Club and band. That’s most of today’s waking hours. Since those are not the most thrilling reports, here is a picture of a famous movie star. Can you tell who it is? I couldn’t, yet there was a time I drooled over this babe. It’s Uma Thurman at 43. If I didn’t know it was her and, say, she showed up at the Lani Kai last week, I would not have hit on her. Maybe I’m not pretty, but at 43 I was in better shape than that. And so was every woman I’d ever been out with. There, is that controversial enough to get anyone’s goat? Good.
The bottom line is that, as Secretary-Treasurer, I hold the purse strings so the final decision is mine. Also, I am the de factor protector of the club’s more valuable assets. The club takes care of its own, but everything that is in good condition was here. Not pointing any fingers, but it was not here that flooded the drill press, and the eBike has been on loan just a month and already the charger is broken, the rear rim has to be replaced, and the special key to the krypton lock is lost. I know that nothing survives unless it is privately owned so it’s not like I’m surprised the best equipment is here. And that is certainly where something as valuable as a 3D printer will be located.
Don’t be getting the idea the club is a debating society. It is for open discussion and all manner of themes get discussed. Like living in a trailer (manufactured home). Agt. M. says he would not do it because women don’t like it. But he pays twice what I do to live in an apartment and cannot afford to take off to Ft. Meyers Land, see the paradox? He also makes some strong points on religion, one of the few times I’ll listen. Why, if Darwin was right, by now cats should be able to operate can openers.
The topic of input to the printer is prominent to every one of us who cannot draw, by which I mean operate CAD (Computer Assisted Design). There is software that can render a 3D object, such as your face and head, from photographs, but it is one of those outfits that want to do it for you. You send in your photos, they return the file. Ha, fat chance of that, but there are enough stupid people out there to support the business.
Hello, Romania. Why the sudden interest in my little blog from the east? I’m not planning any European travel and Nadia is taken. Ah, it must be the sparkling wit with which I present the newest topics in a user-friendly conversation. I know all about Romania, I’ve seen the Van Helsing movies. Send me your pretty countesses that want American citizenship. Don’t worry, after a while in Florida, they’ll be heading back.
One more encouraging sign, at least for me, is the decline in page views using Internet Explorer. That is how much I dislike MicroSoft. Anything that gets them further from number one is okay by me. I’ve always felt the crushing monopoly of MicroSoft and their crappy products held back further computer development for thirty years. Now we find out they have been intentionally spying on everyone by building back doors into every Windows system. Then again, what have I been telling all the worried people all along?
[Author's note 2015-07-07: it was not evident at first, but cracks began to appear very shortly after these "new" songs were chosen. It seems others were not able to learn their parts. I would bust my crackers to get the bass line perfect and get back the attitude that this was only possible because "bass is easy". Well, easy or not, if you can't learn your part, that puts the entire band on shaky ground. You know what they say about the convoy and the slowest ship.]
This will sound strange to some ears, but I will define the circumstances under which an ordinary band flourishes, and why it is the most common type of band. My background by age 12 was as a band manager, not as a musician. This is not a subtle difference, because in fact, it means my viewpoint on bands is very opposite, often aggressively so, from those who fancy themselves musicians. No, I do not see myself as a musician, but as an entertainer. Big difference. The musician tends to think he is already good enough.
What I’m getting at is [a description of] the environment that produces today’s average band member, and take it from me, most band members are 100% average. What causes this? It seems to be the result of a five year stretch (plus or minus) beginning for males in their early teens. (Now I was lucky with the ladies, and as I found out later, very, very, very lucky during those years.) I did not throw myself into music as if it was a salvation. Despite popular opinions otherwise, I already knew by age 13 that a guitar does not do much to improve the chances of nerds and geeks.
That five years is critical to producing the supply of guitar players we have today. It is that period that forms the attitudes that persist long after they are of any relevance. Those teen years, when one can practice when motivated, are difficult to recreate once out on your own. It also helps as a teen to be surrounded by a variety of music and instruments, that’s something else I never had. But it is really the spare time, where one can practice and goof off with music in the cocoon of home and daddy’s money. Once they leave the nest, nothing much changes for the next thirty years. (This is a general statement not intended to describe any individual.)
The situtation produces a lot of guitar player clones, but it also kills the spirit. Unless you are a rich kid, music and a career don’t mix that well. No, it is not a matter of motivation. What are the odds that you’ll really get into dedicated music study after a shift at the plywood mill? Generally zero. Motivation may overcome such odds, but a life of ease works much better. Musically, humanity pays a dreadful price in creativity under this system. The best creative minds drown as wage slaves and the fat cats get recording contracts because they are the only ones left standing. How else can Michael Jackson be explained?
Guess what? I never had that five years when I was a teen. I think I just had it now. When I look back on the past five years of how I ever came to play the brand of music this new band plays, I see a very familiar face looking back. Until y’day, to me Joe Cocker was just another English drunk whose band hated him. If Darwin was right . . . .
Last Laugh
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