Random Blathering

With gas prices hovering around $3.50/gallon
in my area, I got the bright idea to check out
what they're charging for home-heating oil these
days. We won't need any until the fall, but what
the hell. Might as well see how it's doing.

It's $3.90/gallon. That's insane.


And it's only going to get higher - the oil industry
only has one more year of free reign. They "need"
to grab all they can. They must be barely scraping
by on that measly 9 billion in profit each quarter. Best
part is, all the local delivery companies have a "minimum
delivery" of 125 gallons. That means that even if the
price didn't go up (and we know it will), a MINIMUM
delivery will cost $487. And the oil from that will only
last three or four weeks, depending on how cold it is
outside.


Time to go solar. And I have a plan: we'll put up the
solar panels and then surround them with bottles
of milk - because every time you buy a gallon of milk,
no matter WHERE it is in your car. . . the sun is
directly on it. There must be some kind of lactic/solar
attraction. But wait . . . maybe the sun is only attracted
to milk that hasn't soured. That's a problem. Replacing
the milk would be pricey at $3/gallon. Hmmm . . . I see
a vicious circle forming here.

In other news, our cat has developed a magnetic
attraction to any and all passageways to the outside.
He desperately wants to get outside. He really needs
to be an indoor cat because there's so much traffic on
our street he probably wouldn't last long out there.
Well, that, and the wildlife that is far more vicious than
he. Or, more rabid. Are there degrees of rabidity???
I hope so, since he spends a good part of his day chewing
on my arm.


Anyway. Every time you enter or exit the house,
he's there, trying to get past you. Even just going
downstairs to do laundry is a pain because he'll run
down there and just hide under stuff to drive you insane.
I remember from my childhood that ALL cats like to
run into basements for some reason (are they natural-born
radon addicts??).

What else . . . oh, yeah, if I haven't said it already,
I really have the feeling that WHOEVER gets
elected this year is going to annoy the piss out
of me for the next four years. This morning
I saw Obama talking about gas prices having
climbed during THE LAST 20 YEARS . . .
get with the fuckin' programme, pal - they've
TRIPLED in the last SEVEN years. Let's
have the balls to say so.
We now have three candidates that stand a
chance. And every one of them annoys the
hell out of me. Oh, well . . . there's always
2012. But then we'll be dealing with
"the little brown one", who'll be old enough
to run by then. And the cycle will continue.
Ugh. Time to focus on the better things in
life:

"My kitten is large, my kitten is orange,

he eats like a walrus and squeaks like a door hinge."

Who says you can't rhyme 'orange'??? Bah!

It All Comes 'Round Again . . . Again

Background:
In 1986 I was sitting in Giants' Stadium, at the Amnesty
International concert. All the big names were on the
bill - The Police, Peter Gabriel, Yoko Ono . . .

[I actually like Yoko sometimes. Much to the horror
of Mrs. L]

Anyway. Miles Davis was playing. As was fairly typical
for Miles in that period, he started off his set with a lot
of dissonant honking and sputtering. I don't know,
maybe it was his way of driving out the "non-believers"
or something. I heard a faint but growing ever-more-loud
"aaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGHHHH!"
as one guy in the crowd was running, full-speed, up the
stairs of the stadium.

As he passed me, he yelled, "I HATE this SHIT!!!!"

Forward almost 22 years. Yesterday, where the snow had
melted at the end of my driveway, I found a CD: "The
Essential Miles Davis".

I can only imagine that someone driving by this past
winter had the same experience as the guy in Giants'
Stadium all those years ago. I hope it wasn't the SAME
guy. . . maybe it was his kid.

Speaking of '86 - Bill Buckner was invited to throw out the
first pitch at the Red Sox homeopener the other day.
Buckner famously committed the error that lost
game 6 for the Red Sox in the World Series. Now
that the Sox have won two Series, apparently Buckner
is "forgiven".

I don't know, though. If I'd been catching the ball for
him. . . I think I would have let it roll between my
legs to the backstop. Heh. Call me bitter. Or just
cruel. But I had to endure that error while watching
the game with my girlfriend's family, hardcore
Mets fans all. So I guess I feel like *I* still owe
the poor guy some payback! HA!

The Miles' CD (double, at that) plays just fine. The
only thing that was damaged was the promo insert
for other discs.

Speaking of discs, if you haven't done it yet, go
on over to Deni Bonet's web site and buy her
new one. I said so. OK? Just don't throw it in a
snowbank. Or, at least pay for it first. :)

"No, No . . . That's OK, Honey . . ."

Mrs. L got the corporate box seats for today's Red Sox
homeopener. But she has to use the other three seats
for "business" people.

That's fine. I can watch the game on TV. It'll be just
as good. I'll see replays, close-ups, etc. AND I'll
have my own bathroom and refrigerator.

So don't feel bad, Mrs. L. Your son and I will be just
fine. Just . . . FINE . . .

Plus the seats suck anyway! See:


Yeah. Who needs 'em?? I've got low-def TV!!!!

Still Typically Lugubrious Days

Yeah, yeah, I don't write much here (or anywhere) anymore.
Deal with it.

Hey, how are you? I didn't mean to be so terse . . . heh.

OK, so I had a gig the other day. I loaded up the car. Of course,
it was low on gas. So I drove (past the gas station on this side
of the highway where I've refused to buy gas for several years
because one time the old guy who worked there in the wee
hours of the night ran out to yell at me because I had put
"too much" trash from my car into their barrel...and I quickly
figured out that they could do without the thousands of dollars
per year I spend on gas) and made a u-turn to hit the station
on the other side.

I decided to go inside to buy a drink for the road. As soon as
I stepped inside, my olfactory senses were attacked by what
could only be an "it saves me from having to shower" amount
of cologne, eminating from the attendant. Ugh.

I quickly grabbed a bottle from the case and handed it to
The Great Unwashed to ring up. Then I hit the road.

Note: if the person ringing up your sale touches your
stuff....and they are wearing some offensive scent (and
really, how many worn scents are NOT offensive??) ....
it WILL end up on your purchase. I spent the ride
trying to remember NOT to breathe in when putting
the bottle to my lips.

All that "remembering" must have overloaded my
synapses because I forgot where I was going. I knew
which equipment I had in the back of the car. Based
on the things I had with me there were only two places
I might be going, so I waited. It would come to me.

As I got within two miles of the exit on the highway I'd
have to take if it was "Place A" I still had no clue. So
I called my musical partner-in-crime. "Where are we
playing tonight?"

He told me, mere seconds before I would have had to
make the turn. But it was not to be. It was "Place B".
Forge ahead. Well....that was close. Relax. Take a
deep breath. Have a drink. NO! WAIT!!! Don't breathe
.....too late.

I can't get all nerved up on the road anymore because I
decided to stop biting my fingernails. It's weird having
little knives on the ends of all my fingers - how do
women live this way???

Speaking of living....

Have you seen that Molson Canadian beer ad? The
one where someone knocks over a beer and an
entire "Canadian wilderness" springs up from the
beer puddle???

Um....just how often do they CLEAN that bar??? I
think I'd start looking elsewhere for my leisure
activities.