Month: May 2007 (Page 1 of 2)

There’s a Boston.com feature today on all the New England war dead from the Bush fiasco in Iraq. Specialist Kyle Little was from West Boylston and he had not yet reached the age to legally have a beer at the family cookout today. Now he never will. This one Kyle was killed May 8, 2007, in Iraq, by a roadside bomb.

Today there are over 3,000 American mothers mourning their lost children and there’s no end in sight. How many more mothers will be reduced to writing letters to their dead child like Gina Barnhurst does every Sunday? Her son, Eric was killed by a sniper in Iraq on Oct. 21st.

Last night I awoke to a glowing TV promoting upcoming HBO shows. I heard Bill Maher say, “I’m pissed off that more people aren’t pissed off.” Since President Bush addressed the nation March 19, 2003, the word “stability” has been frequently used by an administration who’s Iraq policy has produced anything but. Not that there hasn’t been stability as a result of the Bush-Cheney war. ExxonMobil’s profit growth has been obscenely stable:

It’s not often you hear the name of a customer in a song, but I just did. Somewhere between sit-up 21 and 22 of set 2 of 8, I heard this in the Drive By Truckers “Never Gonna Change:”

The “ABI” is the Alabama Bureau of Investigation and they were an AFIS customer of mine when I worked for NEC. That’s pretty much all I’ve got for ya… Hey, it’s a holiday weekend! Oh, alright. Here’s the video and some more lyrics of the song…

In a George Orwell essay, “Why I Write,” the author of a novel titled the same as a David Bowie song cites four primary reasons. The first, or um, primary primary reason is clearly listed in the description of this space, just with a different word; vanity. In Mr. Orwell’s words it’s:

(i) Sheer egoism. Desire to seem clever, to be talked about, to be remembered after death, to get your own back on the grown-ups who snubbed you in childhood, etc., etc. It is humbug to pretend this is not a motive, and a strong one. Writers share this characteristic with scientists, artists, politicians, lawyers, soldiers, successful businessmen — in short, with the whole top crust of humanity. The great mass of human beings are not acutely selfish. After the age of about thirty they almost abandon the sense of being individuals at all — and live chiefly for others, or are simply smothered under drudgery. But there is also the minority of gifted, willful people who are determined to live their own lives to the end, and writers belong in this class.

I’ll admit, the white-hot spotlight is a hot rock massage for my ego. Recently it was suggested to me that blogging may be driven by an “acting gene.” I asked it and was stunned to find this article on the tendency of special needs children to love acting. Needless to say, Mr. Kyle Daley is a fine actor and impressionist. One that cracks me up is his take on Robert Shaw as “Quint” in “Jaws.” He gets all shy when I ask him to do it in front of an audience, but when he barks this Quint line, it just fills me with hope and light.

As for my own “acting gene,” it’s probably more aligned to this gene.

I’ll paraphrase Freddy Neech replacing “Poets” with “Bloggers.”

Fulfilled. When I got to step 33, “attach the net,” it felt good. After mowing the weeds today, I successfully reversed the step that could not be reversed and completed the following 28 steps to completion. Of course my back is aching now so there won’t be any more than an obligatory few layups… Now it’s time for a shower and 30 minutes of stairs and rock followed by another shower and who knows what. Kyle is in a “I miss my mom” mood and will be hanging with her tonight so I’m solo and single! Yeah, I’ll probably stay in and watch the Sox…

Kyle’s mom has been gone since Thursday to rescue her own mom who was left in Canada by her insanely evil (not in a good way) husband. He’s a real dick. He once said to his wife about Kyle, “in my day they used to put kids like him away.” He’s a fucked up old man, and I hope if I ever see the small minded SOB again, I’ll rise above the emotion his heartless statement brings out in me.

Anyway, let’s get that out of the system with some stair climbing, shall we?

(Written Friday…)

I’m back. Back in a tin can, with Vegas back in the desert dust and depression. The title of this post is a great line from Wilco’s “How to Fight Loneliness,” the first song to pop from mypod on the flight home. The APA show was good for me. It was great to chat with many of our customers. They are so hungry for that dialogue… that relationship. I’ll do it again next month at the SHRM show and I’ll be better prepared after this weeks experience.

As for off-hours observations, the first is that smoking is allowed in the casinos and you have to navigate them to get to the conference center, restaurants, etc… There’s no avoiding the maze of craps and cards and it’s 24/7. One morning I walked down in search of caffeine. I was darkened by the drooping dropping ashes into cups detained desperately by one armed dreamers downing one more drink… It was 6:30am.

Still, I do love the fakeness of it all. Fake skies, fake cities, fake tits (not that there’s anything wrong with that…), fake love and fake Elvi… Depraved Disney.

Just today the whole Memorial Day thing dawned on me. It also occurs to me I have no plans at all. I’m sure I’ll take the boy to see “Pirates of the Caribbean.” Hey, maybe it’s at the local Drive-In. I hear it’s hot back home.

Update: The tech support folks at the basketball hoop manufacturer responded to my plea with a possible solution to the “This step cannot be reversed” quandary:

“You will need to make sure that there isn’t any hardware on the poles, take a piece of cardboard or a blanket and place it on your driveway, kneel down and hold the pole horizontal (flat) about waist high while you are kneeling, you will then drop the pole from waist high onto the blanket or piece of cardboard about 50-60 times and the vibration should release the poles.”

I guess I do have plans.

A sweet combination of 0’s and 1’s are currently digitally empowered via push technology to eDeliver Social Distortion’s “Winners and Losers” to exceed the expectations of my synapses and soul. Yeah, I’m in Marketing. Anyway, I’ve never seen the band, but plan to soon. Here’s a current lineup of local summer shows I hope will tickle my cochlea and undress my last retinal nerve.

Thu 06/28/07 Wilco Bank of America Pavilion
Mon 07/16/07 Jason Isbell T.T. The Bear’s
Sun 07/29/07 Social Distortion Hampton Beach Casino
Fri 08/24/07 John Hiatt Summer Music Series – Lowell
Fri 09/07/07 Bob Newhart Boston Convention Center

Note: I don’t wish to smell, touch or taste any of these people. As for my sixth sense, well, it’s always engaged.

It must be the altitude, radiation or smorgasbord of smells in the bathroom, but my brain seems to take on the qualities of the one planted into Peter Boyle by Gene Wilder in “Young Frankenstein.” For those of you who’ve been deprived of this Mel Brooks classic, the brain was obtained by the hump-backed “Igor,” played by Marty Feldman. When “the monster” begins to exhibit behaviors not assimilated at charm school, Wilder’s “Dr. Frederick Frahn-ken-steen” inquires about the brain:

Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: Igor, would you mind telling me whose brain I did put in?
Igor: And you won’t be angry?
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: I will NOT be angry.
Igor: Abby someone.
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: Abby someone. Abby who?
Igor: Abby Normal.
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: Abby Normal?
Igor: I’m almost sure that was the name.
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: Are you saying that I put an abnormal brain into a seven and a half foot long, fifty-four inch wide GORILLA?
[shakes and grabs him]
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: IS THAT WHAT YOU’RE TELLING ME?

Anyway, when this tin can finally pushes to the gate I should be in Sin City. This is my first of three trips to Vegas in 2007. This one is for the American Payroll Association Congress and it’s at Bally’s. The Society for Human Resources Management conference is in June, followed by our own customer conference in early November. I believe both of those are at the Venetian, a fabulous hotel and the home of a Guggenheim Museum.

Aside from chatting with customers and learning about what else is happening in the world of payroll, I hope to catch a show at the Improv at Harrah’s. I consider it primary research…

They say the road to a freaking nervous breakdown is paved with good intentions… Oh, “they” don’t? Well I guess I just made it up. My good intentions today resulted in the wrong hole lined up with the slot in bottom pole (BP) and a consequence of the proverbial irreversible pole stuck in a hole. Um, a basketball pole. Adding injury to insult, I scored a nice blood blister on the middle finger of my left hand trying to reverse the permanent blunder. See? I frantically scanned the directions for a solution, but only received a rebuking: “This step cannot be reversed.” Like answering “yes” to the “do these pants make my butt look big” question, some things just cannot be reversed…

It’s times like these I’m glad I have my stair-climber and that I didn’t have to assemble it. In 30 minutes I rediscovered the humor in the situation and devoured a 40 page report of bars, lines and fourth order polynomials. All while abusing my eardrums with the cure to my almost everything: rock and roll.

I have some note cards with images like this by Mark Rothko.

They’re cool, but $72,840,000?

The Edward Hopper show at the MFA is one I’m looking forward to. He paints isolation in a way I really identify with. Here are a few isolated reviews…

The Phoenix

Newsweek

Camille Pissarro is my favorite of the Impressionists. Pissarro: Creating the Impressionist Landscape is coming to the Milwaukee Art Museum June 9–September 9, 2007.

Jerry Falwell died this week. I won’t miss his deluded self-righteous bluster from the wing on the right. We can thank him and other nuts like Pat Robertson for brainwashing enough people who don’t think on their own to get “W” elected.

It will be interesting to see how Roger Clemens pitches for the Yanks. Amazingly, at 45 he’s still hurling, just like his idol and fellow Texan, Nolan Ryan. As for the Yankees, I hope they get it together and make it a race. It’s not very compelling or fun without them.

Wilco put out a new record today, “Sky Blue Sky.” It’s been 12 years since the release of their first, “AM” on Mar 28, 1995. With one click, Apple depleted $9.99 from my checking account and with props to Bob Metcalfe, the music is flowing. It’s a “mood” record that sounds like it was recorded in the pre-dawn still. It’s warming my soul like sitting in one of two matching bathtubs overlooking a stunning valley sunset touching fingertips with my woman while the drugs kick in. Yeah, something like that. Upon first listen, it’s got me. It’s nice to listen to new Wilco. It doesn’t have any baggage.

Wilco is on Letterman tonight and will bring it June 28 at the Bank of American Pavilion. I’ve got my tickets.

I’m worried about this world we live in. Yesterday, as I waited for Jessica to come out of the grocery store, I observed as a woman emptied her grocery cart and walked it toward the store. Suddenly, she pushed it forward and watched as it rolled TO THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD. Satisfied with her effort, she turned and walked back to her car, backed out of the space and drove away. I was stunned. As I retrieved the empty carriage of this equally vapid dope, I wondered, “where do these people come from and why am I in the midst of them?” Unfortunately, those of us burdened with thought are living in a sequel to George Romero’s, “Night of the Living Dead,” and what’s dead are brain cells. I mean, if you have even half a brain, you are so outnumbered by those with just a stubby brain stem loosely connected to a crumply mass of mushy pork rinds.

The decline of the American Empire is upon us. Brain cells are down. Fat cells are up and our investments are dominated by stuff that blows up. While we play out the string of wasted lives and wasted capital spawned by a failed president elected by these red state yahoos, countries like China and India are investing in education and infrastructure to support their dominance of the 21st century. Of course instead of acknowledging that we’ve put ourselves in this situation, the right wing will instead dust off the menace of “Red China” and another spiral of conflict will ensue. The last hot flash will arrive while the zombies sit in front of their TV’s watching “reality.”