Lay Down Sally

It is actually a neglected masterwork of pop songs. Not the best tune on 'Slowhand' but that LP is really a towering Everest. The very worst thing on 'Slowhand' is better than most everything else on the airwaves back then. Worst tune is of course "Cocaine" and my generation is rightly called to account for the 70's but take the nuance?

Was a crazy time and personal excess was the cool beans. Even "Cocaine" has its merits. It's a clunky simple riff; a stadium anthem. And it sure was a crowd pleaser in the era.

The height of Clapton's personal creativity was 'Slowhand' and '461 Ocean Blvd' before it. Good stuff there. Though I was bit of a snob in my wayward youth, I've long been a supporter of straight out pop songs. They're really hard to write. Frampton's one bit in the spotlight, amazing work. Mikey Jackson's 'Thriller' too, just beautiful in its seeming simplicity, hiding a staggering complexity.

And that of course brings me logically to the topic of fish rains in Australia. Yep, it's been raining fish in Australia lately. Perch to be exact. Delicious, but lots of bones.

Very strange things have been falling from the sky throughout recorded human history. In the 19th century, a block of ice fell from a clear blue sky in Alabama. Had a turtle inside. The ice hunk melted, turtle woke up and crawled away.

Journalism was rife with incorrect reporting and sensationalism back then (not like now in these enlightened times) so I'll just strike off frozen turtles.

Was a big deal back in early 1800's where some locals insisted they'd seen fish fall from the sky. Scientists of the time dismissed the claims. "Fishmongers headed home from market day dumped unsold wares. Some rustics came along and jumped to conclusions." Yeah, they said that, in print. That's a kind of quicksand always lurking for indocrinated intellectuals. If honest people with their own eyes saw something that doesn't fit your assumptions... well it didn't happen.

Mind you, at this same time Science didn't believe in meteorites. I've read their arguments, quite persuasive myopic drivel. "Look up in the sky. Do you see rocks up there?" Yeah, well now we know better, and I own a few meteorites.

And now it's undeniable (has been by real scientists for decades) sometimes fish fall from the sky. Oh, also chestnuts, shrimp, frogs, tree leaves, at times from a clear sky. Also red rain.

There's an engineering saying. Theory follows observation. Once fish rains were dismissed as the ravings of ignorant rustics. Now we have video and it can't be denied any longer.

Science explanations are interesting. A freak tornadic wind scoops up fish from a pond, takes them maybe 50,000 feet in the air and then rains them down, where they hit the ground still alive. Nope, I don't see any rocks up in the sky either.

Myself, I'd more respect a "We got NO freaking clue here!" than witch doctor mumblings. It happens. Sometimes it rains curious objects and organisms. This world is like a really catchy pop song.

At times, it's enough just to listen and smile.

Dead peoples' things

Now that is an interesting headline! "County Board plans sewer hike." Heck, anybody can walk in the woods; there's something distinctive about a sewer hike.

Walking among Ms. Carini's things felt distinctive too. Player piano in the downstairs hall, with all the rolls in a big box. One can assume there'd been times when music and laughter filled the big house.

And it is a big house. Three stories, at least 4500 sq. feet of floor space. Lots of cracked plaster up there in the 20 foot ceilings. Look closer, some serious water damage. Where additions join the original structure, that's always the trouble spots in these old homes. House was built before electrification and indoor plumbing; I kept trying to get a sense of the original floor plan, but it's tough.

I usually do pretty good with that sort of thing, but I was distracted. I was distracted 'cause I was in Ms. Carini's house. Yeah, know what the funniest thing is? Walk up to an airport restroom stall, jiggle the handle and you almost always get "Somebody's in here." Oh sure, statistically possible to run up on a randy Senator and get a "Hellloooo Sailor!" but mostly it's "Somebody's in here."

I like that. Something poetic about declarative statements on one's personhood most likely coming when their pants are at ankle position. Well walking among Ms. Carini's things I kept feeling, "Somebody was in here" and it interfered with my legendary cold analytical skills.

Just recent as Christmas an old lady lived here with decades and decades of memories. Upstairs there's a wardrobe with motheaten WW2 uniforms. I imagine many letters were exchanged in those days, many prayers offered. I went through her book collection. Historical romance tripe; I think she stopped reading in the late 1950's.

Trying to get a sense of Ms. Carini was very tough. People came by to check on her, she probably watched TV. Her last years were likely confined to a few downstairs rooms. There were no family photos for sale so I presume there's extended family out there.

Lady who sold me the table (never take your wife to an estate sale) is almost as enigmatic as Ms. Carini. I don't know if she's a trust fund baby or what, but she had an obvious poise about her. At some point she contacted Ms. Carini somehow, and bought house and contents, years in advance of the old girl's passing. Very interesting. Perhaps the money came in handy.

But Ms. Carini, living in that big house where the player piano music still echoed, and brother was overseas fighting the Japs and visitors after Daddy passed was all clear as daylight for her, all at the same time.

I wonder what that was like, being the last living repository of so many memories. I wonder what she liked for breakfast, what she watched on TV, what she enjoyed talking about. Never will know, and I just despise the thought there's stuff I can't ever know.

Walking in her house is the closest I can ever get though. The things, I just don't get a sense that she had much devotion to them really. They were kept as fetishes of the life moments associated with them.

I came home with her bed table (never take your wife to an estate sale, I can't stress that too much) and it's a gaudy, pretty little six-sided thing sat upstairs next to where she slept before the stairs got dangerous and exhausting. Hauling it outside, well that's very likely first time that table's left that room since FDR was in the White House.

That table probably heard her prayers for brother overseas, and a lamp sat on it illuminating her reading of historical romance tripe novels. That table heard her weep when her brother was senselessly murdered in 1985.

So now the table's going to live with me, and the cast of colorful characters God in His/Its wisdom (sense of humor) has ordained I be the somewhat sane center of.

Eh, we'll give the table a good home. It really is an interesting little thing to look at. If my theory that inanimate objects can soak up emotional energy is correct, there's player piano music and the sound of laughter stuck in that old table.

So, what else do I have? Oh yeah! NEVER NEVER take your wife to an estate sale!

Maybe you're sticky

Here's the scenario. Back in the 70's an unsuccessful, obscure movie was made about junkie life. It was semi-documentary style, featuring both actors and actual junkies. So a few years later, some movie critic is writing on it, mentions that one of the junkies was a former child actor.

Now here's a few points? It'd seem that if one writes that any former child actor has substance abuse problems, law of averages favors the statement being correct. This particular former child star, no name recognition there. Explain what TV show he was on, and eventually you'd get a "Oh yeah, him. Never knew what his name was." Third though, this here former child actor wasn't a junkie.

What followed was 27 years of lawsuits. And Mr. Gray eventually prevailed, getting the public apology, made to a public that had no earthly idea who Mr. Gray was. In this scenario, we have a couple of very sticky fellows.

I understand Mr. Gray better than Mr. Maltin, but just barely. If you've made a journalistic mistake and hurt someone's feelings, why not own up to it and make a sincere apology? Why 27 years? Mr. Gray, well spotlight moved on from him a long time ago, and he felt moved to defend his good name. But 27 freakin' years?

That is sticking to your guns, long past the point where it makes any sense. I'm not judging, I'm merely observing this is how some approach their life challenges.

A very un-sticky approach is in the song, "Dazed and Confused." Iconic Led Zep tune, and I must say I'm glad the Beatles broke up when they did. Much as I revere the Liverpool lads, that first Led Zep LP was start of a new musical era, with new royalty. "Dazed and Confused" is a stolen song. Not stolen in sense of twisting some old bluesman's basic structure around. Early Zep was notorious for that. No, I mean stolen in sense of breaking into your home and taking your stuff.

"D & C" wasn't written by some bluesman with a tragic arc who died before Jimmy Page learned to play guitar. Nor is it a basic structure that got the Zep treatment. It sounds from Zep about exactly as it did from its writer, Jake Holmes.

Jake's still pretty much alive, well and happy. He even knows exactly when his song got stolen. According to him, he was playing a set in Greenwich village 1968 when pre-Led Zep Jimmy Page stopped in. This isn't the idle claim of an aging hippie either. "Dazed and Confused" was already on vinyl at that time; Jake's second LP if memory serves.

Oh, I should point out at this juncture? Jake Holmes is the most culturally influential person you've never heard of. If you're too young to think you were at Woodstock, and too old to get Rap, Jake Holmes OWNS the ad jingles inside your head.

"See the USA in a Chevrolet"
"Wouldn't you like to be a Pepper too?"
"Be, all that you can be, in the Army"

Yeah, Jake wrote all that dreck, for which he was obscenely well compensated, and he also wrote a darned good song that Led Zep stole from him. So what'd he do about having "Dazed and Confused" unceremoniously ripped off from him?

Nothin' is what. In fact, I get the idea Jake thinks the whole deal is rather amusing. Well, I'm not being entirely accurate in saying Mr. Holmes did nothing. According to him, he once wrote a letter to Jimmy Page. Something along lines of, "I really consider the song as an unorthodox collaborative effort. Don't you think you should at least put my name down as shared writer credit though?"

He never heard back from Page, and so went on with his life. That's a very un-sticky approach to life's challenges there. While I'm nobody's judge, I'd a lot more enjoy spending an afternoon with Mr. Holmes than Mr. Gray, I betcha.

Now David, that certainly was wonderful, and I'll be sure to do a needlepoint sampler on the topic in the near future, preserving your thoughts for posterior. You got anything more literal, concrete on 'sticky' people?

Well, there is Liew Thow Lin, who's known as the Magnet Man of Malaysia. Retired contractor, raises fortunes for charity by sticking metallic objects to his chest. No kidding, you can put a fork, frying pan or clothes iron on his chest and it just stays there, defying gravity. It's not a parlor trick either. He's been studied by lots of scientists. Best they can come up with is Mr. Lin has very sticky skin surface, as applies to metallic objects. Or more correctly, as metallic objects apply to him I guess. Doesn't sound like much of a theory to me, but it's all we got for the time being. I've seen pictures of the guy with dozens of spoons stuck to his chest. Very strange really.

What else have I got? Oh yeah, Leonard Maltin is a drug addict. There, that should keep me busy for the next 27 years...

Those Lyin' Mayans

Hey, we haven't had a caption contest in the longest time! So take a look at this picture, what do ya think it is:
1. Cover art for Sir 'Liberace' next CD
2. Ex-Beatle George Harrison relaxing after a concert
3. New poster for the Universalist/Unitarian Church

Nope, it's none of those. Don't feel bad though; I thought it was George Harrison too. This is actually an illustration from a childrens' alphabet book in India. Oh, I know exactly why it was published. I can respect the logic behind it, even while observing it's not going to stop Him. But I don't want to write about those Indians. I've got different Indians on my mind.

Been a lot of media here lately regarding a Mayan prophecy about cataclysmic events coming in 2012. Yeah, celestial convergence, end of the world as we've known it, stuff like that. To me, looks more like a convergence between bad science & bad history. I don't know personally of a single ancient culture that had a doomsday concept, so I doubt the Mayans did either. This 'prophecy' is more likely end of the Feathered Serpent epoch, something like that. Instead of dwelling on the prophecy though, I'd rather think about why it's getting traction.

There is that lure of the 'other' wisdom. Probably ever since humans started living in complex societal structures, folk have believed there's some lost knowledge outside their conventions, that places everything in true context. So there's a deep seated wish to find and connect with the wisdom of the 'other.'

It's all over our culture. Hey, remember that old TV show hosted by Leonard Nimoy, was called "In Search of..." I think the whole dot dot dot thing was a nice touch. Everything was hare brained speculation with question marks.

"Could the ancient lines of Nazca be navigational guides for visiting space aliens?"

Well yeah Leonard, I suppose they "could" be. But if I'm a species that can build interstellar spacecraft, safely traverse hundreds of millions of miles of deep space, and then the last couple miles I have to stop and ask stone age humans for directions, I might feel a tad embarrassed myself.

Eh, it's all about wanting to find & connect with the lost wisdom of the 'other' in an increasingly confusing, complex world.

Fascination with a Doomsday though, I'll never be able to figure that one. It's been going on in Western culture since the Industrial Revolution; I do know that. Not all of them turn out as sadly as that Heaven's Gate deal. There's a very respected Protestant sect right now, founded by disgruntled followers of a guy who kept predicting Jesus' return date. I imagine right this very minute there are at least six Doomsday movements doing their biz, faithfully expecting Jesus, or a comment, or the Great Feathered Serpent to swoop down on a particular day marked on the calendar, known only to the faithful.

I don't know why some people go for that stuff, but I know a better way to approach it. Look around you at the little tribe your life has assembled. OK, come 2012 the big Feathered Serpent will arrive to fly them to Alpha Centauri or some other place where Donald Trump's hairstyle is considered normal. Two years from now, they're all gone from your life, forever.

So why don't you start treating them like you believe that will happen? Not for me to say what that means in your life. If you phone some people daily to say, "I can't hardly wait for 2012" and hang up, that's your biz. But there might be somebody you're wanting to thank, or somebody you're wanting to ask something, or apologize to, or just spend more time with. Well, you have two years to do that stuff. You know those Mayan Feathered Serpents, they're notoriously punctual.

And when 2012 gets here and nothing happens, you can imagine the Feathered Serpent got caught in a holding pattern over O'Hare, but will be here directly. Then you can behave all over again, as if you only have two more years with this tribe you've assembled.

Don't mind me though. I don't have that cachet of being the 'other' with hidden arcane wisdom. I'm just a bald hillbilly. Were I a dead Mayan astronomer though, you betcha!

Bastirds with an E

In every long term relationship a more or less informal division of labor takes hold. I mean look, you don't think Butch & Sundance swapped off the gunfighting chores in interest of 'fairness' do you? Well, it's the same in marriage too.

Generally, I'd say wives tend to do more things and more frequently. This is not to knock husbands, who often have specific and quite useful skills, for which there's a limited demand. Spider killer is very indispensable for example; it's simply that meal preparation hits the daily schedule with more regularity.

Now in my marriage? Difficult to explain really. Yes, spider killing. Also take out garbage, and random heavy lifting. But my core strengths are:
1.) Asking me is quicker than looking it up on the computer.
3.) Really good at math.
2.) Ability to solve seemingly intractable practical challenges.

Like that flush mounted bulb, way up there in the kitchen ceiling. Hard enough to get hold of in the first place, but when you try to turn the bulb the socket turns too. Well I solved that problem. How? I'm not telling everbody on the internet! That's intellectual property!

But it's core strength number one that most recently came to the fore. Yes, my wealth of knowledge that, when you get right down to it, most of which ain't worth knowing in the first place.

My wife walked in the door saying, "I rented that new WW2 movie with Brad Pitt in it." A few minutes later, DVD is playing and I say, "Hey, it's Bo Svenson! He was in 'Walking Tall part three' what a lame movie that was!"

"Well where is Brad Pitt?"
"In kindegarten probably, when this movie was made."
"But I rented 'Inglorious Bastards' so what's this?"
"This is 'Inglorious Bastards' ma'am."

Before it got too much like an Abbot & Costello routine, I explained that "Inglorious Basterds" is Tarantino's homage to the ensemble suicide mission WW2 flicks of the 1970's with "Dirty Dozen" being finest one. So Quentin being a film buff titled his movie after this, with misspelling as an in-joke.

Therefore my resevoir of useless information came to the rescue again. Did the explanation make her any less frustrated? Nope, not one bit really. I've found that's often the outcome when I dispense useless information, but I don't let myself get discouraged.

Jesus, the Piggy Bank

This week a washed up British pop star said Jesus was gay, and within 15 minutes the news had gone around the globe three times. I'm not going to name this pop star, because I won't play his game. 'Sir Liberace' will do, since the career track is similar.

Now on one level, I'm certain Sir Liberace meant it as a sincere compliment. By the way, did I mention that knighthoods must be really easy to come by these days? They're probably being given away in charity raffles now. But lest I digress; the main reason Sir Liberace said that drivel was for publicity... and it worked! It worked on media outlets with no real interest in Christ, and excelled with pro-Christ media.

And that's the way it works. Insult Jesus and the non-believer media will print it cause controversy sells. Believer media will print it to rally the troops, and that sells. There's a lot of money to be made insulting Jesus! Christopher Hitchen's "God is not good" was on NYT best seller list for quite a while for instance.

There's a trusty stereotype of the TV preacher raking in millions while living a debauched lifestyle and mocking the faithful he fleeces. Christians should be held to higher standards, but do we think often enough about how non-believers exploit Jesus for profit?

Had Sir Liberace instead said, "Jesus was the greatest person who ever lived" would anybody have printed that? No, they wouldn't. It's not controversial, hence no ad revenues.

Now, I'm supposed to be a right wing extremist (or so I've been told recently) therefore I might be expected to say something like, "Hey Sir Liberace, why don't you go ahead and opine on Mohammed's sexual orientation while you're at it?"

While I might daydream such a thing (I have a sick sense of humor) we all know Sir Liberace won't do that, and we know why. But in engineering, you're taught that usually in a manufacturing problem, one has to patiently ask 'why' about five times, before getting at the root of the deal.

It's true, Sir Liberace calling Mohammed gay would lead to more than headlines. But for much of Christianity's history Sir Liberace would've been stoned to death, or burned alive for insulting Christ. The difference is that Islam remains in stasis forever, while Jesus hasn't forgotten His followers.

Across centuries the history of Christendom is a sucession of dissenters who called the Faith to the shadow of the Cross, often at the cost of their lives. We no longer believe Sir Liberace should be burned for his blasphemy. Oddly enough though, the origin of the word 'faggot' is a bundle of sticks used to build a fire. He he he he that's funny! Oh man, I crack me up sometimes.

So our faith is strong enough, you can insult our Saviour. And boy, is THAT a long line! Therefore Jesus is not only Light of the World, but also a piggy bank. Yep, pick Him up and shake Him. Maybe a million dollar book deal there, or a little media attention in a life without any other real center.

Sorry for the Duration

All lists are subjective, but the names Babe Ruth, Seabiscuit, Michael Jordan and Mohammed Ali would belong on any fair minded person's list of greatest American atheletes. Also Tiger Woods.

Still very early in his career, he's done legendary things, like winning a tournament with an injury that later required surgery.

So it's worth taking a moment to observe a modern prodigy's attempts to rehabilitate his public image, and what that means in context of modern culture.

There was a time in this great land, when the railroad didn't run... hmmm, David? I think that's a Gordon Lightfoot lyric. Oh yeah! Knew it sounded familiar for some reason. There was a time in this great land when Tiger's career would be over forever, period. Maybe go play golf in Europe, but that's about it. These times, societal shunning is less rigorously practiced. There are pros & cons to that. Yeah, it is a very effective method. Shoplifting is nearly unheard of in Japan for example. But shunning has always sloshed over on innocent family members, every time I've seen it practiced. Eh, it's a mixed bag; still practiced in rural America but no longer much of a defining cultural current really.

Therefore, Tiger has a chance to convince fans who identify with him in a neurotic way, that nope, he never was person they thought he was, but he's trying to become that person. I'm not being cynical; that's the man's mission, if he wants the endorsements back.

A few things come to my mind... what is this trend about apologizing to people you haven't wronged? And of course Tiger is sorry. Everybody who gets caught, regrets having been caught. We 'sophisticated' Westerners roll eyes about cultures where miscreants are scourged in public, yet we expect the same thing of our little tin media gods? It seems our culture has progressed from a culture of shunning, to one where elaborate, largely meaningless rituals are required. Why do we do that? Why do we care about the private life of a person we'll never meet? Who buys products based on Tiger Wood's endorsement anyways?

There is one thing though, for which I personally can never forgive Tiger Woods. Read the story on his speech today, and was wiping tears from my eyes. One of those watching was former Tiger Beat member Simone Ste. Claire (or something like that) a recently retired porn star. She watched the broadcast with her attorney, and I only hope lots of Kleenex was available. Though not named specifically in Tiger's Mea Culpa today, nor has she been named by anybody except herself, Ms. Ste. Claire was clearly heartbroken. She said something like (I can't even quote me accurately) "I feel so violated, I trusted him. I want him to look me in the eyes and apologize for the unwanted attention he's subjected me to."

For that one thing Mr. Woods, I can never forgive you. You embarrassed a porn star. Have you no shame sir?