August 25, 2017

Yesteryear
One year ago today: August 25, 2016, Autism Shmautism.
Five years ago today: August 25, 2012, my own typesetting rules.
Nine years ago today: August 25, 2008, pay for it yourselves.
Random years ago today: August 25, 2009, Mars, 1970.

           This one, I dunno, you decide on “The Giant Gila Monster”. In this 1950s production, it is pronounced “Heel-ah Monster”. Normally it wouldn’t get a mention, but this film was remarkable for the time. It actually had a theme and some great acting. It gets trite over the portrayal of teen-age life, remember this was just before the pill arrived and the movies were careful to show only the most proper behavior. Like this scene of dancing to the juke box at the soda joint. Or was it soda parlor? Anyhow, all these teens were doing something they called “going steady”, so like you always knew back then who knocked up who.

           The guys all drove hotrods and some of the lingo is hilarious. “You still riding that old rubber?” The fact is, in my high school, only the dropouts could afford have cars and most of them were beaters because they had to be bought and maintained with cash. No credit cards back then unless you went to college. And sweaters. The well-dressed teen wore sweaters back then, even in the summer. This was before global warming, you think? The gila monster was never shown in the same scene as the victims. (To this day, it remains unknown if anybody really saved 15% or more on their car insurance.)

           Teens could only be shown drinking soda pop and had nicknames like “Pete”. Things were no different in the sex department. Not one of the dropouts ever amounted to a damn thing, but they did pick up all the local girls over 15. Any guy who has lived through this knows that empty stretch before you get your driver’s license. All the girls who do it are going out with older guys who have cars. Nobody stopped to think about the down side of such women, but they were all taken. That left nothing for the rest of us.
           Unless, unless, you were the smart one that saw it coming and started your own rock band while you were only in eighth grade. Then you had your way all over town—and you had it with the girls that did not date dropouts. This is far more important than you’d think at the time due a factor called “virginity”. The availability of such women, of course, fades away once high school is over. Permanently. But it was paradise for the years that counted and you’ll still find some men playing music for the same reason up to 80 years later. Till they fall over on stage or something, I dunno. Do old musicians ever die? I suspect if they do, they die smiling. And now you know why.

Picture of the day.
Mars.
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           The Moon daily position information I got with a few clicks. It was interesting to see how many sites advertised the tables for sale when there are so many places that publish it for free. Maybe buying the book confers some pride of ownership but why pay for a ferry schedule? I really can’t say one interesting thing about the rest of today. I made a massive tray of baked chicken but was too lazy to even front you a picture of that.

Quote of the Day:
“When you are born rich enough,
all you have to do is wait.”
~ Me, I said that in 1972.
           Yes, that was me back in the day. I was lamenting that I had to completely set up an infrastructure that other kids got from having proper parents. It took me until I was 35 to get things arranged so I could have stability of home base. I missed out on a few things, like fancy cars, but at least when I got to that age, I was not caught up spending 80% of my takehome on monthly payments. That's all for today, except the following potential disappointment.

           Aha, I knew there was a reason the guitar player avoided giving me his list. Like most of them, he has a whacked out inventory of obscure B-sides that he seeks to push onto people whether they like the music or not. Folks, you do not push your political views on unwilling, and the same rule applies to your musical views. Glen, are you listening? Joe is a fan of Grateful Dead, whose music is so bad I cannot even listen to it, and has tunes on his list like "Acapulco Goldie" and "Louisiana 1927". Have you ever heard of this music? If so, are you also a guitarist, because that is about the only thing that could explain such inconsideration for the audience.
           He sent me eight chord charts (another guitar-player shortcoming), which indicates he expects others to do the half-job of comping along. Not me, when I play, every note is precious. I sent him a reply saying I thought we had agreed to play only music that we were both already familiar with. He had at least heard of the music on my list when we jammed last day. But the Ozark Mountain Daredevil's "It Couldn't Be Better" is guaranteed to put the crowd to sleep.
           Let's see how he replies. He's sharper than to think I'm going to get on stage and do a sloppy version of everything until I learn a completely new style of jazz music. Ain't nobody that stupid.

ADDENDUM
           Here is your classic picture of the remodeling job in progress. The solid walls are the ones in place, the stick walls are the ones to be framed. The wall I’m pointing at is nearly the position of the original wall that made this house a two bedroom. In this model, it has been moved to make the room 18” wider. Easily seen is the smaller new bathroom wall that widens that area by a similar 18”. In this model, as shown, that entire wing of the house is not depicted. Before I forget to say, the bathroom at this time has zero electrical outlets. Just a switch and one light.

           Now look at the other interior wall, the one with the wide doorway. That wall was put in, my guess is around 1975. See how small it made the kitchen. That is a non-bearing wall and it is due for removal. Where my thumb is shows the front door, so both entrances will open into the new, larger kitchen area when done. That is okay by me. I spend a lot of time in the kitchen. Because I have a desk and computer in the corner.

           One feature of the new wall will be completely new electrical with outlets for everything, including a big screen TV. I don’t plan on one, but for the piddling extra cost of installing the outlet, it adds to the resale value by a chunk of cash. This house does not face the street, it faces the yard next door. And I’m finding, for retirement, it is a bit too big for me but my feeling on that is I was darn lucky to find the place when I did, which was right when the local market had tanked. It’s more than twice the size of where I was quite comfortable, if cramped, at the old trailer court. Logic says it is better to have a place too big than too small.
           I was not finished what needed doing until 9:30 PM, so I thought to zip over to the local club, which has entertainment on Fridays. That solo guitar guy with the massive beard was there, and this time I was particularly keen on his act. Yep, he is following the local model of just playing a great intro to catch attention, then sloughing off through the remainder of the song. I got there during his last set when the crowd was oiled up, but it was clear he had run out of material. Aha, the old Guitar Center 12-song limit. The songs he plays above that count are weak, and he’s disguising that with great intros. Alas, disguises don’t fool everybody and nobody was listening to him by then.

           So I had another to watch how he dealt with the situation. Since he plays the regular circuit, he’ll have experience with it. I watched and listened closely. Is he playing these poor songs because he is using the gig for practice, or has he really reached past his own limit? I could not tell, because near the end, he began playing music he treated like bottom-barrel stuff. It was country music and he seemed oblivious to the crowd response. They were watching and singing along. Oblivious, because right next song he’d regress back into some blue-jazz fusion cacophony that lost the moment. Where, Glen, have we seen this before?
           This is what you watch for when I’m on stage—every song is geared toward keeping the crowd happy and paying attention. My show is not the place to bring your date for a quiet or serious conversation. I consider guitarists who push their material on you as musical bullies. Like most, I don’t give a damn what the entertainer likes, he’s there to appeal to the crowd. When he gets into his own head space, that’s a fail. And tonight’s guy was a real flop—my point being the crowds around here have had such a monotonous procession of this nonsense that they have developed “narrow appreciation spans”. As in, gee, honey, which of these dull guitarists should we go listen to tonight?


Last Laugh