One year ago today: May 3, 2015, babes in cowboy jeans.
Five years ago today: May 3, 2011, so where is Hoffa?
Nine years ago today: May 3, 2007, remember Capt. J’s?
Random years ago today: May 3, 2013, a generic day.
MORNING
This picture is here as verification that I visited a certain blog, which I’ll mention below but not link. I do not endorse blogs that lack a theme, for there is no telling what direction they might go. It was one of the few actually witty pictures from a source that otherwise is concerned with drugs and cult bands from the 60s. It is not a wise policy to protest unfair laws by breaking them but I’m not saying he is the only one. However, if one breaks a law, at least strive to make a profit at it or you lose. Ask the Lehman Bros.
Top story of this morning is how easy it is to get some people’s goat. Truman said to the effect he doesn’t give people hell, he tells them the truth and they think it is hell. He must have known somebody like the Hippie, who calls me this morning with a proposition. Due to his erratic behavior, none of his former propositions has ever worked out. So without major concessions, there is no way. He has got us fired or kicked out of every place we’ve played.
Those concessions include, but are not limited to,
√ A guitar player is never allowed to be band manager, but has an equal say.
√ No multi-banding. It’s okay for some, but not for anybody I know.
√ Maximum half the songs can come from one band member except by consensus.
√ No adaptations until I hear a good job of covering the hit version.
√ We play tips-only first gigs if it might get us hired.
√ No slow music except by unanimous agreement.
√ No guitar ballads, none, not even one. Show off on your own time.
√ The band is a duo, period.
It stands to reason any egotistical guitar-banger is going to consider those to be outrageous demands. Yet, they are all reasonable in light of experience. Oddly, if you change the anti-guitar rhetoric to anti-bass, you’ll find that list is precisely what the guitarist expects. There are exceptions, but I have never personally met one in Florida.
The big deal with the Hippie is he still perceives himself as the central core of the musical galaxy. He clings to the concept that a guitar makes him the band leader and he will not flinch on that point. I’ll describe one of his recurring scenarios to demonstrate the kind of bind that gets him into, although he would never accept the blame for it.
His latest bassist quit. How many is that over the years? Fifty? Here’s how his circular thinking works. The bassist is never “allowed” room for any individualism or self-expression. The Hippies can’t get over his mental distortion that the bassist is a “backup”, never an equal. So the most he’ll concede is to allow the bassist to do a solo, unsupported in any way. Well of course, the bassist is going to play his own music, not the Hippies. Here comes the fun part.
So whatever the bassist plays is going to be deemed by the Hippie to be the “wrong” music for the venue. You see, the other guy’s music will never be right as long as the Hippie is choosing the gigs. Problem—for this BS to work, the Hippie has to refuse to play gigs except his own, so he claims others don’t book any gigs. He is in denial about what happened at McGowan’s.
But I’ll remind you of what happened. The Hippie said once too often nobody but him got the gigs, so I walked out and came back in five minutes with a gig. Ah, but the Hippie can’t play his little power trip if he allows that to happen. So he starts in with conditions that he cannot meet himself. How much was the pay? He never said anything about pay. Did I get the gig in writing? Why, he never does that for us. But you see the game. Nor would he commit to playing the gig until the last minute when nothing else came up.
Then, when I showed up, he was already there with a bongo player and a saxophonist I had never seen before. And tells me if I don’t split the gig money with these strangers, I am not a “true musician”. Thus, I had no motive to ever book another gig, and to this day he keeps up the charade that nobody can get the gigs but himself.
Note, he is aware I had a five year house gig, but that doesn’t count because it did not include him. Even though he tried twice to steal the gig from me and landed flat on his ass. He further claims he also had a five-year house gig, but of course, that is unverifiable and twenty-five years ago in the next county and before the cruise lines had cut off the live-pub band circuit at the knees.
Traffic jam simulation.
NOON
“The trouble with the world is that the stupid are cocksure and the intelligent are full of doubt.”
~ Bertrand Russell
Ha, did anyone else catch that nutcase lady on Nutnfancy, the one who stated that she was against Trump because Columbus had illegally invaded America. She had one of those contrived New Age names like “Tashna” or something, probably changed from Mildred or Doris after her second divorce. I would love to hear her explain how old Christopher managed to invade a country that did not exist until 270 years after he was dead.
Wait, there’s more. Cabbage is 91% water. In California, 99% of the dairy farms are family-owned. Real Worchestershire sauce is anchovies dissolved, bones and all, in vinegar. Of all fish caught in the ocean, 90% are in the northern hemisphere. And the concept that carrots give good night vision is a hoax. It was invented by the British in WWII as a cover story for radar, which could “see at night”, a fact they wanted kept a secret.
You know what is starting to annoy me? Ted Cruz’s squeaky voice. I don’t know if it is his voice, or the way he tries to squirm a prepared answer into direct and incriminating questions. When asked if was for or against carpet bombing, he replied that was a good question and he like it when people asked good questions. I’m becoming ever more of the opinion that Cruz and his ilk are the problem and for their own livelihoods, they are bound to make it continue. Politician’s cannot get the job done, says the Trump, and I find no factual errors in that statement.
My first dislike of the Fishman? It’s got the drum machine defect of forgetting your settings when turned off, primarily the reverb setting. It cannot be overdriven in full bass mode, it will put a fuzz on the notes and like an old Fender, it is partial to harmonics, this time on C# and Bb.
AFTERNOON
This is a photo of what I imagine most houses look like in Vermont. Using impeccable logic, that area of the world has been around longer than most of the country, and therefore they’ve had longer to thrive and support a fair and equitable system with their voting powers and sense of fair play. Thus, everybody in the state should by now live in a house something like this. Unless, of course, the state is full of greedy dumb bastards like New York, in which case, well, let's just that a number of alternative outcomes would be the result. I'll now explain the connection.
For example, the plot line is the patients mysteriously dying. We are treated to quips about how the couple move into a big house in Vermont, and as they finish making love on the empty living room floor, you guessed it. The woman kills the moment with, “We should have another child”. The paint isn’t dry on the walls yet and she’s scheming. Just having fun is never good enough for the small-minded woman.
However, there is enough of the original storyline left to keep me reading. Still, it is annoying for a man like me who knows exactly how women think, and why they do it. My world is surrounded by women who are easy targets, but I want one who doesn’t think like a four-year-old. That is the crux of my statement that there are no good ones left. And I’m not exactly a fan of fat, old, and ugly, either. I’ve tried, and it does not do it for me.
There is something over-recognizable about the book, is it one I’ve skimmed before? Is it a re-write, or a take-off on some news event? While I’ve no recollection of reading this book, I can say if I had opened it halfway and read what I reported above, I would have returned it to the shelf. We shall see.
NIGHT
Trent called so we me up at the club for a few. When you work in this day and age, you have to get out to happy hour at least once a week. If you stay cooped up, so does the stress. Plus, we often talk business for the first ten minutes, which means at least a little bit of Texas is preserved. We are both transplants but, I supposed, spoiled by the Florida weather.
And Trent brings the news that Cruz has withdrawn from the race. If my estimation of Cruz is accurate, this is just another ploy of the establishment, who are shaking in their boots. Upon closer inspection, Cruz only “suspended” his campaign. That’s not the same as quitting. If Trump is stopped by any means goes against the will of the majority, or by any internal machinations, I swear there will be great trouble in the land. The insiders have spent fifty years padding their positions and privileges and they are not going down without a fight. I fear that fight may be violent.
Nor do I believe a shifty type like Cruz just quit, he’s up to something.
The high point for me was Trent bringing the wireless Karaoke mics. He may not recognize the value of that yet but I’m in a situation where musically I will seize any advantage whatsoever. I am determined to put a solo act together. No way you’ll find me stocking shelves at midnight after I’m 65. Those who wind up like that did not just miscalculate, they often failed to calculate at all.
ADDENDUM
While searching for a replacement for the daily Wiki feature, I came across the IgNobel Prize. It is awarded to the people who manage to accomplish the useless and the loony. I’ve not yet decided how to present it, since it is prose and contains names. And the articles often need embellishment. For instance:
Robert K. Graham: founder of sperm bank for geniuses only. Unfortunately, in America there were too few high IQ men and no high IQ women receptors, so he was driven to accept athletes and scholars. Some 218 children were born but nobody could tell because they were all Millennials educated through common core. The program was much criticized, presumably by those who were not asked to participate.
Thomas Kyle discoverer of the heaviest element in the universe, Adminstratium. See also Bureaucratium, the only element with a negative half-life.
Last Laugh
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