"Anybody who thinks that "it doesn't matter who's president" has never been drafted and sent off to fight and die in a vicious, stupid war on the other side of the world - or been beaten and gassed by police for trespassing on public property - or been hounded by the IRS for purely political reasons - or locked up in the Cook County Jail with a broken nose and no phone access and twelve perverts wanting to stomp your ass in the shower. That is when it matters who is president or governor or police chief. That is when you will wish you had voted."
Hunter S. Thompson
Tuesday, May 7, 2019
Point of Reference
I just picked up "The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich - A History of Nazi Germany".
Indeed an epic tome. Over 1100 pages.
I want to do my homework so I will know what to expect from trump.
Indeed an epic tome. Over 1100 pages.
I want to do my homework so I will know what to expect from trump.
There You Have It
I am currently consumed with Game of Thrones and the Bruins.
This puts me at odds with Carol who cannot handle GOT and does not like hockey. I started out going upstairs to our bedroom for personal viewing.
You see, I do not have a man cave. One of the major regrets of my life. I need a space to retreat to. I fucking need it.
By the way I hate the term man cave. If I had one I would not call it that. I would call it The Room of Great Release. Or The Peace Room. Or Joe's Sanctuary. But it is all a moot fucking point because I don't have one.
So I go upstairs and sit upright on the bed with two pillows behind me. That doesn't work. In very quick order my back begins to hurt. I squirm, I change positions and end up watching TV from ridiculous, uncomfortable angles.
I tried lying down but I fall asleep. And even on the outside chance that I don't fall asleep, because I wear tri-focals, I have to push them down to the tip of my nose to be able to see clearly. And even at that, it is a bit off.
So I tried bringing a kitchen chair up and sat next to the bed. 15 minutes later the back hurts, I squirm around a bit and eventually ended up standing. Yes, folks - I watched chunks of GOT and Bruins games fucking standing.
Finally I woke up. I downloaded the HBO Go app to my tablet. No charge. This allows me to stream any HBO show. Like Game of Thrones. I began watching GOT in my recliner, with Lakota in my lap, while Carol watched the Red Sox.
Much better. I much prefer to watch it on TV, but this set up is an acceptable compromise. I get to watch it in comfort.
Last night I had a true revelation. I downloaded the NBC Sports app, no charge, to the tablet and watched the Bruins game. Siting in my recliner with Lakota in my lap.
This was actually thrilling. I don't know what it was. Maybe because this really puts the game right in my face. For whatever reason, I was really into it. Didn't bother me at all to not be watching it on TV.
And I had the added bonus of being able to keep an eye on the Sox, who Carol watches 365 days a year. Even in leap years. She'll take one day off in leap years because even she needs an occasional break.
So there you have it. I am 65 years old and still figuring things out. My brain still works to a certain extent. I know, you're saying "Jesus Christ, Joe - this is simple stuff. It is 2019."
I get it. You are correct. But don't forget, I was born in 1954. My brain does not automatically go to technological solutions. Because of how much and how rapidly the world has changed, and because of the enormous amount of dead brain cells choking off natural thought processes. Seems like every time I try to download something or access something new, I get caught up in some torturous loop of stupidity that absolutely drives me crazy. Should be simple - never is.
So I feel good about these two seismic shifts in my life.
But if I ever hit the motherfucking lottery I am going to add on to the house the most impressive Room of Refuge that has ever been built. It will be absolutely palatial.
Anyway, that's it. I thought I'd bring you up to date. This is an enormously boring post.
I will try to do better.
This puts me at odds with Carol who cannot handle GOT and does not like hockey. I started out going upstairs to our bedroom for personal viewing.
You see, I do not have a man cave. One of the major regrets of my life. I need a space to retreat to. I fucking need it.
By the way I hate the term man cave. If I had one I would not call it that. I would call it The Room of Great Release. Or The Peace Room. Or Joe's Sanctuary. But it is all a moot fucking point because I don't have one.
So I go upstairs and sit upright on the bed with two pillows behind me. That doesn't work. In very quick order my back begins to hurt. I squirm, I change positions and end up watching TV from ridiculous, uncomfortable angles.
I tried lying down but I fall asleep. And even on the outside chance that I don't fall asleep, because I wear tri-focals, I have to push them down to the tip of my nose to be able to see clearly. And even at that, it is a bit off.
So I tried bringing a kitchen chair up and sat next to the bed. 15 minutes later the back hurts, I squirm around a bit and eventually ended up standing. Yes, folks - I watched chunks of GOT and Bruins games fucking standing.
Finally I woke up. I downloaded the HBO Go app to my tablet. No charge. This allows me to stream any HBO show. Like Game of Thrones. I began watching GOT in my recliner, with Lakota in my lap, while Carol watched the Red Sox.
Much better. I much prefer to watch it on TV, but this set up is an acceptable compromise. I get to watch it in comfort.
Last night I had a true revelation. I downloaded the NBC Sports app, no charge, to the tablet and watched the Bruins game. Siting in my recliner with Lakota in my lap.
This was actually thrilling. I don't know what it was. Maybe because this really puts the game right in my face. For whatever reason, I was really into it. Didn't bother me at all to not be watching it on TV.
And I had the added bonus of being able to keep an eye on the Sox, who Carol watches 365 days a year. Even in leap years. She'll take one day off in leap years because even she needs an occasional break.
So there you have it. I am 65 years old and still figuring things out. My brain still works to a certain extent. I know, you're saying "Jesus Christ, Joe - this is simple stuff. It is 2019."
I get it. You are correct. But don't forget, I was born in 1954. My brain does not automatically go to technological solutions. Because of how much and how rapidly the world has changed, and because of the enormous amount of dead brain cells choking off natural thought processes. Seems like every time I try to download something or access something new, I get caught up in some torturous loop of stupidity that absolutely drives me crazy. Should be simple - never is.
So I feel good about these two seismic shifts in my life.
But if I ever hit the motherfucking lottery I am going to add on to the house the most impressive Room of Refuge that has ever been built. It will be absolutely palatial.
Anyway, that's it. I thought I'd bring you up to date. This is an enormously boring post.
I will try to do better.
Thursday, May 2, 2019
Better Be Careful
Today is May 2.
Did you know that? It is fucking May already. Bet you didn't know that. Too busy crawling off to work pretending that you are getting somewhere in life.
You suffered through the long, agonizing winter, praying on your knees twice a day every day for 5 months, for warm weather to come. Of course it is not here yet, but it is spring (that mythical season).
April is a motherfucker. That's the month all the believers are running around telling you SPRING IS HERE! SPRING IS HERE! Intelligent people know it is not.
But here's the thing - April does birth hope in the soul. Even the intelligent start to know that warm weather is coming. It is inevitable. But April tortures you.
And then it just blows by. A few warm days to tease you, give you just a taste. Mostly shit weather - cold, rainy, disappointing. You are waiting, still praying, trying to beat back hope so you won't be too disappointed in the now and suddenly, it is May.
Holy shit. It is fucking May. Time to start living (as soon as it gets warm) but you are uneasy. If April blew by that fast, what the hell is the rest of spring/summer gonna do?
BLOW BY, that's what.
So you gotta be alert at this time of year. When a good day rolls around you gotta grab it by the balls. Drop whatever the fuck you are doing and get outside and do something - anything - that allows you to dig on the day. Run around your yard naked and screaming the mantra - warm weather rocks - warm weather rocks - WARM WEATHER FUCKING ROCKS.
Because you don't know what the rest of the "good weather" season is going to do to you. Sometimes it sucks. Not enough warmth, not enough sun, too much fucking rain. And if that happens you will truly regret blowing those 70 degree May days.
Ride the roller coaster of good weather emotion like a pro. Take charge. And always remember:
April is indeed a motherfucker.
Did you know that? It is fucking May already. Bet you didn't know that. Too busy crawling off to work pretending that you are getting somewhere in life.
You suffered through the long, agonizing winter, praying on your knees twice a day every day for 5 months, for warm weather to come. Of course it is not here yet, but it is spring (that mythical season).
April is a motherfucker. That's the month all the believers are running around telling you SPRING IS HERE! SPRING IS HERE! Intelligent people know it is not.
But here's the thing - April does birth hope in the soul. Even the intelligent start to know that warm weather is coming. It is inevitable. But April tortures you.
And then it just blows by. A few warm days to tease you, give you just a taste. Mostly shit weather - cold, rainy, disappointing. You are waiting, still praying, trying to beat back hope so you won't be too disappointed in the now and suddenly, it is May.
Holy shit. It is fucking May. Time to start living (as soon as it gets warm) but you are uneasy. If April blew by that fast, what the hell is the rest of spring/summer gonna do?
BLOW BY, that's what.
So you gotta be alert at this time of year. When a good day rolls around you gotta grab it by the balls. Drop whatever the fuck you are doing and get outside and do something - anything - that allows you to dig on the day. Run around your yard naked and screaming the mantra - warm weather rocks - warm weather rocks - WARM WEATHER FUCKING ROCKS.
Because you don't know what the rest of the "good weather" season is going to do to you. Sometimes it sucks. Not enough warmth, not enough sun, too much fucking rain. And if that happens you will truly regret blowing those 70 degree May days.
Ride the roller coaster of good weather emotion like a pro. Take charge. And always remember:
April is indeed a motherfucker.
Wednesday, May 1, 2019
I Can't BREATHE..........................
"When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn't have you by the throat."
Charles Bukowski from "Factotum"
Charles Bukowski from "Factotum"
Truth Is Often More Painful Than Lies
"When the ocean starts rising to the level of whatever building they're in and whatever floor they're on as they write their editorials, yeah, then they'll agree that there's a greenhouse effect and we'd better do something about it.........................It's just that the next thing they'll ask is "So how can we make some money off it?" In fact, anybody in business who didn't ask that question would find themselves out of business - just because that's the way that capitalist institutions work............These are simply institutional facts........And if you don't like them, and I don't, then you're going to have to change the institutions. There really is no other way."
Noam Chomsky
Noam Chomsky
"Stairway"? Really?
I'm driving home from work last Sunday night and "Stairway To Heaven" emerges from my car's magical musical machine.
Brief aside: "Driving home from work on Sunday night" is a grouping of words I would prefer never to have to utter. Not because of any religious belief, just because in my gut working on a Sunday represents the collapse of society.
When I was a kid a fairly large portion of the world shut down on Sundays. A lot of stores, banks (Saturdays too), businesses etc. I liked that feeling. It felt like a day when the world could not get at you. You were not owned on Sundays, you were free.
Now Sundays, and especially Saturdays, are just like any other day of the week. You are a beast of burden, forced to go out into the world to earn inadequate pay that deceives yourself into believing you are paying your bills. Getting by. "Making a living".
There is no escape from the constant pressure and obligation. I think that is destructive and very, fucking wrong.
Back to the matter at hand: "Stairway To Heaven" comes on and I found myself responding to it. Really listening. Do you have any idea how many times I have heard that song? It is not humanly possible to count that high.
"Stairway, and "Free Bird" - two songs that are much derided because of the anthems they have become. I like them both but "Stairway" makes a deeper, mystical connection with the soul.
It was released late in 1971. I was 17 years old. My mind went right back there last Sunday night. I was dating Janice at the time and we were both crazy ass Zeppelin fans. Janice was the last woman I dated before meeting Carol.
She was nuts. Could out drink me and out smoke me. We used to go to house parties where Zep was blasting and just party our asses off.
She dumped me, and well done for that. Because I ended up with the most loving, considerate, unselfish woman in the world. The woman without whom, I am absolutely convinced, I would either be dead or in prison.
Anyway I thought about all that, the time period, who I was back then. But the real connection was the moment I was in.
I am a night time guy. As much as I love sun and heat, I am most comfortable in the dark. In the night. Seems I am most sensitive then, most open, most me. It suits me.
I am driving home, in the dark, listening to "Stairway", and really feeling alive. Completely immersed in the song, digging on the dark, digging on the ride (I love to drive, listen to music and, maybe occasionally, sip on a nip - I often wish I had a 5 hour commute home from work - cruising and dreaming) - lost in myself.
Ignorant of my worries, forgetting about my age, feeling happy, feeling good.
It was a really good moment. Spontaneous. Came out of nowhere. The song comes on and bingo, bango, boingo I am transported to a place I rarely visit.
That, my friends, is the power of music.
Brief aside: "Driving home from work on Sunday night" is a grouping of words I would prefer never to have to utter. Not because of any religious belief, just because in my gut working on a Sunday represents the collapse of society.
When I was a kid a fairly large portion of the world shut down on Sundays. A lot of stores, banks (Saturdays too), businesses etc. I liked that feeling. It felt like a day when the world could not get at you. You were not owned on Sundays, you were free.
Now Sundays, and especially Saturdays, are just like any other day of the week. You are a beast of burden, forced to go out into the world to earn inadequate pay that deceives yourself into believing you are paying your bills. Getting by. "Making a living".
There is no escape from the constant pressure and obligation. I think that is destructive and very, fucking wrong.
Back to the matter at hand: "Stairway To Heaven" comes on and I found myself responding to it. Really listening. Do you have any idea how many times I have heard that song? It is not humanly possible to count that high.
"Stairway, and "Free Bird" - two songs that are much derided because of the anthems they have become. I like them both but "Stairway" makes a deeper, mystical connection with the soul.
It was released late in 1971. I was 17 years old. My mind went right back there last Sunday night. I was dating Janice at the time and we were both crazy ass Zeppelin fans. Janice was the last woman I dated before meeting Carol.
She was nuts. Could out drink me and out smoke me. We used to go to house parties where Zep was blasting and just party our asses off.
She dumped me, and well done for that. Because I ended up with the most loving, considerate, unselfish woman in the world. The woman without whom, I am absolutely convinced, I would either be dead or in prison.
Anyway I thought about all that, the time period, who I was back then. But the real connection was the moment I was in.
I am a night time guy. As much as I love sun and heat, I am most comfortable in the dark. In the night. Seems I am most sensitive then, most open, most me. It suits me.
I am driving home, in the dark, listening to "Stairway", and really feeling alive. Completely immersed in the song, digging on the dark, digging on the ride (I love to drive, listen to music and, maybe occasionally, sip on a nip - I often wish I had a 5 hour commute home from work - cruising and dreaming) - lost in myself.
Ignorant of my worries, forgetting about my age, feeling happy, feeling good.
It was a really good moment. Spontaneous. Came out of nowhere. The song comes on and bingo, bango, boingo I am transported to a place I rarely visit.
That, my friends, is the power of music.
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