Hot Dog!!

I am breaking my self imposed "lack of things to say" with the following missive:

"You go for it Boy!!"

I am, of course, referring to Anthony Weiner's announcement that he is running for Mayor of New York City.

Why not I ask you?  Why the hell not?!

Look, if Martha Stewart and O.J. Simpson and Oliver North can have thriving, post scandal, careers than why can't a guy, who has never been convicted of anything (except in the hypocritical "Court of Public Opinion"), try his hand at a second chance...a comeback.

Richard Nixon did it.  So has Mark Sanford.

Is it because Weiner is Jewish?  That's a familiar card that some have already played.

Is it his last name?  Maybe...especially since it is pronounced like the "hot dog" not the "complainer", which would only be slightly better after all.

Let's give His Honor a break why don't we.  Let's judge him on his background and ability, both of which are strong.

He was a good congressman and would be a capable mayor.

I met him once on assignment for NBC News.  I interviewed him in his office in Queens.  I had taken my, then, 6 year old daughter and Congressman Weiner took the time to respectfully allow my little girl to conduct an interview, much like the one she had just seen.  He then gave her a signed document attesting to the fact that she had visited his office.  She was very proud and I was impressed.

I may have been naïve but he didn't have to do anything more than shake her hand with a phony smile and politician's pat on the back.

He wasn't like that.  He was sincere and I appreciated that.

Not as a proud father but as a voter (albeit not his...) and an American.

What we don't have enough of in modern politics is authenticity and a genuine concern for the needs of the citizenry...no matter how small.

So Anthony Weiner preened and sent questionable Tweets.

So what.  Who hasn't?  Entire show business careers have been built on far less...or more, dependent upon your perspective.  I have two words for you...

"Kim Kardashian"

Need I say more...?

00-18

I recently finished a conversation that was begun in 1969.  It wasn't an actual conversation with words but it has been a thought that has gone in and out of my head many times since then.

A little background:

I was playing music with some friends...Bid, Meg and Michele...back in 1969.  I was the guitarist, principal songwriter and one of three vocalists, Meg and Michele being the others.  Bid played bongos and then mandolin.  We were called "Charing Cross."

I had a Goya G-13, nylon string acoustic guitar at the time and everyone agreed that it wasn't loud enough for gigs.  I had never played a steel string nor could I use a pick worth a damn.

But one day some guy, who was somewhat peripheral to our crowd, let it be known that he wanted to sell his guitar, allegedly to buy some pot.  He wanted $125.00 for it and it came with a hard shell case.

I borrowed the money from my father (yes, I eventually paid him back...very eventually) and bought a 1967 Martin 00-18.

The tuning machines had been replaced with Grovers and it was missing the pick guard but I didn't care.  I had a loud guitar and I was cookin'!

I intended to replace the pick guard but had to wait to accumulate enough money.  In the mean time I carefully put masking tape over the pick guard's outline so as to give the bare wood some protection.  I painstakingly cut around the outline to make it neat and pretty.

Years went by.  10,20,30...40!  The guitar had been everywhere with me.  All over this country and to Europe as well.  It had played on the stage at Lincoln Center and New York City's Town Hall.  It had performed in the Paris Metro and recorded in Fred Hellerman's studio.  Fred Hellerman produced Arlo Guthrie's "Alice's Restaurant.  It had jammed with Jimmie Spheeris and the late Gus Hardin. 

It wrote a song that appeared in the film"Deterence", starring Kevin Pollack, the jingle for the Schlotzsky Sandwich Shops and it appeared on the stage at Joseph Papp's Public Theatre in Cryer and Ford's "I'm Getting My Act Together and Taking it On The Road."

In short it helped me write hundreds of songs, including a lullaby for my daughter and a love song for my wife.  This axe has been around!

But one thing had always nagged at me.  Where had she come from?  What was her provenance?  There was no way of knowing.

Then one day I was playing my guitar on my front stoop during a Saturday tag sale and a guy approached me and said, "I know that guitar.  That used to be mine!"  It was the guy from 1969 who had sold it to me.

Hurray!  Mystery solved.  I had traced my guitar's origins.  I could sleep.

Which I did and soundly at that.

And then, the other day the most remarkable thing happened.  I had gone into a local music store to buy a capo for my daughter who is a burgeoning singer/songwriter/guitarist.  I recently bought her her first guitar at a tag sale...a Takamine "Lawsuit" for $50 with hard case.  It's referred to as a "Lawsuit" guitar because Martin sued because the Takamine was an exact copy of the...00-18...right down to the font style of the logo.  In fact, from the street, I thought I was looking at a Martin in that
tag sale!

Any way...after buying the capo I asked the clerk if his luthier worked on Martins because mine needs a neck and bridge reset.

We started to chat and he asked me what Martin I had.  I told him and added that it was somewhat distinctive and recounted the tag sale story about the guy who recognized my guitar after seeing the Grovers and the, still, lack of pick guard (the masking tape long ago melted into the wood protecting it forever...)

The clerk's face went ashen.  He looked like he was going to faint.  I grew concerned.  Was this guy going to keel over in front of me right right on the spot?!

Then I found out why he had turned so pale.

He had been the original owner of my guitar having sold it to the tag sale guy all those years ago!

I was floored.  This was one of those "small world" things that happens and makes you feel like your life isn't that bad after all.  Unbelievable!

I told him I'd bring it by sometime and he said that if I ever wanted to sell it to tell him first.

He shouldn't hold his breath.  I will leave it to my daughter after I'm gone but if I had to I'd put it in the fireplace before I would part with it.

My 1967 Martin 00-18 is my prized possession.  Nothing else is as important to me as that guitar.  It has been with me through almost every important event of my life and has earned me money, love and a sense of inspiration and satisfaction like no other thing I've ever had.

So...full circle...

Life goes on.  But my guitar is no longer an adopted orphan.  She has a past and I know all of it.

From Nazareth to Madison...through New York and Paris and San Francisco and beyond...and behind me for almost every song I've ever written or ever sung.

End of story.

The Thrill(er) is Gone

Now comes the news we've eagerly anticipated for a few years now.

There's going to be another Michael Jackson trial. Whoop-de-doo..

I don't know about you but I can't wait...to not watch it on television.

Jeeeezuz, Mary and Joseph...Joseph Jackson that is.  By all accounts, Michael Jackson's childhood was dysfunctional at best.  There have been accusations that his father was abusive.  We know he didn't grow up in a particularly normal way because his childhood unfolded before our adoring and then prying eyes.

The kid couldn't catch a break.  First he was a black teenager and then, miraculously, he was somewhat white.

He had a stereotypical African-American nose and then he had a stereotypical White Anglo Saxon Protestant nose.  A few of them actually.

Then his best friend was a monkey, then Elizabeth Taylor, then the little boy next door.

Michael Jackson was one of the most talented performers the world has ever seen...and one of the weirdest.

Fine, we know all of that.  But he's dead now so why can't we just let him rest in peace?

Because, as we learned from the late great Elvis Presley, celebrity can live on forever and reap millions and millions of dollars for those interested in capitalizing on their relationship with the dearly departed.

Yoko Ono, Priscilla and Lisa-Marie Presley, countless Kennedys, they all trade on the name of their dead family member.

The Jackson family seems to be no different.  They are bringing a wrongful death suit against Michael's promoter  and hope to win in the millions, if not billions.  Quincy Jones may even testify as to what he thinks Michael Jackson would have earned had he lived and performed longer.

The naked greed of these people is astonishing.  They claim to have a love for, and to miss, whomsoever but what they really want is money.  They suggest that the money will go to the children but you have to ask yourself "how much money does a person need?"

Michael Jackson, the same guy who bought the Beatles catalogue...yeah, yeah, yeah, those Beatles and that catalogue...was worth a fortune when he died and he left that fortune to his kids and, presumably, the rest of his family.

So once again the airwaves will be full of quotes and analyses and conjecture and courtroom drama.

OJ, Casey Anthony and yes, even Michael Jackson, were the subject of these big trials.  There will be gavel to gavel 24/7 coverage and careers will be made.

For my part, I expect to tune it out, kick back with a brewsky and listen to one of my favorite songs, so aptly named, it's scary...

"Beat it...!"

A Pound of Flesh

There's a fat chance that I won't weigh in on such a heavy subject as obesity.

So here goes...

I am, like about a gazillion other people, struggling with my weight. I am older now and I'm not as active, nor do I eat properly.  I'm not fat.  I've got "a few extra pounds..."

My favorite foods include every single thing you're not supposed to eat with the exception of bananas, all fish, excluding calamari, brussel sprouts (Is it Brussels Prouts which begs the question... is it a misspelling of Proust, who I thought was French, but could have, ancestrally, been Belgian and loved miniature cabbage, so they named the vegetable after him?  But then it would have been cabbage instead of Madeleines and the history of literature would have been irrevocably changed forever. I have no idea. Comment if you do...I'd love to now the truth...)

I love all cheese, chocolate, bread, pasta, ice cream, M&Ms.  You get the idea.  I'm a junkie.

I try to eat responsibly, I really do.  Tea instead of coffee.  Honey instead of white sugar.  Greek yogurt instead of ice cream.  An apple instead of a cookie. Tuna instead of ham.

But I fall hard off the dietary wagon with regularity.

I'll go weeks, if not months, eating the stuff that's good for me and rejecting the stuff that isn't.

And then I'll be somewhere and there will be a doughnut or a dish of jelly beans or potato chips and onion dip...and I'm finished. Finished I tell ya..!

I justify the indulgence by telling myself that I've been religious over the recent past and I can have one whatever and the world won't come to an end.  What's one GD doughnut within the context of weeks and months of almond milk, Quinoa pasta and carob?

Nothing.  A mere speck of reckless abandon on an, otherwise, unblemished canvas of nutritional purity.

Yeah...right!  If you believe that one I'd like to talk to you about some credit default swaps that I recently heard about.

Can you say crash!

That's what really happened in 1929 and 2007.  We were doing the fiscally responsible thing and then we had one lapse.  Just one little foray into the Wall Street Pastry Emporium.

Poof! Years of weight loss and good behavior gone in the blink of a Boston Crème doughnut.

So...sit back, relax, open another jar of Pringles and weight (sic) for the losing (sic) bell.

And the vocal stylings of Lower Manhattan's singing sensation, Fannie Mae, known the world over as "The Fat Lady."

Oh...and that's the sound of the Treasury's ambulance you hear.  And they're packin' a defib...

"CLEAR...!"

Buy and Buy

As the recipient of the 2013 Bloggie, the international award for excellence in blog posting, I have been inundated with endorsement requests.  Inundated I tell ya, inundated!

My beautiful wife asked me to weigh in about an outfit she wanted to wear and my daughter wondered what I thought of a song she was writing.

The requests don't end.

So here are some endorsements that I wish to make in light of my new found, and possibly fleeting, celebrity.

I wish to endorse candy.  Candy of all shapes and sizes but more specifically chocolate.  And in particular the toffee candy that is covered with chocolate and then sprinkled with nuts.  I wholeheartedly endorse that candy.

I stand up for the beach!  I was at the beach the other day and was reminded of how healing a place it can be.  There is something about the effect of negative ions or something but I don't know anything about that.  I just love the beach, regardless of the season...obviously the warmer weather is better but any time is a great time at the beach.  And palm trees are not a pre-requisite.  The small scruffy trees that are windblown onto land are very cool too.

Let's hear it for a cozy fire.  Imagine a cold snow or a chilly rain and a crossword and a cup of Earl Grey and a fireplace full of burning logs with more at the ready. It's heaven. (is it "Earl", like the late, great Earl Scruggs or "Earl", like Duke or Prince...not John Wayne or the guy from Minneapolis...but like the Prince Charles type of "Earl"...?)

Finally I would like to endorse perspective.  Perspective is a critical part of everyday life.  Just when you think your life has reached its' nadir you read about some poor guy who has lost his job or his house or his child.

Life is wonderful if you see the wonderful stuff.  It may be snowing today in some parts of the country, and that's too bad for those affected, but they can look forward to the fact that, in very short order, a few weeks maybe, the flowers will be out, the skies will be blue and the weather will be warm again.

It's all about how you see it.  If your glass is half empty then you will always be thirsty.  If your day is partly cloudy you will never see the sun.

But if you have a partly sunny, half full point of view then everything is possible and nothing is as bad as it seems.

Now just add a plate of chocolate covered, nut sprinkled toffee and you've got it made.

Until next fall when winter's just around the corner and you begin shoveling again.

And bringing in kindling and logs for the fire and searching for 14 down...a five letter word, starting with an "H" and ending with a "Y", meaning "gay."

Keep thinking.  You'll get it.

Lyin' Sack O' Taters

Lying has become the national pastime.  Forget about baseball or football or even the March Madness marketing campaign.

Lying is what we love to do.  Almost all of us. 

Maury, Springer, Dr. Phil.  The pop culture is full of outlets for lying and its' reward of 15 minutes of fame or more.

"Do I look fat in this dress?" "Do you really love me?" "Want more pasta?"

The answers to these ,and a multitude of other daily questions often end up as lies.  We justify the lies by telling ourselves that we don't want to "hurt the other guy's feelings."

If we told the truth we'd say "yes, my dear, you look like a house sheathed cotton" or "No" or "No..."

But we love the person who asked the question or, at least, we like them...a little.

Another reason it seems we lie is because we don't want to get into trouble.  The answer to, "did you eat the last cookie?" has got to be "no" because "yes" would land you in "your room" and render you cookieless for the rest of your childhood and that would be untenable.

So what should we do with this third, emerging, category of prevarication?  This business, most recently exemplified by the (dis)Honorable Ms. Michele Bachmann of Minneeesohta, of asserting falsehood as fact?

President Obama didn't spend 100 billion dollars on toilet paper, as Ms. Bachmann alleges (that is, in and of itself, a bold-faced lie perpetrated by me...here...in this post.  Let's see if it has legs...)

Yet the Congresswoman from The Gopher State persists in spreading these lies in a transparent attempt to denigrate and marginalize this president whom she seems to hate so much...because he's, a) smarter than she is, b) more popular than she is, c) black, d) all of the above.

Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan did the same thing during their, thankfully, failed bid to take over The White House and The Naval Observatory, respectively.  (Fitting how the Vice President's residence is an observatory...a place for stargazing, which is what he ends up doing for the better part of 4 to 8 years...)

It seems that these sort of lies are meant only to damage reputations and gain political advantage.

Gone are the days of the fair fight and campaigns waged on the issues with worthy opponents engaged in intellectual "parry and thrust."

Gone are the days of intelligent arguments defended and debated in honest terms by men and women of high moral acumen.

Gone are the days of thoughtful and passionate persuasion.

Those days have been replaced by endless partisan hectoring and shallow reasoning.

Remember William F. Buckley and Gore Vidal?  Remember John F. Kennedy and Richard M. Nixon?  Remember Lincoln-Douglas?  Well maybe not the last one unless you're at least 165 years old.  In that case you should stop reading and nap.  We want to see 166 now don't we...?

Differing opinions discussed with civility and mutual respect. 

"Sir, I wish to disagree in the humblest of ways. My good friend, I believe your logic to be flawed and I will, presently, demonstrate why...with your permission."

"By all means, my good man.  By all means, do continue..."

Can you imagine Bachmann, Hannity, Jones, Rove et al, engaged in that sort of repartee...?

Not these accusations and baseless charges upon which, incidentally, our lives depend.

Our lives...!

The Small Print

First let me say the following before I launch off into my "Tirade du Jour."  Incidentally a tirade is an event in which someone pilfers neckwear from your closet in a black ops kind of way.

Ok...I recently saw a report on TV about energy drinks and how one company is changing the way in which it classifies its' product so as to avoid having to report dangerous side effects.

The report included an interview with a paid spokesman...a doctor...who was trying to make the case for the change.  He was prattling on about this and that justification when it just seemed like he was dodging the question.  Fair enough.  The company is paying him.  What else is he going to say?  "You might die from using our product so, drink up!"  Yeah, right.

So...tirade time.  Strap in and prepare yourself. This is going to be a doozie...a real humdinger!
But it's a two-parter so here's Part I.

Tirade Part I

Almost every pharmaceutical ad on television has a voiceover stating that if you use the drug you may open yourself up to a host of problems.

"If you use XYZ you may have intestinal bleeding, loss of hearing, palpitations, hives, loss of appetite, loss of sexual urge, dental pain and/or memory loss, kidney stones, boils and longer toenails. Consult your doctor and funeral home before using XYZ."

Hmmmm...think I'll run right out and git me some!  And the drug in question is for sleep loss...which will be rendered totally ineffective by virtue of the fact that the disclaimer will keep you awake with all of the worry about its' use!

Beauty shots of people swimming or reading or picking flowers or hugging and all of the above as voiceover?  That's a marriage made in heaven.

I understand it.  The government makes the companies put all of that stuff in, but Jeez...what a downer.  I just want to look at the pretty pictures.  I'm so depressed now that I am losing sleep...which I wasn't before...and I have no where to turn other than the bottle.  That's no good either because I don't want the hangover...for which I am sure there is a drug with side effects that will make me sicker than the after effects of the drinking.  No win here as far as I can tell...

Tirade Part II

I have decided to buy an electron microscope.  I looked on Craigslist and found one in Atlanta, offered by the CDC, for $1,000,000.00   It's being sold in order to raise some cash because of budget cuts due to the "Sequester."  The CDC uses it to examine strains of viruses that cause disease.  It is also used to look at pharmaceuticals that make us sick when properly used.  Like the ones for sleeplessness.  See a theme emerging here...?

The reason I'm getting it, and I will be getting a 50% loan from Mitt Romney, is so I can read the INCREDIBLY SMALL PRINT that accompanies many television ads.

You know...the paragraph that appears on the screen during the final few seconds of an ad that explains all of the legal details of using the product.

The print is, a) unreadable, b) on the screen for only a millisecond and, c) is unreadable.

Again, I know that it is there because the government mandates it so as to protect the consumer from fraud.

The fraud is that it is,  a) unreadable, b) on the screen for only a millisecond and, c) is unreadable.

(I plagiarized that last line from a file at the Department of Redundancy Department.)

If it's going to be there it should be readable and on the screen for the entirety of the ad.  Just like the
voiceover in the pharmaceutical ad.

But that would make too much sense.

Why would legislation enacted to protect the consumer actually do that?

Ask your Congressman.  He'll know.  Just call him on his cell. 

You'll find him poolside, in Bimini, enjoying an energy drink, on the junket paid for by the lobby that forced the "Truth in Advertising" bills into containing none whatsoever.