks like a sideshow attraction. Gyahh!
 There was a time when women were concerned about their butts looking too big, but I guess now it's concern about them not being big enough. Back in the day it was "Honey, do these jeans make my butt look big?" and you'd better damn-sure not even hesitate a nanosecond in saying "Oh, no, darling...it's perfect!" or you'd be sleeping on the couch. In this topsy-fucking-turvy world we live in, where everything's perfectly flip-flopped, I guess it's exactly the opposite. "Honey, do these jeans make my butt look big?" "Yes, sweetie." "Thank you! I love you!" "You too! Can I hit that booty?" "Sure, baby!" Excuse me for a moment...I think I'm going to be sick.
 I have to tell a funny story again that relates to ass, and in case anyone thinks I don't appreciate a nice derriere, within reason. One night I was on a date and we went to a club to see our favorite local band, the Cast. We met up with my cohort and bandmate O' and we got a table just to the side of the stage, and with a perfect side-view of the singer and flautist Libba. We were all good friends and hung out and sat-in with each other's bands and such. Libba had a nice form, especially when she sort of cocked her body at an angle when she played flute.
 One thing I loved about the band was their use of dynamics, or getting softer and louder, and they could turn on a dime. It sounds simple but so few bands ever utilize it these days and that's a shame because it really is a musical weapon. Anyway we were sitting stage-right and the place was packed. O' and I were pretty loaded and we were all having a big time. He and my date had known each other for years, and luckily she didn't have a problem staying sober enough to drive us all home. Now that I think about it I'd also taken an Ativan that O' had a script for, and that was very unusual for me. I had a buzz going. The Cast was playing some high-energy tune and they were loud as shit in the smallish club.
 I was slowed-down enough to have a bit of a lag in my response time in the loud conversation we were having. I looked at Libba and for about the 500th time her ass caught my attention. As in music, timing is everything. Redundancy can be funny sometimes, and O' and I had marveled at Libba's ass many times before, but I brought it to his attention yet again. I pointed to her ass and just smiled and nodded my head. O' nodded back with a huge grin. The band had reached a crescendo and I had to lean over and shout in O's ear. I was definitely slurring. "Maannnnnnnnn..." I said. "Whaaaaaat?" said O', who was slurring as well. At that instant the band slammed on the brakes and went from balls-loud to a whisper.
 Dynamically the sudden drop in decibels meant that there was no need for me to shout, but as I was slowed-down it was too late to stop myself, and I heard myself announce to O' and my date and the band and the crowd and everyone else, "You could set a martini on Libba's ass!" My face turned red as the whole damn place heard it and broke into howls. The rest of the band was laughing so hard that they couldn't sing the song and had to vamp through the verse until they could quit laughing enough to be able to sing. Libba looked at me and laughed out loud. She made sort of an "inquisitive" face and turned around and looked down at her rear. It was classic.
 So this ass thing...what up with that? I guess it all goes back to personal taste, as it were, but it also concerns Physics as well. Maybe you could set a martini on Libba's ass, but you could balance a bowling ball on that ass. I don't mind a little "shake with those fries" when somebody walks by, but a seismic event? No thanks. I'll leave that for the "I like big butts" folks. 2 much 4 me. And I cannot lie.

Jukebox in My Head (selection L-60)

"Reminiscing" by Little River Band. I used to call these guys the Little Reefer Band. This was what was happening on the radio during my reckless youth as it were. As a young man of barely legal drinking age I was already nearly into my second decade as a jaded listener to most Pop music, but this song wasn't bad. Why I think about it a lot is because it's typical of some of the tunes of the day I played in my first professional band, the Skip Perry Trio.
 At the time we were actually a four-piece, and Terry, the guitarist, was fluent at the funky, jazzy style of the guitar player on the record. The drums were funky and really swinging although fairly simple, so it was a fun song for me to play. Don played great bass and sang backup. Skip sang it like the guy on the record and played the keyboard parts to a T, and we did a nice job with the tune.
 I've mentioned it before but that couldn't have been a better first band. And BTW I only use the term "professional" as in the band was a profession and I got paid. I'm not saying my drumming was professional. It was a lounge act, so we played everything from Jazz standards to Classic Rock to Country to Disco to the latest Pop hits of the day, so I had to learn to fake a lot of styles in a hurry. It was sticks to the fire and it was great for me to be pushed. Also I'm forever in Skip's debt for patiently encouraging me to sing while playing drums, which was something I absolutely could not (and still can't) do. He worked with me and took me from not being able to keep a beat and go "Laaaaa" at the same time, to being able to sing decent harmony, and on pitch at that. Thanks, Skip. RIP.
 Speaking of Pop, the reaction to this song by the crowd, from it being on the radio, was duly noted. As a band that played mostly in hotel lounges we tried to play something for everyone from the drunk locals with no life to out friends and family who dropped by to the bartenders to the guests and their kids, plus the older Snowbirds and such. It was a lot of fun. The older folks loved the Sinatra and stuff; the dancers loved the Disco and Country and the kids wanted Rock, but hearing radio tunes got a reaction from more of the age groups than anything. "Play that 'hurry don't be late' song again" we'd hear from the crowd. Why not. It was usually worth a round of drinks or two.
 There wasn't much all that special about this tune except for the memories it brings back. Ha-ha, I'm reminiscing. It was a well-done tune and all but it wasn't like some gem amongst the gravel or anything. It does get major bonus points for having a trumpet solo as the fadeout. Besides Herb Alpert or Sergio Mendez or Penny Lane maybe you hardly ever heard trumpet on Pop radio. I also have to award mega-bonus points for the charming video for this song, which I never sawr until just now. It's classic fucking 70s all the way. The guys are all relaxing in a mansion and they're wearing tuxes. It starts out with the singer drinking tea in an antique chair and the bass player playing upright bass. That's good for starters. Then it shows the guitar player playing to his cat, who actually turns its head to listen. How could you not love that? As turbulent as the 70s were, it was a MUCH kinder, gentler time and sometimes I miss it (sigh). Obviously this tune taps into that feeling for me. Good kitty.
 Other than that it's a fairly typical song. It has an intro, verse, chorus, bridge/breakdown, solo, verse, chorus, and outro like usual. It has nice wall-of-sound background vocals but the rest of the tune is fairly simple in orchestration. A few of the drum breaks featured the first commercially-available electronic drums- the Syndrum. Back then there was no sampling or having a pad with 500 sounds loaded into it. You had to buy a dedicated pad just to get three or four sounds, and besides changing the pitch and duration and a couple more tweaks that was it. They ended up mostly being used for that classic, high-pitched, descending "POOooo" sound that was in every other Disco song. Like they did once or twice in this tune, the pitch was dropped to get sort of a "DOOOooon" sound that was supposed to be a drum but sounded to me more like someone on a mic imitating the sound of a drum.
 Speaking of drums the groove of this song is really hyper-funky. The drummer is playing with "implied swing," which means that (except for the softer, "ghosted" notes on the snare drum in between the backbeats, which are syncopated but very quiet) the main beat he's playing is straight, like "Ba-ba-ba-ba," he's also adding a subtle "Chooka-chooka" feel in the background. It's pretty cool. That's another example of the "Clave" beat which I talk about and which I believe is hardwired in all of our brains. It's what makes us have no choice but to groove along to it, and maybe even get out of the dance floor and shake that thang. It's all good.
 Well I guess that's about it. It's been fun reminiscing. Unless you're an old fuck like me you'll never know what the vibe was like in the 70s, and that's a shame. For me this is a tune that takes me back to a time when I was learning that playing music, which is something I'd have done for free, could make me really good money, free drinks and occasionally even get me laid. If you want to take a trip back to a time when there were bell-bottoms, Quaaludes, Nature-lovers and music that didn't punish your eardrums, give this tune a spin. If by a million-to-one shot you happen to have a vinyl LP in the shrink jacket, it would be a good time to open it before listening to this song. Take your fingernail and slit the shrink and open the jacket and stick your face in and inhale deeply. Nothing like the aroma of fresh vinyl in the morning. As we said in the day and some still say now...Have a nice day. Peace.

"Reminiscing" by Little River Band: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2U-OAAHncHQ

The Hardest Thing about Playing Music While Tripping

It really takes a strong mind to take psychedelic drugs. Actually I should say it takes a strong mind to not let it get the better of you. If someone doesn't have a strong mind they have no business taking psychedelic drugs of any kind. Having said that, of even the strongest-minded, who happen to play music, only a handful of them would ever even consider playing music while tripping on acid, at least live in front of an audience. I used to love it.
 One wild night of many stands out in particular. We played a huge toga party somewhere and I'd borrowed an old fire extinguisher that was one of those huge metal types that was just water and air. I charged it with air at a closed gas station and hid it by my drum kit. I was trippin' my nurtz off and during the drum solo I pared it down to just my foot on the bass drum. I grabbed the fire extinguisher and fired a "warning shot" over the crowd just to make sure they were cool with it, and at the insistence of the girls I hosed them all down in their togas, and most of them weren't wearing anything underneath, God bless 'em. They all walked up one by one and stood in front of the drum kit waiting to be sprayed. It was like a "Wet Toga" contest and the place went nuts. That was fun.
 One night I was at a place called the Wooden Nickel and it was again during a drum solo when I was tripping. It's funny considering I didn't care for soloing much, but sometimes the guys would just stop all at once and make me do a solo, and tripping was always a little bit of a different story. The ripples going across the drum heads and the colors exploding from the cymbals added quite a show, if only to me. There was a framed stained-glass head of a Native-American (an "Indian" at the time, with no disrespect ever intended). I'd seen him a million times but for some reason he caught my eye during my solo, and while I watched his head slowly grew a body and then started dancing to the drum solo. That was interesting and pretty heavy actually.
 I'd hit a drum and purple ripples would go from the center to the edge and back like the drum head was a pond. Auras of color would burst from the cymbals. That was intense in itself but the colors would vary with the different sounds of the cymbals. The harsher cymbals like Chinas and such would put out spikey waves of reds and oranges, while the sweeter-sounding crash cymbals put out softer waves of blues and greens. The Ride cymbal, which gives a "Ping" sound and carries the beat in certain sections was releasing "sound bubbles" that matched the hits. The hi-hats were sort of a combination of everything. Oh wow, I just remembered...when I'd step on the hi-hat pedal to close the cymbals together for a "Chick" sound often used to help keep time during a fill, a "smoke ring" of color would shoot out all around the hats like the rays of the Sun. The bass drum shot out a burst of color like a cannon. A+ for special-effects.
 It was vivid and consistent. It made perfect sense at the time and still would now if somehow I could see it sober. It was like seeing auras, which everything has. The ripple thing was a nice touch. The colors and shapes of the waves coming from the drums and cymbals fit the sounds perfectly. Even tripping heavily generally doesn't make someone lose their mind temporarily or forget shit or whatever, and I knew at the time that I was experiencing a condition called Synesthesia, where people can "hear" colors and "see" sounds and such, in real time. It was beautiful and fascinating but again it could be too much for some people to combine with playing music in front of people.
 To me it was like drumming in another dimension or being in an ultra-intense video game. I could even blend the colors by hitting two adjacent cymbals at the same time. My big China cymbal would explode into color like the Mothership in Galaga or something, and I didn't even have to keep stuffing in quarters to play, like we had to do back then. I'd get to the end of a big drum fill and I'd be like "Red cymbal...FIRE! Cymbal bubbles...LAUNCH!" I could completely control it, like being in a lucid dream. Doing a fill around the toms was like skipping a stone across a pond. It was so much fun.
 That's one reason I say that most people wouldn't want to play tripping. That kind of thing can be distracting to say the least. It's one thing at a party or in your room or whatever but it's quite another when you have to concentrate on your playing or you'll make a fool of yourself. It's not for everyone, but that's the fun of it. I'll never forget...that night I'd given a hit to my friend Mike, who was known for his ability to take superhuman amounts of drugs. During the solo and dancing stained glass Native-American time, Mike walked up in front of the drums and just stood there looking at me with a very bemused grin on his face. He didn't need to say a word. That was some good shit. It was called Green Pyramid, just as in this image.
 One night we were playing a frat party on Halloween in Columbia, SC. Greg had some liquid acid, which was as good as it gets, and we were planning to dose. We pulled up on a beautiful afternoon. A few of the first-year frat boys, or "pledges," came over to help us load. One kid was moving his jaw all around or "chewing 'air gum'" as I say and I knew he was high as a kite. He was either doing tons of blow, which I doubted, or he was taking Ecstasy, which was more likely. I said. "Dude, what's your favorite letter of the alphabet?" "X" he replied. "I thought so" I said. I asked him if there was any more and he said yes but it was here and there, which I understood, but he'd look for some. I thanked him and asked him if he needed any money and he said not to worry about it.
 He took off and we set up and had dinner and goofed around and put on some costumes. A few of the guys went ahead and dosed but I waited. Something about the kid told me he'd live up to his word but I still hadn't even seen him at the party by the end of the first set. I'd held off on tripping because I thought I might get some X, but by the time we started second set I figured the kid wasn't going to show so I took three drops of the liquid. Like we often did we played nearly a two-hour set. I was really starting to get off on the acid around five songs in, and wouldn't you know it...up came another drum solo. What's with the drum solos? Sounds like I only did them when I was tripping. Maybe that's how it was.
 Anyway the stage was set up against a wall with several windows and I'd set up as near to one as I could get. Even in freezing weather if you get 350 or so warm bodies in a room it instantly becomes a sauna. I was right in the middle of the solo when a hand reached in through the window. It was facing up and it was holding a tablet. The kid had brought me a hit of X just like he said. For free. I never saw his face; only his hand. I kept playing with my left hand and reached over with my right hand and took the tablet; thanked the kid and gobbled it down dry and kept on playing. I could barely make out the wispy shape of the kid running off into the night. That was like a movie and we all lost it laughing. Needless to say taking a hit of X on top of a triple dose of good acid made for an interesting evening. DON'T DO DRUGS! Anyway that was fun too.
 There are so many stories...it was a total blast for me but it just wouldn't be the thing to do for many people, and it's totally understandable. Playing music demands so much of your brain that sometimes you can't even look at the hot chick bending over a pool table to line up a long corner-pocket shot or you might completely blow a drum fill (true story), so think what adding psychedelic drugs to the mix could do. It can be downwight scawy for some. No dishonor there. On top of playing music some people didn't like to trip around people they didn't know, or crowds, or didn't like tripping indoors. I certainly preferred tripping in Nature whenever possible but none of that bothered me.
 Honestly the hardest thing for me to do when I was tripping and playing was simply to keep playing. It was so cool to watch my hands doing their thing that it became almost an out-of-body deal and I'd dang near forget it was me playing. I'd see those hands moving and sticks flying and tracers and colors and all, and it was so entertaining that I'd just want to stop and watch the hands play drums. I'd literally catch myself at the last split-second and remember that those hands belonged to ME and I'd better keep them going if I knew what was good for me.
 It was sort of like when the hippies would go blind from staring into the Sun while tripping because it was so cool. That really happened. I knew what could happen if I looked at my hands and I tried to avoid it but sometimes I couldn't resist. Nobody ever knew I was tripping unless I told them, but stopping dead mid-song with a grin of wonderment on my face might've given the game away. It happened more times than I'd have liked but luckily I caught it. It's funny really but at the time it'd have been an almighty train wreck. Apparently I thought that if I stopped to watch, the hands would somehow magically manage to keep on playing. That's not how it works. So yeah, that was the hardest thing for me anyway, but it'd probably be the least of some folks' worries. Don't trip and play. This has been a public-service announcement. Have a nice day.

Corrected Song Titles for a Gender-Neutral Nation

If you think about it this gender-neutral business doesn't really say much for the propagation of the species, does it? As it turns out that's the whole point and it's by design, although most people can't grasp that concept much less believe it, but that's another story as they say. No one's talking hate or discrimination or anything else here but facts are facts.
 Like most people I have friends who fit the main letters of "LGBTQ." Certainly Gs and Qs (Q is their letter, not mine). I've known quite a few Bs and even a T or two. I played in at least two bands that were fronted by Ls, and I love those gals to death. As for all the rest of the letters I kinda doubt it, but the point is there's never been any hate for anyone in my life.
 I love those people like any of my friends and as I've said before, the main issue I see is that since we don't tend to run in the same circles for the most part, I don't get to see them as often as most of my other friends. I've never discriminated or made one word of "hate speech" toward them or anyone else for that matter, and that goes back decades. Anyone who'd try to accuse me of ANY of that is full of shit.
 This kind of thing has happened many, many times in history, and there's no telling how far it will go. The end result is actual book-burnings and such. Books, music, art, knowledge...they've all been destroyed and replaced with bullshit. In other words history has been erased and rewritten. Could it happen here? Most people don't think so. Unless you follow these things often enough to see trends develop; not to mention looking into it in the first place, which granted most people are way too busy to do, you don't notice it creeping along, just like the frog in gradually-boiled water thing. If you don't really look into it with an open mind (that's key) then it sounds crazy as hell and I get it. Ever hear that truth is stranger than fiction? It is.
 If that were to happen, God forbid, then we old fucks who lived it would have to be eliminated or declared legally-insane; otherwise stories would be told in the long-held oral traditions. People would hear tales of a time when there was at least an illusion of freedom, but they probably wouldn't believe them. People don't miss what they never knew is what I hear, but that don't make it right. A time when we were free to say things we want to say, and I don't mean idiot shit about harm or actual hate or discrimination or anything else of course, may be something our kids never know, and in short order, but it will have existed at one point. Gov't-mandated "political-correctness" will be all they'll ever know, at least if the current trend continues. Think about it. If you still have a working brain, that is. I don't mean Google it, either. Your brain is your second-largest organ. Use it or lose it.
 Speaking of working brain I have to mention something that made me laugh and cry at the same time. I was in a chat and made the hideous mistake of using the pronoun "he" to describe a frog, and this chick jumped my shit all over the place. It really offended her deeply. Why? I wondered if she was offended on behalf of the frog or herself or all living things in general or the LGBTQ, etc. community or what. To think it's somehow offensive is a joke. NO ONE is getting offended and there's not some "principle" or anything else to uphold here.
 Discriminating against another person for ANY reason is a different story altogether and I've NEVER supported it. And for real...this chick can't find something actually worthwhile to get upset about? Social issues? Crime? Poverty? She loses it about not using a gender-neutral term to describe a frog? The truth is I love frogs way more than some of the pond-scum humans I've met, and this is definitely no slight to frogs, but it's a pretentious-asshole waste of energy and phenomenally-stupid. It's bullshit.
 I apologized and told her I meant no hate speech toward any specific frog group, and if that was her biggest problem she was lucky but maybe she should get her head out of her ass so her brain could get some oxygen. "Ribbit." It was met with a chorus of LOLs and such, except from her of course. It's a fucking frog. I seriously doubt it gives a fuck. It's been said thay way for centuries at least, with no malice towards female frogs whatsoever. It's a term, not a fucking gender issue. Come on. Seriously, who are the crazy ones? Fucking snowflakes.
 Anyway people may hear tales of ancient songs, although gender-specific terms in the titles won't be allowed legally by then. I'm going to wing it here and see if I can come up with a few song titles for this upcoming Brave New World. As you can see I've already made this classic hit by the Angels- "My B*yfriend's Back" PC for the New Age. It's just a rough draft. This must be an EP since there's more than one other tune on the disc. I also had to correct another song that would violate the new laws- "The G*y with the Black Eye." Say, is that song talking about violence? Sounds like it to me. "Toxic masculinity," eh? Bigger fish to fry in this world, PC motherfuckers. WAY bigger. Before I get flagged for "hate speech" let me see if I can come up with a few more politically-corrected titles.
  Before I get into it though, a line from Michael McD's classic song "What a Fool Believes" just popped into my head because it's pretty gender-specific. He...oops, I mean "that person" sings:
"S*e had a place in h*s life." It'll have to be changed to "They had a place in their life." Kinda blurs the meaning of the song, doesn't it? I guess it won't really matter since there won't be any more gender-specific tunes written anyway soon. Let's just say that if this is funny, humor can be darkly-ironic. Case in point. Okay, rant over...I think. Let's get started.

The Beatles "And I Love H*r" - And I Love Them
Mary Wells "My G*y - My Person
Paul Robeson "Old M*n River" - Old Person River
Robert Alda/Frank Sinatra "Luck be a L*dy" - Luck be a Person
Motley Crue "G*rls, G*rls, G*rls" - Persons, Persons, Persons
Hall and Oates "Sh*'s Gone" - They're Gone
Lynn Anderson "You're My M*n" - You're My Person
America "S*ster Goldenhair" - Sibling Goldenhair
Jimmy Dean (Special Clause) "Big Bad John" - Big Bad John/Big Bad Joan
Four Tops "Ain't No W*m*n Like the One I Got" - Ain't No Person Like the One I Got
Special Clause- If Dee Snyder is still alive, he'll...oops, I mean they'll have to change the name of their band to "Twisted Sibling." That's not bad actually.

Paul Simon "B*y in the Bubble" - Person in the Bubble
ELO "Evil W*m*n" - Evil Person
ELP "Lucky M*n"- Lucky Person
Eagles "Witchy W*m*n" - Witchy Person
Devo "G*rl U Want" - Person U Want
It's a Beautiful Day "G*rl with No Eyes" - Person with No Eyes

This is loads of fun and I could go on and on but you get the idea. It takes the yin and the yang out of it, no? This is funny/not funny. I feel another rant coming on...this kind of shit has actually happened in the past. Google it, Dylan. Think it can't happen here? I sincerely hope you're right, but if anything of what I'm trying to say without saying everything is true, then if we don't look into what's likely coming down the pike that's one thing, but if we have kids, then if we don't do even a tiny little bit of our own research, we just might end up wishing we had, and we just may end up being assholes. Our kids will let us know about it too. They'll be totally right. Common sense or "fear-mongering?" It's your choice. Have a nice future.

Things People Believe

lol

Cosmic Coincidence # 792,884,394,399,086,834,065,505: Redbirds

To say that the last couple of months or so I was with my ex were a living horror movie straight out of Hell would be a drastic understatement. It was freaky-ass creepy; wrong as fuck and pure evil. The last two weeks ramped-up to the boiling point and I was fighting to keep my shit together with four hours' sleep on a good night; trying to come to terms with all the hideous bullshit I was finding out about that'd happened behind my back and such, plus trying to plan a mad dash and grab what I could and split when she was at work, since she'd refused at least a dozen offers to break up like adults.
 Anyway I was praying as much as I possibly could but things were so insane that I felt a bit disconnected from reality and the beauty of life and humanity and on and on. One day I was sitting out back at our old place watching the sunset. We had a pretty small backyard but behind that was the Cahaba River and nothing but woods in between. In fact there were so many trees that you could look directly at the Sun without shades and without being blinded.
 I was in a state of deep sadness and bewilderment over everything and knowing I'd be leaving a place I seriously loved in a few days; not to mention a very long but horribly-doomed relationship, and the little fact that my ex never loved me for even one second of the time we were together, and in fact although she concealed it well, she truly hated me. Go figure. It was just the nature of her disease though and it was a compulsion. It was tough to learn and it certainly wasn't right. I never treated her that way. I was low, man, so I said a little prayer- "God, I know you're busy, but I'd love to know that you're still with me in all this."
 Not a second later a dazzling rainbow literally filled my entire field of vision. It startled me it was so intense. It was like watching a Skittles commercial on acid. For a second I didn't know if I was tripping or what, but then I saw it was really there, although it took a moment to locate the source. I thought maybe someone was blowing bubbles, or maybe a glass globe had rolled down the hill...I didn't know what it was. Then I saw the female of a pair of Cardinals who were in their third year there. A pencil-thin beam of light was shining on her tail feathers and refracting into an amazing burst of color. As she moved about and through the fence to come have some birdseed, the rainbow would come and go and sometimes get intensely-bright. Sure enough the male showed up a moment later. He always brought up the rear and kept watch over her and made sure the birdseed area was clear. It was beautiful.
 I looked side-to-side in either direction and there was't a single beam of sunlight shining anywhere else as far as the eye could see. In fact the Sun had almost completely set and the one beam shining on her tail was less than an inch wide; like a laser beam. I didn't have my camera or it would've made a spectacular photo, but then again maybe it was a private thing and meant just for me. Whatever it was it lifted me out of my funk immediately and made me realize what was really important...all the beautiful things in life that were REAL, and didn't cost a penny to boot. I've seen thousands of birds in the sunlight and I've never seen that happen even once.
 I was humbled and intensely grateful. I was literally overcome with joy. I needed it. My eyes filled with tears; mostly because of the unexpected beauty, but also from sadness at having to leave my river and everything else there...the woods, the sunsets, our animals and neighbors, a beautiful and safe neighborhood to walk in, a river where I truly felt at peace and at home and where I felt the presence of a Creator; to whom I could pray without distractions, Mother Nature herself, the Cardinals and the cornucopia of other wildlife, and even my ex; God bless her.
 It was just a coincidence though. There's no way in the world it could possibly be God answering my prayer. Most people these days don't think God is real anyway. Fair enough. I completely understand coincidences, but I'm just a backwards-bumpkin who's fooled his dumb ass into believing that just maybe there's a God and maybe He answered my prayer in an instantaneous and incredible way. It really makes you think, doesn't it? Sure should. For those keeping score, according to the Good Book the rainbow is a sign of God's Covenant with us.
 I'm sure that rainbows have been mentioned since writing began but to get the most accurate idea of what something means you need to go as far back as possible. I know of nothing earlier that says that the rainbow represented anything besides a magic thing in the sky that no one understood, except for maybe the Egyptians and them. People thought there was a pot o' gold at the end of them. Anyway, whatever it was it was it was just what the Cosmic Doctor ordered. I'm totally thanking God first and foremost but I'm also sending out heartfelt thanks to the Universe in general. I'm glad to be human. This has been a coincidence. Have a nice day.