tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30587118317722567342024-03-17T19:59:40.825-07:00Spin Easy Time!fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.comBlogger3765125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-9944868559581180912024-03-01T02:19:00.000-08:002024-03-01T02:19:16.720-08:00Tired of Trying, Bored with Lying, Scared of Dying<iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/wblSt2Lnz5A?si=b3DpfAIue30zitdp" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Almost all of the English Invasion bands started out as cover bands. That includes the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. A lot of those bands, however, were very talented, and quickly moved on to writing material for themselves. The Manfred's singer, Paul Jones, wrote this one. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I'm starting to think that bands that got the best advice were the ones who moved up into the "making money zone." The Beatles had Brian Epstein and George Martin playing big roles. The Stones had Andrew Oldham, whom I am beginning to think was smarter than he's gotten credit for. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe it's just a tough business. Certainly the Kinks, the Who, and the Hollies had talent to spare. All three of them had as much entertainment value as the two big winners. They also had good writers. So, weak management? Poor planning? I don't know enough of the details to sort that out. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Bad advice was definitely involved in some dramatic crash-and-burns. Paul Jones decided to go solo, and so did Wayne Fontana ("Game of Love," with the Mindbenders). Both of them were leaving bands consisting of very talented musicians and some reason to expect further success. Who advised them on that move? Both singers went off the radar immediately, and the only subsequent material that I've heard was very weak. Both bands went on to greater success than they'd had with their original singers. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Want to have some fun? Get ahold of the WF and the Mindbender's Game of Love LP. It's hugely entertaining, and musically excellent. Those fellows could really play. </span></div>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-49783357432976762322024-02-28T01:43:00.000-08:002024-02-28T01:43:15.712-08:00New Challenges For Travelers<p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">There is a remote chance
that I will return this year for a visit to the country of my birth. That would
be America, specifically California. Six years have passed since my last visit,
and it appears to me that the situation on the ground has changed dramatically.
The changes have not run in favor of an easy and comfortable trip.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The new COVID variant,
Omicron, is statistically significant and obviously dangerous. Every day,
people are contracting the disease. People are being admitted into the
hospital. Most impressively, people are dying. In spite of that obvious threat
level, I don’t see a lot of masking going on. Instead, I hear a lot of yelling
about not wanting to wear masks, and freedom, and you can’t tell me what to do,
and take off that mask you fucking commie. Has any work been done about the
possibility that COVID has a potential psychological impact? Subtle, perhaps,
but acting to make sufferers irritable and unreasonable? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">If, indeed, I do travel to
the indispensable country this year, I will be masking. Probably double
masking. I have seen examples of masked people being accosted in retail
establishments or travel situations for having the freedom-hating temerity to
wear a mask. As though, perhaps, the only possible explanation could be that
the masked individual was a libtard, or under the spell of ex-President Obama
and his puppet, Joe Biden. I have formulated a strategy to use if I am faced
with this behavior in a convenience store or something. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">My play will be to feign
weakness, cough into the mask, and say in an unsteady tone, “I’m sorry. I was
in Africa for six months (cough) and my doctor thinks that I was exposed to
Ebola. He says I must wear (long, wet, wheezing cough) this mask to protect
(cough) other people.” (Reaches out to lean on something, holding chest and
coughing.) “Oh, shit! I forgot my rubber gloves!” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It was a lot of fun to run
this strategy past a couple of friends of mine, but I know that in reality it
would only make someone want to shoot me. A lot of the unreasonable Americans
are now strapped. <o:p></o:p></span></p>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-38632442370366254562024-02-19T00:44:00.000-08:002024-02-19T00:44:18.432-08:00Proof Of Life<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Alive, although that condition
is subject to change. I am typing on a new laptop, using a version of Word
called, “Home and Student.” I am finding it very peculiar in many ways. Things
tend to disappear. I am finding that as time marches on, computers in general
become more difficult to use, less functional, and less intuitive. It’s
annoying. Or perhaps it’s just that life is passing me by, which is true one
way or the other.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Blogspot is full of moribund
blogs. The reasons are many, and the phenomenon is interesting. Many people set
up a cute blog and post two or three times about the wonders of cats. And that’s
it, the blog idea expends itself. Perhaps they were killed by their cats. Many
people, like Doghouse Reilly, set up a blog and write fantastic posts for years
about mostly politics, with some culture and a little sports thrown in for
variety. His blog disappeared. He was ended not by cats, but by the human
condition, which stalks us all. I still draw breath, but I have reached the age
where the entire horizon is sufficient only for a vague terror of waiting for
the other shoe to drop. The nearness of death inspires some people. Others,
like me, are merely paralyzed by dread.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Best wishes to all. I should
be writing more soon. <o:p></o:p></span></p>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-19805534320882601312023-12-14T07:07:00.000-08:002023-12-14T07:08:56.753-08:00Peter Laughner - Baby's on Fire<iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/9Siv46z3uc4?si=Y37_KQmSh-vGwuMM" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/9Siv46z3uc4/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">This fellow is a wonderful surprise for me. He was an important part of Rocket from the Tomb, and then briefly in the band that they morphed into, Pere Ubu. Then he checked out. Boy, he must have been leaning on it. His body said, "we're done, bon voyage motherfucker" when he was only twenty-four. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">This is a wonderful cover of a wonderful song that doesn't draw much interest as cover material. Eno would approve, I think, due to his strong preference for guitar slingers who really pushed the envelope. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">It's miraculous to find new fifty year old stuff as I quickly approach the end of my time. </span></div>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-19399459957385170022023-09-24T00:19:00.001-07:002023-10-03T00:25:45.788-07:00Al Green - Perfect Day (Official Lyric Video)<iframe frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/s5NT_079_X0?si=Ixiu6tQtLCkJosIo" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Another, more recent, great cover. Another home run? Well, I think it cleared the fence in fair territory. Lou still takes the cake and keeps title to the song. Mr. Green does a great job though. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Ms. Simone's cover of "Here Comes the Sun," right below this one hereon, is one of those rare covers that clears the fence in center field, sails over everyone's heads, leaves the ball park far behind, and they're still looking for the ball out in the parking lot somewhere. </span></div>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-71728139340924341322023-09-23T02:02:00.005-07:002023-09-26T00:59:27.280-07:00Here Comes the Sun<iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/UTQz-zCDxv8?si=DBIwQ29logWm56XN" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Is it a triumph or a tragedy for the singer/ songwriter when a truly great artist covers one of your songs and completely takes it over, elevating it above everything that has come before? </span></div>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-56237135805966938962023-09-23T01:51:00.000-07:002023-09-23T01:51:18.917-07:00Still Looking ForThe Silver Lining In Our Climate Situation<p> </p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was a matter of
some interest to me that on September 19, 2023 there were two large
TORNADOES in China. Not the little cyclones that you see in big
storms pretty much everywhere and never give a second thought, no,
these were “Wizard of Oz” sized tornadoes, like three on the five
scale. (China uses the same scale as the United States, so I guess
the Chinese weather service wasn’t as surprised as I was.) These
came with enormous amounts of rain and new flooding, adding more
misery to what is already probably called “the Summer of Huge
Fucking Floods.”</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">No less fascinating
was the twenty or so inches of rain that fell in a day on a large but
focused part of Libya, making a mess of a coastal city and destroying
two earthen dams in the mountains above the city. The resulting
water/ mud event washed away most of the city and the reporting of
the death count was disturbingly imprecise. The spokesman said that
about ten thousand people were dead, and another ten thousand were
“still missing.” He assumed that many or most of the missing had
been washed out to sea along with all of that mud. When the numbers
get that round, it’s obvious that no one has any idea of the real
casualty figures.</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Huge amounts of rain
in a limited time within a tight location is no longer considered
exceptional. It has become a regular thing.</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Warehouses are
filling up with new stock footage of rapidly moving flash floods in a
wide variety of settings. There are also large areas on multiple
continents where it hasn’t rained at all for years. Climate driven
migration has begun in earnest. Then there are the fires. The
starving migrants must be lucky to avoid running into one of the many
large fires. Crops have begun to fail, not only because of the
droughts, but also because average annual temperatures have gone up a
couple of degrees. A warming climate invites new insect pests. That’s
no surprise, I suppose, but did anyone else read the predictions that
a warming climate would interfere with crop propagation? I read that
one, but I wasn’t supposed to live to see it. Only five years ago
they were still talking about effects that we would see in 2030 or
later. More imprecision.</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ocean temperatures
are raising some eyebrows among the scientific community. Way too low
in the North Atlantic, threatening to stall the Gulf Stream, and way
too high around the West Indies and Florida, threatening stronger
hurricanes. You needn’t look far for bad climate news.</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Who remembers the
way that George W. Bush and his “proud to know nothing” friends
were laughing at a temperature rise of only a few degrees. Remember
the asshole who brought a snowball into a meeting of the Senate?
They, you know who they are, had a good laugh at that. Climate change
was a hoax! Or, if it were a real thing, it was the Chinese trying to
destroy the American economy. I don’t hear so much laughing now. If
it was a Chinese idea, it backfired. The naysayers seem to be holding
their tongues, but they have no proposals to offer in mitigation. One
of our great statesmen was asked how he feels about the current state
of climate change. “Autumn,” he said, “it’s called autumn.”</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">The only people who
are happy about the situation are the lobbyists for the fossil fuel
industries. Those companies just want to maximize profits while they
can. Time to cash out boys! I’m sure that they have proper bunkers
prepared, and food stocks put away for emergencies. It was fun to
read about the plans they have to protect themselves from their own
security forces. Now there’s an interesting conundrum: they
obviously need the security forces to protect their compounds or
bunkers from regular people, but then it’s also obvious that the
security forces will see their own best interest in slaughtering the
rich people and taking the security for themselves. Don’t worry,
no beautiful women will be harmed in the course of these takeovers.
I’ve already seen multicolored maps showing what areas may fare
better, and what areas will soon be musts to avoid. The entire South
West of the United States is a death in progress, with colossal heat
waves in effect and water disappearing faster than a magician’s
assistant.</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">I guess it’s good
that people in every demographic seem to be getting the message that
urgent action is required, but the people who actually have the power
to alter our destructive habits are either going along with the wait
and see thing or actively getting in on the cashing out thing.</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">It all strikes me as
doom writ large, but that’s my nature anyway. So don’t listen to
me. It’ll all be fine!
</span></p>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-18641723051167782482023-09-12T03:49:00.001-07:002023-09-13T02:51:23.889-07:00Visual Clues About Other Cultures May Be Misleading<p> </p><span style="font-size: large;">We received two newspapers every day and three on Sunday; we got our weekly copies of Life and Newsweek magazines; and we also subscribed to the National Geographic magazine. This means that our household was better informed than most. This was in the time when early television was a very poor information source, and computers were as big as automobiles, ran on punch-cards, and were to be seen only in certain high-value industrial settings. There was also a nice library in our town, a good sized branch of the New York Public Library, and I appreciated that. Our library offered little in the way of current events, although it was okay for history. (I enjoyed browsing in the card catalog and reading in the encyclopedia.)<br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />I was always most curious about the articles that shed light on people’s daily lives in other countries. Once you were familiar with the four-color globe, and had discovered how many countries and people there were in the world, questions about their lives became of urgent concern, at least they did for me. The weekly magazines were often helpful, but the National Geographic was the best. That was their thing, wasn’t it? It was a monthly travelogue. It was lavishly illustrated with first-rate photographs, and it included well written text explaining what you were looking at. My favorite articles were either about distant lands where exotic women never bothered to cover their breasts, or about Russia.<br /><br />Every article about a foreign land featured photos of the local people. Some looked prosperous and happy; some looked poor and miserable. The people in those countries were accurately reflecting the readers expectations, based upon their attire and their surroundings. Those things are to be expected. It got interesting when the people appeared either very poor, yet perfectly happy, or relatively prosperous, yet completely miserable. (Disclaimer: I’ve been living for twenty years in a country where most people are poor, but those poor people are very happy.) The countries that defied expectations were worth looking up in the encyclopedia. Why the tension between their situation and their emotions? Then there was Russia, where people appeared content and happy in propaganda photos, while looking like zombies in any unofficial public photos. <br /><br />Moscow had good roads, albeit without much traffic. There were solid looking apartment buildings with windows and curtains. The people did not appear underfed, and their clothing seemed up to western standards, at least from a distance. There was public transport of various kinds, and it all seemed to be in working order. It looked fine. Those Russians of long ago displayed an affect that was unique: they all walked with good posture, looking straight ahead (although I’m sure that their eyes were darting about), walking with intention, like they might have quite a distance to cover, and on their faces they showed no emotion at all. They mostly stared straight ahead with their faces fixed in the expression called “blank.” It was as though they were autistic, or had been subjected to electroshock therapy when they were younger. How did they feel about their situation? There were no clues to be gleaned from photographs taken in public spaces. <br /><br />I now understand that average Russians of the time were actually quite animated and emotional behind closed doors. Alone with their families, or friends sufficiently close and trusted, they were loving and quite funny. I’ve read many of the jokes invented by Russians and told among themselves over the decades, and they were acutely aware of the irony and contradictions raised by their existence as cogs in the Soviet machine. Many of the jokes are very insightful regarding the day to day lives of the big-shots, and of things like the Gulag and state-sponsored antisemitism. Out in the larger world, they braced up their posture and put on the mask. <br /><br />It was hard then not to think about Russia. What about the bosses? Who were these despots who held large numbers of powerful nuclear bombs over our heads at every moment of every day? What about the people? Russian soldiers seemed wildly happy in private, unofficial wartime photos taken after they had killed several tens of thousands of Nazi soldiers. Now, ten or fifteen years after the war, they were all huddled down in their frozen wasteland of a country concentrating all of their energy on the manufacture of more nuclear bombs, bigger bombs, and no smiles in sight. <br /><br />The bombs never bothered me. I never remember worrying about any hypothetical impending nuclear event. It didn’t seem possible, or as we say in the law, practicable. I was already familiar with the fate of Germany and Japan for having the temerity to start World War II. That was all recent memory at the time, and anyone with any sense could see that no one would be starting any all-out wars with either Russia or the USA any time soon. Germany and Japan had both been reduced to endless seas of rubble, not a stone standing on a smoking stone, and their people reduced to hunger and tears. That was the fate of countries that declared war on America or the USSR. I was sure that those bombs over our heads were being held very, very carefully. The price for a mistake was just too high, and intentional action was too stupid to consider. <br /><br />The Soviets are a dead letter now. That unfortunate system left the scene unmourned. Don’t let that door hit you in the ass on the way out! No sooner had cracks appeared in the foundation than the entire building fell to rubble in no time flat. It was a perfect joy for me to see the unrestrained relief and happiness of regular Russian people filling the streets and celebrating the passing of that awful mess. <br /><br />Aye, it was an interesting world, the world of my youth. It was full of strange behavior and weird events. I suppose that it still is, even if the strange behavior is now pathological and many of the weird events could have been avoided. Looking now at that four-color globe, one is forced to realize that most of the asylums are being run by the inmates. And what goes around still comes around. That old saying still holds. Old wine in new bottles. But I’ll let you consider the political changes of the world through the filters of your own experiences. You may be twenty-something, or seventy-something, but you have seen many changes. Things happen so quickly now! Several things are changing this very minute! <br /><br />I wish us all luck.</span>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-68748569716702672822023-08-06T09:15:00.004-07:002023-08-06T09:15:42.451-07:00Eddie & the Hot Rods - Teenage Depression<iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/Moe4DkZy5Ds" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Moe4DkZy5Ds/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">They're still working. </span></div>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-47493581489067696382023-08-06T07:05:00.000-07:002023-08-06T07:05:07.994-07:00Big Youth - Cool Breeze<iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/wxCyuU1Fo3s" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/wxCyuU1Fo3s/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Testing! Big Youth bringing the content. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Isn't this included on the Harder They Come soundtrack? Different version, I think. </span></div>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-45480937854468873522023-07-31T05:36:00.001-07:002023-07-31T05:45:01.849-07:00Joe Biden's Free Pass (From Me) <p></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">President Biden and
I have come through the last forty years together, connected by
newspapers. Joe, if I may be so bold as to call an old friend by his
familiar name, was often reported in the newspapers, and I have
always been an avid newspaper reader. From his hair-plugs, to his
dubious record of bipartisan legislation, to his carefully cultivated
“hey, man!” working class facade, Joe has always been a gold mine
for reporters. There was always a good story in Joe, from his vanity,
to his activities, to his shenanigans. It’s quite a trail of
malarkey, and easy to follow.</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Which makes me
wonder: with so many decades of gold there to mine, why do our
current class of content providers stay so close to the
optical-illusion scandals recently created by Republican operatives?
Barisma; Hunter’s laptop; the Biden crime family; Joe’s new
surprise grandchild. None of that means anything anyway, and it all
pales in comparison to readily discoverable and extremely
disagreeable material in his political history. There lies the true
mystery of Biden’s presidency.</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">I made some notes
about it in early 2019, but I have never shared the results herein.
The country was in serious trouble already, and Joe was clearly going
to be the best chance to beat Trump in 2020. I thought that it would
be unpatriotic to expose the dirt that could cost Joe the nomination,
or the election, because to do that would inflict a deep wound on our
country, already rubber-legged in its brawl with evil.</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">I decided that I
would give Joe a pass. I would smile and watch the parade go by. I
would go so far as to support the suggestion that he was doing a
great job and not making a bit of trouble, no, not a bit of it. Why
should I not behave thus?</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">You may consider the
pass to be in effect now, and also that it will remain so into the
foreseeable future. We need Joe. He’s really selling it. He’s got
good numbers. The last new gripe against him was that he appeared in
public wearing white sneakers. (Which means they’ve got nothing.)
Joe might get elected and endure another four years. He might live!</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">There is also a good
chance that Trump will be elected again. After his own fashion,
perhaps. The nomination, at least, will happen before any of these
trials now in various stages of pretrial foot-dragging. If Trump is
nominated by the Republicans, we can be sure that the cry of “let
the people’s voice be heard” will ring out across the land. If
Trump is one of the nominees, he will, like last time, act like the
casting of all of the votes makes him president immediately. That’s
irrespective of the vote count. It will either be a clear Trump
victory, or simply another stolen election. What happens then is
anyone’s guess. My Magic Eight-Ball is in the shop.
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p><br /><p></p>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-28153216433308533252023-07-21T02:44:00.001-07:002023-07-21T02:46:17.358-07:00Problems<p></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">There
will always be more than one way to look at a problem. You may look
at the problem through a different filter. You may examine the
problem in a different light. You may look at it in a mirror.
Sometimes simply letting your eyes go out of focus will cause the
problem to stand out in brighter relief. A problem is part of a pair
that also includes a solution. Some problems are solved, and may
thereby be resolved. Some are never solved, which may be for better
or for worse.</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: large;"> All
individuals face numerous problems in their lives. Problems big and
small; important or insignificant; interpersonal or within the
individual. Our greatest challenge is recognizing the existence of
the big, important problems. This is easier said than done.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: large;"> Many
of us are plagued in life by a swarm of problems. We may understand
that they are all related to each other in some way, but that
understanding gets us no closer to seeing the essential problem
itself.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: large;"> This
is where I find myself in this end-game of my life. We seniors live
from day to day, waiting to die. Waiting for our turn. We dream of
dead friends and family, and are cursed to live in the ruin that we
have made of our life. Our decades of experience may give us some
perspective regarding our problems. Identifying a problem when it is
too late to fix it is much worse than never having identified the
problem at all.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: large;"> Here
is a good question: is a problem that is never identified really a
problem at all?</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: large;"> Life’s
greatest joke might be to provide us with the intelligence needed to
identify the important problems in our lives, while denying us the
cleverness that would be required to solve them.</span></span></p><br /><p></p>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-52363783285445922952023-06-28T09:06:00.002-07:002023-06-28T09:25:18.020-07:00Sad But True - Transplants<iframe frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/AphuDGxFZDo" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">People come, and people go. They may have died or simply moved on. I got used to it living in Los Angeles for almost thirty years. Now I have also seen a lot of it in Thailand as well. People want to check it out. Some will stay forever. I almost stayed in LA forever. External circumstances drove me to Thailand. (No, not police. The jobs and the favorable cost of living.) Some stay a few years, and then they decide that they want to return to their old lives, or try Oregon, or Berkeley. You may simply say good luck, or you may have formed a very close bond with them and will miss them terribly. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Those who die do so on their own motion. That probably wasn't their idea, so you can't hold it against them. You may, however, miss them. If you are a person who loves their friends, all of this can be difficult. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Good luck to all of my friends who have moved on. To the living, to the dead, and to the ones who had their reasons. I love you all. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-44186888564156999142023-06-24T03:20:00.000-07:002023-06-24T03:20:51.593-07:00Liability Waivers: Fun Facts<p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It
seems like a silly thing to even consider. Descending to a depth of
13,000 feet in the cold, unforgiving North Atlantic ocean in a
weirdly amateurish, home-made submersible. I followed the story of
its loss with some curiosity, although without real interest. What
kind of company slaps a thing like this together, ignoring the safety
conventions and the laws of both Murphy and physics, and sends it
down full of billionaire adventurers who pay $250,000 per person for
the privilege? The answer seems to be: the kind of company that
trusts its risk of liability purely to the customers’ signatures on
liability waivers.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span>This
morning I read the articles about the loss in the N.Y. Times and the
Daily Beast, and both strongly suggested that the company would be
building its defense to wrongful death law suits (more essentially,
negligence suits) on its supposedly strong liability waiver. That
thing certainly seems to mention “possibility of death”
everywhere that it is possible to squeeze it in. Oh, if only it were
that simple.</span></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span>My
first legal observation was, “those things are usually found to be
against public policy, aren’t they?” Well, it turns out that the
answer is “yes,” as long as you include the “usually.”</span></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span>I
like to check a bit before I shoot my mouth off, so I consulted
Professor Google. I always favor real law websites, so I read a nice
article in the National Law Review (June 24, 2023). I’d say that
they have also been following events as they unfold.</span></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span>They
also started off by pointing out that liability waivers are
unenforceable if in violation of public policy. They dropped in more
of the subjunctive than I did by making it conditional on an extra
“if.” The article relied quite a bit on a case named <i>Atkins v.
Skimwest</i>. Atkins starts with a warning of what is to come, “case
law does not favor liability waivers.”</span></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span>Atkins
goes on to say that liability waivers “are not automatically
invalid,” but that they will in every case be “strictly construed
against the party seeking to rely” on them. The waivers must be
ridiculously specific about every single risk that exists and that
the customer is waiving. What’s more, the person signing the waiver
must have been given the opportunity to bargain over the waiver, to
bargain not only over the risks to be waived but also over signing
the thing at all! Have you ever heard of that happening? Me neither.</span></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span>The
customers here are people to whom $250,000 is a weekend outing for
one. They are billionaires proving once again that it is hard to
think of things to do with all of that money. Have any of them
actually sought legal advice about the waiver? A good lawyer would
advise them to bargain with the dimwits running this company. “Tell
you what, I’ll give you $350,000 if I don’t sign the waiver.”
The answer is no? “Okay, $500,000.” Still no? No counter offer
(“for a million, you can go without the waiver”), no back and
forth? You have not been given a chance to bargain in good faith. You
must sign, or no deal. You can sign, and the waiver is void for
violating public policy. The defense fails.</span></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span>Just
imagine the legal horsepower available to an estate worth billions of
dollars. At least when the plaintiffs can be trusted to pay their
bills. This should be interesting. </span></span>
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></p><br /><p></p>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-21951556398697495962023-06-24T01:40:00.001-07:002023-06-24T01:40:18.455-07:00Test June 24 2023<p> </p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">
Test June 24 2023</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Let’s take a test!
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;">It’ll be fun.
</span></p>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-44750255418517048912023-06-21T08:32:00.003-07:002023-06-21T08:32:29.854-07:00Stubborn All Stars - Open Season<iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/JEd7N1HSY3c" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/JEd7N1HSY3c/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I have a Hepcat Records sampler from the late 1990s that includes this song. Is it a cover? A mystery! I love this version either way. </span></div>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-61576962356757395542023-06-18T08:40:00.002-07:002023-06-18T08:40:34.622-07:00Bo Dollis And The Wild Magnolia Mardi Gras Indian Band - "Handa Wanda"<iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/se7459-cCxE" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I know that Mardi Gras was four months ago. I also sing Christmas songs in the summertime. My personal calendar is flexible. </span></div>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-68298490505097556322023-04-18T09:25:00.002-07:002023-04-18T09:25:50.697-07:00Speedballin' (Album Version)<iframe frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/ZQ2G7RTM_DY" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ZQ2G7RTM_DY/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">They tell me this is hard to find now. Not on the streaming services, multiple challenges. So I guess it is an Enjoy It While It's Up kind of deal. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Go ahead! Enjoy! I first heard it about twenty years ago, probably on Napster. Captured it, too, but I've never been good about preserving material through generations of computers. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">It put its clamps on me upon first listen. Right up my alley, this.</span> </div>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-5532214063155803122023-04-18T08:54:00.000-07:002023-04-18T08:54:23.192-07:00Billie Holiday - I Love You Porgy<iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/jpxfZKeqw48" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/jpxfZKeqw48/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-56219682328275230752023-04-08T05:46:00.000-07:002023-04-08T05:46:30.702-07:00Mahlathini & The Mahotella Queens - Mbaqanga (1991)<iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/TEWYFkjH2jc" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/TEWYFkjH2jc/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">The main thing that has kept me alive since I was eight years old has been music. I should take a moment to offer my sincere thanks to the multitude of men and women who have pushed me towards the light for these many decades. My dearest musicians and singers, please consider this. The profession of musician is mostly hard work and little money, but your wonderful talent has been keeping many lost souls alive, and enabling many families to thrive. From peg-pants rockabilly cats to jazz junkies, from the Brill Building to Carnaby Street, from guys doing time to guys getting rich, from one-hit-wonders to guys that keep the flow, from all of the corners of the world, please accept my humble thanks. You help people, and I wish that more people understood the amount of effort that goes into a lifetime in music. </span></div>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-60094563854183098482023-04-01T05:55:00.002-07:002023-04-01T05:55:10.329-07:00New Word Processor<p><span style="font-size: large;"> I hate computers, and the horses they came on. </span></p>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-22736530845744133262023-04-01T05:53:00.000-07:002023-04-01T05:53:18.214-07:00That Certain Age<p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
Bible is rarely a practical guide for anything, but it does on
occasion provide a useful guideline. For instance:</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
age when men finish growing up is twenty-eight.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Nor
was the Hoary Head, Yahweh/ Jehovah, the only deity to find
compelling circumstance in that age. There are other religions that
find something happening around that time, and even some of our
secular social scientists think that twenty-eight may represent some
kind of final adolescence.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">No
less than Albrecht Duerer, the great late-Renaissance painter, being
no stranger to self-portraits, created his most self-aggrandizing and
elaborate self-portrait at that age (in the year 1500). You should
look it up, just enter “durer self portrait” in the Google
search. It screams, “I, Albrecht Duerer, am God!”</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I
myself experienced something strange at that age, although there was
nothing self-aggrandizing about it. It was more like a nervous
breakdown. I suddenly felt very old. It suddenly seemed like
everything about my childhood, and early adulthood, had happened a
very long time ago. I felt like I had been in high school somewhere
around the Civil War. My attention was drawn to the rear-view mirror,
even more than usual. It was a little like waking from a dream. It
coincided with a difficult time in my journey of life, and I fell
into a deep depression. What had I accomplished? Where the hell was I
going? I was quite unmoored there for a while.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I
snapped out of it. I realized that I had not even reached thirty,
much less gotten “old” all of a sudden. I made a plan. The plan
itself was a good one. My execution of the plan got me a BA and a JD
to prove that at least I wasn’t stupid. It failed, unfortunately,
in its particulars. That’s another story. At least one, maybe more.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This
whole thing seems to hit young people harder when they have only
recently moved from unknown and poor to celebrity status and loads of
money. I’m thinking of the great number of musicians who have died
at the age of twenty-seven. (Close enough, I’m sure, for rock and
roll.)</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jimi
Hendrix was twenty-seven years, 295 days old when he got careless
with unfamiliar pills.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Robert
Johnson was twenty-seven when he got careless and drank whiskey from
an unsealed bottle.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Brian
Jones, founder, leader, and musical guiding light of the Rolling
Stones, died at twenty-seven after being hounded out of the band by
snarky, upwardly mobile band-mates.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Janis
Joplin died at twenty-seven. Between being pushed around by the money
people and moving suddenly from object of derision to the status of
divinity, I’m not surprised that her system just overloaded.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ron
“Pig Pen” McKernan died at twenty-seven. The band missed him so
much that they declined to replace him as a vocalist, much to their
detriment.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Amy
Winehouse and Jim Morrison both died at twenty-seven, although not
the same year.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Kurt
Cobain died at twenty-seven. You could see it in his eyes in all of
his teenage photos: he didn’t expect to last very long.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’m
going to include Johnny Ace, who suffered a strange death at
twenty-five. He had been scuffling for a long time already at that
point, trying to make a living as a singer, trying to have a hit. He
had a show the night of the day that “Pledging My Love” was
released. Before the show, he was probably having a few pops with the
band, and he was fooling around with somebody’s pistol. He was
hoping against hope that the new song would be a hit, but his
confidence was low. He had been disappointed before. He emptied the
pistol, put one round back in the cylinder, gave it a spin, and put
the gun to his head. “Well, boys,” or something to this effect,
“if I live, it’ll be a hit; if I die, it won’t matter anyway.”
He really should have asked for better advice at that point. He
pulled the trigger , and it was goodbye Johnny Ace. The song, of
course, was a giant, crossover hit, and remains one of the all time
great songs. “Forever my darling…” or at least until about 8:30
tonight.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I
think it’s true that there is some kind of hinge period during our
late twenties. A shift in our thinking. A surrender of childish
things. An emotional Schwerpunkt.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">If
you are not there yet, dear reader, fear not. It is just an illusion.
A trick of memory. You are still young, and you will be fine.</span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">If
you have made it past that hump, good for you. I hope it was all very
easy for you, and that it all worked out great.</span></span></p>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-23205837623146492092023-04-01T05:50:00.002-07:002023-04-01T05:50:20.709-07:00April Fools!<p><span style="font-size: large;"> Blogger Mr. Fred is not dead. </span></p>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-56016674612669897262023-02-27T19:51:00.000-08:002023-02-27T19:51:30.500-08:00Eddie Harris - Get on Up and Dance<iframe frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://youtube.com/embed/PQKceqgTZdQ" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">This is indeed the Eddie Harris, the "Electrifying" Eddie Harris, that we all know and love. He was in heavy rotation at my house during this period, but I've never heard this. Nice cut, in a style that was popular in 1975 with black bands and white bands. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">New collector with a new channel, so who knows what rare cuts this fellow might come up with? </span></div>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3058711831772256734.post-73781155938711730112023-02-26T08:09:00.001-08:002023-03-07T01:43:05.783-08:00Adrian Belew I Am What I Am<iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/GRKs7o-xMU0" width="480"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I am slowly coming out of my intensely negative experience of this recent so-called Holiday Season. I wrote a couple of posts last week but I really wasn't happy with them. I'm reading way too much and that's always a bad sign. Ears to the music, or nose in a book, or maybe something pleasant on the TV, or else it's non-stop negative ideation. I watched a couple of Andrei Tarkovsky movies. The Stalker was a wonderful surprise. I'd never seen it before, and the final moral gut-punch will keep your mind off of most of your troubles for days. Solaris is readily available, free, not the uncut 210 minute version, but at least the 150 minute cut. There's an even shorter version that is only about 110 minutes, and it must be awful. Another Tarkovsky landed on the 'Tube recently. I'll watch it soon. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I have started my third pass through every episode of the Big Bang Theory. If I don't watch one episode within one hour of bedtime I can't sleep. I read two books at a time now, one serious and one entertaining. Now it's Thomas Pikitty's Capital in the Twenty-First Century, with the Expanse books as a back-up. I have no idea if this regimen will enough to guide me through the hell-scape that is one's mid-seventies. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">But, as Popeye said, I am what I am. We'll see what happens. </span></div>fred chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10812811681270634366noreply@blogger.com0