Maybe I have finally lost it, or found it, or neither.
Suddenly I realized that I need pressure. I need to be told, loosely, but not all that loosely, what to do. Make it look like I am self supervising, but present impossible tasks and problems to be solved yesterday with just about 72% of the resources normally required to get the job done. That is my best element.
So, this obviously means that I do need the elite to run my life from a distance. Good thing I didn't send in any of my official election ballots, or copies. I may vote the complete opposite of what I had in mind.
Who needs freedom when they only waste it? I have been so blind. No, the people who mysteriously "fight" for my class, and my future deserve my vote and a big piece of any money I may make. Or if I don't make any, they will help me out. The point is that I wouldn't even know what fighting for the middle, left, or right class is, so how could I ever do it myself?
Maybe it is upper and lower rather than left and right. Middle must be the best one because that is the one everyone is talking about.
No way this is working. I need a crazy high pressure job with incompetent crooks at the levels above me and I need no time to be confused and think about these class fights, or fighting for class. Whatever it is.
Many times I try to write what is really going on or what I fear or what I think, but I can't do it. There is a barrier to that. I can't really tell the truth. Sometimes I hint, but then I wonder what is really the truth.
I think I'll catch some sun out east of here tomorrow to try to heal this dread illness which has lasted almost a week. It has improved daily since maybe wed. or thurs. Tues was the worst and wed. wasn't good.
My biggest fear is that I will never change. I really hate to waste the little time there is, and I think I will because that is the only thing I am good at, wasting wealth in any form; money, intelligence, connections, talent, anything.
That means freedom is wasted on me, so I will now become one of the neo-bolsheviks and people will like me and I can make snarky comments to shoot down philosophical points rather than try to use reason. And I can blame all the happy people for making me sad and lonely.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Friday, October 12, 2012
Vote Early and Often, I Do
That could be slightly misleading and unnecessarily self incriminating, however I am never sure I've broken laws when I actually read the text of them. I know it is illegal to run into the mall doing a happy dance naked while selling hashish candy, yet if I were to read the applicable statutes and codes, I'll bet I'd be tempted to fulfill that naked, happy, drug-food selling, enterprise fantasy.
But, law schmaw, I say. Who needs no schteenkink law? This is California, home of sunshine and Moonbeam.
So, my official election ballot arrived in the mail. My neighborhood is a mail in voting deal, by default. I think I could change that if I cared to go through the bureaucracy to do it. My theory is that the least amount of business I conduct with governments of all levels, the better off I am.
That may come from the fact that I may have just managed to squeak under the radar long enough had I ignored the draft way back when. But no, I made sure I was on top of things, so they suspended the draft while I was in basic training for the boy scouts. Air Force basic, actually. Much the same, I'd think. Believe it or not, at that time, and probably still holds, the USAF had a measurably brighter level of enrollment than the other services. Working the mess hall on KP made me acutely aware that if this was the cream of the crop, our crop was seriously troubled.
Would it be unseemly to sell my ballot to the highest bidder? That may be illegal, but no ID is involved. Just sign and mail it in.
I worry that if I do it too soon, my vote will have no impact. If some issue is really close, and I wait until the end to send in my vote, then maybe my vote will be the deciding one that saves the day. It is always the last votes that decide things, so the first ones may as well just be tossed out. Right?
We've got lots of propositions on the ballot here in CA. Some are easy and straightforward. Some are a little trickier. Often things sound good but turn out to have little hidden pockets of evil lurking behind happy faces.
They have one that eases some of the draconian possibilities in the three strikes law. I'm sorry, but I find the three strikes thing a bit worrisome from the get go. You have crimes. You have punishments. Then you have a law taken loosely from baseball and baseball metaphors. The problem is that it is a wide open opportunity for anything from vendetta to racism to corruption to further cloud justice.
Handle the regular laws right, make it ok to shoot people who threaten you and yours, and forget these sports allegory things. How about if someone is arrested four times and beats the rap each time, he gets a total reset like a first down? Maybe give him a get out of jail free card for his efforts.
If you think long enough you can come up with three strike situations, four ball circumstances, maybe something akin to ruffing the passer, and on and on. We can eventually just meld all criminal law with sports rules from popular games. I suspect the scrabble and chess nerds will not get a fair showing but will gleefully complain.
Most crime problems have to do with The Great Pretense and stupid philosophies which prohibit people from protecting themselves and their property. That coupled with the fact that it is safer for police to harass those who can pay the fines, yet don't have any power, than it is for them to go in busting gangs. Anyway, three strikes may sound emotional satisfying, but it is nonsense which avoids the real issues. The real issue being that the Great Pretense approach has not worked out very well.
OK. I think I'll photocopy my ballot and vote now, then again later when it might be the decisive difference which changes the world.
But, law schmaw, I say. Who needs no schteenkink law? This is California, home of sunshine and Moonbeam.
So, my official election ballot arrived in the mail. My neighborhood is a mail in voting deal, by default. I think I could change that if I cared to go through the bureaucracy to do it. My theory is that the least amount of business I conduct with governments of all levels, the better off I am.
That may come from the fact that I may have just managed to squeak under the radar long enough had I ignored the draft way back when. But no, I made sure I was on top of things, so they suspended the draft while I was in basic training for the boy scouts. Air Force basic, actually. Much the same, I'd think. Believe it or not, at that time, and probably still holds, the USAF had a measurably brighter level of enrollment than the other services. Working the mess hall on KP made me acutely aware that if this was the cream of the crop, our crop was seriously troubled.
Would it be unseemly to sell my ballot to the highest bidder? That may be illegal, but no ID is involved. Just sign and mail it in.
I worry that if I do it too soon, my vote will have no impact. If some issue is really close, and I wait until the end to send in my vote, then maybe my vote will be the deciding one that saves the day. It is always the last votes that decide things, so the first ones may as well just be tossed out. Right?
We've got lots of propositions on the ballot here in CA. Some are easy and straightforward. Some are a little trickier. Often things sound good but turn out to have little hidden pockets of evil lurking behind happy faces.
They have one that eases some of the draconian possibilities in the three strikes law. I'm sorry, but I find the three strikes thing a bit worrisome from the get go. You have crimes. You have punishments. Then you have a law taken loosely from baseball and baseball metaphors. The problem is that it is a wide open opportunity for anything from vendetta to racism to corruption to further cloud justice.
Handle the regular laws right, make it ok to shoot people who threaten you and yours, and forget these sports allegory things. How about if someone is arrested four times and beats the rap each time, he gets a total reset like a first down? Maybe give him a get out of jail free card for his efforts.
If you think long enough you can come up with three strike situations, four ball circumstances, maybe something akin to ruffing the passer, and on and on. We can eventually just meld all criminal law with sports rules from popular games. I suspect the scrabble and chess nerds will not get a fair showing but will gleefully complain.
Most crime problems have to do with The Great Pretense and stupid philosophies which prohibit people from protecting themselves and their property. That coupled with the fact that it is safer for police to harass those who can pay the fines, yet don't have any power, than it is for them to go in busting gangs. Anyway, three strikes may sound emotional satisfying, but it is nonsense which avoids the real issues. The real issue being that the Great Pretense approach has not worked out very well.
OK. I think I'll photocopy my ballot and vote now, then again later when it might be the decisive difference which changes the world.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Debate Digest vol 2012-2
Tonight they had what is called a "debate".
When Hilary ran, she called everything a "conversation". That is still used in lieu of "debate", "discussion" and other words that hit the mark better than "conversation" in many contexts. Hillary gave that one legs.
The only useful thing about a vice presidential debate is that it keeps us from having a debate between first spouses or candidates' kids (hope I didn't give them any ideas). I guess it gives you someone to yell at through the screen, too.
People have less use for vice presidents than they do for first spouses. Except for me, I have no use for the stupid first lady crusades, and wish they'd all go be quiet and quit spending tax money.
I'm probably not of the majority view on that matter, not sure. It seems people are all for such unelected royalty garbage if they are in agreement with the First Cause du jour. They miss the principle or just don't care.
Tonight in nutshell
"If I'm lying, Lord, bring a bolt of lightening down upon this infidel sitting to my left!"
When Hilary ran, she called everything a "conversation". That is still used in lieu of "debate", "discussion" and other words that hit the mark better than "conversation" in many contexts. Hillary gave that one legs.
The only useful thing about a vice presidential debate is that it keeps us from having a debate between first spouses or candidates' kids (hope I didn't give them any ideas). I guess it gives you someone to yell at through the screen, too.
People have less use for vice presidents than they do for first spouses. Except for me, I have no use for the stupid first lady crusades, and wish they'd all go be quiet and quit spending tax money.
I'm probably not of the majority view on that matter, not sure. It seems people are all for such unelected royalty garbage if they are in agreement with the First Cause du jour. They miss the principle or just don't care.
Tonight in nutshell
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Getting Away despite the plague
Had to get out even though I did not feel like driving much. As you can see, looking east was sunny and nice, then driving seven miles west and facing west, the heavy clouds came rolling in. Big surprise, we may get some rain tomorrow, and I have to work tomorrow, sick or not. Few places I've lived offer such easy escape and great scenery. Maybe nowhere I've lived was as conducive to escaping the madding crowd. Odd that I would find that in Southern California. The state is nutso, yet it is geographically swell. Except for the constant fire fears. I do not care for that.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Hot Ginger Tea
This odd illness, which acts much like a cold, drags on. I noticed this and decided it was time to pull in the big guns.
Until a little while ago I was using over the counter cold/flu/tumor/and else medicines, along with some PM cough formula. I have not been overdoing the dosage since it doesn't take much for me to react.
The store bought stuff has been doing OK, but it tries my patience when 100% of any airflow through my nose is blocked. So, the only hope I know is Hot Ginger Tea. It is not all that tasty, but who in this condition can taste well?
By Hot Ginger Tea I mean any form of ginger available. I boil a cup of water in the microwave. I dump in a bunch of ginger from a seasoning can which claims to contain ground ginger. I add some milk or half and half. I had milk. Then I add some sugar; honey would be first choice but yo no lo tengo.
this must be raw form ginger. as you can see it runs around on its belly and you can't tell what's an arm or leg for sure. hunters use leaf blowers with a hose on the sucking side to convert the device into a giant vacuum cleaner--best way to ginger hunt.
The Tea is sipped while one contemplates the dark night, the odd sounds from the mule down the way, and items about life which are both uplifting and down-lifting. One sip and I noticed that I could breath gently through my nose.
It took me over a decade, from the first time this cure was suggested to me, for me to actually try it. Since then I have bullied and bored friends by singing the praises of Hot Ginger Tea every time the topic strays to the difficulties of sore throats or extreme congestion due to various illnesses. One out of maybe ten people who have been told of this miracle have actually tried it. Most suffer in uncomfortable, know-it-all, congestive smugness.
this is the Ginger Rogers variety of Ginger. Much harder to catch, and much preferred over the little herd animal shown above.
I think the next really good instrumental piece I create will be called Hot Ginger Tea. Maybe it could be a regular song. I throw in some things to get a rating label banning kids from buying my album. That will boost my sales to minors.
Until a little while ago I was using over the counter cold/flu/tumor/and else medicines, along with some PM cough formula. I have not been overdoing the dosage since it doesn't take much for me to react.
The store bought stuff has been doing OK, but it tries my patience when 100% of any airflow through my nose is blocked. So, the only hope I know is Hot Ginger Tea. It is not all that tasty, but who in this condition can taste well?
By Hot Ginger Tea I mean any form of ginger available. I boil a cup of water in the microwave. I dump in a bunch of ginger from a seasoning can which claims to contain ground ginger. I add some milk or half and half. I had milk. Then I add some sugar; honey would be first choice but yo no lo tengo.
this must be raw form ginger. as you can see it runs around on its belly and you can't tell what's an arm or leg for sure. hunters use leaf blowers with a hose on the sucking side to convert the device into a giant vacuum cleaner--best way to ginger hunt.The Tea is sipped while one contemplates the dark night, the odd sounds from the mule down the way, and items about life which are both uplifting and down-lifting. One sip and I noticed that I could breath gently through my nose.
It took me over a decade, from the first time this cure was suggested to me, for me to actually try it. Since then I have bullied and bored friends by singing the praises of Hot Ginger Tea every time the topic strays to the difficulties of sore throats or extreme congestion due to various illnesses. One out of maybe ten people who have been told of this miracle have actually tried it. Most suffer in uncomfortable, know-it-all, congestive smugness.
this is the Ginger Rogers variety of Ginger. Much harder to catch, and much preferred over the little herd animal shown above.I think the next really good instrumental piece I create will be called Hot Ginger Tea. Maybe it could be a regular song. I throw in some things to get a rating label banning kids from buying my album. That will boost my sales to minors.
Stranger Days Than Some, but not others
So, the old open mic circuit seems to be shuffling around some. I know the people who appear to be the kingpins, who set up the sound, such as it is. But I don't know what they really do, why, or where they dwell.
That is all irrelevant. I attended the one at the Moose lodge and it was, I don't know, just was. Fantastic stage, bit hall, not so good a PA was brought in, and the guy did not know how to run it in this hall. Result; instruments loud, and a little too muddy on the bass side, and vocals too weak.
Then there was the one over the weekend, by the courthouse where I have Halloween jury duty. It worked well enough. Same PA as the one at the Moose place. They have big moose heads here and there on the wall. I wondered if perhaps these meese had insulted the prohet, pbuh, or drawn cartoons, which resulted in the good, old fashioned beheading.
This observation alerted me to the possibility that this alleged Moose lodge may be a front for radical islamists who behead moose for carrying freedom of expression too far. It is curious that PETA is nowhere to found in such cases, which leads me to believe they have a political agenda which subverts their alleged true concern for animals. Everyone is afraid of the soldiers for the religion of peace, even PETA and NOW.
At one of these things, the local who title's himself Harmonica John was playing. He had a wild looking female singer with him. He sits there on a stool, playing guitar and sometimes playing a harmonica in one of those brackets that collars the neck. Dylan used that.
HJ is a good player, for sure. I would never name myself harmonica john, since so many others play and it implies a "one and only" boast. I have cautioned people who tried to tag that label on me that it is a wrong thing to do.
Anyway, I was roped into going up on stage with this egomaniac, against both my wishes and better judgement. People do no always see the underhanded antics going on with musicians. I have come to be able to spot them fairly quickly. Nothing I could do about it in this case.
I asked the key and fortunately received a quick reply. I could tell the guy was about to explain to me how to crossharp but I turned to grab my harp, ignoring him. "Well, WE'RE in G, but....".
He'd just given me a lecture about microphone usage. Not a lecture really, but a little nonsense designed to mark territory. I knew the song would be something I'd never heard, with progressions which I'd never seen and which were in no way catchy or memorable. I was right. Any halfway decent harp player knows how to throw curves. And he's plenty good enough, I'll give him that. But there is a smallness in sacrificing courtesy for a competition in which only the host cares to compete.
I muddled my way through and got out of there soon as I could. Whether HJ actually succeeded in making me look inferior, I can't say. I doubt he managed it too well. I didn't bite, so I was able to give a wave as if I'd enjoyed the charade and get out of there. You run into a lot of that sometimes. Too many people had been telling this guy about me and I do not think he liked it. Don't blame him.
What do people think when they tell one performer how much they like another performer who plays the same instrument, or does the same thing? No one wants to entertain that garbage. They just don't. So, what my lovely friends end up doing is making enemies for me before I even meet certain people. I might have been able to get along and learn something, but when I am met with less than Southern courtesy and hospitality, I don't return.
And now, for the first time in years, I have the congestion cold flu virus of unknown origin, It is unacceptable. I thought Obama was going to cure all that. The damned slacker has not put gas in my car, paid my rent, or cured my illness. He didn't even give me a phone.
It is probably nothing more serious than ebola. I think I may live.
Times like this cause me to look back in self hatred for allowing myself to skate into this future without a compassionate woman at my side. Then again, most who got away weren't that compassionate. I can see it now, "Oh, you poor baby. I'd hug you but I don't want to get sick. I'm going to stay at my friendd's/mothers/a hotel until this thing passes. There's plenty of soup in the kitchen. Just heat it up or whatever.
Seeya!"
So, in reality, I am not missing that support and unconditional love I try to con myself into believing I could have had. I'm not sure which picture is sadder.
That is all irrelevant. I attended the one at the Moose lodge and it was, I don't know, just was. Fantastic stage, bit hall, not so good a PA was brought in, and the guy did not know how to run it in this hall. Result; instruments loud, and a little too muddy on the bass side, and vocals too weak.
Then there was the one over the weekend, by the courthouse where I have Halloween jury duty. It worked well enough. Same PA as the one at the Moose place. They have big moose heads here and there on the wall. I wondered if perhaps these meese had insulted the prohet, pbuh, or drawn cartoons, which resulted in the good, old fashioned beheading.
This observation alerted me to the possibility that this alleged Moose lodge may be a front for radical islamists who behead moose for carrying freedom of expression too far. It is curious that PETA is nowhere to found in such cases, which leads me to believe they have a political agenda which subverts their alleged true concern for animals. Everyone is afraid of the soldiers for the religion of peace, even PETA and NOW.
At one of these things, the local who title's himself Harmonica John was playing. He had a wild looking female singer with him. He sits there on a stool, playing guitar and sometimes playing a harmonica in one of those brackets that collars the neck. Dylan used that.
HJ is a good player, for sure. I would never name myself harmonica john, since so many others play and it implies a "one and only" boast. I have cautioned people who tried to tag that label on me that it is a wrong thing to do.
Anyway, I was roped into going up on stage with this egomaniac, against both my wishes and better judgement. People do no always see the underhanded antics going on with musicians. I have come to be able to spot them fairly quickly. Nothing I could do about it in this case.
I asked the key and fortunately received a quick reply. I could tell the guy was about to explain to me how to crossharp but I turned to grab my harp, ignoring him. "Well, WE'RE in G, but....".
He'd just given me a lecture about microphone usage. Not a lecture really, but a little nonsense designed to mark territory. I knew the song would be something I'd never heard, with progressions which I'd never seen and which were in no way catchy or memorable. I was right. Any halfway decent harp player knows how to throw curves. And he's plenty good enough, I'll give him that. But there is a smallness in sacrificing courtesy for a competition in which only the host cares to compete.
I muddled my way through and got out of there soon as I could. Whether HJ actually succeeded in making me look inferior, I can't say. I doubt he managed it too well. I didn't bite, so I was able to give a wave as if I'd enjoyed the charade and get out of there. You run into a lot of that sometimes. Too many people had been telling this guy about me and I do not think he liked it. Don't blame him.
What do people think when they tell one performer how much they like another performer who plays the same instrument, or does the same thing? No one wants to entertain that garbage. They just don't. So, what my lovely friends end up doing is making enemies for me before I even meet certain people. I might have been able to get along and learn something, but when I am met with less than Southern courtesy and hospitality, I don't return.
And now, for the first time in years, I have the congestion cold flu virus of unknown origin, It is unacceptable. I thought Obama was going to cure all that. The damned slacker has not put gas in my car, paid my rent, or cured my illness. He didn't even give me a phone.
It is probably nothing more serious than ebola. I think I may live.
Times like this cause me to look back in self hatred for allowing myself to skate into this future without a compassionate woman at my side. Then again, most who got away weren't that compassionate. I can see it now, "Oh, you poor baby. I'd hug you but I don't want to get sick. I'm going to stay at my friendd's/mothers/a hotel until this thing passes. There's plenty of soup in the kitchen. Just heat it up or whatever.
Seeya!"
So, in reality, I am not missing that support and unconditional love I try to con myself into believing I could have had. I'm not sure which picture is sadder.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Nowhere Else to Turn
The more I hear and see religious movements and rationale for one sort of intrusiveness on individual rights or another, the less inclined I am to embrace their tenets. I don't despise religious beliefs, in general, except when they involve stoning and inhibiting mobility; stopping traffic and passage.
Live and let live is rarely encouraged by most holy people if they are given opportunity to have power over strangers. That puts me off.
Even so, when it comes down to it in my own life battles, I find the only place to turn in desperation is to something far inside and yet far outside myself. There has to be something which is a source, for want of a better word, which can clear the fog in me which inhibits productive action and peace of mind. It matters not whether it is real and tangible or not. One thing I know, and that is that all that is is not necessarily visible or detectable through the normal senses. Science backs me up on this. So does experience.
this is from a few years ago, my first time at the very left edge of the continent
I find it hard to justify by logical proof, yet certain experiences, and the fact I am still in this life, cause me to believe some thing or invisible entities have influenced matters in my life a time or two. It would be swell if they'd come fix me now.
And there is some fixing to do, I can tell you that. The stupid part is that I should be able to do the better part of it myself. It is like trying to drive with the parking brake firmly engaged. Why I have trouble releasing it is the question. And knowing it needs releasing, what's stopping me from doing it?
I'm trying to straighten out the trivia that clutters my environment, my mind and life, yet the brake is there in a way I feel. Like trying to keep your eyes open in a boring lecture and losing the battle. For motivation, I am attempting to convince myself that I can become more available to have a hot woman in my life. One who won't just bring drama and crazy trouble.
Already the drama and crazy trouble variety cross paths now and then, but I've learned to sting and run before becoming embroiled in all that. It is not the way to go.
Maybe I will never be better, good enough for what I want.
In the mean time I'll run political campaigns like an armchair quarterback, and try to avoid owning a handgun or lethal doses of morphine.
It seems trite to discuss spiritual aspects of life, claiming I'm not religious but I'm spiritual. What's that even mean? Maybe I'm not religious but I'm a desperado. And I'm sure angels like me. Despite myself, I'm sure something other dimensional and fairly powerful likes me because I'm unusually lucky in ways that I outwardly do not deserve. But, perhaps there are reasons which aren't all that visible which earn me the consideration I've received. Not to be immodest, but I suspect so.
Now, to exercise simple courtesy by taking care of the gifts I've received. That is the key, the problem, and the goal.
I still believe in elves and angels.
Live and let live is rarely encouraged by most holy people if they are given opportunity to have power over strangers. That puts me off.
Even so, when it comes down to it in my own life battles, I find the only place to turn in desperation is to something far inside and yet far outside myself. There has to be something which is a source, for want of a better word, which can clear the fog in me which inhibits productive action and peace of mind. It matters not whether it is real and tangible or not. One thing I know, and that is that all that is is not necessarily visible or detectable through the normal senses. Science backs me up on this. So does experience.
this is from a few years ago, my first time at the very left edge of the continent
I find it hard to justify by logical proof, yet certain experiences, and the fact I am still in this life, cause me to believe some thing or invisible entities have influenced matters in my life a time or two. It would be swell if they'd come fix me now.
And there is some fixing to do, I can tell you that. The stupid part is that I should be able to do the better part of it myself. It is like trying to drive with the parking brake firmly engaged. Why I have trouble releasing it is the question. And knowing it needs releasing, what's stopping me from doing it?
I'm trying to straighten out the trivia that clutters my environment, my mind and life, yet the brake is there in a way I feel. Like trying to keep your eyes open in a boring lecture and losing the battle. For motivation, I am attempting to convince myself that I can become more available to have a hot woman in my life. One who won't just bring drama and crazy trouble.
Already the drama and crazy trouble variety cross paths now and then, but I've learned to sting and run before becoming embroiled in all that. It is not the way to go.
Maybe I will never be better, good enough for what I want.
In the mean time I'll run political campaigns like an armchair quarterback, and try to avoid owning a handgun or lethal doses of morphine.
It seems trite to discuss spiritual aspects of life, claiming I'm not religious but I'm spiritual. What's that even mean? Maybe I'm not religious but I'm a desperado. And I'm sure angels like me. Despite myself, I'm sure something other dimensional and fairly powerful likes me because I'm unusually lucky in ways that I outwardly do not deserve. But, perhaps there are reasons which aren't all that visible which earn me the consideration I've received. Not to be immodest, but I suspect so.
Now, to exercise simple courtesy by taking care of the gifts I've received. That is the key, the problem, and the goal.
I still believe in elves and angels.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Perhaps It Is a Form of Paranoia, or not
Fortunately, I was unable to listen to the full presidential debate due to a band practice here on Ballistic Mountain. I caught some of it on radio then practiced.
Later I heard and read what people had to say, viewed a video excerpt or two, and then I noticed that little red flags were being thrown all over the playing field that is my muddy mind. When Chris Matthews doesn't gush and all but publicly offer the President unspeakble personal favors, something is amiss.
I think I know what is happening here; ROPE A DOPE. Remember that from Mohammad Ali when he fought...I forget who. Maybe Foreman. Rope a dope.
I'll bet there is a method to this madness. First you have Obama hedging the bet by claiming he's just OK at debates, but that Romney is really good at it. And then you hear he has that dolt John Kerry coaching. Really? I would imagine the best coach would be Axelrod or some other tough associate.
Anyway, if Mitt were to pay me, I'd figure out when the knock out punch is coming, and exactly where it will land.
The whole affair is a bit sad because I do not want the current crop of Bolsheviks to remain in power. The problem is that I haven't heard the challengers say, "Hell no, we won't make you buy insurance or else pay government, and force you to justify your existence".
They haven't offered to abolish this tax system in favor of something that doesn't terrorize and befuddle. Both groups are all for government-business partnerships which is code for cronyism and corruption. And that retards true innovation and better long term practices in many fields of endeavor.
So, it is what it is. If Obama wants to pay me, I could offer classier ways to beat his opponent than pretending he murders people's wives and doesn't make his union trash collector feel warm and loved. And I wouldn't use the absurd accusation that he's rich, therefore evil.
Romney would be harder for me to help in some ways. I would certainly confine things to foreign policy and domestic economic practices. Forget some of the other. I'm not sure if I'd even address the odd bit that he's a woman hater because he isn't for forcing taxpayers and insurance to pay for birth control. I'd have him make it clear that it was up to individuals to pay for it for others if they choose, and up to insurance companies. Not a federal issue, especially since you can't buy insurance across state lines. That's pure smoke.
I guess they both need my help. I would charge Obama more than Mitt because I do believe he is a Chavez style socialist and I find that troubling. Romney is not too far behind him, but he's a little less so.
So many people want to get into calling each of them names like idiot, etc. And make their attacks personal and, in the case of many Hollywood people, really vile and out of line. Then they pretend to be thinkers and on some higher plane of awareness. I think they still suffer from the Jr. High insecurity that makes people ridicule others so they can be considered cool, and keep out of the line of fire themselves.
There is no winner in these debates until the end. You'll know who won when you know who lives in the White House next year. All else is irrelevant.
But, just wait, the Obama camp will spring this rope a dope thing soon enough. Too much eager insistence that Obama lost the alleged debate from people in the press who normally make no qualms about being devoutly religious when it comes to protecting and praising this guy.
I've seen worse in the past and they said things like, "Well, Bill, I think he was off his game, but still had a slight edge". The spin is too minimal. The weakest spin comment I saw labelled Obama's supposedly weak showing as the "incumbent curse" and said that the president was sooo busy, he had little time to prep.
Come one. The guy went on the View with that bunch of cackling nincompoops. I'd rather be bored at home debating John Kerry than get stuck with that noise. No time? If you know what you've done and why, and what you plan, it would help. Fund raising like all other politicians. It is totally bizarre.
The spin is suspiciously weak, the criticism too freely given by supporters, and mostly it doesn't really address the substance of anything. It is a marketing ploy--like the New Coke. Remember that?
No, I'm not buying it. It is a cleverly laid plan, and I suspect Republicans may stupidly walk right into the trap, which is generally their MO anyway. Noone can do something stupid during a campaign like they can. It is frustrating because this is one time I am actively voting against someone.
Yep, I'd trade the devil I know for the one I don't in this case.
It kills me to play along and say bad things about 'sigh' Oooobamah. I'll still keep you in my dreams, Mr. President. (can I keep my "Chis M hearts Barack O" license plate?)
What is With Facebook
So, I see that Jetblue is doing a live free or fly promotion. You can win a free trip out of the country if the election doesn't go your way. So I go to sign up.
First you have to vote by clicking on a picture of an elephant or a jack ass. Then it gives but one option, "log in using facebook". What if I do not want to? I see no options, so I gave up.
I hate that. Facebook is great if you want people in your business, or if you want to make it look like your business is something other than what it is, and you want people all in that. I see it as an accident waiting to happen. You hit a few wrong clicks and no telling what might go out to all your "friends".
I've discovered that errant tap and click probability is increased exponentially on a smart phone. Those things seem useful and clever, but therein may reside the devil. It's a hard life.
By the way, no one has 7500 friends, or even 750. I'm suspect of even 75 friends with whom you feel great sharing private info. They are not your friends. You lie, and facebook has helped you become a liar. They encouraged it. You are weak and dishonest. I'm sorry.
I,too,lied. My name is not exactly what I told facebook it is. But, like the government, I feel they have no business pushing it and that they don't deserve anything more than what I care to share with them about myself.
It is the prevalence of things on unrelated sites that I find annoying. I want to go to St Maartens or somewhere if this thug gets another term. Or if the other guy gets his first four. But I can't bet both ways so, you vote for the loser on the airline contest. And maybe hope he wins.
But who cares? I see no way to just sign up to make my bet. Step two goes through facebook. "log in using Facebook!" No no no.
I have a bad feeling about this. I think we are acquiescing to a type of slavery by cooperating with the over use of 'cookies' and the ubiquitous facebook presence.
Great technology, but people based in California invariably do not know when to just leave well enough alone. Intrusive bunch of bastards, and google and facebook are the vanguard of this assault. Between facebook and google, they'll directly or indirectly queer the whole freedom on the internet deal.
I guess that applies elsewhere, too, but I'm on one of those 'California bastards' kicks. Geez, they love to mind your business. Makes me want to buy cigars and go downtown blowing smoke in their faces.
First you have to vote by clicking on a picture of an elephant or a jack ass. Then it gives but one option, "log in using facebook". What if I do not want to? I see no options, so I gave up.
I hate that. Facebook is great if you want people in your business, or if you want to make it look like your business is something other than what it is, and you want people all in that. I see it as an accident waiting to happen. You hit a few wrong clicks and no telling what might go out to all your "friends".
I've discovered that errant tap and click probability is increased exponentially on a smart phone. Those things seem useful and clever, but therein may reside the devil. It's a hard life.
By the way, no one has 7500 friends, or even 750. I'm suspect of even 75 friends with whom you feel great sharing private info. They are not your friends. You lie, and facebook has helped you become a liar. They encouraged it. You are weak and dishonest. I'm sorry.
I,too,lied. My name is not exactly what I told facebook it is. But, like the government, I feel they have no business pushing it and that they don't deserve anything more than what I care to share with them about myself.
It is the prevalence of things on unrelated sites that I find annoying. I want to go to St Maartens or somewhere if this thug gets another term. Or if the other guy gets his first four. But I can't bet both ways so, you vote for the loser on the airline contest. And maybe hope he wins.
But who cares? I see no way to just sign up to make my bet. Step two goes through facebook. "log in using Facebook!" No no no.
I have a bad feeling about this. I think we are acquiescing to a type of slavery by cooperating with the over use of 'cookies' and the ubiquitous facebook presence.
Great technology, but people based in California invariably do not know when to just leave well enough alone. Intrusive bunch of bastards, and google and facebook are the vanguard of this assault. Between facebook and google, they'll directly or indirectly queer the whole freedom on the internet deal.
I guess that applies elsewhere, too, but I'm on one of those 'California bastards' kicks. Geez, they love to mind your business. Makes me want to buy cigars and go downtown blowing smoke in their faces.
Amateur Nights
I guess it is a compliment when people ask if your group would come play in order to add zest and gravitas to their open mic events. Then again, it's a frigging open mic. Just about anyone can play, and the do. Even those who really ought to learn something before sitting in front of people losing their time while they try to read the page in front of them on a music stand.
There is a whole lot of that music stand stuff in SoCal, even among regularly gigging groups and bands. I understand it, but I am totally opposed to doing it myself or to being in a group who does that. It is fine if you are the San Diego symphony or similar outfit. But for original music or stuff that is more emotion than technical, the pages tend to inhibit that organic spontaneity. At least that is how it is in My Book. It's a pretty big book so I don't carry it around.
I have to say, though, the group here on the mountain could be close to great if we all the the will and the time. It has something.
The other group I'm practicing with does have a little more time and will. That one is 90% or more original music, and it is not bad. Whether the nature of it is what will grab people remains to be seen.
I think the addition of the bass and me has influenced the overall sound much to the good, and I always feel great after one of those practices. I expect we'll be doing some good gigs before long. The vocals are very tight--two males and one female.
Both these groups have excellent vocals. That is new for me. I miss the harder driving electric guitar centered stuff with good drummers and the whole bit, but I do not miss their tendency toward prohibitive decibel levels.
This is from Feb 2012. I've reduced the belly since then, but this makes me look much more bellyish than I am. Really. Either way, that was the second time I'd heard that version of this song. He played it for me at his house but neither of us knew all the words so I was no help. It is usually a blast to play with Cliff. He is not your average Joe. He's worked on it some since then and I've played it once or twice with him and other people were sitting in too. Maybe I'll get an updated recording of it which ought to be better.
My CA playing has been more of a challenge in some ways. And less in others. These people listen better, but what I have to do to fit properly, playing-wise, is more difficult. It has to have improved my overall skill considerably.
In this circuit I seem to have developed a reputation for being good to have up there. Probably also a rep for being a little temperamental, or just mental. That's OK. I still get requests and positive reinforcement, which makes me try harder. I do poorly without that.
It has become clear that I'm not that much of a real blues player but I do add some soul to things which otherwise might not be very soulful. But the harp players whose sound I like the best are Lee Oskar, Mickey Raphael, Greg Taylor and John Popper. I marvel at the skill and cutting edge virtuosity of Jason Ricci, and I like blues guys like Musselwhite, Cotton, Sugar Blue and Little Walter.
Most harp players rarely would even mention my top four, but they play on things I enjoy listening to more than anyone else. My tastes alone would get me kicked off a lot of purely bluesharp forums.
That tells me that maybe I am of a different ilk than many players. And that is OK. I can't or don't do what a lot of good blues players do, but they don't do what I do, as far as I know. I'm almost beginning to be comfortable with that. It is amazing that after all this time I am still finding new little nuances and ways of changing the sound and delivery of the same chords or notes. I'm working the chords in ways I never used to, and it is effective for what I'm after.
No one has kicked me out of their group yet, and more people keep making minor inquiries, so OK. It is unlikely to make me rich but it gets me invited to parties, and as of late some single wimmin within the age envelope have been hitting on me--I think. I'm not to quick on the uptake in that realm. Working on it.
I suspect the place where I work is being used for somewhat secret strategy and fund raising meetings. That is good. Much less trashing of the place when people come down to stay below the radar and use it as a base while they head out to nearby rich people towns to make deals.
I tried to vote in Venezuela but they wanted ID. Maybe they just don't like My Kind. It is none of my business, however if Chavez loses, I'll celebrate.
There is a whole lot of that music stand stuff in SoCal, even among regularly gigging groups and bands. I understand it, but I am totally opposed to doing it myself or to being in a group who does that. It is fine if you are the San Diego symphony or similar outfit. But for original music or stuff that is more emotion than technical, the pages tend to inhibit that organic spontaneity. At least that is how it is in My Book. It's a pretty big book so I don't carry it around.
I have to say, though, the group here on the mountain could be close to great if we all the the will and the time. It has something.
The other group I'm practicing with does have a little more time and will. That one is 90% or more original music, and it is not bad. Whether the nature of it is what will grab people remains to be seen.
I think the addition of the bass and me has influenced the overall sound much to the good, and I always feel great after one of those practices. I expect we'll be doing some good gigs before long. The vocals are very tight--two males and one female.
Both these groups have excellent vocals. That is new for me. I miss the harder driving electric guitar centered stuff with good drummers and the whole bit, but I do not miss their tendency toward prohibitive decibel levels.
This is from Feb 2012. I've reduced the belly since then, but this makes me look much more bellyish than I am. Really. Either way, that was the second time I'd heard that version of this song. He played it for me at his house but neither of us knew all the words so I was no help. It is usually a blast to play with Cliff. He is not your average Joe. He's worked on it some since then and I've played it once or twice with him and other people were sitting in too. Maybe I'll get an updated recording of it which ought to be better.
My CA playing has been more of a challenge in some ways. And less in others. These people listen better, but what I have to do to fit properly, playing-wise, is more difficult. It has to have improved my overall skill considerably.
In this circuit I seem to have developed a reputation for being good to have up there. Probably also a rep for being a little temperamental, or just mental. That's OK. I still get requests and positive reinforcement, which makes me try harder. I do poorly without that.
It has become clear that I'm not that much of a real blues player but I do add some soul to things which otherwise might not be very soulful. But the harp players whose sound I like the best are Lee Oskar, Mickey Raphael, Greg Taylor and John Popper. I marvel at the skill and cutting edge virtuosity of Jason Ricci, and I like blues guys like Musselwhite, Cotton, Sugar Blue and Little Walter.
Most harp players rarely would even mention my top four, but they play on things I enjoy listening to more than anyone else. My tastes alone would get me kicked off a lot of purely bluesharp forums.
That tells me that maybe I am of a different ilk than many players. And that is OK. I can't or don't do what a lot of good blues players do, but they don't do what I do, as far as I know. I'm almost beginning to be comfortable with that. It is amazing that after all this time I am still finding new little nuances and ways of changing the sound and delivery of the same chords or notes. I'm working the chords in ways I never used to, and it is effective for what I'm after.
No one has kicked me out of their group yet, and more people keep making minor inquiries, so OK. It is unlikely to make me rich but it gets me invited to parties, and as of late some single wimmin within the age envelope have been hitting on me--I think. I'm not to quick on the uptake in that realm. Working on it.
I suspect the place where I work is being used for somewhat secret strategy and fund raising meetings. That is good. Much less trashing of the place when people come down to stay below the radar and use it as a base while they head out to nearby rich people towns to make deals.
I tried to vote in Venezuela but they wanted ID. Maybe they just don't like My Kind. It is none of my business, however if Chavez loses, I'll celebrate.
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About Me
- John0 Juanderlust
- Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
- Like spring on a summer's day
