Speak Softly and Carry a Big (Drum) Stick

I've told this story before, but who cares? It still gets me. Back in high school the drummers in the marching band would carry a pair of drumsticks in our back pockets wherever we went, both in school and in public. Part of it was to make people think we were cool, but mostly it was so we could get in a few minutes of practice when we had some downtime. The sticks we carried were our 3S marching sticks.

 Those suckers are big. We called them "baseball bats" or "tree trunks." They're the biggest production sticks made, and anything bigger is novelty stuff. Back in the day you needed big sticks so that the sound would carry in big stadiums, or on the battlefield too for that matter. Early drumheads were made of skin, and weren't nearly as loud or crisp as modern plastic heads.

 The reason we carried those with us is because after swinging those babies around for a while, normal drumsticks felt light as a feather. It's like when a batter is in the on-deck circle and he's swinging a weighted bat. After football games on Friday night and playing with the tree trunks for a couple hours, I'd go home and pick up my regular sticks and just wail away on my drum kit like it was nothing. They weighed 2-3 times what regular sticks weighed. You'll see why the weight is important in a minute.

 So one fine day my friend John Nuckols was going to a music store in Ensley. Ensley was once a wealthy and safe part of town, but as happens all over the country much of it is in ruins and crime-ridden. When this happened it was still relatively safe in the daytime, but the bad guys had been creeping in for a few years, and Nuckols ran into one.

 A guy was approaching on the sidewalk and aside from the fact that he looked a little ragged and high on something he didn't think much about it until the guy pulled a knife and demanded his wallet. It was probably a typical situation where the guy needed money for a fix. John said he was sweating and bug-eyed, and he appeared to be very serious in his demands. "Gimme your wallet or I'll cut you" he said, or something like that. 

 I always stress that staying as calm as possible even in a dangerous situation can mean the difference between life and not-life, and Nuckols kept his cool. He was just like that. He had an ace up his sleeve...or rather in his back pocket- the 3Ss, and the bad guy couldn't see them from the front. If he hadn't had them I'm assuming he'd have handed over his wallet and ran like hell, but he decided he didn't want to lose his wallet. The guy was twitchy so John put his hands out to try to calm him down some, and said he was reaching for his wallet. The guy dropped his guard just a bit, which was all John needed.

 He held one hand up and slowly reached into his back pocket with the other, but instead of grabbing his wallet he grabbed the 3Ss. In one swift move he brought the sticks around and over his head and slammed them down in the middle of the arm that was holding the knife. In the next second the guy was screaming in pain and holding his elbow. Half his arm was dangling down. The bone had been broken clean in two. The classic line of the whole story was when John said "I didn't mean to hit him that hard." 

 John had only meant to hit him hard enough to knock the knife out of his hands and disable him, but it's understandable considering John's Adrenaline had kicked in, not to mention the weight of the sticks. Whatever plans the guy had made for the rest of the day had pretty much changed. He was on his knees and begging for an ambulance, which John called for him. He didn't press charges or even file a report. He figured he'd fucked the guy up enough for one day. He started to kick the knife away but it was a really nice one so he kept it as a souvenir. I would too. 

 In a way I have to feel for the bad guy, 'cause I know he was in brutal pain. I've hit myself with sticks quite a few times, and those were normal sticks. When I switched from Traditional (Jazz) Grip to Matched Grip, my left hand was several inches higher and more in the way, and sometimes I'd forget and whack the fuck out of myself. I'd have about three milliseconds to think "Oh, FUCK" before the pain kicked in. It was the kind of pain that affected your whole body...my scalp would be buzzing and my ears would be ringing and my toes would be curling and my nutsack would shrink down to Size-1. 

 I did it several times on a gig, and I don't know how I kept playing. My vision would flash white for a second and I'd get light-headed, as if my mind was trying to leave my body, which I'm sure it'd have done if it could have. Somehow I'd keep playing with my right hand while my left hand would hang limply and uselessly in my lap. I'd want to curl up in the fetal position on the floor and wail and moan until the pain went away, but I couldn't do that, so I kept playing with one hand until the wounded one could shake it off and rejoin the party. I hit my hand enough times that there's a big dent in the bone. No pain no gain, right? That shit hurts. 

 If there was a bright side for the guy, I reckon they gave him some pretty serious pain meds for a few days anyway. Who knows...maybe he was a heroin addict, but the pills took the edge off enough for him to get clean and start a new life, so possibly John helped turn his life around. Or maybe he just decided to bring a gun next time. We'll never know. The moral of this story? "Don't mess with 3S." 

                                                                          The End

 
 

Another One Bites the Dust

"Another one bites the dust

Another one bites the dust (hey hey)

Another one bites the dust...

And another one's gone and another one's gone

Another one bites the dust..."

Oh, excuse me...I forgot what I was doing here. Every time I see another predator go down, that song plays in my head.

 "Another one bites the dust..." Oops, there I go again. My bad.

 It's just that it's such a thrill so see these sick fucks get silver bracelets that I mentally burst into song. This image is from a vid I just watched, and it's fantastic, although this is just a random sick fuck, and one of far too many. He is dressed way more nicely than most and he stands out just a bit in the world of online preds, but they're all the same inside. It shows the amazing young woman who heads up an organization called Protect the Innocent, and "Mr. Nice Guy" in the background. The image says it all. 

 She and her team of decoys pose as underagers online, and when the predators set up a meet, instead of a kid it's law enforcement. That has to be a major buzzkill for sure. She's looking back at him being cuffed, and the next few seconds of the vid show her nodding happily into the camera as the perp is being led away. It's beautiful. I don't know if she believes in God but she's doing His work. 

 Sadly he'll probably only get a slap on the wrist, unless he's a reoffender, but it's possible he could spend a few years in jail. It just depends on where it happens. Laws vary from state to state and county to county and DA to DA. The fact that there aren't universal laws across the books to protect children shows how fucked-up this world is. A guy could do this in one county and go to jail for years, but step over into the next county and not a damn thing would happen to him. It's crazy. If you ask me the system is broken. 

 If they do serve time they're usually put into protective custody, and usually they get out before half their sentences have been served, for good behavior. They know that in prison, even other criminals hate Chomos, and the guards do too. They're not about to start any shit unless they have a death wish, so they get out early. What's usually worse for them is being put on the registry. It's very difficult to get a job with that on their record, and they're required by law to tell any potential partners. 

 What maybe even worse for them is being exposed in these videos, which are almost always seen by people they know. Most of them are garden variety scumbags, but at the very least their lives as they knew them are over. They lose all their friends, and if their families have any decency they lose them too. They have a hard time getting any job besides shoveling shit, and only another sicko would ever want to speak to them, much less date them. They're fucked. 

 Some of them though lose their homes, businesses, families and any shred of dignity they may have had. It's incredible what they're willing to risk for a few minutes of sick "fun," but it shows how strong the compulsion is. There's usually no information on what happens to these people once they're back in society, but occasionally there is, usually when they're caught more than once. No matter where they are in life they pretty much lose everything, but guess what...they'll be right back at it if they get a chance, and you can take that to the bank. There's no cure except snippy-snip, which they deserve. They're monsters. 

 Even if they're put into PC in prison, we know that bad things still happen to some of them, and the fact is that in or out of prison these people are the lowest of the low. I'm not saying they deserve anything bad at all, and normally I'm not a vengeful person, but when it comes to children or animals, all bets are off. Fuck those clowns.

 In my way of thinking their real punishment won't begin until the day they die. There's a saying in an old book about how it'd be better to have a millstone hung around your neck and dropped into the depths of the ocean than to harm a little one, and I believe that. 

 And so another sick fuck goes down and gets exposed to the world. Good job, sister! I can dig it. "Another one bites the dust (hey hey)..."

Great Moments in Television

Goodness. This amazing still is from an episode of the classic TV show Peter Gunn. I'm guessing it's a burger joint with car service. Bless his heart, he's almost trying to look at her eyes. Just because the world was in black and white back then didn't mean they didn't have it goin' on. That's textbook right there. 

 Mega-Kudos to Mr. Gunn, the producer, cameraman, whomever got it past the censors and everybody else concerned with the making of this scene, not to mention the young lady with the flat tummy and the alert, eager hoo-has, with nary a gram of silicone. They couldn't have nailed it any better.

 It's so good that I'm going to get an 8 x 10 of it from Walgreen's, and I don't even care if I get a "Low Resolution" warning. Hopefully the person who prints it will get a kick out of it. I sure did. My, my... them are textbook. 
 

Final Act of Kindness

 In an incredible turn of events, this wonderful man performed one final act of kindness on this Earth, and then moments after this photo was taken he was struck and killed by a car. It's a crazy tragedy, but I think it worked out just fine for him. If I were able to do one final act of kindness for an animal before I left the planet I'd be quite happy with that. 

 What I think happened right after this is he was greeted by God in Heaven, who said "Well done, faithful servant. For as you have done to the smallest of these, so you have done also unto Me. Welcome to Paradise." That's what I think happened. Cheers, dude. Bravo! 

 

What We Have in Common

I don't know this young lady but we have at least one thing in common...we are Devo. It's a beautiful thing.
 

On Every List

If you scanned my email you'd think I was a survivalist, a gun owner, a staunch right-wing conservative Christian, a Republican and a Trumper, but I'm none of those things. You'd also think I was into music, aquarium stuff, science (SCIENCE), animals, space, weather and things, and that I believe in a Creator, and I am those things. 

 Years ago I clicked on an ad for a fire starter or something like that, and next thing I know I'm bombarded with email ads for survival stuff and storable food. As I was on the survival list, they figured I must be a gun owner, and if I was a gun owner then I must be a right-winger, and if I was a right-winger I must be a Trumper, and this is the house that Jack built. 

 If my beliefs are true, then even without all that stuff I'm on every list there is, because of the opinions I've expressed. They don't need to check it twice...they've got AI. I stand by every word, and there's a 50-50 chance I'm right. Know where else my name is, again if my beliefs happen to be true? It's written in the Book of Life. For that I'll be eternally grateful, literally. 

 The bad guys know that if they want they can do bad things to those who believe in God, but they can't take our souls, because we belong to Him. And we will dwell in the House of the Lord forever, Amen. 
 

Co-Quotes of the Day

"Ain't no wrong notes on the piano." - Thelonius Monk 

"There are no wrong notes." - Jerry Garcia

 

Quote of the Day

"You might be a dick." - Matt Starr, drummer, author, educator, etc.
 

Wives' Tales Confirmed: Tapping a Soda Can

This is self-explanatory to most people I guess, but some don't know about it or how it works, and knowing this little trick could potentially save you or someone you love the heartbreak of opening a can of soda or beer and having it spew everywhere...potentially spilling Coke on your crotch on a first date or staining someone's $80,000 Persian rug. 

 Since way on back I've always heard that you should tap several times on a soda can before you open it, especially if it gets shaken or dropped. At first it sounded like either magic or bullshit, but when I thought about it it made sense. What mattered was that when I tried it it worked, and I've been doing it forever. 

 That was waaay before the Internet, so I had to think about it for a minute. I knew that if it wasn't magic or bullshit, it had to somehow calm down the pressure, but how? I'm not a scientist and I'm going from memory so don't quote me on this, but basically carbonation, aka fizz, is produced when carbonic acid reacts with oxygen in the air, producing CO2, which forms the familiar bubbles that rise to the top and tickle our noses. If you've ever watched a stream of bubbles forming along the inside of a glass of champagne, you've seen this in action.

 Apparently when the bubbles form, they're in a big-ass hurry to get to the surface, but they're kept under pressure and can't rise until the can is opened. If a can gets shaken the acid reacts with the small amount of air at the top of the can, which creates millions of extra bubbles that form all through the liquid and along the sides of the can, and when it's opened and the pressure is released, they rush to the surface, taking the liquid with them, which creates the potentially-heartbreaking spew. 

 I knew that if you dropped a can and tried to open it right away it'd spew to High Heaven, but if you let it sit for a few minutes it'd settle down and you could open it without spewage. I figured the gas was going back into solution or rising to the top of the can and being pressurized. If tapping sped up the process, it must be jarring the bubbles to get them to rise to the top. 

 Although I knew that had to be it, I never bothered to try to confirm it, but a short video about it popped up in my feed, and I wanted to make sure my theory was correct, and it was. I know it's a very simple thing and not Rocket Science (SCIENCE), but it's kinda interesting, and mainly it works. 

 The excess bubbles are all through the liquid and along the inside of the can. They're held in place by pressure, but tapping the can jostles them loose and lets most of them rise to the surface. There's still some extra "PSSHHH" when you open a shaken can that's been tapped a few times, but most of the bubbles have risen to the surface and don't take half the beverage with them. It really works. 

 For those keeping score, bubbles are trapped on the inside of cans (and glasses), even when opened, by tiny pits on the surface of the aluminum or glass, and by a tiny electromagnetic charge. Okay, there's the science (SCIENCE) lesson for the day. 

 So, if you happen to be on a date or standing on an $80,000 Persian rug and you have a can of soda that's all shook up, don't be a goober and open it without tapping on the can a few times. You don't want to spray your date's white silk nightie or have foam all over your crotch, unless you're into it. Have a nice day, and tap that can. 
 

The Very Best in Bullshit/How Narcissists Charm Their Victims

Most of the people who watch things like the Amber Heard debacle for example, are caught up in all the drama and celebrity bullshit, which normally I avoid, but I've been watching videos about Amber, and also Elizabeth "Thousand-Yard Stare" Holmes, for a different reason- they're narcissists of the most malignant kind. It's fascinating, and on display for all to see. Anyone who's been in a relationship with a narcissist feels compelled to study it, if nothing else but to try to understand what they went through. 

 Elizabeth Holmes is the former CEO of a company called Theranos (collectors, get your swag now). Their stated mission was to be able to perform a couple-hundred or more tests from a single drop of blood, rather than multiple vials, which would be needed to perform all those tests by existing methods. 

 I have to give myself credit here...or actually my Bullshitometer, because I remember when this started, and when I heard that they supposedly were able to get that many tests out of just a single drop of blood, I called bullshit immediately. 

 I'm not a doctor so what do I know, but to dilute a single drop of blood down to a few PPM or whatever, just to get enough material for 200 tests didn't ring true to me. I'm not saying that that technology doesn't exist, and in fact I think it probably does, but to fit all that kit into a portable unit about the size of a large suitcase, and ship those units to pharmacies all over the world, and have people be able to walk in, get a pin prick and give one drop of blood and get your results via email the next day, sort of like going through the drive-through at McDonalds...it sounded like a pipe dream, and I wanted some of what she was smoking.

 The reason it sounded like bullshit is because it was...every bit of it. She literally bullshitted her way into becoming the CEO of a company worth $9-billion or so. She had no background in medicine or biochemistry or whatever...what she had was a big fear of needles, which supposedly is the reason she started the company.

 Although she (and all narcissists) knows right from wrong, and knew she was bullshitting people from day 1, I don't think it was a case of her trying to straight-up bullshit people out of their money...I really think she thought she could magically pull it off simply because as a narcissist, with all the grandiosity, superiority, lack of empathy and all, she thought she could do anything just because of who she was. 

 It's not my diagnosis (and I'm not qualified to diagnose anything) that she's a narcissist, but as one of the members of the Behavior Panel on YouTube, I think Chase Hughes, said (to paraphrase): "You may not be a Psychologist, but if you can't spot a narcissist, you're a dumbass. I'm not a Botanist, but I know what Poison Ivy is." Thank you, Chase. 

 If you go to any article or video about narcissism on planet Earth, you'll get a list of the exact same symptoms. The only difference is the severity to which they take these traits. It's one of the many, many things that makes narcissism so creepy, and I say demonic. If you jot down or print out a list, and go watch an Elizabeth Holmes or an Amber Heard video, you can tick all the boxes. A narcissist from the Sticks of Alabama will behave exactly the same as one in upstate New York, or Copenhagen or Prague or the UK or anywhere else on Earth. It's like there's a Narcissist's Handbook they follow. You can set your watch to it. 

 Here's where being a narcissist pays off...in their ability to charm people into (temporarily) believing their bullshit, is off the charts. They learn this behavior early in life, and before they even realize that they're learning. Since they have no empathy and have no feelings or regard for others and are empty inside, they learn to mimic people, copying the behaviors that get positive results. It's not genuine but it's incredibly convincing. 

 Amazingly she bullshitted a few of the wealthiest families on Earth to invest, including the Waltons, the Royal Fam of Saudi Arabia, Hank Kissinger and other luminaries, and it snowballed from there. She then used their names as street cred for her bullshit, to get even more investors to get onboard. She handled her company the way all narcissistic bosses do. 

 Long story short it wasn't a fun environment. If you want to look into it, I'd suggest the Behavior Panel. Their main things are body language and behavior, but the reason I watch them, besides the fact that they're very intelligent and quite entertaining too, is because they have a real understanding of narcissism. 

 An interesting but savage thing is that since she isn't wired for empathy or love and has no regard whatsoever for others, she never gave a thought to the people that could potentially be harmed by a misdiagnosis, and I think that the machines that did work without immediately breaking down, as many did, gave false readings 40% or more of the time. That's unacceptable.

 When this subject was mentioned, she just got an even blanker look on her face and a bigger creepy smile, that indicated clearly that if she'd even given it a passing thought it didn't matter. I may be wrong but I'm pretty sure that it got to the human trials stage, and some people were misdiagnosed. Even if not, she was playing around with people's health and even their very lives, with absolutely no concern to her. 

 When the interview with the guy she was bullshitting took place, she wasn't yet in trouble. At the time of the interview the machine would only properly perform a single test, which I think was Syphilis. 9-bil to be able to do a test that the corner drugstore could do. When questioned on that she became visibly irritated, as if how dare he question her on that, and said something like "Well, if YOU want to zero-in on that fact..." The guy interrupted her and said that it was HER words that it would perform hundreds of tests, and that was the whole premise of the company. 

 She just deflected and started talking about other things like her "Nanotainers" and shit. She sidestepped the question, but that's how narcissists roll. She made it seem like he was the problem, for asking why her machines could only perform a single test, rather than the fact that her machines could only perform a single test. In her mind it somehow made sense. Narcissists' brains are totally flip-flopped. 

 If you want to see someone straight-up bullshitting someone through the biggest smile you've ever seen, go watch a vid on Elizabeth Holmes. She's totally bullshitting the interviewer, and she knows it and he knows it. It's pretty amazing to see. The entire time she's bobbing her head, subconsciously trying to get the guy to agree with all of her bullshit.

 The head-bobbing is so severe that you may have to pause the videos every once in a while to keep from getting seasick, and that's no joke. If you speed it up it looks like a life-size Elizabeth Holmes bobblehead doll on the hood of a car in a dirt track race. It's remarkable, and well worth watching. People should know about narcissists, because they're the fuckers calling the shots. Bullshit is their game. 

 Sadly for Elizabeth Holmes and all other narcissists, in the end a foundation built of bullshit will start to reek, and reveal itself to be bullshit. I think she's serving time right now. If she's following the Narcissist's Handbook, and I reckon she is, then right now, like all inmates she's pondering, except that it's not a matter of where she went wrong...it's everybody else. She's the victim here, and the simpletons of Planet Earth just couldn't understand her genius. If she'd only had more time she couldda pulled it off, because she can do anything. In clinical terms that's called "magical thinking." It's so true. 

 She built a $9-billion company on nothing more than bullshit. That's some serious bullshit right there, and I think it at least gets Bullshit of the Decade honors. Then again, bullshit does run in her family. Her dad was CEO of Enron. Go figure. Alice Cooper had Billion Dollar Babies. Elizabeth Holmes had Billion Dollar Bullshit. Impressive, Captain. 
 

Quote of the Day

"In Russia they teach Physics in schools. In America we teach pronouns." - Anonymous
 

Band Name I'll Stick with for Now: Shiffer Brains

If I ever start my own band again, which at this point looks dubious at best, I'll have to have a name for it. Coming up with band names is something I do as a mental hobby, and I have so many that choosing just one is hard to do, but as far as how I feel today, I'd go with "Shiffer Brains."

 I got the name from Doug, Benny and PorterFunk of the Bluedads band. I don't know if they made it up or not but it's beautiful. "Shiffer Brains" is how a slurring southerner might pronounce "Shit for brains." Isn't that great? "Shit for brains" is one of my favorite terms anyway, but I don't know how many clubs, at least in this town, would want that on the marquee. "Shiffer Brains" is much more discrete. 

 I love band names that you can't fuck with, and even though people might laugh all day long when they find out what the name means, which is fine because laughter is the best medicine, you really can't fuck with a name like Shiffer Brains. No one could accuse us of being egocentric assholes with a name that means "shit for brains." It's perfect...almost holy. Oh, the t-shirts...

 Most bands that have "Brains" in the title are in the Punk category, but it's not set in stone. However, for those who might think it's a Punk band, and more importantly for musical reasons...aka fun...we'd do lots of Devo for sure, but mostly the more obscure songs like "Blockhead" and "Come Back Jonee." Other than that we'd stick to the format we used way back in the Generic Band days- play everything from A to Z- Allmans to Zappa, and everything in between, plus of course originals. 

 I can see it now..."Ladies and gentlemen...please welcome SHIFFER BRAINS!" (and the crowd goes wild). I wonder how many people would get what it means without being told. Their A-ha moment would be rich. Of course the name would be shortened to "The Brains," which might infer that we're a bunch of pseudo-intellectual fucks, but I think they'd get over that idear pretty quickly when they realize what the name means. "Y'all gonna go see The Brains tonight?" "Of course! What else would we possibly be doing? The Brains RULE!" I know I'm only dreaming, but who says I can't dream? Rock on. 
 

The Adventures of Bud Greene and the K9 Unit (rewritten)

Once upon a time the Bud Greene band was playing a weekend at a place called Club 13 in Sheffield, Alabama, and we were out of smoke. That was an extremely rare occurrence, but as usual one of our fans came through, and joined us on the break for a breath of fresh air. We mentioned we were out, and one guy said to come by the gas station where he worked the next day and he'd fix us up. 

 We called him in the afternoon and he said to head on over. He mentioned that a couple of his cop buddies were also coming over to score, but they were cool and we didn't need to worry if they showed up while we were there. Cool cops, huh? We can dig it.

 We went to a little three-punp gas station and got the product. It was a nice secluded spot amongst lots of trees, so we decided to burn one there. I twisted a nice big hooter and we sparked it. Oh, and just to be safe I'd emptied the rest of the bag into an envelope and thrown away the baggie, and stashed the stuff nearby. 

 Sure enough, after we'd smoked about a third of the j, the cops pulled in. It was two cars, and one was a K9 Unit. The guy didn't say anything about a K9 Unit. I figured it was still okay, but we didn't know for sure if it was his buddies or if a bust was going down. I didn't have a beverage so I couldn't eat the doob. I knocked off the hotrock, stepped on it and stuffed the j into my back pocket. 

 Three cops got out. I reckon it was obvious what we were doing, but they acted like they didn't notice, and gave a friendly hello. We relaxed a bit, but then one of them went to let the dog out to stretch his paws and pee. Even though he was officially off-duty, his training kicked in and he headed straight for me. He walked up to me, poked his nose two inches from my back pocket and sat down right by me. Oops, busted. 

 Nobody said a word and it got very quiet. The cops decided to have some fun, so they kept quiet and let us stew for a minute, although I could tell they were trying to stifle grins. I figured that's what was going on, and I if I was busted I was busted, so no need to panic, but a couple of the guys were scared shitless. They went white and were shaking like leaves in the wind. Someone had to break the tension, so I said "Nice doggie," and the cops cracked up, followed by the rest of us. Whew.

 "Whatever's in your pocket, you might as well fire it up again" said one of the cops. "Okay officer" I replied. I pulled the joint out of my pocket, fired it up and passed it to him, and his buddies joined the circle. I don't know why but it's fun to smoke pot with cops. Smoke 'em (with cool cops) if you got 'em.