Thursday, March 19, 2009
Poem: Foghorns
The Point Lonsdale Foghorn
I hear three moaning foghorns tonight,
Probably at Bainbridge Island,
Point No Point, and Alki.
I can't detect a pattern.
The foghorns sing to each other
Back and forth across the murky Puget Sound. . .
There will come a time
When we will likewise
All sing to each other.
---o0o---
[ed's note]: Foghorns are really just audio lighthouses. Modern foghorns send out laser beams to test for visibility. If the laser indicates that visibility is low, a computer activates the foghorn, which sounds until the laser shows conditions have cleared. The notes of foghorns are extremely low because low sounds carry better, providing more of a warning. For large ships which do not turn or move rapidly at all (ask the Titanic survivors), the sooner they know of objective hazards. . .the better.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The Del McCoury band play My love Will Not Change
---o0o---
Sly and the Family Stone - Stand! (A YouTube slideo)
Stand
In the end you'll still be you
One that's done all the things you set out to do
Stand
There's a cross for you to bear
Things to go through if you're going anywhere
Stand
For the things you know are right
It s the truth that the truth makes them so uptight
Stand
All the things you want are real
You have you to complete and there is no deal
Stand. stand, stand
Stand. stand, stand
Stand
You've been sitting much too long
There's a permanent crease in your right and wrong
Stand
There's a midget standing tall
And the giant beside him about to fall
Stand. stand, stand
Stand. stand, stand
Stand
They will try to make you crawl
And they know what you're saying makes sense and all
Stand
Don't you know that you are free
Well at least in your mind if you want to be
Everybody
Stand, stand, stand
---o0o---
Contrary to what Grandma's Boy postulated, does marijuana help or hinder videogamers?
click to enlarge The President
The new ads posit that while reefer may not specifically kill you, it will turn you into a crappy gamer.
The Drug Czar Office (now run by Seattle Police Chief Kerlikowske) is going one further: not only does marijuana cause you to spend hours of wasted time on your couch, it chisels away at your gaming skills.
"Getting high affects your brain in ways that may directly influence your gaming ability," warns the Drug Czar's web site. "Many of the skills required for beating a level, defeating an opponent, [and] beating games" are erased by marijuana use.
Some famous gamers in the zone
The site interviews a computer-generated character: "I used to have a good time with Lyle," she says. "We made a good team. He had skill. He had swiftness," she says. "Well, he used to, anyway. Then our last fight, Lyle decided to get high. And it was simply: sayonara skill, sayonara swiftness."
The 2009 US budget allocates $100 million for the Drug Czar's media campaign.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
'Moto [a/k/a Victoria Lenti] Remembers Mel [a/k/a Jerry Melin]
click to enlarge - Vicki Lenti on the Staten Island Ferry (with Our Lady Of the Harbor in the distance)
Vicki Lenti, or Moto, as we often call her, which is really short for Lentimoto, sent me this nugget about Jerry Melin a long time ago, and for some reason I am just getting around to posting it.
It's kind of appropriate, because tomorrow is Saint Patrick's Day, and it was exactly ten years ago on Saint Patrick's Day that Jerry Melin's funeral was held in Ross, California. Namasté, brother!
______________________________________
Jerry Melin
By Vicki Lenti
Catfish was how I was first introduced to Johnny [ed's note: often now known as Jack]. The year was 1972 and I met Chris (Milo) Petersen at Green River Community College. Little did I know that the course of my life would change after that meeting. With Chris came his friends. . .and they soon became my friends. I was introduced to John, Johnny, Jack, “Cat” ”Catfish” Brummet, Jerry “Bart” Melin, Kevin “Scooter” “Mort”, “Tibbs” Curran, Keelin Curran, and Frances Hayden. I was one of the lucky females to get a nickname, and that was Moto. I remember Jerry giving me that nickname, but it may have been the combination of Jerry and Johnny. Anyway, 36 years later, I will still answer to it.
I was taken aback by this group of people when I first met them. I remember thinking that they were the hippest (1972) group of people I had ever met and that Keelin and Frances were (and STILL are) the epitome of “together” females. From Tacoma to Kent to Bellingham to NYC and back to Seattle, my life has been blessed with knowing them. Through them I met so many others, like Nick Gattuccio, and the list goes on.
So many memories come to mind, it is hard to know where to start. I found this blog by searching under Jerry’s name, so I will pay tribute to him. I LOVED JERRY. I loved all these people that I met in 1972, but Jerry and I had something special--as I know Jerry had something special with all the people he loved and I feel so lucky that he loved me.
click to enlarge - Jerry on Bainbridge Island, visiting Jack and Keelin
When you were with Jerry, you were important to him and you felt it. I remember some early memories of Jerry; one of the first was that he had that long fingernail (his pinky finger). I remember having a bad cough at the time and got some codeine cough medicine. Jerry asked for a swig and drank half the bottle.
Jerry always pushed the limits, and I don’t know how many of the stories I heard at that time were true (I believed them all), but the image I had of him was like “Neal Cassady or Dean Moriarty,” Jack Kerouac’s friend in On the Road. I loved this about Jerry and I was even a lucky recipient of a Jerry Melin “fake” driver’s license. [ed's note: see Jerry Melin, Master Forger and Craftsman].
I had a green Ford Maverick in those days and something was always happening to it. One day I went out to drive the car and it was gone. In calling around, I found out someone had hit it the night before, and it was slammed into a building. The city had towed it away. Jerry rose to the occasion, donned his leather jacket and (I think) with Milo, went to the tow yard to retrieve the vehicle and make sure I didn’t have to pay a fee.
After many mishaps to that car, I was sitting in an apartment. that Jerry and Fran occupied. We heard a crash, looked out the window and Jerry says “it’s Moto’s car”. We all ran down the stairs and confronted the person who hit me. My car, which had been hit several times before, looked like an accordion. The person who hit me had insurance and since I was only in town for the weekend, we met with the insurance company to settle matters. Jerry went with me and the agent offered me $1000. This was big $$$ at the time and the car wasn’t worth much. Jerry told me beforehand not to say anything too quickly. When the agent offered the $1000, Jerry and I were silent, then Jerry looks at me and say’s “Well Moto, what do you think?” To which I replied “I guess that’s fine”. I thought I would have to pay at some point to have this car put down. This was a jackpot and we laughed all the way home.
In 1982, I was lucky enough to drive with Jerry cross country to New York City. Jerry pushed my dark side somewhat and we ended up in the kind of places I would only end up with him. We stopped at a strip club in Amarillo, Texas and listened to the Blues on Front Street in Memphis. As we approached Washington D.C., the same day as Ronald Reagan’s inauguration [ed's note: Vicki must have the dates wrong...RR was inaugurated in '81], he told me that if anyone asked what we were doing there, to say we were on a mission from Jane Wyman to buy the Blair house and not to give out my last name.
Arriving in NYC, on the doorstep of John Brummet and Keelin Curran, we entered a new chapter. First, I must say that John and Keelin were incredible. They let us stay until we found a place and that whole time is such a wonderful memory to me.
Happy hour took place daily at John and Keelin's with red wine, and new WAVE music was in the house. They introduced me to the “Talking Heads” the “Pretenders” and all the wonderful bands of the time. CBGB’s, NYC. . .what more could you say? – good bye disco!!!
Jerry and I got an apt. on Ave. B, which at the time was dicey (now trendy). Jerry “greased” the super’s hand and we got the apt. We quickly named it B flat and started to fix it up. Jerry started substitute teaching and his first job was at a Hassidic Jewish school. I remember reading (AND busting up over) the scraps of paper on that table, that the kids wrote, answering Jerry‘s question on what they learned today – not a good question to ask. Part of that first check was spent in a little storefront room up the street (by Kevin’s place) where pot was openly sold by the Moghrebis [ed’s note: the St Mark's Place Puerto Rican Pool Hall, reefer & hash Emporium]. There was NEVER a dull moment when were with him. His wit, his attention to detail, everything…I MISS JERRY very much!!
There are so many stories about this great group of people. These are some of my memories of Jerry, and I hope to add my memories of others at a later date. Unfortunately for me, I have not been the best at keeping up and I miss and love all of the above. Thank you for enriching my life and introducing me to so much, and being involved, and who you are.
Love to you all,
MOTO (Vicki Lenti)
---o0o---
Monday, March 16, 2009
Senator David Vitter: "Do you know who I am?" Security worker: "Sure, you're that senator who likes to wear diapers with hookers, right?"
All This Is That National Affairs Editor
Senator David Vitter missed a flight and tried to open a jet way door after the gate had been closed. He then got into a broil with security (Do you know who I am?). Read the full story here, and/or watch the video clip below:
---o0o---
The Beatles: Ask Me Why (a YouTube "slideo:")
Ask Me Why
Lyrics and music by John Lennon and Paul McCartney
I love you, 'cause you tell me things I want to know.
And it's true that it really only goes to show,
That I know,
That I, I, I, I should never, never, never be blue.
Now you're mine, my happiness still makes me cry.
And in time, you'll understand the reason why,
If I cry,
It's not because I'm sad, but you're the only love that I've ever had.
I can't believe it's happened to me
I can't conceive of any more misery.
Ask me why, I'll say I love you,
And I'm always thinking of you.
I love you, 'cause you tell me things I want to know.
And it's true that it really only goes to show,
That I know,
That I, I, I, I should never, never, never be blue.
Ask me why, I'll say I love you,
And I'm always thinking of you.
I can't believe it's happened to me.
I can't conceive of any more misery.
Ask me why, I'll say I love you,
And I'm always thinking of you.
---o0o---
Poem: The War In Your Head
1
When the way ahead is fogged,
When the doubt and cold set in,
You are at not at liberty to retreat.
2
When reason degenerates,
Flight is a mad scramble
For the exits.
3
Retreat is a gathering of reason
As the dark forces assemble;
A provisional step back
As you assemble a full head of steam,
Biding time
For the counter-insurgency.
---o0o---
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Joe Biden: "Give me a f*&$#ing break!" - another VP Biden hot mic moment
At an event at the other Washington's Union Station today, where Vice President Joe Biden was heralding the $1.3 billion investment (boy doesn't that seem like a pitiful amount after the bailout numbers?) to rebuild the train system, a microphone picked up a Senator addressing Joe, as "Mr. Vice President," to which he gave his now standard reply: "Gimme a f*&$#ing break." Crazy Joe didn't know there was a hot mic'.
---o0o---
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Amelia by Joni Mitchell from the Shadows and Light tour (with lyrics)
Amelia
Music and lyrics by Joni Mitchell
I was driving across the burning desert
When I spotted six jet planes
Leaving six white vapor trails across the bleak terrain
It was the hexagram of the heavens
it was the strings of my guitar
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
The drone of flying engines
Is a song so wild and blue
It scrambles time and seasons if it gets thru to you
Then your life becomes a travelogue
Of picture-post-card-charms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
People will tell you where they've gone
They'll tell you where to go
But till you get there yourself you never really know
Where some have found their paradise
Other's just come to harm
Oh Amelia, it was just a false alarm
I wish that he was here tonight
It's so hard to obey
His sad request of me to kindly stay away
So this is how I hide the hurt
As the road leads cursed and charmed
I tell Amelia, it was just a false alarm
A ghost of aviation
She was swallowed by the sky
Or by the sea, like me she had a dream to fly
Like Icarus ascending
On beautiful foolish arms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
Maybe I've never really loved
I guess that is the truth
I've spent my whole life in clouds at icy altitude
And looking down on everything
I crashed into his arms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
I pulled into the Cactus Tree Motel
To shower off the dust
And I slept on the strange pillows of my wanderlust
I dreamed of 747s
Over geometric farms
Dreams, Amelia, dreams and false alarms
---o0o---
Adventures with the Identikit
click to enlarge
Every once in a while, I break out the Faces 3.0 software and crank out some police sketches.
I did these last night. One serious limitation of the software is that it is difficult to create a female or Caucasian face. It was created for a different era, I suppose (the software is 10 years old...not that different an era). I've created a Hitler and and Elvis, but it's tough to create a recognizable person. Right after I said that Jeff Clinton used an online flash identikit and cranked out a sort of plausible version of me!:
---o0o---