Generators: What They Don't Talk About

These generator commercials crack me up. Sure it's great to have a generator when the lights go out, but do people really think it through? One Generac commercial goes something like this:

[lightning and thunder] "Uh-oh...power's out."

"It's no problem. We have a Generac! Yay!"

"Whew, thanks to our Generac generator the power's back on. Everything is fine!" Or is it? 

 I saw another commercial for some generator that absolutely killed me. I only saw it once, which is probably because they realized how absurd it was. Like the Generac commercial pictured here, it showed the lights going out during a storm, but kicking back in as the generator fired up. 

 The lucky family was able to cook dinner, and it showed them happily sitting around the table eating a meal, while the rest of the darkened, stormy neighborhood was visible through a large plate-glass window. There's a knock at the door and when they answer, there's ten people standing on their front porch, with phones needing to be charged, empty cups and bowls, forlorn kids and such.

 They're all smiling, and tilting their heads as if to say "May we come in?" Uh-huh. In real life the people who'd show up at their door would be carrying baseball bats and they wouldn't be smiling. They wouldn't knock either. And sadly there's a trait among many people where if they see someone with something they don't have, if they can't steal it or whatever, they'll destroy it just so the people who have it don't anymore. Ain't gonna be no "Can I charge my phone?" They might take yours though.

 There was a guy in our old neighborhood who owned a pawn shop and had become very wealthy. He built a huge house that was more like a compound, and he had a generator. Whenever the power went out his diesel generator came on, much to the chagrin of the surrounding two blocks at least. That thing was loud as Hell, day and night, to the point of keeping people awake.

 He could've afforded to bury it or at least put a berm or some shrubbery around it but he didn't. He probably got off on it, knowing he had power and nobody else did, and I'd bet dollars to donuts he soundproofed the wall by the generator. He had to put up a brick structure around his mailbox because people in the neighborhood kept blowing it up with M-80s, and I kinda didn't blame them.

 The thing is, if things had gone bad, people would've known exactly whom to target. You can't be very discrete when your lights are the only ones on for miles. Another unsettling reality if things go south, is that they (professionals) say that people are only three missed meals away from anarchy. 

 I'd probably opt for solar rather than a generator, although that's not always reliable, and can still be obvious. Another thing is that generators will eventually run out of fuel if there's no more to be had.

 It might be best just to ride it out in the dark...IF you're at least a tiny bit prepared, with extra food, water, batteries, candles, magazines, games, decks of cards and whatnot, than to advertise the fact that you have power, or anything else for that matter. It's not fun to talk about, and certainly nothing to worry about in advance, but it's just life and it's happened all over the globe all throughout history. Frank Zappa wrote a great song making fun of people who say "It can't happen here."

 Hopefully it won't happen to us, but there's no harm whatsoever in being a tiny bit prepared, and screw what people think or if they say you're paranoid or whatever. If things get bad, they'll be the ones in trouble. Which is smarter...to not want to be called paranoid or a "prepper" and have nothing set aside for a rainy day, or have a few things set aside, and not have to join the mad rush to find food and stuff no matter where, and at least have time to formulate a plan without having to panic? Hopefully that question is rhetorical.

 If there's a long-term outage, and you happen to have some extra stuff, you might want to think about how you're going to defend it, or at least keep it secret. It's not being paranoid. In my book it's being smart. Have you ever heard "Prepare for the worst and hope for the best?" Sure makes sense to me. Our great-grandparents would've agreed; I can tell you that. 

 For the record, if I had a house I might have a root cellar with some food stashed away but I live in an apartment, and I have neither the money to afford extra food nor the space to store it, much less a way to defend it. I have a few gallons of water and a couple-dozen cans of soup, and we could make it for maybe a month in a crisis, but that's it. I'm literally a sitting fucking duck, if things were to go bad. Oh, and don't forget your pets!

 It's great to have a generator when the power goes out, but if you're going to flaunt it by eating a hot meal in front of a big window, while the rest of the 'hood sits shivering in the dark and eating peanut butter, you might want to opt for some blackout curtains. I also might get a weapon or two, and train the fam how to use them. That's just reality. "Can I charge my phone?" That's hilarious. Stay safe. 

 

Open Minded?

I was going to talk again about how most people would say they're open-minded when they're anything but, and I ran across an article about ten traits that truly open-minded people share. In the interest of calibration and trying to make sure my views are as close to the actual facts as possible, I'll go over the traits and see if they apply to me, and I'll be objective. Just for fun I'll do it cold. I'll just wing this bitch and I bet I'll nail it. Let's find out.

1. They are willing to accept. It doesn't say exactly what they're willing to accept, and I wonder if they didn't finish the sentence or intended it to mean everything, but it goes on to say that basically we shouldn't judge a book by its cover. I've been all about that forever. I'd say in general I'm a very accepting person.

2. They are willing to embrace change. Change is going to happen whether we like it or not, and the more we can embrace it, good or bad, the less of an adverse reaction we'll have. It's easier said than done. Many people don't like change at all. We are creatures of habit, but change is going to happen. If we can't embrace the change itself, we should at least embrace the fact that it's going to occur.

3. They have a high level of curiosity. God, yes. I want to know how EVERYTHING works, and why. I was one of those kids who used to drive the family nuts by asking questions about everything. I've said before that if I hadn't become a drummer I'd have been a scientist, and that's no joke. If there's one thing they have in common it's curiosity. I'm a very curious person. Ha, literally and figuratively. 

4. They are willing to try new things. Duh.

5. They don't judge. No one can say they don't judge, because it's a survival instinct, but we can be aware of that and try not to be judgmental. If I'd been judgmental all my life, I'd never have made some of the amazing friends I've had. 

6. They're open to others' opinions. Absolutely. I harp on that all the time. If you can't bring yourself to consider someone else's opinion, at least respect it. You just might learn something, no kidding. 

7. They respect people's differences. Of course. Our differences, within reason, are what make us interesting. Our differences allow us to share knowledge, tell stories and good stuff like that. So often we look down on people just because they're different from us. That's wrong.

8. They don't label people. Bingo. I talk about how I hate labels all the time. For example, with all the genres of music, just like with people, I only see two labels- good and bad. 

9. They live in the present. I might could use a little work in that department but I try, and realistically it's the only option we have. I'm learning from my dog. He's an excellent teacher. 

10. They turn problems into opportunities. Yep, but it takes effort. Overcoming problems is the only way to make progress or come up with "new and improved." Countless businesses have started that way. You see a need and fill it or see a problem and solve it. The article talks about how we shouldn't panic when faced with a problem. That's huge, and I say it all the time. Not letting myself panic has quite literally saved my life several times. My go-to saying is: "DONUT PANIC." 

 Well, I took the test, and I did okay on it. Maybe it sounds like I'm bragging but I was just going by the article, and I was totally honest. When I say I'm open-minded, according to the article anyway, I am. Cool.
 

Quote of the Day

 "I don't need some MAGA hat to be the cherry on top of some racist sundae." - Jessie "jus' jokin'" Smollet

My Appendectomy Story (rewritten)

I've told this story before but who cares? It's a badass story that I'm very proud of; it was hell-raising at its finest, and I'd stack it up against anyone else's appendectomy story.

 I was 21 or 22 when I had my appendix removed. As it turned out it was a misdiagnosis and only a swollen gland, but if I ever happen to be deep in the jungles of Borneo or somewhere, at least I won't have to worry about my appendix bursting. 

 Maybe the fact that the appendix was healthy made me feel a little less sick, but still they'd cut into me, and the procedure was a bit more invasive back then. I was in a little discomfort, but not major pain. They did the operation in the morning and I was taking it easy the rest of the day.

 Back then things were a little different, and you could smoke in hospital rooms. You could also open windows, so I took my pinch hitter and I'd blow the smoke out the window. I doubt they'd have cared if they'd caught me and I wouldn't have gotten in any trouble, but I didn't want to push it.

 I was getting morphine shots at the top of the hour every four hours to the minute. I'd just had my 6:00 shot, plus a few pinch hits. It didn't completely kill the pain but it definitely took the edge off so it wasn't too bad. I'd finished dinner around 6:30, when some visitors arrived. It was Curran, O's then-girlfriend and future wife, Mary Luck and someone else I can't remember. 

 We chatted for a bit and  it was Friday night I asked them what was going on. They all got funny looks on their faces and went quiet. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Well," said Curran, "we didn't want to tell you, but y'all are playing a party tonight." "Y'all?" I said. "Generic Band" said Curran. "Generic Band?" I asked. I was repeating everything she was saying but I couldn't believe it.

 Someone decided to throw a party at the last minute and they wanted Generic Band. I asked who was going to play drums and she told me that several drummers were going to rotate on different songs.

 The thing is, while we did some Dead and other cover stuff that anyone could play, we also did some heavy, intricate stuff like Zappa and King Crimson, plus some crazy originals. I let some of my drum buddies sit-in but despite my encouragement they never even wanted to try to play the crazy stuff. It wasn't that they couldn't have played it if they'd learned it and rehearsed it, but to try to wing a Crimson tune isn't for the faint of heart.

 It wasn't the end of the world but I knew the guys wouldn't have as much fun having to worry about the drums all night, and have to try their best to cue the guys and guide them through the complicated tunes. I also sang lead on a good handful of the songs and sang backup on others. I recall now that they told me that they were going to skip the craziest tunes, but those songs were what set us apart plus they were a tremendous rush to play, and it was even more reason for me to want to be there. 

 No one had ever played the crazy stuff but me, and I was starting to get antsy. I felt an obligation to the guys, even though I was supposed to be recovering from surgery. Plus I didn't want to miss a party. I forget who threw it but their parties were always a blast. I was trying to stay calm but I just couldn't. Maybe the morphine and weed had something to do with it, but I couldn't take the thought of lying in a hospital bed while my comrades were playing at a party. A gig is sacred.

 "Hand me my jeans" I said to Curran. "No, you can't!" she replied. "You just had your appendix taken out!" "Hand me my jeans, please" I asked again. She knew she couldn't stop me so she handed me my jeans and I got dressed. "Y'all can drive and bring me back, right?" I asked. "Sure, dumbass" Curran replied. "Thanks love!" I said, laughing. It was on.

 I'm skinny anyway but I loosened the arm band enough so that I could slide it off without tearing it. We walked out into the hall with the girls sort of surrounding me. I was hoping not to run into one of my nurses but we made it out clean. I wasn't worried about getting caught sneaking back in but I was a little nervous until we hit the parking lot. 

 It was worth doing just to see the looks on the guys' faces when I showed up at the party. They'd already set up my drums and were ready to go, and since they knew I had to be back by 10:00, we started playing early. I was able to squeeze in two 45-minute sets plus a long break, but I didn't have a minute to spare.

 What happened on the break was a bit of a surprise, and adds to the badassness of the story. There was a girl at the party that I was about to go out with. I'd known her for a long time and we were good friends. I never dreamed she'd be interested in me but she was. She was absolutely gorgeous and hot as a firecracker, but she was a total sweetheart. Before the break it was still up in the air as to when we'd get together, but after the break it was settled. Oh, and her name was Kelly.

 We went out to her car to get stoned, and she kissed me. I was over the Moon, and pretty soon it got a little heavy. Before I knew it she was doing something wonderful to me. The initials that stand for it rhyme with "deejay." She was worried about me popping my stitches but that was the last thing on my mind. I wanted to go out again the next night but she was worried she'd done some damage to me so she made me wait until the next weekend, which was no problem.

 I played another set and we played up until my limit. I knew they'd be coming in to give me a shot right at 10, and it was twenty-'til. Kelly ended up giving me a ride back, and we had a nice talk. I wanted to stay longer but the clock was ticking. We kissed and made plans for the next weekend. I made it back with about three minutes to spare. 

 I took off my jeans, put on my gown and put the wristband back on. I'd cut it pretty close. A minute later the nurse came in with a hypo on a little tray. I presented cheek and she gave me the shot. "Have you been doing okay?" she asked. "I'm great" I said. I had to stifle a laugh. If she only knew.

 After the nurse bid me farewell for the next four hours and the morphine kicked in, I moseyed over to the window and did a few pinch hits. They showed MASH reruns at 10:00. I was way into it at the time so it was perfect. I was pretty much feeling no pain at that point, and I was grinning as I thought about what had happened. I'd snuck out of the hospital after having my appendix removed, played a great party, gotten a hummer from someone I was crazy about and I made it back in time for my 10:00 shot. If anyone has a better appendectomy story, I'm all ears. 

 

  
 

Polar Bi-Vortex

This is wild. This is a view of the polar vortex at the North Pole. Normally it's one circle that roughly circles the Pole, but it's split in two, and may be trying to split into a third circle. This is from 3 or 4 days ago. I haven't seen a recent image but I imagine it's still about the same. No wonder we're about to get hit by an arctic blast that's going to smash records from coast to coast. Climate change indeed. 

 In the eight years or so that I've been looking at satellite images more closely, I've seen the polar vortex do some pretty crazy things- change shape, unravel somewhat, shake and shimmy and send a blast of cold air all the way down to Florida, but I've never seen it split in two. Not that it's never happened but I haven't seen it, and lots of people are talking about it.

 If you ask me I think this image looks a little like a face, with two eyes, a big nose and a turned-up mouth that seems to be saying "Y'all are FUCKED." What could cause it to split in two? I'm not a Meteorologist or anything else, but I'd guess it was caused by a wobble or a tilt. If you drew a circle on top of a top and spun it, at first the circle would be stable and remain in the middle, but as the top slowed down and began to wobble, the circle would be all over the place. But WTF do I know, right?

 Oh, wait...I do know. The Earth has tilted at least twice, by a bit less than half a degree each time. That might not sound like a lot, but it is. They aren't going to publicize this fact, and they may even try to deny it, because some people would get alarmed, but it happened. Climate change? This is Climate Change City. 

 Here's the kicker though...if you're going to keep believing that it's 100% due to human activity ike they say, and not a cyclical thing that's happened many times in Earth's past, and long before soccer moms driving SUVs and barbecue grills were around, not to mention all the volcanoes currently erupting and spewing megatons of "greenhouse gases," you really should look into it more. 

 My guys say that bizarre weather, like everything else these days, is ramping-up exponentially, and we haven't seen anything yet. If that's true, then to blame it solely on human activity, when more and more people are switching to electric cars, gas-powered lawn equipment is being outlawed, new homes no longer have fireplaces and everything else, is foolish. If human activity was the only thing responsible for climate change, then the weather should be getting better, right? 

 In any case there's going to be a cold week ahead for most of the country. It's supposed to go down to 13 here, and we're in the deep-ass South. I really feel for the animals. I feel for humans too, but only to a degree. Most have a choice. So, what up with that vortex? Buckle-up y'all, and stay warm. Say a prayer if so inclined. It's what I do. Am I a backward bumpkin for saying that? Maybe. We'll see.

 

The Flight Back from California (rewritten from another blog)

To say that things were different back in the 70s would be an understatement. It may not have been the 60s, but the ripples from all that stuff carried on well into the mid-70s but were pretty much gone by the "ugly 80s." My friend George from California and I hung out with real hippies in our respective towns and when we were together. George is on the right, along with the wife and kids. That's a nice looking family. Go you, buddy!

 After high school way back in 1975 I went to stay with George out in Walnut Creek for a month. I couldn't have imagined all the stuff that went on on that trip, and I've told some of the stories. Besides a failed romance with George's sister, who turned out to be a Thespian anyway, I had the time of my life out there. I could write a book about my trip. Things happened that anyone would find interesting.

 The plan was for George to fly back with me and live in Alabama for a while while we planned our next move. We were going to form a drum/percussion duo, and come as a package deal no matter whom we might play with...you get one, you get the other. 

 Although many drummers and percussionists have formed long-term relationships, it would've been a unique arrangement to do it full time. I haven't heard of anything like it before or since. The beauty of it would be that we could swap instruments at any time. I'd have primarily been the drummer and George the percussionist I suppose, but it'd have been flexible. 

 George moved here from Chicago in '75 and we became instant friends. George was always really into music, and after meeting me he took an interest in the drums. Loving music to the degree he did goes a long way with me, but he had a natural affinity for percussion, and he got pretty good in a hurry. I was thrilled.

 What was interesting is that George is a lefty, and set up his kit and percussion rig lefty. Usually when a teacher is showing something to a student, and they have two kits facing each other, when the student watches the teacher it's like looking into a mirror, and he has to mentally flip the image, since both drummers will usually be rightys. Since George set up his rigs opposite to mine the image wasn't reversed. He learned very quickly. 

 Anyway this is supposed to be about the flight from California to here. I'd been out there for a month, and we were flying back on a late Saturday night flight. George had a couple of Montesa motorcycles he'd been trying to sell for months. They were very well-made bikes but they were expensive, and the market was very limited. He wanted to have some money to buy some percussion instruments and have some for a start in Alabama, and it'd have cost a fortune to have them shipped.

 Then the phone started ringing that morning and by noon he'd sold both bikes, with cash in hand. I don't remember how much it was but it was a lot. The rest of the day was a spending frenzy. We drove miles and miles, to three different places to get three different kinds of weed, and we hit several music stores. 

 He got tons of stuff including a Talking Drum, a set of Timbales, Bongos, shakers, a Vibraslap, a Flexitone, bells and various doodads...it was like Christmas morning on steroids, plus we had a couple of zeebers of all different kinds of really good grass, as we sometimes called it back in the day. We were ready.

 We packed everything into our luggage, including the weed, which you could smell through the suitcase, except we had a Proto Pipe, full of reefer, in one of our pockets. It's hard to imagine a time when you could carry a metal pipe, plus weed, onto a plane, much less have more in your luggage, but back then it didn't matter. You could smoke on planes back then, and we figured we'd hit the lavatory a time or two during the flight to "freshen up." Yep, times were different. 

 They were so different in fact that it was no problem having weed in our luggage and a pipe in our pocket. In fact we each had one in our pocket. George and his sister gave me one as a welcoming gift when I arrived in California, and he already had one. As it turned out they'd both get some good use. 

 I think the flight left around 11:30. Since it was a late flight there were maybe 35 passengers, if that many. I'm guessing it was a 747. We settled in for the flight but we were geeked. George had just bought about $1,000 worth of gear, and we had all this amazing weed. 

 Not long after the Fasten Seat Belts/No Smoking signs went off, George and I hit the lavatory. The great thing about smoking on airlines is that as long as the plane was in the air, the negative pressure sucked out everything including smoke. You could fire up a bowl and huff and puff like you were at a pot party and no one would smell a thing. 

 We got sufficiently stoned and went back to our seats. The atmosphere was very relaxed and it was really nice that the plane wasn't packed. A few people had gone to sleep but most people were awake. George and I were on the top end of the scale. We were about to start a life-changing project, and we had the shit to do it with. We started talking about all the stuff he'd bought and how we couldn't wait to test it out. 

  After a while we couldn't stand it any longer so we broke out some of the stuff, just to have a look. We took out the Talking Drum and several people took an interest. Someone asked what it sounded like so we gave them a quiet demo. A few more people took interest, and before long someone asked if they could try it. The Talking Drum was a great way to get people going. You can make it "talk" by squeezing the leather strands together which tightens the heads and changes the pitch.

 The person who first played it was having a blast, and pretty soon other people wanted to try it out. The people who wanted to sleep were totally cool. We grabbed some extra blankets and they went to the back of the plane and crashed. The rest of us turned in our seats to face each other. George and I handed out the rest of the percussion stuff, and pretty soon about 15 people were jamming, and an airborne drum circle spontaneously formed. 

 Like all good drum circles, a fun time was had by all. I don't remember any kids on the flight, but there were people of all ages joining in. Snacks and drinks were passed around. George and I were plenty stoned and passed on the drinks, but the snacks were really tasty.

 About halfway into the flight it was time for another bowl. We vibed that everyone was cool, and it was about the same as today...everybody smoked pot. We let it be known that there was a loaded bowl in the lavatory for anyone interested, and a good handful of people took us up on it. Both Proto Pipes spent most of the flight in the lavatory. At one point a sweet and observant stewardess figured out what was going on, and asked if she could have a little toke, like we were going to say no to her. Have I mentioned that times were a little different back then?

 The only way you could duplicate that scenario these days would be to charter your own plane, and even then it might not be as much fun. That all happened organically, and the last thing we figured would happen when we boarded the plane was that we'd be getting half the passengers and a stewardess high, not to mention playing our new drums for several hours, but the stars aligned. Nobody made or had to pay a dime, yet it was one of those musical experiences you couldn't put a price on anyway. 

 After we got back and settled in we got to work. Technically we were too young to get into bars but things were a lot looser, and we did get to jam live with some people, but mostly we played in the basement. George got a really nice used Ludwig kit, and with the help of my mom he refinished it in a beautiful burnt-orange tortoise-shell finish. He still has that kit and it still looks like a million bucks. It's unique. 

 We were having a blast and George was a quick study. I was learning too. We started to get really tight, which wasn't surprising because George and I could pretty much read each other's mind. We cooperated on things in general as friends, and we had that same cooperation when we played. We gave each other space and there wasn't much stepping on toes, as can happen sometimes with a drum/percussion duo. We'd approach things with a similar mindset. 

 The fact that George was a lefty made things interesting. It was more of a Yin/Yang thing than having two rightys. Usually a percussionist will be right-handed so he'll set up bongos, congas, timbales and such as a righty drummer would set up his drum kit- going from high pitch to low pitch, from left to right. I knew that back in the day the righty percussionists set up the opposite way, going from low to high pitch from left to right, like a piano keyboard. I set up my percussion rig that way too. 

 It made me play a little differently and that was cool. Since George's percussion rig was set up that way it was perfect. The fact that his drum kit was set up lefty was a different story. I'd only played righty, and trying to play lefty was almost like having to learn to pay all over again and more...I had to unlearn all of the usual beats and licks and such and flip it all backwards in my brain and in my limbs. It was a challenge but I enjoyed it.

 Sadly a situation arose that we couldn't have imagined in our wildest dreams, and George felt that he needed to move back. To say we were bummed wouldn't have done it justice, but who knows...maybe it's for the best. Maybe we'd have both died in a fiery van crash or something, but then again maybe we'd have carved out our deal and had a bast doing it. We'd still be playing in fact...both of us still play, but I guess it is what it is. A drum and percussion duo who played with one mind would've been a thing of beauty. Oh, well.

 Even though our thing didn't happen we still made some great memories, and we've stayed close. George got married and started a fam obviously, and he's still with the same company he was with when I visited him in 1975. For what it's worth it's a job that makes him good money but not a lot of fulfillment, and certainly not as potentially amazing as a career in music would've been, plus he was someone I enjoyed being with as much as anybody. He'd move back here in a heartbeat but his wife would leave him. I miss my buddy. We had some true adventures.

 It was certainly responsible for one of the most interesting commercial flights we've ever taken and a snapshot of bygone days. I bet a few of the other passengers thought about it occasionally for many years after. It certainly wasn't the first drum circle, but it's probably one of the relatively few that have taken place aboard a commercial flight, especially when combined with large quantities of serious smoke. That was a gift, and the reason you learn to play music in the first place. Cheers, partner! Rock on.

 

The Vortex of Evil (rewritten again)

 I've told this story before but it's easily in the Top-5 craziest things I've ever experienced, and that's saying a lot. It'll trip me out as long as I live, and I'll never know what was really going on. It sounds like a nightmare or a creepy movie like Village of the Dammed or something, but it happened. 

 It was a Sunday morning in the wee hours after we'd finished our last gig for the week and were headed home. We'd played somewhere in Mississippi although I don't remember where. I do know that we only played there once, and we took a different route coming back than we'd usually take.

 As per usual we were all in a great mood. We had the natural buzz from playing the gig plus we were a little homesick after four or five days on the road, and looking forward to getting back. Most likely we were probably having a few beers and a J or two.

 Out of the total blue Doug got really sick, and I mean really, really sick. I've never seen anything like it in my life. I've seen people feeling fine one second and throwing up their toenails the next second, but never have I seen anyone get that sick that quick, and he never threw up. One second he was laughing and cutting up and the next he was deathly ill. 

 He went white and started shaking. He could barely talk and we were a little freaked out. We thought it might be something serious like a heart attack or a stroke or something but he didn't have chest pains or any signs of a stroke, but whatever it was it was serious. He was shaking like a leaf so we wrapped him up in a blanket.

 Just a minute or two later we came up on a truckstop. That was good news, or so we thought. We thought we'd find out where the nearest hospital was, and get Doug some ice water and maybe a cup of coffee or tea or something.

 I'd say it was probably around 2am. Due to blue laws, gigs in Mississippi shut down early, usually midnight on Saturday. After an hour or so to get paid, chat with the frat brothers and sorority sisters and pack up our gear, and having driven a while I'm guessing it was 2-ish, but it may have been closer to 3am. 

 The entrance went into a 7-11 type deal and the dining room was off to the side. There were a couple of Bubbas behind the counter and a grizzled old man who looked like Crypty from Tales from the Crypt. He was cackling away about something while the two Bubbas laughed. No one said hello or anything. 

 We went into the dining room and it was completely full. I'd say there were easily 250 people. Every table was taken so we couldn't sit down. I thought I'd flag down a waitress and get a water and coffee to go, and ask where the nearest hospital was, but I was totally ignored.

 The place was a beehive, and I get that the waitresses were slammed, but at first nobody even looked at us. It was like we were invisible. A waitress scurried by with a pot of coffee and when I asked if I could get a cup for my friend, she acted like I wasn't there. It was weird.

 Then I noticed the first anomaly. Nearly everyone there was dressed in their Sunday best-- suits and dresses, and not only that but there were kids at almost every table. They were all dressed up too. What were kids doing up at that time?

 Not only were there little kids who were up way past what most people consider bedtime, but they were wide awake...every one of them. It would've been completely normal if it were 2:00 in the afternoon, on a Sunday after church, but it was 2:00 in the morning. Most curious. 

 For another minute or two nobody paid a bit of attention to us, and I scanned the whole room. You'd think we'd have been enough of a contrast to the local folk that we'd at least be noticed...five guys who look like a demented bowling team, and one if them hunched over and white as a sheet and swaddled in U-Haul blankets and unable to stand without being held up, but for a minute or two I didn't lock eyes with anybody. 

 But then, almost as quickly as Doug had taken ill, that all changed. Almost instantly everyone stopped eating, running around with coffee pots and everything else and started staring at us. You couldn't have planned it any better in a movie. It was one of the most serious "Oh, shit" moments of my life. 

 I know it sounds like bullshit or a tall tale or whatever, but four other guys witnessed it too. Well, you can't count Doug because he was so out of it he barely knew where he was, but the rest of us saw it. 

 I looked around the room and everyone in the place was silently staring at us. I want to say that even the music on the jukebox stopped, but that probably didn't happen. I do remember seeing the cooks poking their heads through the order window and looking at us. How did they find out so quickly? Everyone in the whole damned place was staring at us. We figured it was time to go, and right then. 

 As if to confirm our suspicions, about a dozen men got up from several tables at once, again on cue, and started walking toward us, with very determined looks on their faces. We literally picked Doug up and headed for the exit, and I don't think a moment too soon. We hustled into the 7-11 part and headed for the door as fast as we could move. 

 As long as I live I'll never forget that old man...as we were going through the store he was cackling and saying "They can't help you...no one can help you!" over and over. That was the icing on the cake.

 I was asking myself how the hell we'd gotten involved in an episode of the Twilight Zone, but I was in too much of a hurry to get through the door, carrying one half of Doug, and all I wanted to do was make it into the van, which thank God we did. We slammed and locked the doors. I don't remember any of them following us out, but I had tunnel vision and I was only looking ahead. I didn't feel safe until we were five miles down the road and there was nobody following us. 

 Within a minute or so Doug returned completely to normal, except for being dazed, and understandably so. If it had been weird seeing him get sick so quickly, it was even weirder seeing him, or anyone else for that matter, totally recover instantly. It was like a joke almost except it wasn't.

 It does sound exactly like a movie, and even though the basic theme has been done before, it stood up to any movie I've ever seen. How in hell did Doug go from being perfectly fine one second to being deathly ill, to being completely fine one second later? I know people can get sick and recover quickly, but usually there's a ramp-up of a few seconds at the very least. I've never seen anything remotely like it.

 Why were people dressed up at 2am.on a Sunday morning? Why did they not look at us for a minute or two and then all look at us at once?  Why in God's name would there be children up at that hour, and how could every single one of them be so alert and awake? What did those men who got up from their tables and were headed for us have in mind? Did they just want to run us out, or was there another plan? 

 Why was the old man saying that "they" couldn't help us? Who is "they?" Why did it seem like a scene from a movie? Was it something they do whenever outsiders drop in? That would almost make sense. seeing as how almost scripted it seemed, and still seems now. It's so utterly bizarre that it almost makes me think it was a dream, but it was real, and as is the case with the majority of my crazy stories, there were witnesses. 

 Except for the "wild dogs" incident, the experience at the studio in Muscle Shoals and a couple of other things I'd have to think about, it one of the craziest things I've ever experienced. Ever since that night I've referred to that incident as the "Vortex of Evil," which would make a cheesy but okay title if it were ever brought to the big screen. It straight-up reeked of evil. Many times I've been scared and creeped-out, but I can't recall a time when they were combined in such a way.

 Was it just something that the locals do for fun, or was there really something evil about it? That gets my vote, but what do I know? We know for a fact that satanic rituals are performed at midnight, and that kids are involved, but usually they're dressed in robes. Was it some weird cult that the whole town was in on? It's happened. 

 Whatever it was I've never been so glad to get away from a place. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I believe that there was something "paranormal" going on, if not evil. 

 I think it had every bit to do with how Doug got so horribly sick in the blink of an eye, and then recovered just as quickly. I could be wrong but it sure had that vibe, and I'm not the only one who felt it. In.any case it was nice to say goodbye to Crypty. Stay safe. 

The Three Steps of Telling a Lie

We all lie from time to time. Some people are pathological liars...they can't help it and it's fascinating to see, but a lie is a lie. I heard a guy, with a degree for those keeping score, say that there are three steps to telling a lie.

 Two of them are obvious and I and probably most people only considered those two, but there's another step that I hadn't really thought about, and it's a corker.

 Since the second step is what most people would think would be the first, I'll start with that. Obviously you have to make up the lie, and the third step is you have to deliver it. It's the first step that's key.

  First you have to stop the truth from coming out. That's heavy. For a nanosecond your brain flashes an image of what really happened...in other words the truth, but it goes: "Nope, WRONG! COUNTRADICT! CREATE BULLSHIT STORY IMMEDIATELY!" What a trip.

 Some people are much better liars than others, and way more convincing. In the case of narcissism, as hard as it is to believe, the narcissist actually believes their own lies, which become their truth. They'll say that night is day, and they'll believe it and expect you to believe it too. It's incredible to see.

 The idea of completely suppressing the truth and not letting any of it slip out when you talk is wild. The person telling the lie knows the truth, and sometimes so does everyone else, but they lie anyway. 

 To shove something as powerful as the truth behind a little door in your brain, and then struggle to keep it shut, takes a hell of a lot of concentration, and eventually even the best liars give themselves away.

 They say that if you tell the truth, you don't need a good memory. I love that. Chronic liars have to remember what lies they've already told and usually have to keep making up new lies to cover the ones they've told, and then keep up with those lies too. That takes up a lot of the brain's CPU. 

 I find that in the chronic liars, it's easier for them to keep track of their lies by simply flipping the situation around backwards. In other words if your "better" half threw a big jar and hit you square in the cheek, like my ex did to me not once but twice, they'd flip it around to where YOU did it, and tell that story.

 The problem with that is that chronic liars, especially narcissists, can be very convincing, but in the end the truth ALWAYS comes out. Liars' lies will eventually catch up with them, and they know that. They can't possibly keep track of every lie they tell, and eventually they'll contradict themselves. 

 They'll get stuck in the death spiral of "liar's loop," and they can't escape. They can't keep on lying because they're busted, and everyone knows that every word coming out of their mouth is bullshit.

 You have to remember that once someone gets caught telling a lie they become a known liar, and from that point forward people will have a very difficult time believing another word they say. The moral of this story? Don't need a good memory.

Jar

We know that looking at aquariums lowers blood pressure, anxiety and stress. That's why for decades there were fish tanks in maybe half or more of doctor's and dentist's offices. There are a few holdouts but you don't see them nearly as often these days. Why try to do things naturally when you can just medicate, right?

 Even this jar aquarium is relaxing to look at. It holds 5.5 gallons and with the rocks, wood and gravel it's about the equivalent to a 5 gallon tank. I'm sure someone makes a bigger jar, but if so I can't find it, and I've looked.

 Occasionally you'll find a bigger carboy oTVr something, but they always have a narrow mouth, and you have to be able to get your hands in the jar. This one is on Amazon. 

  What's different about this tank is that it's a coldwater tank as opposed to a tropical tank, which about 99% of aquariums are. The typical tropical tank has a heater and is kept at 76-80F, while a coldwater tank is around 68-72F. They're not practical for most people because in any room that gets above about 70F you need a chiller to maintain the temp, and they're very expensive.

 Since I shoot for around 70F year round this tank doesn't need a chiller. As long as the power doesn't go out for too long in the Summer I'm good. If it goes out in Winter I could keep it warm enough.

 Speaking of Winter, since the air is usually very dry, having an aquarium adds moisture to the air, making it much more pleasant to breathe and easier on the throat and sinuses. It even makes the same temp air feel a couple of degrees warmer.  It's even good for your skin. 

 All of these animals and plants are coldwater. Except for the catfish, which are rare, the shrimp and plants are often grown in tropical tanks, but they don't usually do as well or live as long as they do in cold water.

 The catfish are rare because most pet stores stock only tropical fish, and would need a chiller. As it stands now you can order them online but they're out if stock most of the time, and they only come from one small stream in Asia. 

 They're perfect for this tank because they do like to swim around some of the time but they also like to find a nice spot to hang out, which they do most of the time. They're also perfect because of their size. They only get barely over an inch full grown. They can live for seven years or longer in a well-maintained tank. 

 These guys are almost two years old. I got them as juveniles and they were tiny. They're fun to watch, even when they're just hanging out. Sometimes they swim around in formation and they get excited at feeding time. 

 They're very peaceful and get along with each other and most other small peaceful fish and shrimp. They're called Asian Stone Catfish or Moth Catfish. With their lateral fins and markings they do look like moths. 

 There are three of them in here. They're social animals and do best in groups of five or more, but these guys are doing fine. I might get a couple more but they're not cheap when you have to figure in overnight shipping. I'd love to have a huge tank with about 150 of them. Maybe one day.

 Speaking of hanging out, you might notice one of them hanging out on a leaf. If you want to look for him you can. I won't circle him. Since they're so small and probably weigh maybe a gram they can hang out in any position, even upside-down. 

In case you didn't see the catfish, here's a closeup. You can see a snail going by, eating algae and keeping the glass clean. He's one of the good snails. I have an infestation of common snails that came in as eggs on a plant that was advertised as "snail free." I have to pick them out by hand which is a pain.

 It does take some work to keep it looking nice, but it's work i enjoy doing. It's like rearranging an underwater Zen garden. Plants have to be trimmed and the gravel cleaned, and most tanks will get some hair algae, which needs to be removed. 

 If you can cram enough plants into an aquarium, get snails and algae-eating fish and keep things perfect, you won't have algae, but that's hard to do. I keep the lights on way longer than I would normally, but my mom is bedridden and it sits next to her. She loves to watch it so I keep the lights on more. If the lights were on a timer and kept off more, I'd have almost no algae. 

 Having live plants is the last link to having a successful and more natural tank. They provide hiding places and make the fish feel more at home, so they show their natural colors and behaviors better than in a bare tank. More than that they also help keep the water clean. Oh, and they look nice too. 

 The driftwood has uses too, beyond just looking good. It releases tannins into the water, creating a slight "blackwater" effect that many fish like. Tannins also have antibacterial properties and such. The wood also grows "biofilm," a colony of various miniscule critters that the shrimp, especially the babies, feed on.

 The Mussel shell looks cool too and isn't out of place. It releases small amounts of lime, calcium, magnesium and such, which creates conditions that the shrimp like, and helps them form stronger shells. Everything in the jar has a purpose, and there's a nice balance going on. 

 Lighting is LEDs. I had better ones but they crapped out and I can't afford to replace them right now. Plants benefit from CO2 injection, but professional units are very expensive, so I made a DIY system that uses a soda bottle, water, sugar, yeast and an airstone. 

 It's like brewing beer or making wine. The process creates carbon dioxide, and the pressure forces it out of the bottle and into the airline tubing and the airstone, which releases tiny bubbles into the water. Some of it is absorbed into the water and is taken up by the plants.

 You can't regulate it and theoretically you could get too much and starve the fish of oxygen, so you have to keep an eye on things until you know how much it will produce. When you get it right it's actually good for the fish. Plants take it in and release oxygen into the water. It forms tiny bubbles on the leaves of the plants. It looks like they're decorated with microscopic pearls. 

 The jar is always changing in subtle ways. At one point last year I got so busy that I didn't have time to do anything but feed the fish and shrimp, and the plant with the big green leaves completely took over, and it looked like a big jar of pickles in a general store. The fish were fine but they barely had room to swim, bless their hearts. They have plump little bellies so I know they're happy and eating well. 

 Just below the catfish in the closeup is a Cherry Shrimp. He's on his (or her) side with his back to the camera. There are five adults and I'm not sure how many babies. The babies hide until they're about half an inch long. Occasionally you'll spot one, and they look like little red ants.

 If there's a population explosion I can always give them away, trade them for store credit at PetSmart or wherever, or make teeeeeeeny little Po Boys.

 So yeah, this little jar is okay, and the inhabitants are happy. The catfish have even learned to recognize me, and probably my dog too. At first they'd hide when I approached but now they come out looking for food, and they'll investigate my hand when it's in the jar.

 Fish can even learn to tell the difference between the person who feeds them and everyone else. So much for the "eight second memory" thing. Some fish are pretty intelligent. 

 Lastly this jar is a connection to Nature, which believe it or not our brains need to function correctly. It's nice to look at and it's cool to see an underwater environment in a room full of air, and to watch the little creatures going about their day. 

 Just like I can see them, the fish can see me, and sometimes I wonder what they think when they see this huge, ugly-ass creature approaching. I'm sure i used to scare the shit out of them but now they know I'm cool and that I feed them. 

 I like my little underwater world. I've been into aquariums since I was a kid, and long before I knew that having one was actually good for your health. Nature knows what it's doing. There's a plan. Nature rocks. 

 

Who's That Goober?

 

My sister brought over some old photos the other day. I hadn't seen them in ages and I'd forgotten about some of them.  At first I didn't recognize the person in this photo, no doubt due to the cheeseball disguise, but of course it's me. For a second I thought it was some random goober who lived in the neighborhood. Then I realized it was! Ha-ha, have a nice day. 

A Circle I Can Get Behind

I hate it when they show a photo or a video where we're supposed to see a certain part of the image, so they circle it like we're blind dumbasses. I wish they'd at least give us a chance to spot it first, and then circle it, but I guess that's getting too picky these days. 

 It probably stems from childhood. I'd be in the waiting room at the doctor, and of course whatever had been wrong with me was magically cured and I felt totally fine. To keep myself occupied and look normal I'd read Highlights for Children. My favorite thing was "Hidden Pictures."

 It was a bunch of random wavy lines that formed into animals, objects, etc. Half the time I'd pick up the issue some little fuck or fucks had circled all the pictures, so my brain had nothing to do except read Goofus and Gallant, a lesson in manners, but I'd already had about enough of that asshole Goofus. 

 Who knows...maybe it led to an anxiety thing and I get "triggered," ha-ha, but it still pisses me off. Maybe it's Circled Pictures Syndrome (CPS) or something like that. The Latin name would be "Circuivi Imiaginibus." That's interesting. I'm sure there's a med for it, or maybe childhood-regression therapy.

 Anyway here's one I approve of. We certainly don't need a big red circle to see her face, but for some reason I love it. It's like overkill but in a good way. It's the commentary of the owner of a YouTube channel, one of many that review bodycam footage of idiots and add their two cents. Some of it is pretty dry but some of those people are hilarious when they comment on this stuff. I think this guy has a sense of humor. It hit my funny bone anyway.

 It's even funnier because in the video she insisted that she hadn't been drinking, even though she couldn't stand up straight and couldn't form coherent sentences. She was completely shitfaced. The guy was correcting her with the circle and text in a not-so-subtle way, as did the DUI investigation.

 It's interesting how the drunk brain works...she blew almost four times the legal limit, yet she claimed that she hadn't been drinking at all. It's funny but a tad spooky watching people fool only themselves; trying to adjust reality to suit the situation. 

 After all the times that seeing things circled has pissed me off, it's nice to finally get a laugh from one. I'm Kelly Simpson and I approve this circle. Don't drink and drive.