One year ago today: July 23, 2017, annual backache day?
Five years ago today: July 23, 2013, annual diet day?
Nine years ago today: July 23, 2009, I accept the DNA theory.
Random years ago today: July 23, 2007, wild goose chasing.
That’s a picture of the front of my refrigerator. See, artistic license, look at all the artists whose “earlier work” became famous. So meet my fridge and ask the searching question, “Why does fridge have a silent ‘d’, but refrigerator does not?”
Now, the gambit here is to imagine what this fridge would look like if I had kids. And the sides of the unit are hardly any better.
For fun, the next thing I did was rearrange the heavy furniture. You know that red dresser thing I’ve hauled around for years? Why didn’t I throw that out in the trash along with that Theresa. You remember Theresa, the one who quit her job because somebody told her she didn’t have to pay her rent. These sort of women are never nicknamed “Brainiac”. My guess is she’s still “just friends” with a bunch of married men somewhere in Broward County.
So what’s this, a mass shooting in Canada? Isn’t that the place their government has been letting in “refugees” from the Middle East? What caught my attention is not the incident, but by how it is being carefully reported in the libtard media without mentioning the gunman’s name. If he was white, his name, address, and photo would be front page news. Now just you watch, the family will play the “history of mental illness” card, you know, that it was society’s fault the taxpayers didn’t take better care of him. However, I’ve got twenty bucks says the murderer was not bipolar. The shootings didn’t take place at an airport, QED.
Canada, particularly the west, is due to find their Donald Trump. The westerners were never asked if they wanted these immigrants and problems. Yet, since it is the western provinces that are the haves, guess who is picking up the tab. Their politics has always been dominated by ultra-liberals, but of a different ilk that the American version. Up their, they have firm control of the government mechanisms that are enforced by the police throughout the nation. And, they control the media, so you never hear the bad parts. Speak up in Ottawa and you could find yourself in the slammer. Like Ernst Zundel.
My proposal for a solution is to find a Canadian conservative radio talk host and set him up with a series of powerful transmitters on the US side of the border. Then broadcast for the American market even though them pesky radio wave will reach just 100 miles across the border. That’s where 90% of Canadians live.
This flu cannot be shaken no-how, so it was me and Boss Hogg radio, “no rap or crap, just music that is in tune with words you can understand”. That’s the station that used home-made radio ads that too often give the wrong message. Like that tax relief agency that says the first ten callers get a discount. If you run that ad fifty times a week, it makes out like they still haven’t got ten callers.
I love my work space back again. Keeps me tinkering after dark and this time I went extra to make it comfortable. Then I got ambitious and set up the new prep counter and an extra set of drawers to clear up the clutter on my other horizontal surfaces. By nightfall I’m still sniveling and hoarse. It caused a good day around the house and it’s tub time again. No shower for these aching bones. Let me soak. Just don’t fall asleep like last time and ruin a perfectly good travel book.
Volkswagen factory storage.
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This afternoon I chose a magazine on antiques. Here’s a new building material I’ve not heard of. Majolica. And it seems there is new evidence that the “native” American Indians did not arrive here 30,000 years ago. DNA shows they got here less than 15,000 years back. I trust DNA measurement more than the textbook theories. In a twist, the recent migration would not normally explain then, why the natives were so vulnerable to European diseases. Ah, because they left the old world before the rise of big cities, where diseases like smallpox could spread.
Why hasn’t any body developed a reverse osmosis charger that sheds that layer. I mean, the lead is still since the batteries are so heavy. Most people like myself would tend to believe if anything could be done for these batteries, that would be worth so many billions that the big companies would have already perfect it. And look how many times we would have been dead wrong.
As usual, interpret the spotty blog postings here as the forerunner of things going on. You’ll get your old blog back, you know, where it seemed every other day sported some brand of adventure. The fact remains this is a journal, never designed to sell excitement. And if you ignore the things I red-ass complain about, there is a decided lack of drama here as well. This blog is not destined for being made into a movie. Now hold on, threaded everywhere, if you care to pick them out, is a good story for a narrow audience. I’d call it, “Confessions of a Bass Player”.
The new band. He instantly agreed we are called “Twood & I”. He instantly caught the double-entendre, but music is complicated when done right and there are some holdups. We’ve entered the second tier (as I call it), where he can use the techniques I’ve taught him to breeze through any number of tunes. However, he is not always getting the strums right. This is important. He does not have to get them right, my last five stage guitarists attest to that. Their problem was they got on stage next to me.
Let me explain yet again how that works. I’m not that great a musician, but I’ve got countless hours on stage with people who thought they were. Are we clear on what I’m saying here? I’m not talking studio or rehearsal, but stage time. I am an entertainer, not a musician or singer. This means a guitarist can never win. The better he plays, the more I am able to use that as a building block to put on an even better show—from the bass side of things.
It’s that simple. Guitar players backed me into a corner when I was younger, and this is nothing more than a taste of their own medicine. I have a whole bag of tricks that would turn the next Clapton into my flunky, but it only works when start by trying it first on me. Usually you don’t get the power trip from guitarists until you get on stage. They are super careful not to play their hand any earlier. You’ve not heard much about this because most guitarists don’t make it to stage with me. But when we do, it is stage experience, not musical ability that makes the grade.
[Author’s note: yes, if you noticed the tail wagging the dog aspect of what I just said, you are right. What I do works not because I’m a show-off, but because the guitar players usually are. I need a truly egotistical lead player to steal a show. The fact most guitar players are so self-centered, they have zero experience at dealing on stage with somebody who musically and naturally matches them move for move until they burn out. Which is my signal to become the crowd favorite.]
And Twood has been slacking off on the strums. I’ve gone along because he is learning the chords and I can work with that. But if he doesn’t get the strum patterns, he’s going to look bad on stage. We still have time to go over this aspect of things, but in some cases we’ve already played the patterns fifteen times (“These Boots Are Made For Walking”) and he just isn’t getting it. As soon as he knows the chords, we will play out, and you know the two directions that can go: spur them on or scare them off.
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