One year ago today: January 19, 2020, this actually happened.
Five years ago today: January 19, 2016, peasants don’t have to know.
Nine years ago today: January 19, 2012, remember Capt. Crunch?
Random years ago today: January 19, 2007, I don’t do servers.
Music and therapy, not always two categories in my book. Today at the clinic, they teamed me up with Loretta. Let’s say she is a wonderful lady who takes her job very seriously. She worked on my shoulder to the limit, the toughest session yet. There’s progress and if I live another fifty years, maybe. Loretta’s an natural physical therapist, she’s in great shape and around, oh, 5% larger than most women. This is reflected in her as extra strength, so she can handle giving the exercises very effectively. Today she got my arm to flex past a former limit.
This therapy is expensive and time-consuming. It’s produced about all the results it is ever going to. The process also brings my shoulder blades into stress, at rest the pain is around a 2 out of 10, enough to be noticeable all day as you move around. That’s it, and I only mention for the usual blog reason—it’s the biggest event of the morning. I stopped at the Thrift on the return leg, where now that I want an electric carving knife, nobody has one. I walked in on a bunch of Trump supporters, so I listened in for ten minutes as I shopped. The pie? Well, you don’t expect all this to go on without a good helping of turkey pie to fortify one on these chilly mornings. This pie came out of the oven at 7:10AM.
The Trump people are convinced he will still be in power by Easter, carefully not saying he would be President. Is something going on I’ve not even heard of? I would support Trump, not as a leader, but as I would anyone who infuriates the far left turning them into insane blubbering fanatic mass. I dunno, there’s just something about watching a libtard go ballistic to remind us the world is going fine.
What’s this Fingers Biden is afraid to attend his own inauguration? I hear they keep cancelling the rehearsal. Well, what do you expect from the people who yell “Bingo” and then hide their cards saying it’s over, give them the prize and go home. I know the far left was not happy with Trump declassifying a lot of documents at the last moment, and it likely won’t be long before the Democrats outlaw efforts like the Brave browser that seeks to decentralize web communication. My guess is Brave is moving away from servers to a Napster-ish file sharing distribution system.
The Democrats are shameless, screaming about Trump appointing “unqualified” people to powerful positions at the last moment. The Democrats, who qualify people by gender and skin color, are crabbing that other people aren’t fit for government. Kind of makes you want to reach for the fly-swatter.
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Working on the windows means the curtains are down, which means at night the light attracts the little critters. Here’s an older photo, but a common sight Sadly some folks are afraid of these little lizards, which have no teeth. I’m putting in work on my solo act, but that does not mean I’m not on the lookout for a group. I respond to any ad that seems remotely close. Y’day I got a reply and a song list that made my eyes water. Of the 40 tunes, 9 are on my list, 21 I’ve played at some point, and another 10 ready in a week. A situation like this means the second most important factor, the attitude of the band, rises to the top. I won’t consider anything that detracts from my solo work. I’m done with sacrificing all for somebody else’s musical cause.
On the other hand, these types choose their music without any regard to what the bass player actually does. That opens two doors. If I can already play it, we know what happens there, and the others have such simplistic rock bass lines that I have plenty of time and energy to devote to great presentation. This comes with a warning, in such an atmosphere, never overstep or overplay the band—easy for me to say because I’ve got half a lifetime of experience. Show up, play the gig, go home, tell them you have to go to church in the morning.
If they call me for an audition, I’ll shoot you the song list. There’s stuff on there I’ve never heard of, like “Paper In Fire”, but for all I know that’s a typo. Funk #49 is on the list, something I would consider a milestone if I could ever play it. Some of the stuff is time-killer, “Suzie Q” and “Cheap Sunglasses”, but as long as they are doing the chasing around, I’ll play it.
Later, having time, I listened through a dozen songs on that list. Could be they think Tom Petty is alive and well. If they seriously want me to play this material, let’s just say we shall see. I mean, like, who is doing the best job on stage. I don’t mean nuttin’, I’m just sayin’. Do I devote any real time to it, or just get by, which is what they are expecting? That’s an easy question, the bottom line is I’d rather gig than not gig.
ADDENDUM
How dumbed-down can the education system make Americans? I have an example you can use to get the answer yourself. The format you see here, with pictures alternating left and right down the page is derived from the way I write personal letters. One of which I fired off to JZ while soaking up a beer a few days ago, hand-written. Wh-ell (not a typo), this Gen X type, a self-professed intellectual, asks me how I got my handwriting to “wrap-around” the pictures. Um, because I printed the pictures first, then wrote the letter? He could not imagine such a thing and said I was lying, or that I must be lying, I forget. What the hell?
