Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

More from deep in the musical archives... Van Morrison, surprisingly:

Angeliou oh Angeliou
Oh oh Angeliou Angeliou
Oh Angeliou oh Angeliou oh my Angeliou

In the month of May
In the month of May
In the city of Paris
In the month of May
In the month of May
In the city of Paris
And I heard the bells ringing, and I heard the bells ringing
In the month of May
In the city of Paris and I called out your name

I say surprisingly because so very, very few of Van The Man's songs are actually on the Tube O' You.  It's happily surprised, we are.  But... the tune is from "Into the Music," an album that got a tremendous amount of air play back in Former Happy Days and one we are listening to today (albeit on a very good cassette recording).  I bought the album when it was released in 1979 and it wasn't but a year or so later when The Second Mrs. Pennington and I found ourselves "in the city of Paris"... like this:

Main dans la main à Paris (click to embiggen)

We heard the bells ring...

I Was Pissed...

... but I can't stay that way for long, really, and I suppose some s'plainin' is in order.  I'm just back from the post office, where I explained to my friendly local postal service employee that I was "officially upset;" please note that I did NOT use the words I felt like using (Yay, me!).  Upset because I filed a change of address on 9/18, with an effective date of 9/20, and received an advertisement-laden confirmation from the USPS acknowledging the change on or about 9/20.  Today marks the 17th day since the change went into effect and I have received ZERO forwarded mail.  So... off to the post office I went.

And, yes... my change had fallen through the cracks and mail was still being delivered to my old address at Beautiful La Hacienda Trailer Park; the carrier had not been advised of the change.  So here's why I can't stay pissed: one of the guys at the PO, a supervisor, got into his truck and drove out to BLHTP for the express purpose of opening the mail kiosk and personally handing me my mail... which was considerable in amount... all the while apologizing, too.  That was pretty danged nice of him, actually, and you can chalk that up as another of the many "joys of small town living."

In other news of the not-pissed-for-long... I shall have my desk before the end of the day.  Now I'll have no excuse for not getting the office in order.  I'm kinda happy about that.  Sorta.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

A cut from Kim Wilde's "Select" album (Why yes... that IS from Former Happy Days, why do you ask?)...

And I won`t really care if we can`t meet again
You just live your life I`m just a night to pass 
You`re just a dream that couldn`t last 
Take me tonight 
Take me tonight 
Take me tonight 
I want you, I want you - want me too? 

No way of knowing just where my life`s going 
Who cares if it`s wrong or it`s right
When all I believe in is just how I`m feeling tonight

How VERY '80s, eh?  Or '70s... take your pick.  And yeah, I DO seem to be on about Loose Women of late, don't I?  Well, "Loose Women" has negative connotations, I'm more on about the joys of mutual consent and opportunities.  Let's drink to that.

One more from the same album and then we'll go:

If you come over
If you come over - I could be good for you
Wouldn't you please me
It could be easy
Just stay here for a night or two
Darlin', can you come over
Can you come over - meet me tonight

Heh.  I'm such a slut.  Or, I was such a slut, before I trudged over that hill.

FINALLY!

If ya need me I'll be parked in front o' the teevee for the better part o' the next couple o' days.  But don't expect me to pay much attention to ya if ya call at an inopportune time... unless it's to watch a replay and say sumthin' like "GREAT goal!" or "Damn... What a hit!"  Otherwise?  Save your time and breath.

My agenda:

The best thing about hockey season this year is I now have satellite teevee, as opposed to Comcrap cable, which offered NOTHING for hockey lovers beyond Versus and the odd game on NBC.  This year?  We have Versus, NBC, and ALL of the Fox Sports local channels... which means we'll be watching the beloved Wings' opener tomorrow night.  In the meantime we shall warm up by watching Bawston beat the miserable Flyers and their new Captain Lurch, followed by the Canucks mercilessly thumping the Flightless Birds.  Hopefully.  Part o' the fun o' the game is watching the teams you hate actively dislike lose.

Drop the puck!  Let's Go Red Wings!!

RIP

We knew it was coming, but still... what a terrible thing to read first thing in the morning.  The NYT eulogy is here, the Beeb's take is here.

RIP Mr. Jobs, and thanks for EVERYTHING.

Toon from the usual source.

Tonight's ADWH Soundtrack

The Cars...

she tricks me into thinkin'
I can't believe my eyes
I wait for her forever
but she never does arrive
it's all mixed up
it's all mixed up
it's all mixed up

That first Cars album was absolutely brilliant and is yet another album I own on both vinyl and CD.  So it goes without sayin' (although I WILL) that this selection was more from the CD collection, which has been playin' virtually non-stop all day today.  And speaking of today... it was absolutely brilliant: we prolly got up to about 75 degrees (only!); so we threw all the windows open, turned off the AC, and turned up the stereo.  There's a lot to be said for taking Happy Hour and After Dinner Whiskey Hour on the verandah while enjoying full-fidelity from your sound system, as opposed to Pandora on the tinny but adequate Evo (cell phone).  I loves me some Fall weather.

Today's Playlist

We're still goin' through the back pages o' the music collection and here's what we're on about today:

The Police's greatest hits; a nice compendium.  Which is to say this CD has the essentials and it serves to take up The Police slack, since most of my Police albums are on vinyl and in the custody of SN2.  For safekeeping, doncha know.

Joe Cocker's "Sheffield Steel" album... more about which you'll find below.  I think Cocker is one of the most underrated singers to come out of the '60s and '70s... YMMV, Gentle Reader.

Jerry Garcia's eponymous "Garcia."  I simply LOVE this album... lots.  It's one of the very few albums I immediately replaced with the CD version when I shipped off my vinyl to SN2 for safekeeping.

Van Morrison's "It's Too Late to Stop Now," a two-disc live set recorded in Los Angeles and London in 1973, when The Man was arguably at the very height of his powers.  Arguably.  One thing ya can't argue about: the version of "Listen to the Lion" on this album is the best evar.  We're almost 40 years removed from the time I first heard this tune and I STILL get goosebumps when I hear it.  Powerful.

We said there'd be more from/about Joe Cocker... and there is.  Here's my favorite cut from "Sheffield Steel," done live.  Just brilliant.

Maybe someday I really will forget

And start to live again; a life without regret

Funny isn't it? But the man ain't laughin' yet

Does love really last forever?

Does the ocean miss the sunset every time?

Poignant, eh?

The Rain and Cain Falls Mainly In Yer Brain

First, Michael Ramirez from the Usual Source:

I'm giving Herman Cain a closer look... me and thousands of other conservatives.  I see that Mr. Cain is tied for second place in the latest poll concerning the GOP nomination derby, behind front-runner Romney and tied with my guv'nor.  I was rather surprised when I read about that yesterday.  

All that said, Daniel Henninger has a good piece on Mr. Cain in the September 29th WSJ, which is still available to non-subscribers.  A couple o' excerpts:

Does a résumé like Herman Cain's add up to an American presidency? I used to think not. But after watching the American Idol system we've fallen into for discovering a president—with opinion polls, tongue slips and media caprice deciding front-runners and even presidents—I'm rewriting my presidential-selection software.

[...]

Put it this way: The GOP nominee is running against the incumbent president. Unlike the incumbent, Herman Cain has at least twice identified the causes of a large failing enterprise, designed goals, achieved them, and by all accounts inspired the people he was supposed to lead. Not least, Mr. Cain's life experience suggests that, unlike the incumbent, he will adjust his ideas to reality. 

Herman Cain is a credible candidate. Whether he deserves to be president is something voters will decide. But he deserves a serious look. 

Mr. Henninger recaps Mr. Cain's career in his piece; it's worth the read if you want to know more about Mr. Cain. 

For the record:  I'm still undecided.

―:☺:―

I awoke to the sound of thunder this morning and thought "Hey!  Mebbe there's rain with all this noise!"  And, lo!  I opened the blinds and gazed out on (a) gentle rain that had obviously been falling for quite some time and (b) Lake 17th Street.  I've mentioned before that P-Ville has piss-poor drainage like most towns in the American West and even provided cheesy video of our drainage "system," including the infamous (in local circles) 18th Street.  Well, 17th Street is apparently a major tributary to River 18... note:

I'm thinkin' there's at least two inches of running water right outside my door.  Who knew I was getting a lake-front rental?

Update, 1050 hrs:  Just to show ya how much water was flowing in the pic above, here we are a couple o' hours later:

Lake 17th Street, indeed.

The Answer...

... to a question one of you Gentle Readers asked a couple o' weeks ago, to wit: "Where are ya gonna put the flamingos?"  Well...

There goes the neighborhood.

Updated, 1630 hrs:  The birds wandered off into the weeds.

I suppose flamingos are flighty thangs that like their privacy.  See the comments.

Apropos o' Nuthin'

There are many, many benefits and joys associated with my new life but I think the GREATEST one of all is becoming reacquainted with my music collection.  By way o' brief explanation: most of my CDs were stuffed into overhead storage while I lived in El Casa Móvil de Pennington and were inaccessible, at best.  Not so today (and yesterday): nearly all my CDs are not only accessible, they're right at hand.  And we have been going through all these titles with relish.  Yesterday was all classical, today we're into pop tunes.

And speaking of relish (ahem)... an example: I hadn't played Joan Osborne's "Relish" CD in more than a few years and our mood has been elevated significantly this morning by tunes like these:

"If he can't fix it gonna find a boy who can..."

Joan!!  Over HERE!

And I'm pissed off about bein' the cops
And you're pissed off about bein' the maid
And how long till they shut off the phone
Or til the next time we get laid
Let's just get naked

Just for a laugh

I've been blessed in this life, in that I've known at least two or three women who had an attitude like Ms. Osborne expresses in song.  Where'd they all GO?

Don't Mess With Texas

Here's new meaning for that phrase...from the Usual USAF Source:

The Texas Air National Guard's 149th Fighter Wing's flagship F-16 returning to Lackland Air Force Base after being painted to honor the 65th anniversary of the unit's affiliation with the Air National Guard, Sept. 29, 2011. (Air National Guard photo by Staff Sgt. Phil Fountain/Released) (click for high-res)

From a Lackland AFB news release:

10/1/2011 - LACKLAND AIR FORCE BASE, Texas -- Members of the Texas Air National Guard's 149th Fighter Wing have begun a year-long remembrance leading up to the unit's the 65th anniversary in the Air National Guard with a new design for the wing's flagship aircraft.

Known as the Lone Star Gunfighters, the 149th Fighter Wing's specialty logo directly ties the unit's connection to the state of Texas and western tradition in South Texas.

[...]

The graphical depictions were created by Senior Master Sgt. Penny Laflam and Staff Sgt. Chris Hamilton, both members of the 149th Maintenance Group. The final version of the aircraft paint design required approval of the group commander, wing commander, and National Guard Bureau, where it was reviewed against aircraft marking regulations.

So... the design "was reviewed against aircraft marking regulations," eh?  I'm not one to let a nit slide by without picking at it, so here's today's quiz, Gentle Reader... what's wrong with this picture?

Well, let me be clear: what's incongruous about the markings?  Nits aside, the paint job is pretty cool.  But not as cool as what the Squids are doing to celebrate the centennial of naval aviation; those paint jobs are cool.  (See blog-bud Glenn's header for an example.)  (OMG.  I said sumthin' good about the bleedin' NAVY... I must not be fully caffeinated yet.)

JIT

Which means "Just In Time," in logistics-speak.  That was the case with today's mail, where we were re-supplied just in time with these:

Those are Rocky Patel Olde World Reserve in the Lancero size.  Note the extraneous "E" hung on the perfectly good and serviceable standard spelling of "old."  I am NOT impressed; as a matter o' fact I find that practice rather annoying.

We were down to our very last everyday cigar... one each... the five sticks in the jar at right are what remains of my on-going experiment to "see if aging makes any difference" where taste, etc. is concerned.  If you've been with me for a while (and have been paying attention) you know I set aside about a dozen of those Deep Dish beauties last Christmas for the experiment.  Five are all that remain... what with me smoking about one a month as part of the evaluation process.  Right now I'm of the opinion that aging a cigar for six months is a worthwhile endeavor, as these sticks are now the softest and most pliable cigars I've ever smoked... which is a left-handed way of saying they are fully humidified, perhaps even over-humidified.  My guess is the smoking time lasts just a bit longer, as the cigar seems to burn a lil slower than I remember a fresh-out-o'-the-box Deep Dish doing.  I haven't noticed any change in the taste: they're still wonderful.

The sun went over the yardarm about 20 minutes ago, so now I think it's time to put fire to the end of one of those OWRs and pop open a 1554.  Lunch, in other words.

Coincidence? I Think NOT.

So, I was commenting on Lou's post about the air show she went to this weekend and got this:

Google scares me sometimes.

Cannon AFB In the News

From the Usual USAF Source:

The MC-130J Combat Shadow II is marshaled into place at Cannon Air Force Base, Sept. 29, 2011 (U.S. Air Force photo by Airman 1st Class Xavier Lockley)

First MC-130J Enters Inventory: The Air Force last week received its first new-build MC-130J Combat Shadow II special-mission aircraft. Lt. Gen. Eric Fiel, Air Force Special Operations Command boss, flew the aircraft from Lockheed Martin's production facility in Marietta, Ga., to Cannon AFB, N.M., its new home. The MC-130J joins the 522nd Special Operations Squadron, a part of Cannon's 27th Special Operations Wing. "Members of the 522th SOS will rewrite history as they fly the MC-130 farther, faster, and higher," said Fiel at the Sept. 29 aircraft acceptance ceremony. "As innovative air commandos, you will push this plane to its limits and find creative ways to employ our people more effectively." This aircraft is the first of 69 new MC-130Js that the Air Force plans to equip AFSOC with to replace the command's MC-130E/H/P/W special-role aircraft. The Air Force last week also received its first new HC-130J Combat King II. (Cannon report by A1C Alexxis Pons Abascal) (Lockheed release)

Much more, including three other high-res photos, at the "Cannon report" link.

Heh

From the Usual Source...

I feel exactly like the people on the front door step.

And then there's this from an Occasional Correspondent...

My daughter just walked into the living room and said "Dad, cancel my allowance immediately, rent my room out, throw all my clothes out of the window, take my TV, and stereo, and iPhone, and iPod, and my laptop. Please take all of my jewelry to the Salvation Army or Cash Converters. Then sell my new car, take my front door key away from me and throw me out of the house." Then disown me and never talk to me again. And don't forget to write me out of your will and leave my share to my brother.

Well, she didn't put it quite like that.. she actually said...

"Dad I have decided to work for Obama's reelection campaign."

Heh.

Tonight's ADWH Soundtrack

Steely Dan...

Like a gangster
On the run
You will stagger homeward
To your precious one
I'm the one
Who must make everything right
Talk it out till daylight

I don't care anymore
Why you run around
Break away
Just when it
Seems so clear
That it's
Over now
Drink your big black cow
And get out of here

(And the colored girls sing: so outrageous... so outrageous)

Get outta here...

Scrapin' the Bottom o' the Bloggin' Barrel XI

Today's major accomplishment at left... two-thirds of the CD inventory racked, stacked, but not alphabetized.  We did give a nod and a wink to organization (heh) by grouping all the important stuff together... which is to say the Beatles, Van Morrison, Lyle Lovett, and the Rolling Stones... and all the multi-disc sets, like the nine volume Complete Stax/Volt Singles, the six volume Atlantic R&B box set, the three volume Earth, Wind, and Fire set... yadda, yadda, yadda.

Today was the first time I'd  gone through ALL my CDs in at least eight years and I was amazed at some of the dreck I found.  Like... how did a Shania Twain album get into my house?  Likewise with Counting Crows (I hate their whiny lead singer but kinda like "Rain King," which is prolly why the album is here), Dave Matthews Band (two albums... TWO!  I blame that on The Second Mrs. Pennington) and a couple o' few others I'm too embarrassed to list here (hint: one female "singer," whose last name rhymes with fairy).

There's no accounting for taste... it's ALL in our mouths.

Tonight's ADWH Soundtrack

Two from Keb' Mo'...

It's no secret, I don't care
Gonna shout it out everywhere
I love my baby, hot, cold, fast or slow
I love my baby, gonna tell everybody I know

In the evening in my bed, I hear voices in my head
They say, "Never, never ever let her go"
Well, I love my baby, gonna tell everybody I know
Yes, I love my baby, gonna tell everybody I know

That was me about 14 years ago, when I was deep in love and all was right with the world.  That was then... this is now:

Mother Mary, father Joe I need to talk to your son 

He had troubles just like mine 

And he’s the chosen one 

So if I ever go to heaven, will that be the end? 

Or will I fall for some sweet little angel 

And do the same damn thing all over again 

You get the fever 

You get the itch 

And you forget about the mess you were in 

You forget about the money, the lawyers and the pain 

And do the same damn thing all over again

Mebbe it's old age, mebbe it's my abject fear o' getting burned again... but whatever it is, I've resisted the itch these last 14 years and I abso-frickin'-lute-ly refuse to be a three-time loser.  Lyle sang "Once Is Enough" and I'm thinkin' two times is one time too many, at the VERY least.  Am I cynical?  Mebbe.  But contrary to what Mr. Mo sez... I've yet to forget the lawyers and the pain.  The money?  No biggie... easy come, easy go.  The other bits?  Not so much.  Some wounds simply refuse to heal.

Just a Few Pics

I promised a few pics of the premises after the carport assemblers and dirt-movers finished up outside of the Inmóvil Casa de Pennington... and here they are:

TGH reposing in the shade and goin' topless, free from fear o' birdshit

Some of the flora visible here; anyone know what those spiky thangs are?

I just noticed this today... there's a downside to living in the end unit.  Middle-unit tenants have twice the verandah space as I do, but I can live with that.  My porch seats four comfortably; I know this from experience.

Speakin' o' the middle unit... I met my next door neighbor earlier today.  Her name is Franka and she's an Italian divorcee from Venice.  We exchanged brief life stories in the space of about 15 minutes and hers is pretty sad, without goin' into any detail.  Suffice it to say she's stranded in the USA as a result of her divorce and a child custody ruling that won't let her go back home with her daughter.  Too sad.  She seems like a very nice lady and she has one of those KILLER accents that tend to make men swoon, present company included.

I told SN1 I'd post updated pictures of the interior, featuring the new additions to the furnishings.  So...

The new bar stools at the kitchen counter, which does double-duty as my makeshift office

This pic mainly serves to illustrate the new rug... and my cleaned-up-just-for-this-photo coffee table

Life is pretty damned good at the moment.  One interesting fall-out from this new life... although it may or may NOT be related... is I've been on a more-or-less normal sleeping schedule of late.  Granddaughters Felicity, Monique, Lis' main squeeze Diego and I went over to The Big(ger) City™ last evening for dinner.  We had a few drinks in the Inmóvil Casa after dinner (Diego and I managing to destroy a third of a bottle o' single malt in the process) and I went to bed shortly after they left at 2230 hrs, well-fed and well-oiled.  I woke up at 0630 this morning, paid the bills, ran over to Clovis and out to the base, and was home with all errands completed before noon.  Imagine that.

The New Normal

A Gary Varvel toon, from the Usual Source:

Lex had a lot to say yesterday... and all of it good... along these same lines.  An excerpt:

All of the things you learned growing up in the 40s, 50s, and 60s about the birth and growth of a great nation were lies, gentle reader. And the generations that came after you know it. They do not get a “both/and” or “yes/but” course of instruction in the history of the great (dead/white) men that built this land, with their very real sins contextualized to the times they lived in. What they have learned instead is that American exceptionalism, to the degree that it exists at all, is a great litany of uniquely American mortal sins; over-indulgence, global warming, greed, hubris, and a whole host of “isms”:  Colonialism, militarism, and imperialism. But far and away they have been taught about our worst sin of all, racism. This is a sin that can never be fully expiated, no matter how many over-credentialed and under-qualified community organizers of color we elect to lead the free world.

But we can try, can’t we? So instead of national greatness, our students are lectured on the moral imperative of “diversity” by unionized public servants who seem to care more about the size of their paychecks than the number of students in their classrooms. The new priests of orthodox mediocrity have been for two generations teaching our children to kneel with them at the sacred altar of government, from whom all blessings flow and to whom all things should be given, apart from some spare necessities suitable to their plebeian status as cogs in the great wheel of government-driven society.

Synchronicity.  RTWT.