...until now.
Truth be known, I'm not going to vote for her...but she sure is a pretty politician.
I can't wait for the talk show monologues!
Note to my wife: It's called bloghumor.
Friday, August 29, 2008
I've never wanted to have sex with a vice presidential candidate...
...until now.
Truth be known, I'm not going to vote for her...but she sure is a pretty politician.
I can't wait for the talk show monologues!
Note to my wife: It's called bloghumor.
Friday, August 15, 2008
News Flash! We're all Runnin' on Empty
Good for you Jackson Browne...for suing the McCain camp for using your song in a campaign ad. My only question is, "What the hell was McCain thinking?". Which young, snot-nosed Harvard MBA grad on your campaign committee managed to sneak that one by? I am one of most a-political, a-moral SOB's around, and even I know that Jackson Browne has been a staunch supporter of the Democratic party for many years.
Runnin' On Empty, Browne's 1978 live LP and ode to playing in a rock band on the road, was and still is one of my favorites from that bygone era. I was spinning records at radio stations when it came out. Besides the title track, several other tunes made it to station play lists including The Road, You Love the Thunder, and Loadout/Stay. AOR (album oriented radio) stations played the entire song list. This LP was that good.
It is a tad ironic that the song, Runnin' On Empty, may have spawned new meaning thirty years later. And I'm not talking about the gas crisis! I'm talking about us...crotchety, curmudeonly, grumpy, tired, old baby boomers. We're running out of juice. And even the most upbeat, positive-thinking, another-day-in-paradise-near-60 type has to admit as he or she rolls out of bed every morning..."I'm fuckin' tired!"
So, if anyone should be allowed to adopt a new rock and roll anthem, it should be us. And the song should be Runnin' On Empty! By the way, I will be voting for Obama if that has any relevance here.
If you get a chance to listen to the entire album, this whole thing may make more sense, especially the track titled Loadout/Stay. And don't think it has anything to do with carpooling or drilling for new oil off the Santa Barbara coast.
"Oh won't you stay...just a little bit longer...?"
We may be tired, but we ain't goin' anywhere just yet!
Runnin' On Empty, Browne's 1978 live LP and ode to playing in a rock band on the road, was and still is one of my favorites from that bygone era. I was spinning records at radio stations when it came out. Besides the title track, several other tunes made it to station play lists including The Road, You Love the Thunder, and Loadout/Stay. AOR (album oriented radio) stations played the entire song list. This LP was that good.
It is a tad ironic that the song, Runnin' On Empty, may have spawned new meaning thirty years later. And I'm not talking about the gas crisis! I'm talking about us...crotchety, curmudeonly, grumpy, tired, old baby boomers. We're running out of juice. And even the most upbeat, positive-thinking, another-day-in-paradise-near-60 type has to admit as he or she rolls out of bed every morning..."I'm fuckin' tired!"
So, if anyone should be allowed to adopt a new rock and roll anthem, it should be us. And the song should be Runnin' On Empty! By the way, I will be voting for Obama if that has any relevance here.
If you get a chance to listen to the entire album, this whole thing may make more sense, especially the track titled Loadout/Stay. And don't think it has anything to do with carpooling or drilling for new oil off the Santa Barbara coast.
"Oh won't you stay...just a little bit longer...?"
We may be tired, but we ain't goin' anywhere just yet!
One of the enigmas that is New Mexico
The Monsoon Season...
Summer in the Southwest is also the Monsoon Season there. Something about a subtropical ridge from Mexico and a thermal low from Bangladesh causes this annual weather pattern normally associated with the tropics (during our winter months). The thunderstorms hang out during the early part of the day over the Sandia Mountains shadowing Albuquerque. Late in the afternoon and evening, the clouds turn dark, move over the city, and it rains like hell, sometimes for just a few minutes, sometimes the better part of an hour. Then, the next morning, one wakes up with a typical New Mexico summer sky: deep azure blue, with huge, billowing, white Simpsons clouds. Then the pattern begins all over again.
Just one of the many enigmas that is New Mexico. It is much more than the hot, arrid, desert southwest most people perceive.
Summer in the Southwest is also the Monsoon Season there. Something about a subtropical ridge from Mexico and a thermal low from Bangladesh causes this annual weather pattern normally associated with the tropics (during our winter months). The thunderstorms hang out during the early part of the day over the Sandia Mountains shadowing Albuquerque. Late in the afternoon and evening, the clouds turn dark, move over the city, and it rains like hell, sometimes for just a few minutes, sometimes the better part of an hour. Then, the next morning, one wakes up with a typical New Mexico summer sky: deep azure blue, with huge, billowing, white Simpsons clouds. Then the pattern begins all over again.
Just one of the many enigmas that is New Mexico. It is much more than the hot, arrid, desert southwest most people perceive.
Monday, August 11, 2008
A Life in the Day - "My boys aren't too sure about this yet!"
I decided a few weeks ago to venture into the Land of Bicycling For Fitness and "Pleasure". I bought a used Italian road bike on eBay.
From my days as a teenager in the San Fernando Valley and that very first 10 speed I rode to school and destinations much farther...to this: A sleek, 80's vintage Bianchi 12 speed road bike built for the likes of professional Tour de France professionals under the age of 17...what was I thinking!
Lest not I judge my success in this foray based on the first 5 minutes of excruciating pain, the paranoia of falling down (apparently, one can indeed forget how to ride a bike), and deciding it was not a good idea to mount an ashtray and a beer can holder on the handlebars...I will do this or my name isn't Jack Diddley (and, as most of you know, it isn't). Not to mention the fact that I have already had bad dreams of getting crushed by an errant hay-hauling, Red Bull slurping semi driver.
Getting back to the excruciating pain, most of which located south of the border, I can't seem to recall as a boy that this was that much of issue. But today, this morning, my boys were crying out the moment I swung my leg over, scooted myself into motion, and settled onto the saddle. I must also tell you that it took three tries to actually swing my leg over in the first place. Geeze, I have trouble putting on my boxer shorts let along attempting a near high jump over this road bike frame. Loretta was standing nearby, providing the encouragement needed to complete the first step. Encouragement coming in form of, "Honey, be careful...you can do it...you can do it!" And as I wobbled off down the street a few feet, "How are your balls on that tiny seat?"
Like I said, unlike many past follies of mine, I will save judge ment until I've given it the full "college try". Unfortunately, the choice of words "college try" would not be very appropriate as I lost interest in attending college courses 10 minutes after enrolling.
My boys will just have to endure for the time being. I may have to install a full size motorcycle saddle, but I'm gonna do this!
Pass the ice pack, please.
From my days as a teenager in the San Fernando Valley and that very first 10 speed I rode to school and destinations much farther...to this: A sleek, 80's vintage Bianchi 12 speed road bike built for the likes of professional Tour de France professionals under the age of 17...what was I thinking!
Lest not I judge my success in this foray based on the first 5 minutes of excruciating pain, the paranoia of falling down (apparently, one can indeed forget how to ride a bike), and deciding it was not a good idea to mount an ashtray and a beer can holder on the handlebars...I will do this or my name isn't Jack Diddley (and, as most of you know, it isn't). Not to mention the fact that I have already had bad dreams of getting crushed by an errant hay-hauling, Red Bull slurping semi driver.
Getting back to the excruciating pain, most of which located south of the border, I can't seem to recall as a boy that this was that much of issue. But today, this morning, my boys were crying out the moment I swung my leg over, scooted myself into motion, and settled onto the saddle. I must also tell you that it took three tries to actually swing my leg over in the first place. Geeze, I have trouble putting on my boxer shorts let along attempting a near high jump over this road bike frame. Loretta was standing nearby, providing the encouragement needed to complete the first step. Encouragement coming in form of, "Honey, be careful...you can do it...you can do it!" And as I wobbled off down the street a few feet, "How are your balls on that tiny seat?"
Like I said, unlike many past follies of mine, I will save judge ment until I've given it the full "college try". Unfortunately, the choice of words "college try" would not be very appropriate as I lost interest in attending college courses 10 minutes after enrolling.My boys will just have to endure for the time being. I may have to install a full size motorcycle saddle, but I'm gonna do this!
Pass the ice pack, please.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
A Life in the Day - Damn those bacon and eggs!
With visions of all these things dancing in my head...thoughts of who-knows-what that just don't seem to go away...I will attempt to put a few words into this cyber self-therapy journal on a semi-regular basis. Now that I have that disclaimer, lie, and promise out of the way...
Bacon and eggs...genetic predispositions...impending grandparenthood...illusions of grandeur (past and present)...growing old(er)...busted careers...crazy schemes...olympic envy...self-loathing prophecies...debilitating insecurities...the man in the mirror...addictions (past and present)...thoughts on women...the bucket list...The Pollyana Syndrome...The Peter Pan Syndrome...The Peter Principle...Jobs I've Hated...Jobs I've Loved (not a short list, a non-existent one)...Vietnam...college (or lack thereof)...the traumatic amputation of my left index finger at age 4...that plane crash at age 7...best friends...sex (or lack thereof)...right brain, left brain, no brains?...the novel...the screenplay...did I mention bacon and eggs?
Are bacon and eggs one of the reasons I am sitting here with a 10 inch scar on my sternum? A souvenir surgically inflicted for the purpose of saving my life and caused by eating too much bacon and too many eggs? Bah...humbug! Would that trophy on my chest be there if I had subscribed to the Gorilla Diet as a teenager? Would those 12 stainless steel wires preventing my rib cage from bursting open and spilling out entrails and alien demons like Kane in the movie Alien be there if I had really enjoyed eating spinach, tofu, and seeds instead of french fries, chimichangas, and lard? Let's not forget smoking. What a disgusting habit that is!
But, you know what? There's not much I can do about those nasty habits now. Except, maybe stop doing them. And until I can get my flux capacitor up and running, I can't change much of what has already flowed under this tired bridge.
Change, you say? Sure, it is the one constant in our lives that still allows us some control.
Anyone got five ones for this five?
Bacon and eggs...genetic predispositions...impending grandparenthood...illusions of grandeur (past and present)...growing old(er)...busted careers...crazy schemes...olympic envy...self-loathing prophecies...debilitating insecurities...the man in the mirror...addictions (past and present)...thoughts on women...the bucket list...The Pollyana Syndrome...The Peter Pan Syndrome...The Peter Principle...Jobs I've Hated...Jobs I've Loved (not a short list, a non-existent one)...Vietnam...college (or lack thereof)...the traumatic amputation of my left index finger at age 4...that plane crash at age 7...best friends...sex (or lack thereof)...right brain, left brain, no brains?...the novel...the screenplay...did I mention bacon and eggs?
Are bacon and eggs one of the reasons I am sitting here with a 10 inch scar on my sternum? A souvenir surgically inflicted for the purpose of saving my life and caused by eating too much bacon and too many eggs? Bah...humbug! Would that trophy on my chest be there if I had subscribed to the Gorilla Diet as a teenager? Would those 12 stainless steel wires preventing my rib cage from bursting open and spilling out entrails and alien demons like Kane in the movie Alien be there if I had really enjoyed eating spinach, tofu, and seeds instead of french fries, chimichangas, and lard? Let's not forget smoking. What a disgusting habit that is!
But, you know what? There's not much I can do about those nasty habits now. Except, maybe stop doing them. And until I can get my flux capacitor up and running, I can't change much of what has already flowed under this tired bridge.
Change, you say? Sure, it is the one constant in our lives that still allows us some control.
Anyone got five ones for this five?
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Can one get their kicks on Route 66?
According to the song, one can indeed get their kicks on Route 66. I've never been quite sure exactly what those "kicks" are, but I'm bound and determined to find out...now that I live in Albuquerque, New Mexico!
The highway that runs from Los Angeles to Chicago hardly exists in its original path any longer. Most of the time it runs parallel to other so-called super-highways, just off the beat and path. Signs abound on Highway 40 through Arizona and New Mexico inviting travelers to exit and drive the original Route 66. On my way out here a few weeks ago, I opted not to do that...yet. I stayed on the 75 mph, four-lane divided thoroughfare that would get me to Albuquerque in the least amount of time. There will be plenty of time to savor (and photograph) the old road.
Route 66 still does run right through the middle of Albuquerque. Old and new structures alike sit side by side. Some of the old diners and motels still stand, some have become eerie, empty relics of a time gone by. Others have been converted to new diners, restaurants, shops, and tourists traps. Old Town Albuquerque is one of those tourist destinations that one must see when passing through the Southwest proper. There is an old church and convent, a grassy, tree-lined plaza with a gazebo bandstand, and many shops with a few steps selling T-shirts, dream catchers, dried up scorpions, rattle snake replicas, and turquoise and silver jewelry. All the usual New Mexico-ish stuff one would want to take home to South Dakota or Illinois.
The food here is typical "Southwestern"...but not what the Food Network has lead us to believe. Bobby Flay does not have a restaurant in Albuquerque. Traditional southwestern cuisine is much simpler than those trendy chefs in New York have concocted over the past few years. When you order something, anything...it's "Do you want red or green sauce?" And, usually, it has been made fresh and is nice and spicy! Tortillas are made fresh and taste better than any I've had in California.
And the weather? Well, just let me say this: It ain't what most folks have been lead to perceive. Most New Mexicans, born and raised or transplanted, are happy to let Westerners or Easterners continue to believe that this place is just another hot, dusty, desert town. Far from it. Albuquerque is higher than Denver (the Mile High City)! We're in the Monsoon Season here now.
As the Bobby Troup song goes:
If you ever plan to motor west
Travel my way, the highway that's the best.
Get your kicks on Route 66!
Like I said, there will be plenty of time to savor and photograph that old road. I live here now.
It really is much more than roadrunners and cottonwood trees!
The highway that runs from Los Angeles to Chicago hardly exists in its original path any longer. Most of the time it runs parallel to other so-called super-highways, just off the beat and path. Signs abound on Highway 40 through Arizona and New Mexico inviting travelers to exit and drive the original Route 66. On my way out here a few weeks ago, I opted not to do that...yet. I stayed on the 75 mph, four-lane divided thoroughfare that would get me to Albuquerque in the least amount of time. There will be plenty of time to savor (and photograph) the old road.
Route 66 still does run right through the middle of Albuquerque. Old and new structures alike sit side by side. Some of the old diners and motels still stand, some have become eerie, empty relics of a time gone by. Others have been converted to new diners, restaurants, shops, and tourists traps. Old Town Albuquerque is one of those tourist destinations that one must see when passing through the Southwest proper. There is an old church and convent, a grassy, tree-lined plaza with a gazebo bandstand, and many shops with a few steps selling T-shirts, dream catchers, dried up scorpions, rattle snake replicas, and turquoise and silver jewelry. All the usual New Mexico-ish stuff one would want to take home to South Dakota or Illinois.
The food here is typical "Southwestern"...but not what the Food Network has lead us to believe. Bobby Flay does not have a restaurant in Albuquerque. Traditional southwestern cuisine is much simpler than those trendy chefs in New York have concocted over the past few years. When you order something, anything...it's "Do you want red or green sauce?" And, usually, it has been made fresh and is nice and spicy! Tortillas are made fresh and taste better than any I've had in California.
And the weather? Well, just let me say this: It ain't what most folks have been lead to perceive. Most New Mexicans, born and raised or transplanted, are happy to let Westerners or Easterners continue to believe that this place is just another hot, dusty, desert town. Far from it. Albuquerque is higher than Denver (the Mile High City)! We're in the Monsoon Season here now.
As the Bobby Troup song goes:
If you ever plan to motor west
Travel my way, the highway that's the best.
Get your kicks on Route 66!
Like I said, there will be plenty of time to savor and photograph that old road. I live here now.
It really is much more than roadrunners and cottonwood trees!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Self-Depreciation 1 Cent Sale - All Tendencies Must Go!
* Unrealistic Expectations
* Past Failures & Bad Choices (2-for-1)
* Peer Pressure
* Family Baggage
* Childhood Misfortunes
* Divorces
* Regrets
* Insecurities
* Wishful Thinking (Free Bonus with every purchase)
Many, many more tendencies available. If you don’t see it, ask your own therapist.
All sold “As Is” as they are vintage tendencies and are not guaranteed or warranted in any way.
All inventory will go in the dumpster if not sold by the end of the sale.
No shipping. Pick up only by assimilation.
Cash only. No financing available.
* Past Failures & Bad Choices (2-for-1)
* Peer Pressure
* Family Baggage
* Childhood Misfortunes
* Divorces
* Regrets
* Insecurities
* Wishful Thinking (Free Bonus with every purchase)
Many, many more tendencies available. If you don’t see it, ask your own therapist.
All sold “As Is” as they are vintage tendencies and are not guaranteed or warranted in any way.
All inventory will go in the dumpster if not sold by the end of the sale.
No shipping. Pick up only by assimilation.
Cash only. No financing available.
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Yours truly
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