Hey, check out this great compilation of foods and herbs/spices that all have strong cancer-fighting properties: cancerisdead.com/

I wish I had more time to fluch out this post - I'll just try to highlight a few events from recent days:
1. Yay! I'm at work. Why am I happy? Because I have a goddamned job and it ain't so bad.
2. the kids have been cracking me up lately, although Henry has been waging an all-out war against the Christmas tree and train. I think I've used more superglue in the last week than I have all of 2010.
3. I used superglue to fix my torn thumbnail - torn from hastily ripping open a package of Christmas cookies. Bad? Good? Will the superglue give me cancer? I hope not, but I read somewhere that the medical product known as Second Skin, for burns, is basically superglue, so I'm at least happy to not have a chunk of the center of my thumbnail missing.
4. It's my Friday and I'll leave work early if I want to! Because I can.
5. No gigs or practice this weekend, but I'm looking forward to singing a secret song at the Guilty Pleasures event hosted by Dave Snider at Sam Bond's on January 8th. I can't tell you which song I'm doing, but you are going to flip when you hear it. Straight outa 1970's classic easy-rock hit radio, you are going to love my rendition of ________________ by ___ __________!
Okay, enough is enough. I must log out now and go live life. May the force be with you until next time.

Ed

Here's a pic of me and the boys playing at Sam Bond's last Friday as the closing act for Hot Drama's cd release. We had a great time, although our set was a little on the sloppy side - I guess that's what happens when you have to wait all night until your slot comes up, killing time by drinking too many beers (at least that was my case.) I think I've finally figured out at this stage of my life that music, for me, is not about wowing the fans with perfection but rather the joy of playing music, period. I try to always have fun at any show I'm lucky enough to be a part of because life is too short to worry about miserable shit, like missed notes or dropped breaks or sorry-ass solos that don't really go anywhere. Every night is different, just like going to work - every day is different with the same old shit, so why not enjoy?
I guess the converse side of that mode of thinking is that if you are too comfortable with life and several layers of your illusions have been stripped away from decades of living, you kind of lose that youthful ambition and drive that propels so many musicians and artists. What would Iggy pop have turned out like if he never became popular? Can you imagine him working in an office or selling you a used car? Or Jim Morrison, what if he'd gone through AA and became a volunteer at his local church pancake breakfast and drove his kids to school in a mini van? That's the story that no one wants to read - people much prefer our heroes to have sordid ups and downs, both in life and in the sack. Drugs, sex, violence, drunken misbehavior - these things contribute to our cultural mythology. Growing up, having the family and behaving nicely never seem to make it into the encyclopedia of rock, but I think there are a lot of us in that camp - maybe tens of thousands more of us than any occurrence of a Jim Morrison or an Iggy Pop or a Rick James. I guess that is why legends are legends - because a legend is a story that doesn't seem to happen in everyday life.
But life is so damn good, who's complaining? Fuck politics, war and negative thinking - up with coffee, family, vans, guitars, sex, wine, food, music and friends. That is the stuff I live for ;)

Start this post with a little shot of some of my favorite NY R n R - Dick Manitoba's Wild Kingdom featuring Dick and Ross the Boss from the Dictators. Shitty quality, I know, but at least the guitar cuts through.
Nothing to complain about in my sphere. I've been doing the regular life-thing - working as little as possible (too much for my taste but grateful to be employed), spending time with the kids, who are super-cute at this stage ( 11 mos, 3 years and 18 years), missing tina as she has been working a ton at her new job, bartending at Cafe Lucky Noodle and, of course, playing gigs with the Underlings, though at a somewhat slowed rate compared to our previous 3 years. In fact, we're playing at Sam Bond's Garage on Friday night with Tom Heinl and Hot Drama, so come down and kcik it with us for a beer or two if you have the guts to do so.
The holidays are upon us and I'm looking forward to taking a few days off near the end of the month. I'm always too broke to spoil the kids the way my parents spoilt me - does anyone else here remember remember waking up to massive piles of amazing presents and goodies, just joyful Christmas-anarchy-orgy-style? I can't for the life of me imagine throwing down enough money during the month of December to pull that off. Maybe I just have a habit of not thinking on a large scale, but I think mainly my family had more money when I was a kid and then they must have spent if all on Christmas because I think all the family money is gone now. Oh well, I have enough to buy some beer, champagne, some free-range wildebeast and at least get some pretty good stuff for the young'ns . P.S. Santa if you are reading I could really use a cool 1970's Chevy van with a Playboy Bunny bubble window and shag carpet inside, thank you very much, even though I probably haven't been good enough to deserve it.
I'm looking forward to possibly seeing my bro, Boner this weekend when he and his throat come through Eugene/Springfield. Otherwise, I will write at you all later. Happy end of the year to you all.

Ed

Too many inputs. Too much stimulation. When I log on to my computer and take in my view of the world on a computer screen, I forget that I am neglecting a real, physical world that is just outside my office door. People are real, friends are real, even if they live in another time. I spend a considerable amount of time with my friends from the past, re-living moments that happened then but still feel current to me. Does anyone else feel this way?
When I write, “too many inputs“, I mean there is just too much information passing into my eyes and ears. I’m sure that anyone who has lived awhile has the perception that in the past, i.e., “the good old days “, things were simpler as well as more wholesome and meaningful. Letters came in paper form and contained thoughts or conversation between friends. Punctuation was used. Music was something that you had to seek out – it didn’t pound you into submission at every click – and when you found music that you could relate to, it was like making another friend, an ally in the world against the injustice of mediocre, over-packaged art forms. Movies were an experience that entailed going to a theater and mixing with the rest of the local population. Now, we have the means to watch a movie anywhere on a 2”X 3” screen and we act like this is a good thing. All I can think of is: poor kids these days. They’re getting it all but at what cost?

Prepare for grumpy old man rant! I guess I’ve just been thinking lately about mortality and the meaning of life (or the lack thereof). It is easy to get into the bubble of your own little world and think everything is fine, plans are being laid, things to do, places to see, but all it takes is the passing away of a friend or two to remind you that this here life situation isn’t a permanent state of affairs. You know the quote, “Live every day like it’s your last and one day you’ll be right”? I guess this guy said it. I try to remember to take it light and rejoice in my family, friends and the people I like and maybe think a little less about politics, war, murder and bullshit and people and things that make me ill. I still have visions that one day, I will be able to force my version of Utopia upon humanity, but until then, I’ll just continue to practice being a better hedonist.

Well, damn it, another friend has died. Joe Brooks, a friend to many, a well-respected man in these parts, has died, leaving behind a grieving family and many saddened friends. Joe was like family in a way, since he was married to my former wife, Spirit and he was the step-father of my son Cosmo. His death has hit his family hardest of all, and my thoughts go out to Spirit, Cosmo and Joe’s daughter Fiona. He died suddenly while running a 5k footrace in Elijah Bristow Park, not far from where the Brooks family lived in Dexter. The death has been ruled as being a massive heart attack. This really sucks.
I first met Joe in 1995, when I auditioned for his band Billy Jack – he was the drummer for those who don’t know, and he was also the driving force behind the band, booking shows and doing most of the managerial duties. He was a committed bandmate and a great guy, a true hard worker in the local music scene in the 80’s and 90’s. Billy Jack was a fun experience for me, even the part where I was kicked out of the band – another valuable life lesson. Joe and I remained friends. Spirit and I had dinner with him and Vanessa when they were still a couple. Eventually, things went the way things go, Spirit and I broke up and then she later got together with Joe. They made a great couple and we got along well for the most part. I always had the highest respect for Joe and was ultimately grateful that it was him that ended up being the step-dad of Cosmo. I knew he was a good guy with his head on straight and a good work ethic – not to mention a big heart. I knew he would be a good role model for my kid as well as his own, and he indeed was. I don’t think we will truly know the loss of Joe for quite awhile – he affected so many people in a positive way and was a pillar for his family. This really sucks, but thank you Joe Brooks, just for being here on planet earth with us for the time you were. Your memory and deeds will live on.
Ed

Okay, this is my first post in a few months. It’s kind of funny to have an old (nearly dead) blog. I’ve been doing most of my internet-sharing on facebook and I still lurk on myspace a little bit, but I like checking in to my few friend’s blogs to see if they are still active. Dan Jones of course always stays relatively busy and posts a lot of his comings and goings on his blog. Justin Hrabe, the hub blog of many of my old-time friends, always has a good combination of music and musings on world affairs and Central-North -American living.
Me, I’ve been living the good life, mostly in Eugene, but I did manage to get out of town a couple times this summer + I got to go to the river at least twice during our all-too-brief sunny days. Back in August, I made a list of things I wanted to blog about . It read like this:
1. Louis has been harvesting green beans
2. Carl has (leg) cancer
3. We’re going to the (county) fair
4. Summer Vaca – we went to LA
5. Went back to work
6. I turned 40 and had a big party at Sam Bond’s
7. Boner had a throat lump (removed, successfully)
Boner – or Brian – I’ll start with a shout out to you. You are the one friend that reminds me to update this blog and we always have entertaining exchanges on Justin’s blog comments; I’ve got to say, I’m glad you survived your throat lump removal and follow-up treatment. Now, just go buy yourself a new bass and start practicing for the 2012 Garden Weasel reunion tour.
This year, I’ve had a few friends stricken with the dread cancer. 3 out of 4 have a pretty good prognosis – good odds of recovery with treatment and lifestyle adjustment. Brian, Slayer Carl and Robin, you are the lucky ones. One friend wasn’t so lucky and passed more quickly than any of us expected – talking here now about my old Humboldt buddy Tom McConnel, a great guy and a serious music fan whom I worked with at café marina in Eureka back in 1990/1991. Tom and I used to shoot the shit while working behind the scenes with grumpy cooks and harried waitresses , me washing dishes and him up on the cooking line. His manner was ultimately NorCal – a slight surfer inflection in his speech, a cynical sense of humor that shielded his sensitive, poets-heart from the barrage of insensitivity and bullshit that he had to endure on a daily basis. Tom loved Tom Waits, Nick Cave, Johnny Cash and the Descendents and we always had a laugh about Henry Rollins and GG Allin, two people that we admired as well as loathed at the time. Tom liked to drink and it was most certainly a necessity in his life just to endure. He used to shake so bad in the mornings that I do believe he was one of those that needed a beer before his coffee on certain days. Harsh, but for all I dish about my late friend’s habits, he was a lovable imp.
Years after I had moved from Humboldt county, Tom would call me up at all hours of the night, drunk off his ass, and berate me for being such a straight little wiener-boy, or for being married, or for having bad taste in music or whatever; I would almost always pick up the call and just banter with him, even if I would have been better off sleeping. He was just funny as hell and I loved it.
In more recent years, we still kept in touch via email and then facebook, but I learned that he had stopped drinking years ago due to a bad liver diagnosis. He was still the same, cynical cat. Most recently, I defaced an old Flipside magazine I had by cutting out a picture of GG Allin’s head and pasting it into a Christmas card for Tom with the words, “ Merry Fuckin’ Christmas you Scumfuc.” ( a term of endearment ). I hope he enjoyed it.
It seemed like soon after that, he started to have major problems with his guts – something about cysts and operations and procedures. Tom was in touch less and less and horribly, after enduring 3 or 4 operations and prolonged healing sessions, he was diagnosed with lung cancer. He was pissed, I think because he was just about to get a clean bill of health and here had an even worse diagnosis. The cancer was already advanced and doctors gave him a year to live. I expected him to last that long and hoped that I could visit him at least once before the end of all things but he ended up dying earlier than expected – about 3 weeks ago. I feel most for his parents, who took care of him until the end. According to some of my facebook friends, he didn’t want a funeral or service. Tom died quietly and now he has disappeared from our lives. Sucks, don’t it? I miss ya Tom, and even though we hadn’t seen each other for years, you were one of my favorite personalities. I’ve worked with a lot of folks, but your combination of sweetness and cynicism was unique to you, and I’m glad I knew ya.
The rest of my scheduled topics will continue next week. Have a nice day, stay healthy and party ‘til the world obeys,

Ed

What grown men do for fun on a monday night:

I only tend to blog when I have something to write about, which I suppose is better than going on and on about nothing. I enjoy the fact that the blog world seems a little more anonymous in this day and age, due to the popularity of the social network interacting that most internetizens are doing these days. It's nice to know that the pressure is off of bloggers - almost no one gives a shit and that is almost freeing in a way, 'cause writers like me don't have to be as concerned about our grammar or spelling anymore.
One blog I check in with at least once a week is, of course, Mustard Relics. I dig the way my friend Justin peels back the layers of his psyche like an onion and then throws in some choice, usually unheard-of music to boot. Check it out if you're game.
I decided to check out two bands I knew nothing about last night - Dead Meadow and Imaad Wasif. I've heard a few different friends mention Dead Meadow over the last couple of years and I knew they were heavy, Sabbath-esque psychedelic rock. I mainly just wanted to see something out of normal attention-range. I ended up digging Imaad Wasif more - a very slight and skinny dude with big hair, he reminded me of the guitarist from Mars Volta - very able-bodied, almost multi-cultural hard rock guitar. He finger-picked a lot, which provided some nice textures within the heavy psyche-rock mysticism of his songwriting style. He had an ace rhythm section of a bassist and drummer that looked hairy and sounded solid. I might listen to Imaad Wasif in the future. Dead Meadow I could tell had a strong vibe and were a very solid-sounding band, long and heavy song arrangements with sometimes Sabbathy riffs. Too many guitar solos, but I could tell that the kids at the WOW hall were diggin' it hardcore. I'm not really a patient enough music fan - I tend to value short, concise songs with interesting structures more than long, drawn-out drone rawk. After 1/2 and hour, I was ready to go home, but I took some pictures to share with you all:

Imaad Wasif and band








Dead Meadow, rockin' it at WOW hall

The Underlings' record release party went off without a hitch on Saturday. I have to say, I was blown away by the amount of cool friends, old and new, who showed up to support us. Yoyodyne from Portland and Dan Jones' new band, the Golden Motors, rocked the house and provided a great rock 'n pop soundbed for the evening of fun. My friend Eric took the above pic, which pretty much sums up the night - it was a whirl and over all-too-quickly. We sold all the records that we brought to the show that night - about 30, give or take. Once in awhile, Rock and Roll wins over apathy.

I've recently considered writing a book on procrastination, but I found myself stalled at the first paragraph. Went to make some coffee, put on a record, went to work for a couple of weeks, caused a couple of pregnancies and now here I am, back at square one, so I'll blog about a show I saw last night at the Oak St Speakeasy in Eugene.
I'm a fan of Testface, basically my friend Dave Snider and a revolving cast of players over the years. Last night was a great line up of Dave on bass + singing, local guitar hero Jake Pavlak from Yeltsin on guitar and a good drummer I am not familiar with named Rob I think. Moody indie-flavored rock with soft and loud parts and Dave's understated vocals and trippy lyrics is how I would describe it. Worth checking out. I seen 'em many times, in large and small configurations, but last night was a good show; good crowd, too - about 75-80 people by my count. I only notice because the Underlings struggle to bring folks down every time we play and we've only had good crowds at the Speakeasy a few times, but 75 people seems to fill the room nicely.
Next up was Ape Machine from Portland. I seem to recall that they once contacted us about doing a show together, which didn't happen due to schedule conflict at the time, but I would definitely play with them sometime. Total classic rock in the Sabbath/Zeppelin realm, but they did it well and the singer looked like an Ozzy-head I used to know in high school. Stoner rock with great 70's guitar sounds and a bashing, Bohnam-esque drummer. Also comparable to Pearls and Brass. We stayed for about half their set and then headed home, Tina and I, since I'm feeling old and she is feeling 8 1/2 months pregnant.

alright, talk at you cATS later,

Ed

I have to say that I’ve really been diggin’ this nice fall weather that is blowing through right now - sunny and warm during the day; cold and menacing at night. Our front yard pumpkin patch is the envy of the neighborhood, with 9 jumbo pumpkins turning from green to orange; let’s hope some high school hoodlums don’t get the wrong idea and stomp ‘em, lest there be hell to pay.
I might as well blog about the Underlings’ trek down to NorCal and back, since that was the most recent thing of note to happen around here. We rented a cargo van on a Friday to haul our asses down to Medford to play at a place called Johnny B’s – a nice, clean little joint with a rockabilly orientation. The cats who hung there said they had a greaser band called the Psyclones. Good food was also to be had at this joint.
Pony Prance – Tina, Raenie and Kelani - came down to play also and used our backline to rock the room in their own PP style. It was amusing that Raenie’s dog was hanging outside the club while they played, making friends with the cigarette-huffers outside. We, the ‘Lings, took the stage next and blurted out a thorough set, complete with drunken, couples-oriented slam-dancing. Our set was finished after a hazy hour of string and stick wrangling; when it came time to get paid, we all laughed at our good fortune – all of $13 which we offered to split with PP but they declined. Woo hoo! We put it in the band kitty and went to catch some ZZZs at the local main strip hotel. Of course, I didn’t actually get any sleep because Louis was there and tossed and turned all night, sleep-thrashing from his little floor sleeping area to our bed and back, almost on repeat. Oh well. I was so high on life and being out of town that I really didn’t care.
We split ways with the ladies and Louis after the one-star continental hotel breakfast and sped off down the freeway, back towards Grants Pass and the possibility of good coffee at a drive-through there. Mmmm. Coffee in hand, we further sped down 199 towards Cave Junction and the Illinois river.
Bryant had the forethought to bring his book of topographical maps of the area and also local fishing regulation leaflets, so we were prepared when we made a right turn off the road south of Selma and headed up the Illinois river canyon about 10 miles. We found a delightful little spot with a bridge crossing that offered good fishing and swimming opportunities for the ‘Lings, as well as a chance to meet some local boondocks stoners who were asking for a ride back into CJ. After a quick band meeting, we deemed them harmless and gave them the OK to ride with us when it came time to split. Fortunately, they got a ride in a tweaker car piloted by someone they knew that just happened to come roaring, Dukes-of Hazard-style, around the corner. We bid them, “smell ya later” and headed back on our trek.
After a predictably plastic lunch at the Denny’s in Crescent City, we blazed a trail of farts down the final, tree-studded length of the drive down into Arcata turf. ‘Round about Orick we spied a young adult black bear crossing the road in a fast yet lumbering fashion. The local nature and woods and surf where charging our ion batteries whilst we buzzed by in the van towards our destination.
Arcata: my former home and location of much of my musical schooling. It had been 8 years since I last came down to Humboldt for a visit. Not too much had changed, although there were a few new storefronts and new paint on some buildings. We parked and dis-embarked to check out the town square, which was full of folks enjoying the North Country Fair – kind of akin to our Eugene Celebration, but free, with music, food, vendors and TONS AND TONS OF PEOPLE, unlike our fair city’s somewhat depressing rain and banjo fest. We checked in at People’s Records and Wildwood Music Co and goofed off and drank more coffee until load-in time.
After parking outside the venue and taking a break in the van, we pounded on the door of the theater and were let in. We stuffed all our gear in a corner, met some nice folks who ran the joint and then met with our Humboldt bros, James and Jeff and Sean from Splinter Cell. We read our little write-up in the local rag and laughed a bit before heading up to my old radio station KHSU for a brief interview and mention on the air. Not much had changed there – they still had thousands of records, although they got rid of approximately 1/3 since back in the day. The DJ was Mad Doctor Matt, and he played a good mix of contemporary and older-school rock, folk, punk and pop. He asked me some questions and it was nice to be back in the old hallowed halls again.
Back down to the venue, we checked Nipplepotamus, a noisy Sonic Youth-style trio who eventually burned a hole in my brain and caused at least one elderly patron to fall over and vomit (perhaps too much malt liquor? I don’t know). I dug them over all.
Splinter Cell rocked it next. Bassist James Forbes set up the show and is a friend of mine since way back. He is blind now due to a degenerative illness but his playing and singing was great. He is one of my favorite punk rock bassists and he really ripped it up. Sean on guitar and Jeff Langdon on drums punched it up and sounded great. What to compare it to – I don’t know – a power trio with pop influences. They covered Joe Pop O Pies, Catholics are Attacking which was funny as hell and sounded great.
We wasted no time getting onstage and doing what we do. Our set was well-received and it was awesome to see some other friends show up, most of all my friend Crusher from upper Mendocino county – thanks, Crusher, for coming! Dave's gal Mandy and her bff Roxanne also made it and helped us vend our t shirts - thanks, ladies.
Damn, this is a long post! We bedded down for the night at James house in Eureka and then took in the sights in Old Town on a sleepy Sunday morning the next day, complete with bagels and coffee from Los Bagels, something I’d been dreaming about for months. Turning the van north, we headed up the long road back to home, stopping to enjoy the ocean near the mouth of the Klamath river for a spell.
Best of all, after dropping off Bryant and Dave, I opened the door to my own home just in time for dinner, with a delicious and aromatic French tart thing that Tina had made. Mmmm! Thanks Tina, for rocking my palette with your delicious flavors.
Okay, I’ve made a long story here – hope someone enjoys. Peace ‘n out!
Ed

Summer has been nice so far. Aside from the usual gig business and family dogpile-action, I've been working a ton, actually feeling useful for the most part, servicing various Willamette valley growers with supplies as well as keeping a keen eye out for systematic flaws that can be neutralized. But, I am off for two weeks starting tomorrow, yay! We've got a few rural and/or family and/or Rock and Roll oriented plans. Glad to blow out of town for A BIT Whizzzzzzzzzzzeeeeeeee.

C-ya later -
Ed

Check this cool poster that Sean Goblin made for the Underlings - rad! He has a flickr photostream here.

I am burnt out on work this week. I'll be glad when Country Fair madness comes to an end. Every year, tons of folks pile into the parking lot of the organic produce warehouse and load up on anything and everything that isn't tied down - bins of watermelon, pallets of oranges, boxes of pineapple, cherries, peaches, veggies - they pile it into a mish-mash of Mad Max-style hippie caravan machines, pile it high like the Beverly Hillbillies and roll out to Veneta 15 miles away for the biggest dirt-based hippie art/music/bra-free/smells-like-a-wild-pack-of-humans festival that half the population of my town + 30,000 visitors from out of the area go to. I'm mostly glad that I live in an Alternative Community tm but sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live somewhere more normal, where the only weird thing that happens is a turtle crossing the road.

ScottK pointed this out to me on BoingBoing yesterday. Awesome!

The Underlings went to Salem last night to play at a crusty college-aged party, complete with a backyard teepee, hobo kids and vegan sausages frying in a pan in the World's Dirtiest Kitchen. Yes, there was a PA and, thanks to Dan Jones' buddies Les Nunes, there was also a microphone. Dan played a great set of mostly new songs on his acoustic - Panther Girl, Pink Pansies, the Doggie Song and a really great song about painting 52 landscapes in a year. I recorded the set but oops! I recorded over when the other bands started playing. The Underlings had a real fun time during our 10 song set, which took about 35 minutes. The crusty kids danced to our pop songs a rocked to our rock songs. Really nice, and we loved looking at the wall-art as we played. The Salem group Phantom played next and they were absolutely savage. A really fantastic, raw rock and roll group. I would have liked to have heard the vocals better, but I could tell that the screaming sounded pretty good. THe Shy Season, a band purported to be from LEBANON(!)(one of them told me nervously that they were from...um...ah...Salem or Portland or something, as if it were shamful to be from LEBANON!) went last and they were good, kind of indie rock with great teenage hair. I recorded some songs from both bands on my cassette recorder and I noticed some other kid had an old-school tape deck also. There were all these 80's metal cassettes of artists like Dio, Black Sabbath, the Descendents, Yngvie Malmsteen. I got inspired and busted out my boombox and cranked a tape I had of side 3 of Husker Du's Zen Arcade in between sets because nobody else was playing anything. I think perhaps some ears perked at hearing some classic angst music that doesn't get heard much by today's generation, but really the room cleared out pretty fast ha ha! I felt like a fucking geezer, but I always think, it's good to be true to whatever music or culture or whatever you think is cool, not worry too much if what you like is out-of-sync with the times. The same savage emotion of Husker Du's rock was present in the music the bands we played with last night; maybe the times don't change as much as anyone ever thinks.

I watched Emperor of the North for the first time last night, the movie that my friend Slayer Carl refers to most often as his favorite movie, and he's seen a lot of movies, so he should know a good flick. I loved the trains and the sadistic hobo-beating character played by Ernest Borgnine. I loved the fight scene at the end - so f-ing brutal! And believeable, with no crappy special effects to muck it up. Thanks for the reccomendation, Carl.
I was reminded constantly throughout the movie of my dad, and how he probably watched this movie, too, being that he was an avid enthusiast about all things pertaining to old trains. The Lee Marvin character, A-number 1, even looks, talks and dresses like my dad, so you can imagine my piqued interest in the story. It's funny how the older I get, the more my interests in music, books and movies goes backward to the generations that preceded my own. I've been loving Steinbeck's East of Eden, which I find time to stick my nose in every day lately. The first half of the 20th century had so many characters in it's basic make-up. I know there are characters these days, too, but they're often looking for love with a fake tan on some tv show or practicing their original gangsta' speak for their dj gig.
It's funny that all things point back to dad - I relate everything I read and think back to the old man. Being that he lived through both world wars and the depression between them, he saw first-hand the events that were the foundation of American culture. In the beginning of the 20th century, America was still a free-for-all frontier. Lawlessness was common. Brutality of all kinds was the rule. But also simplicity, basic values and kindness were in there somewhere. In the lean years of war and depression, people got by any way they could, skimping on basic needs, growing their own food if they could and surviving alone and in clumps. All the generations leading up to the baby boomers strove so hard to make it, and since then, subsequent generations have had it easy. We don't have access to the kinds of experience and memories of hard times that our parents and grandparents lived through.
Has this new depression taught us anything yet? Are we truly poor enough to really be desperate for change? And, is the decay of our collective character any worse than it has been in past times?

Time for my coffee break!

Posting in between bouts of counting in the 36-degree f apple cooler - blueberries, peaches, pears, cherries. Summer is on, baby, and it feels cold to me! Exercising the fingers bringing the life back inta these old hands.
Reading Dan's latest blog post, I laughed myself silly. Perhaps because I've been watching too much Bert and Ernie during my morning routine with Louis AND complaining (like an old-timer) about the lack of soul and bass in modern college-oriented rock. Now, if I could just get my hands on a time machine and some pcp...
-later-
yes, the apple cooler is counted. No, I am not slacking off, no matter what PZ sez.

No one really reads these blog posts anymore, save a few die-hards who are not yet enmeshed in facebook, myspace or twitter. I'm considering moving all my informational dispatches to either smoke signals or conch shell. Or perhaps Morse code. dot-dot-dash-dash-dash-dot-dot-dot-dash-dot-dash-dash; in other words,

Kraut Rock in the workplace

vid from Yeltsin's performance at the Cuthbert Amphitheater on Saturday