I'm Back....Almost

Well, well.....a few hundred dollars and a 'forced upgrade' later,
here I am, able to post from home once again.

Would you believe that Windows 98 is no longer supported?
What's that about?? I thought antiques were popular these
days. I was just about to send my machine out on the
"Roadshow". And then disaster struck.

Believe this: when the capacitors on the motherboard
leak brown goo....it's bad news.

So, now I've got the thing back together. The first thing
that went wrong was, my old modem software had never
heard of my new operating system. Off to the store to
buy a new modem. Sigh. Hey, a brand new modem
comes with all the snazzy new drivers....woo hoo.

However, while I was fighting with the old one,
I got that comical message that's always in modem
help files: "If you experience difficulty with the installation,
contact customer support online at...."

If I could GET online, I wouldn't have a problem!!! How
am I supposed to go to your web site if the modem isn't
working?!? Duh.

Right now, it looks like I can't access any of my text
files, either. I know there's probably a way around that
but I won't get to it today. This is going to require a bunch
of free time and LOTS of coffee (the miracle elixir).

More posting tomorrow, during "pulling my hair out"
breaks.

As for Transgression Thursdays, I suppose they will
return next week. But for today, let's tip our hats to
the electronics and software industries. May they
never be accountable. Well...not really....but they're
too slippery to nail to a wall.

Great Title

I'm still a Motherboardless Child. I can't take up too much
time posting on "foreign" computers ; so here's a quick
one to hold you over (I know you're all anxious for my
return!!).

Though it may not be to everyone's liking, I got a big laugh
from the title of this post by The Wandis.

Polling the Masses

OK, here's the deal:

I have yet another gig coming up at the "clothing-optional"
resort. There is the possibility of the family attending,
to facillitate our travels beyond that area.

The question for you:
Is it "inappropriate" to bring my seven-year old to a
nudist camp? Do you think it would be too much for
him to process? Would the authorities hunt me down?
Would his future therapy sessions break the bank?

Actually, I'm not even sure he'd be allowed there.
But I thought it would make for some interesting
comments here!!

Stating the Obvious

Here we go again....

Heading into the election season, and guess what??? Gas
prices are suddenly coming down. Now why would THAT
happen?

Call me a cynic....but come ON....this is ridiculous. Are we
supposed to all say, "See? The Republicans are getting the
job done! Things are improving!!"

The worst part is, a lot of people WILL say just that.

You KNOW that this is just a ruse. As soon as the second
week of November rolls around, the prices will all go
back up...even higher than they've been before. But, hey,
if a few senate seats can be saved by tossing the public
a bone for a couple of months, why not? They'll make
up for it with some extra special dipping into the till later!

How about tax breaks for people who own more than
4 SUVs? They'll need help, especially when the gas
prices go back up.

And mansions are very expensive to heat....we should do
something for those folks unfortunate enough to own
huge homes. And of course, we should always remember
the plight of the "second homeless".....

Feh.

This week, I'll be playing another gig where they
don't even have clothes....who's doing anything
for THOSE people???

Maybe I should play for free....nah....

Transgression Thursday 6

My old nemesis, the sun, comes back for another round.

The highway that leads up to my house from the Boston
area has a SEVERE solar glare problem in the late afternoon.
Very strange, since it's supposed to be a north/south route
and I seem to remember learning that the sun sets in the west.
I guess the "engineers" who originally built the road abandoned
their compass and just started following the sun, like a
bunch of flowers. Eventually, the road takes a sudden
"oops, we're supposed to be going THAT way" corrective
swoop to the right.

Unfortunately, the swoop occurs too far up the road to
prevent the daily "rear-ending" festival (not even close
to being as fun as it sounds!). For some reason, lots
of people, when they see a little glare, jam on the
brakes. But - the people behind them haven't seen
it yet, so they just crash into the car that brakes
first. All to avoid....a collision with the sun??
I know SUVs have become stupidly huge, but
they aren't THAT big. Well, maybe their owners'
egos ARE. And nobody wants a singed ego.
I wouldn't even want a singed Eggo...oh, come on,
I had to take that one, even if it was cheap....

One thing you DO avoid on the highway is railroad
crossings. I'd like to know who came up with the
brilliant "This vehicle stops at all RR crossings"
plan. I assume it was a knee-jerk reaction to
a busload of kids getting whacked somewhere
in the middle of nowhere, where there aren't
any signals to mark the tracks. But let's look at
it logically: Who drives the buses? Around here,
it's either ex-cons who can't find work unless their
brothers-in-law in town government (hey, crime
runs in some families) set them up with low-profile
cushy jobs, OR retirees.

When I was in school I don't think anyone under 70
drove the buses I took to school. And they would
NEVER make the corners - the bus would tip
sideways, creating real-life geometry and medical
experiments..."Where is the tipping point?", and
"What is the maximum heart rate of a 12-year old?"
I think there was only one serious bus crash, though,
which made it safer than walking to school - our crossing
guard (a new concept back then) was struck by a
car. After that, I always watched where crossing
guards were working, and crossed elsewhere...
they weren't going to get ME, damn it!

Now THERE'S a nightmare for me: being a kid,
having to cross at the crosswalk with the crossing
guard - next to the railroad tracks on a day with
a more-than-usual amount of glare.

Yikes. Time to stop writing NOW.

How I Spent My Day

A third of the driveway and this walkway are now a crushed stone
"masterpiece". Woo hoo.....

How I Spent My Day 2

Here's the house. There used to be grapevines in the front, but
the wooden structure that held them was infested by carpenter
ants. So it had to be torn down. Good thing I learned to play
the bass, eh??

Spreading the Joy

Finally settling back in at home after making a quick three-state
run with the band. Can you say, "Regional"...?
Some highlights...

Nudist camp in Vermont:
When I got "near" the place, I couldn't find the entrance even
after driving back and forth four times. I finally pulled into
a driveway and knocked on the door. When the door opened,
I said, "Sorry to bother you....but I just drove two and a half
hours and now I can't find the place where my band is
supposed to play." I showed him the directions and asked
if he knew where it was. He cautiously said, "Um....is this....
a nudist thing?" I told him it was, but that I was in the band
and he wouldn't have to worry about my sorry body being
naked anywhere in his area. He laughed and said, "A quarter
mile back toward town. There's a "For Sale" sign on the red
barn across the street from the driveway."

And there it was.

As I started unloading equipment (my musical equipment!!!),
a twenty-something naked guy - from this point in the story
onward, assume everyone I encounter is naked - asked,
a bit too enthusiastically, "So, are you guys gonna PLAY
naked??" I told him sweat and guitars don't mix, so I
planned to keep my clothes ON. Plus, were there to
entertain....not repulse.

After we started the set, someone yelled out, "Will the
band get naked for $100?" Total? No. $100 per man?
We might have considered THAT....ha....no, let's remain
"professional"....mmm hmmm.....

Between sets there was a BBQ buffet. The food was
excellent, but it was strange to be served by people
in the nude. Good thing there was no hot soup on
offer.

Overall, the crowd was one of the nicest we'd ever
had. When I told my brother that, he commented,
"Well, if you're a guy, and your balls are hanging
out, you're going to behave yourself." Good point.

Next up was the lovely state of Maine ($6.60 in tolls).
There was a group of "drunken, spoiled frat boys",
as the owner called them. She was actually hoping
they'd just leave, but no, they were staying. On
the band's first break, two of them jumped up onstage
and started yelling into our microphones. I was in NO
mood for this crap, having spent so long in the car
driving. I ran over to them and told them to get
away from the equipment. They did. However,
one set (and many beers later), while the band
was on it's second break, one of those guys
jumped behind the drum kit, sat down and
grabbed the sticks. I snapped, and bolted across
the room. I grabbed him by the arm and neck
and THREW him to the floor. Then "the bouncer"
came over and told me I "shouldn't have done that",
that the guy just needed some "guidance" to get away
from the equipment. RIGHT.

Later, the owner (who actually enjoyed my show of
force) told me that the bouncer "used to be security
for Aerosmith"....I wondered aloud how much equipment
they lost during his tenure...the guy seemed to be in his
50s now, so his job with them may have been 30 years
ago.

Oh, well....we sold some CDs, anyway - something we
didn't do at the nudist camp. Later, it dawned on us that
THE NUDISTS DIDN'T HAVE WALLETS.......

My favourite road sign in Maine read "Exit 19 -
Formerly Exit 2". Urban sprawl, anyone?

Then it was down to Massachusetts, to the place where the
food is good and the women are.......well, the phrase,
"Remember where you are" is a band standard here.
During a break, while I was outside checking in with Mrs. L
on the phone, a woman sat down on the next bench. She
was telling someone on the phone, "Yeah, I'm here with
Dawn....but you know how she is....she goes for the young
guys who don't have anything....I know....really...."

Which makes me glad I'm happily married. Thirteen years,
today, as a matter of fact. Whatever you do, DO NOT
try to reason with, nor buy corrective lenses for Mrs. L!!
...heh....

Transgression Thursday 5

You knew this would have to happen, right? Today's
big offender is Mr. Lugubrious, who has been in the
car shuttling from state to state and hasn't had time to
put together the Transgression Thursday post.

Well, I did have a big rant about what's going on in
the political world....it was going to be one huge
transgression against humanity. But I was debating
whether or not anyone cares and wants to hear
yet another voice in the wilderness. If anyone cares,
why is it still going on? ...ooh....circular....wow....

Can I really get away with this transgression? Sure. I
absolve myself. Hmmm.....I guess I really have learned
a thing or two from politics!

Oh, OK. Here's one observation:
From an Animal Planet show this week about hippos:
"In the hippo community, the mouth is an essential tool,
used for both communicating and exploring."
Yeah - in the hippo community....that's right.....

Off to Maine, where it's (so THEY say)....
"Life As It Should Be."

A New Model Of Dogs, Go!

Last week I noticed a space in one of my bookshelves. I'm not
overly anal about my books (unlike my CDs/LPs, which tend
to be arranged strictly alphabetically), but I knew which book
was missing: A New Model of the Universe, by P.D.
Ouspensky. I hadn't looked at it for years, but now, of
course, I wanted to....because it wasn't there....

After a few days, it turned up in a box in the basement. So I
took it to the park to read while Master L was having his
swim class. I sat down at the picnic benches with the
other parents and grandparents and started reading.
Now, Ouspensky is not a "light" read. However,
the book "Run, Dogs, Run!" IS rather light. And
the grandmother sitting next to me decided to read it
to her grandson. Out loud...well, it would HAVE to
be out loud....but I mean, VERY loudly.

I tried to focus my attention on my own book, but
couldn't block her out. In my head, it sounded
something like this, although I'm sure I'm paraphrasing
the "Run, Dogs, Run!" portion:

"If the questions as to whether the world is a chaos or a
system, and whether RUN the world DOGS came RUN!
into being accidentally STOP or was created according
DOGS to plan STOP!, are solved THE LIGHT IS
without being preceded by RED! a GO definition of
DOGS the form of the world GO!, and do not result THE
from such a definition, LIGHT those solutions lack weight,
IS demand "faith", and fail to satisfy the GREEN mind."

I lived through the experience, but effects may not be visible
for months or even years.

[With apologies to P.D. Ouspensky, and Hal Higdon/Dana
Summers, authors of the works referenced above.]

Transgression Thursday 4

..and you thought I would run out of things to be pissy about....
HA! Not yet.

Potholes - I'm on a streak. I keep running into potholes on
the passenger side of the car. Usually the same car - we
have a few, but it seems like only one of them takes a
constant beating. Sounds like it's taking its toll, too.
Something isn't as tight as it used to be in the
right front wheel/shock area. What I don't get is,
why can't they just send the guys out with the bucket
of "cold patch" and fill in the holes? Is there some
Beatles fan on the DPW who wants to top the
"4000 holes in Blackburn" ?? Fix the damned streets
before I lose a wheel, will ya?!?

The sun - I hear some people actually like to be outside,
soaking up the sun's rays. Well, OK....we'd all freeze to
death if it wasn't there. I'll give you that. But I prefer to
"do my business" at night. How many times has this
happened to you? You go to the store. You buy a
gallon of milk. It's blazing hot out. On the way home,
you TRY to keep the milk "out of the sun" - this also
works for ice cream, CDs, and in the days of old,
LPs - but no matter WHERE you put it, in about five
seconds the angle of the sun entering the car changes
and your stuff starts to cook. I assume the only
thing that WOULDN'T stay in the sun is a solar
panel.

Parking - with the warm weather come the space hogs.
I'm frying in my car, and every idiot who is "leaving"
spends 15 minutes getting INTO their car, then
playing with the controls, fixing their hair, etc.,
before driving away. Just get in the car and go.
It reminds me of an old cartoon from the days
when I lived in Boston. A couple is driving on
Beacon Street (one of the ridiculously busy
streets), and the guy says, "OH MY GOD!
A parking space right here on Beacon! I
can't believe it!! He parks. The woman
then says, "But we're going to Cambridge."
And the guy replies, "I know. But let me just
sit here in the space a minute and enjoy it!"

This weekend I have a gig at a nudist camp.
"Who the hell booked THAT?", needs to be
said. Well....it was the drummer. 'Nuff said!
I think I WON'T be getting naked. Nobody
wants to see THAT!!!!

Besides, I don't want to get as badly burned
as Mrs. L did the other day at the beach.
Damned good-for-nothin' sun.

My Stalker (and My Stalker v2.0)

I may have mentioned this before, I can't remember. So I'll
refresh.

There is a guy that I see at EVERY concert I go to, no matter
if it's folk, rock....whatever. He's always there. It got to be
something of a joke for awhile, then it got to be worrisome.
He's ALWAYS there.

You've seen this guy (or his brethren) at a concert: he's large,
sort of mango-shaped. He wears a bandana....and always
a concert T-shirt, usually dating back several years and often
(but not always) the band who is performing that night.
He also makes the "rock 'n' roll devil horn" sign
constantly during the concerts, often at inappropriate times
(IS there an appropriate time??). He will be just sitting
there and then, like an involuntary muscle spasm, up will
go the "horn".

The big problem for me was: this guy seems to like all the same
music that I do. And then Mrs. L pointed out, "You see him
at every show - maybe he thinks YOU'RE stalking HIM".
OK, then ....not funny!!!

So, we went to see Ian Anderson in Boston the other night.
Well, after going to our favourite restaurant in Chinatown...
where I finally (after over 20 years of going there) ordered
the beef with pickled vegetables. What the hell....20 years
of missing out on a great dish. Oh, well.

Anyway....Ian Anderson. Right. We walked in the gates,
and who's the first person we see? My stalker. Hanging
out in front of the ladies bathroom. How appropriate.
I actually overheard some of his conversation (HA! Who's
the stalker NOW, pal?? Eat that!!). Seems that he's
"a friend of a promoter"....so that explains why he goes to
so many shows. Although, it doesn't explain why they're
all the same shows *I* attend.

Here's the big twist, though: we got to our seats, and he
WASN'T sitting two or three rows in front of us this time
(as usual). This time, there was a LARGE CLONE of
him sitting three seats over from us! The same look -
bandana, concert T, (larger) mango shape. And the
SAME uncontrollable hand motion (the distinction being
that this new guy preferred the "pointing index finger" to
the "rock 'n' roll devil horn" sign). For some reason, the
two rows in front of us were completely empty....so
of course, halfway through the show, Clone Stalker
moves to the row in front of us, one seat to my right.
He wasn't "in front of" me, but his left arm was, as he
index-fingered the band wildly.

Stalker v2.0.....bigger, "better".....and probably at
every future show I attend.