I spent last evening re-learning Cowboy Mikes 13-item song list. It’s the dreadful droning blues but I’ve played it before just to be out there. Guitarists who like the blues often don’t listen closely to the other instruments and thus are unaware of how boring most of it is. For the sake of being on stage, I’ll do it. But I will continue learning to strum my own covers. You can bet during our visit y’day that the Hippie was the butt of countless snide remarks. (Did you know the Hippie stole a car on the first day his parents dropped him off to attend university?) Mike says he’ll consider the duo but feels he can’t last the full four hours. You know, I weight twenty pounds more than he does and he’s six-two. If I can carry the weight, he can carry the tunes.
Mike has the Tascam DP-03 recording device. It seems to be the best compromise and is surprisingly compact. The punch-in feature is automatic, though I’m leery of such claims. The equalizer is set on all eight channels by a single LCD backlit display. Used units are already on the market in the $250 (half price) range. I must have something to record with and the Tascam is a likely aspirant.
There’s no way to sugar-coat this, Trent was in a head-on collision. While waiting in the turn lane, he looked up to see a lady plow front-end into his electric car, totalling both vehicles. I believe he said he was hospital treated for minor injuries. Take it easy big guy, when that taxi cut me off in 1990, it took three days for my symptoms to appear. My arms turned orange after that. I felt okay and had returned to work when it hit me. I was off for something like 19 days for my wrists to shrink back to normal size.
Back in 2003, I was a guest at the Torrey Pines Hotel, a swank joint on the Pacific coast. But I can’t find any mention of this famous hotel on the Internet. We had the toothpick show that summer and were invited by Jeff & Jerry, two radio personalities. I remember it as by far the most expensive hotel I’d ever been in, but where is it? No, not the Lodge, the hotel. I wanted to look the place up again for no particular reason at all.
Here's a random observation. I just saw the stats for the number of people disabled with bipolar conditions. That is one peculiar situation. Sorry, but when I read the list of symptoms, they are just too vague and describe just too many modes of behavior that smack of maladjustment, not medical conditions. I know there are people who really suffer from this disorder, I’m just saying the sheer numbers are completely out of whack. But stupid, ornery people with no gumption or social skills and who can't hold a steady job will never rate as having a medical condition in my books. In my day, that kind of people got jobs at the lumber mill or the tax office.
[Author’s note: my accident described above was in my ’85 Cadillac, it really looked slow motion, and my hood ornament zinged straight up in the sky. The taxi driver had been on the road 18 hours to make extra money for Xmas. That (length of time) was illegal. When I hit him, I shoved his taxi into three or four other parked taxis that were brand new. They were parked on the street waiting for their custom paint jobs to dry. They all got pushed into the wall of the nearby taxi company garage. I heard later there was $70,000 damage.
The air bag worked fine, but I’d had a split second to see the taxi run the stop sign and instinctively flared my elbows outward. This caused my arms to bend slightly around the outside of the air bag, cracking a wrist bone. I passed out from the pain roughly one hour later. That’s right, passed out. It began to throb like hell until I could not take it.]
