An Upset and a Disappointment

That's Olympic hockey. It's been very good this morning! The biggest upset of the tournament so far happened today: Switzerland over the Czech Republic, 3-2. Credit for the upset goes to David Aebischer, Colorado’s absolutely amazing goalie who is the anchor of the Swiss team. I’ve written about Aebischer in the past, praising his performance in the Avs four losses this year to Detroit {smirk}. Aebischer made 40 saves while getting the win this morning. If you check the rosters of these two teams, you’ll be even more impressed with Aebischer. He stopped some serious NHL talent this morning, 42 shots in all. All but one of the Czech players are from the NHL. The Swiss, on the other hand, have only three NHL players on their roster. Still, I think the Swiss have had their 15 minutes of fame. There's simply too much talent in this tournament for the Swiss to prevail. If they win a medal it will be an achievement equal to 1980's Miracle on Ice.

I’m watching the Russians beat Sweden 3-0, as I write. It’s the beginning of the third and I have very mixed emotions. On the one hand, Pavel Datsyuk, one of my favorite Red Wings, is on the Russian team. OTOH, three of my favorite Wings play for Sweden: Nikolas Lidstrom, Mikael Samuelsson, and Henrik Zetterberg. I’m rooting for Sweden. I’m likely to be disappointed. Now it’s 4-0 Russia, with ten minutes left in the third. {sigh}

Here’s a couple of serious time wasters: the Museum of On-Line Museums (Annex). Here’s the Main Page.

The MoOM Annex contains a really cool World Paper Money – Image Galleries – an incredible collection of bank notes from around the world. There are some great WWII nose art images here, in the Main Galleries. As I said, a serious time-waster.

The Rest of the Story

Earlier today (OK, be technical: yesterday) I posted this:

Secret message: Jo: please drop me a note with your e-mail address. Lori and I exchanged notes this morning and we’ve begun the catching-up process. I’d like to do the same with you, too, if you’re agreeable. It’s been way too long and I have NO excuse for my miserable behavior.

Here, with apologies to Paul Harvey, is the rest of the story. Lori and Jo are my sisters, and we haven’t been in touch since my father’s funeral in 1990. Lori is the oldest, Jo is two years younger. And here’s where the back-story gets a little…uh…different. I went in the AF in 1963. My Mom died in 1964; my father remarried in 1965; I married The First Mrs. Pennington around the same time. My oldest son was born in 1966, Lori in 1967, my middle son in 1968, and Jo in 1969. Stair-step kids from a father-son pair. Perhaps you can imagine how strange family visits were during the period of time when Lori and Jo were young kids! Strange, but oh-so-interesting and fun!

So. Lori, Jo and I never shared a home. Given the nature of my Air Force career (world-wide assignments and constant moving about), I saw the girls only rarely as they were growing up. After my Dad died we lost contact altogether.

Then, in the best “I Heart Technology” moment ever, Jo googles me and finds the blog. And we’re back in touch.

This is the best thing blogging has done for me! Or, for that matter, will ever do!

Diamond Geezer Update

I received the following note from DG about that “Chip and PIN” thingie:

Cheers Buck!

Two choices.

Either click the bottom button on the page “Sorry my memory isn’t what it used to be” (no registration required, ever).

Or wait until tomorrow when that particular feature gets removed.

The security note is just a comment on today’s introduction of “Chip and PIN” on UK credit cards… it’s not normally there :o)

dg

VERY quick response, I might add. DG is bookmarked…and will be a daily read from now on!

The Internet, She Moves in Strange Ways

Both of you constant readers know I’m fascinated (obsessed?) with Site Meter. This morning, while perusing an MSN-search that led to EIP, I happened upon a most-wonderful blog written by a Londoner who calls him or herself “Diamond Geezer.” Aside from being very well-written, Diamond Geezer has a series of posts about “London music,” where he (I’m assuming DG is a he because of his very-English fascination with football) takes a particular song (such as Gerry Rafferty’s “Baker Street”) and dissects the lyrics, explaining references, adding his observations, and posting photos about the song’s subject matter. Fascinating stuff, and he simply blows my “song of the day” posts completely out of the water.

There have been a tremendous number of great rock ‘n’ roll tunes written about London; my favorite is the first Dire Straits album, which is just chock full of London references, including one song completely devoted to a London experience (Wild West End). The album came out shortly before TSMP and I left Oregon for London, and “Dire Straits” became a sort of soundtrack for our three-year London sojourn. Many, many great memories associated with this album! But, I digress.

I bookmarked DG, but ran into an interesting phenomenon when I tried to access the blog: you must log in using a heretofore unknown (to me) security procedure called “Chip and PIN.” I fired off an e-mail to DG inquiring about this intensive, for a blog, security system. I’ll update when or if I receive a reply. In the meantime, Diamond Geezer has a fantastic blog roll, including London Daily Photo (who has a list of other city photo blogs) and the irreverent and about-as-funny-as-it-gets London Underground (aka “The Tube”) blog.

I still have some residuals from yesterday’s bad head, notably sinus cavity pressure. It’s not bad enough to make me resort to drugs (yet), but I’m still listing heavily to port.

Secret message: Jo: please drop me a note with your e-mail address. Lori and I exchanged notes this morning and we’ve begun the catching-up process. I’d like to do the same with you, too, if you’re agreeable. It’s been way too long and I have NO excuse for my miserable behavior.

Bad Day...

...at El Casa Móvil de Pennington.

Q: What's Valentine's Day without a trip to the dentist?
A: Better.

And then things got worse. I developed a headache that wouldn't go away entirely, even after medicating myself. So I spent nearly all day on the couch in a semi-coma. {Sigh} It is what it is; tomorrow's another day. I need some fresh clichés, assuming that's not a contradiction in terms.

Seen this yet? Make sure your sound is on…and don't go if you're a Salafist or someone who entertains thoughts of beheading non-believers.

No song of the day; today was decidedly non-musical. See you all tomorrow.

Happy Valentines Day!

More creepy valentines. There be weirdness here.

Song of the Day

Song: 16 Days
Artist: Whiskeytown
Album: Strangers Almanac
Year: 1997
Source: Radio Paradise.

Makes Me Think of & etc.: I was surprised to hear this song on RP today. Pleasantly surprised. This song also appears on one of those Starbucks’ compilation albums (Mile Marker 383, Songs from the Open Road), which is where I first heard it. Makes me think of SFO and the Starbucks on the ground floor of my office building where I bought the compilation, spent a lot of time in meetings (really – we had a severe lack of conference rooms), and dropped eight bucks a day on coffee, Monday through Friday and the occasional Saturday. Those were the days?

Lyrics: (note the trendy broken shift-key look)

i got sixteen days
one for every time i've gone away
one for every time i should have stayed
you should have worn my wedding ring
i got sixteen days
fifteen of those are nights
can't sleep when the bed sheet fights
its way back to your side

the ghost has got me running
the ghost has got me running
away from you, away from you, away from you.

the ghost has got me running
the ghost has got me running
away from you, away from you, away from you.

i got sixteen days
got a bible and a rosary
god, i wish that you were close to me
guess i owe you an apology

i got sixteen days
fifteen of those are nights
can't sleep when the bed sheet fights
its way back to your side

the ghost has got me running
yeah, the ghost has got me running
away from you, away from you, away from you.

the ghost has got me running
yeah, the ghost has got me running
away from you, away from you, away...

old tin cups, little paper dolls
all wrapped up, in ribbons, bowed with hearts
old tin cups, and little paper dolls
all wrapped up, in the ribbons of your heart

the ghost has got me running
yeah, the ghost has got me running
away from you, away from you, away from you.

the ghost has got me running
yeah, the ghost has got me running
away from you, away from you, away from you.

sixteen days
i got sixteen days
it's like before i hang

Others considered: Eurythmics - Here Comes the Rain Again (acoustic), Rolling Stones - You Can't Always Get What You Want

Back-asswards...

…as in I watched the sun come up this morning and then went to bed. I need to get a handle on this sleep thing. There are some back-asswards things in the news today, too. Let’s begin!

So, AlGore shot his mouth off in Jeddah. Among other things, AlGore claims:

Gore said Arabs had been "indiscriminately rounded up" and held in "unforgivable" conditions. The former vice president said the Bush administration was playing into al-Qaida's hands by routinely blocking Saudi visa applications.

WTF was he thinking? Has he not heard, or perhaps forgotten, that “politics stops at the water’s edge?” What possible point could he be making by saying something so incendiary in front of a frickin’ ARAB audience? Even if the charges were true (and I don’t think they are, not for even a millisecond), what possible benefit could accrue by repeating these charges in front of folks who live in a society with one of the world’s most miserable human-rights records?

At least one Islamic news service has picked this up and published it. More to follow, you can be assured. To his credit, AlGore also assailed the nut-jobs running Iran, and for that he gets an “attaboy.” But, you know the rule of thumb: “One awshit cancels ten attaboys.” You’ve been in the hole for a long time now, Al. It’s past time to stop digging.

In other shooting news, of the firearm kind, Cheney wounds a hunting partner and the Left goes ballistic (no pun intended, of course). Keep things in perspective is always good advice. Here’s some perspective:

In Montana, gun-related accidents were about equally divided between those who inadvertently shot themselves and those who were shot by someone else. Nationally, the numbers are not as even: Of the nearly 1,000 shooting accidents reported in the United States and Canada in 1998, only 319 were self-inflicted, while almost double that, 668, were the result of one hunter shooting another. In two-- party accidents shotguns were far more commonly involved than rifles (483 versus 159) [emphasis mine].

Talk about “much ado about nothing.” But, we should never miss an opportunity to expose an attempted cover-up, right? But, hey, Cheney was probably drunk. Just goes to show ya what irresponsible bastards those Rethuglicans are… (Sheesh. You can’t make this stuff up, ya know. Sh*t really DOES happen, especially in Lefty blogs.)

The Strategy Page explains why terrorism incidents are down in Iraq, “down,” of course being in contravention to the received wisdom. Here’s a quote:

Terrorism has become difficult because there are more Iraqi soldiers in action, and more elite Iraqi troops are pulling off operations previously only carried out by coalition troops. These include night raids and airmobile (moving troops via helicopter) attacks. The U.S. is providing the helicopters, the Iraqis are providing the planning, leadership and troops. These operations are much more devastating for the terrorists. The Iraqi troops speak the language and can read the body language. So it's much more difficult for terrorists to get away, or keep stuff hidden, during these raids.

The article is worth a read; it’s basically good news. But there’s bad news, too. The bits that seriously concern me are the existence and utilization of various Iraqi “militias.” I see militias as a problem; private armies who swear allegiance not to the country but to a specific tribal or religious leader are not a good thing. One could speculate about a whole host of evils just waiting to happen where militias are concerned.

Blogger seems to be slow today. Certain blogs I tried to access to get fodder for this post took forever to open. I write in Word and then paste the copy to my blog. I’m holding my breath here, hoping I can get this post up. It’s 1345 as I write; Lord, but it’s weird to think I haven’t even finished my “morning” coffee yet! I still have remnants of my Type-A workaholic personality to deal with, and it ain’t easy, sometimes!

Worry confirmed: Tried to put up the post at 1355, received the following error message: “This server currently experiencing a problem. An engineer has been notified and will investigate. Status code: 1-500-11.” Yeah, right. THAT does me a lot of good. I can’t even open the Blogger status page. This is not good.

Update, 1415 hrs. Deleted my blogger cookies and things are back to normal. WHY does this happen?

Song of the Day

Song: Over the Hills and Far Away
Artist: Led Zeppelin
Album: Houses of the Holy
Year: 1973
Source: Radio Paradise.

Makes Me Think of & etc.: My moonbat Liberal Left days. Peace-love-dope, Man. Faaar-out! Question Authority! Don’t trust anyone over 30! What if they gave a war and nobody came? Such a rip-off! Impeach Nixon!

Yes, it’s very hard to be cool and smart at the same time. Kick-ASS guitar!

Lyrics:

Hey Lady--you got the love I need
Maybe, more than enough.
Oh Darling Darling Darling, walk a while with me
Oh you've got so much...

Many times I've loved - Many times been bitten
Many times I've gazed along the open road.

Many times I've lied - Many times I've listened
Many times I've wondered how much there is to know.

Many dreams come true and some have silver linings
I live for my dream and a pocketful of gold.

Mellow is the man who knows what he's been missing
Many many men can't see the open road.

Many is a word that only leaves you guessing
Guessing 'bout a thing you really ought to know, ooh!
You really ought to know...

Others considered: From the same moonbat Left-Wing soundtrack: Ride My See-Saw and Suite: Judy Blue Eyes

Thinking About Dhimmitude

Mark Steyn in the Chicago Sun-Times (Toon-deaf Europe is taking the wrong stand) writes:

From Europe's biggest-selling newspaper, the Sun: ''Furious Muslims have blasted adult shop [i.e., sex shop] Ann Summers for selling a blowup male doll called Mustafa Shag."

Not literally "blasted" in the Danish Embassy sense, or at least not yet. Quite how Britain's Muslim Association found out about Mustafa Shag in order to be offended by him is not clear.

…

If I were a Muslim, I'd be "hurt" and "humiliated" that the revered prophet's name is given not to latex blowup males but to so many real blowup males: The leader of the 9/11 plotters? Mohammed Atta. The British Muslim who self-detonated in a Tel Aviv bar? Asif Mohammed Hanif.

Steyn names quite a few more exploding Mohammeds and then goes on to bemoan the fact, quite rightly, that we in the West are rolling over all too easily each and every time some Muslim expresses their “outrage” at this, that, or the other. The Brits seem to be leading the retreat; witness the Burger King flap, the Piglet flap, and the ridiculous Piggy Banks affair. Want more? Bookmark, and read, Dhimmi Watch.

We in the US don’t seem to be over-reacting (read that: capitulating) to radical Islamic demands to abandon freedom of speech and “respect” Islam. However, if protesters like these ever show up on our shores…

…we need to act forcefully and quickly. What you see here isn’t protest, it’s incitement, if not open insurrection. What would I do? I’d give ‘em a little time to think about it, like a mandatory 90-day prison sentence for the first offense. If that didn’t work, then I’d deport the SOBs to the Islamic paradise of their choosing and confiscate everything they owned. That wasn’t my immediate reaction; I thought about it a bit. Shooting them on the spot just doesn’t seem right. Gratifying, to be sure, but not right.

Song of the Day

Song: Love and Happiness
Artist: Al Green
Album: Greatest Hits
Year: 1995
Source: Radio Paradise.

Makes Me Think of & etc.: Al Green is arguably the greatest R&B singer of all time. Al Green IS the greatest R&B singer of all time, in my book. This particular tune may be my favorite Al Green song, but there’s just so much to choose from in his incredible catalog it’s hard to single one song out. This song is an R&B masterpiece…beginning with the simple and brief solo guitar in the intro, to the great organ work, the counterpoint of the horns, the soulful female back-up singers, the driving rhythm section, and Al’s outstanding vocals, this song has it ALL. If this song doesn’t make you get up and dance within ten seconds after it begins, there’s no hope for you. Hell, even an arch-conservative blog waxes eloquent about Al!

The song is playing on my stereo right now, on repeat, at HIGH volume. And here’s another deeply personal secret: some people “sing” the guitar parts in a song…me, I sing the horn charts. And play air-sax.

Lyrics:

Love and happiness...
something that can make you do wrong, make you do right...
Love...

Love and happiness
Wait a minute...
something's going wrong
someone's on the phone
three o'clock in the morning
talkin' about how she can make it right
well,
happiness is when you really feel good with somebody
nothing wrong with being in one with someone
oh, baby, love and happiness
love and happiness...
love and happiness...

Love and happiness
You be good to me
I'll be good to you
we'll be together
we'll see each other
walk away with victory
oh baby,
love and happiness...
love and happiness...

Make you do right... love'll make you do wrong...
make you come home early...
make you stay out all night long...
the power of love...

wait a minute,
let me tell you...
the power of love...
make you do right... love'll make you do wrong...
make you want to dance...
love and happiness...
love and happiness...

love is... wait a minute... love is...
walkin' together...
talkin' together...
say it again...
say it together...
Mmmm....

See ya tomorrow!

It's the Weekend...

The day got off to a bad start. Part of it was due to the fact I stayed up until the wee hours reading the archives of a couple of bloggers I like…I hit the sack around 0400. So, I wake up around 1000, stumble towards the kitchen and begin making the coffee. I removed the old filter from the basket and gave it a cavalier toss towards the garbage. I missed. Frickin’ coffee grounds on the wall and all over the floor. Not good. Not good at ALL. I finished assembling the brew, started the pot, cleaned up the mess and crawled back under the covers, mumbling to myself.

Things got better after the first cup. They always do.

It’s cold: 36 degrees as I write, with a wind chill of 25. I went out briefly, very briefly, to buy mission-essential consumables and check the mail. At least the sun is shining, and that’s a good thing. I see the East Coast is gearing up for what could be a killer snow storm tomorrow. The forecast is for ten to 12 inches for NYC and Boston, who are under a blizzard warning. A classic nor’easter seems to be brewing, but weather forecasters are notoriously pessimistic. It’s never as bad as they want it to be. That’s just my experience, YMMV. Bottom line…I should count my blessings. It may be cold, but I won’t be shoveling anything tomorrow.

Watched the US women’s hockey team dominate the Swiss women this morning, 6-0. It was 2-0 going into the third and then Team USA turned it on, pulling away and never looking back. And Boy-Howdy, Team USA do have some FOXES!

Speaking of foxes and hockey, I saw my very first hockey game in Tokyo, in 1976 or ‘77. The World Class B championships were held in Tokyo that year and I was seeing a DoD-schools elementary school teacher from either Wisconsin or Minnesota at the time (not seriously “seeing,” I was committed (and engaged) to TSMP even though she had returned to the US. But I needed enjoyed female companionship.) Anyway. The lady was a serious hockey fan, a hockey player, and quite…uh…presentable, too. She had tickets to several games and we went. The experience was a revelation: I was simply amazed at the speed and grace of the game, not to mention the excitement. I don’t remember the woman’s name, but I sure do owe her. She made a hockey fan out of me, even though it was nearly ten years until I took up residence in a city that had an NHL team.

While we’re on about hockey: Note to NBC and the rest of the media: It’s HOCKEY, not “ice hockey.” This is the WINTER Olympics, guys, there’s no need to differentiate between hockey and field hockey. As a matter of fact, there’s NEVER a need to differentiate between the two sports. The only similarities between the two are both sports use a net and sticks. That’s it. So get it right, will ya? A pet-peeve of mine.

If you’re reading this, you’re either a member of an elite group of folks or a weird minority, according to Gallup. Gallup didn’t use the terms elite or weird, I should add. Those are my characterizations.

Gallup's annual Lifestyle survey, conducted Dec. 5-8, 2005, finds only 9% of Internet users saying they frequently read blogs, another 11% read them occasionally, 13% say they rarely read them, while 66% never read them.

And the percentage of people reading blogs isn’t growing, either. It’s held steady since Gallup last surveyed such things. The good news? 73% of Americans use the internet. That is cool, very cool. If I had to point to a single thing that’s changed my life profoundly and for the better in the past ten years, it would be the ‘net. I simply cannot imagine life without an internet connection. And I sure do love me some blogs!!

Song of the Day

Song: Voices Carry

Artist: Til Tuesday

Album: Voices Carry

Year: 1985

Source: Radio Paradise.

Makes Me Think of & etc.: I did a project in Moscow in 1993, during my post-AF career in the IT biz. In case you’ve forgotten, 1993 was a mere two years after the demise of the USSR. I was exposed to a unique Russian saying while I was there: “in former happy days.” I know this is a fragment of a sentence, but it was always appended to a statement such as “Our nation was much stronger, in former happy days.” Or, “One wouldn’t be allowed to say such a thing, in former happy days.” Or even “Life was simpler, in former happy days.” This euphemism was obviously a reference to the old Commie regime, but I found it interesting that it was used in both a negative and a positive context. Change isn’t always good, for some folks, and I saw some genuine nostalgia for the old regime, especially amongst the higher-ups.

So, what does all this have to do with “Voices Carry?” The song forever reminds me of former happy days here. It’s a haunting song.

Lyrics:

I'm in the dark, I'd like to read his mind
but I'm frightened of the things I might find
Oh, there must be something he's thinking of
to tear him away
when I tell him that I'm falling in love
why does he say

Hush hush
keep it down now
voices carry

I try so hard not to get upset
because I know all the trouble I'll get
oh, he tells me tears are something to hide
and something to fear
and I try so hard to keep it inside
so no one can hear

Hush hush
keep it down now
voices carry

He wants me
but only part of the time
He wants me
if he can keep me in line

Hush hush
keep it down now
voices carry

hush hush, darling, she might overhear
oh, no-voices carry
he said shut up he said shut up
oh God can't you keep it down
voices carry
I wish he would let me talk

Near-run things: Santana - Jingo, Allman Brothers - Trouble No More, and Queen Latifah - Hello Stranger. Queen Latifah was very nearly it; her remake of "Hello Stranger" is remarkably true to the original. As a matter of fact, I thought it was the original until the second verse. It's good to see artists give a nod to their roots. Very good.

Happy Birthday, Anastasia!

My oldest granddaughter turns 18 today. There's no doubt in my mind that there's gonna be some serious celebratin' in Brunswick, Maine tonight!

On an entirely different level, this means I'm technically in the precarious position of becoming a GREAT-grandfather. Realistically, though, I know Stasia has the great good sense to hold off on marriage and motherhood until she gets out of college.

Still, even the possibility of achieving great-grandfather status has me feeling decidedly OLD. Makes me think of that fine ol' cliché: "If I knew I was gonna live this long I'd have taken better care of myself." No. I wouldn't have done a damned thing differently... not at all.

On NSA Surveillance: Something Old, Something New

First, the new. In today’s WSJ (“Can We Talk? If al Qaeda phones, tell them we can't take the call”) Daniel Henninger writes:

Let's start with the one thing we know for sure about the Bush administration's program to listen to al Qaeda's phone calls into and out of the United States: It's dead.

After all the publicity of the past two weeks, does anyone think that the boys working on plans for Boston Harbor, the Golden Gate Bridge or Chicago's Loop are still chatting by phone? If the purpose of the public exposure was to pull the plug on the pre-emptive surveillance program, mission accomplished. Be safe, Times Square.

…

Then later in the week GOP Rep. Heather Wilson suddenly became famous for presumably dissenting from the White House line and demanding a "complete review" of the surveillance program. Rep. Wilson, who chairs a House intelligence oversight subcommittee, is rightly regarded as one of the House's savvier and more serious members on national security issues. But . . .

Rep. Wilson is in a neck-and-neck re-election fight back in her New Mexico district with state Attorney General Patricia Madrid. Rep. Wilson is under pressure because her district is heavily Democratic; the opposition's primary line of attack has been that Rep. Wilson isn't sufficiently "independent" of the Bush White House. Right after her highly publicized NSA declaration this week, the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee got out a statement that "Rep. Wilson is now and has always been a rubber stamp for the policies of the Bush-Cheney administration."

What this means is that the local politics of Albuquerque is now setting national security policy. Why them? Why not accord the same overweighted political status to the Third District in North Carolina, which happens to house Camp Lejeune?

Local interest (well, New Mexico, anyway), ya know. Henninger writes good stuff; this is worth a read.

And for the "old," there’s Scott Ott, from a few days ago, on very important changes to be made to the NSA surveillance program:

In addition to the monitoring alert, Mr. Slipps said U.S. residents on NSA-intercepted calls will soon be offered a menu of options, including the following:

– To continue in Arabic press ‘one’ or say wâhid

– To hear a complete listing of the steps required to obtain a wiretap warrant under the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act, press, or say, two

– If you’re a law-abiding American, press, or say, three

– If you’re a Quaker, a baby or a nun and feel you have reached this recording in error, please hang up the phone and dial a number that’s not associated with al Qaeda.

– To speak with an NSA representative, remain on the line until we complete the trace. You may hear a brief series of clicks, followed by a knock at your door.

– To call in a CIA predator-drone attack on the party to whom you are speaking, press the ‘pound’ key

I’ve said it before: Scott is one funny guy!

Song of the Day and a Free Mini-Rant

Song: Boy Named Sue

Artist: Johnny Cash

Album: (Single)

Year: 1969

Source: Radio Paradise.

Makes Me Think of & etc.: Bill, the DJ at Radio Paradise (when does he sleep?), prefaced Boy Named Sue with a short soliloquy about the way Top 40 radio used to be. His points were all valid, and his intro dated him just a bit, but that’s OK…I now have a little bit more insight into who he is and what makes him tick. Anyway, Top 40 used to be “non-genre-specific,” to coin a phrase. In other words, if it was popular (on the charts), Top 40 radio played it, no matter if it was jazz (Vince Guaraldi’s “Cast Your Fate to the Winds”), soul (James BROWN!), rock (Elvis), or country (Cash). You heard a great deal of variety in the way-back. Bill further went on to tell us he hated country music back in the day, but that’s not unusual… all us hipsters hated it coz it was SO uncool. Yet, he says, he always listened to, and enjoyed, Boy Named Sue. "Ditto," says Your Humble Scribe. There you have it: The Power of Johnny Cash, able to overcome even Terminal Hipness.

Lyrics:

My daddy left home when I was three
And he didn't leave much to ma and me
Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze.
Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me "Sue."

Well, he must o' thought that is quite a joke
And it got a lot of laughs from a' lots of folk,
It seems I had to fight my whole life through.
Some gal would giggle and I'd get red
And some guy'd laugh and I'd bust his head,
I tell ya, life ain't easy for a boy named "Sue."

Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My fist got hard and my wits got keen,
I'd roam from town to town to hide my shame.
But I made a vow to the moon and stars
That I'd search the honky-tonks and bars
And kill that man who gave me that awful name.

Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July
And I just hit town and my throat was dry,
I thought I'd stop and have myself a brew.
At an old saloon on a street of mud,
There at a table, dealing stud,
Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me "Sue."

Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
From a worn-out picture that my mother'd had,
And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye.
He was big and bent and gray and old,
And I looked at him and my blood ran cold
And I said: "My name is 'Sue!' How do you do!
Now your gonna die!!"

Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes
And he went down, but to my surprise,
He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear.
But I busted a chair right across his teeth
And we crashed through the wall and into the street
Kicking and a' gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer.

I tell ya, I've fought tougher men
But I really can't remember when,
He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile.
I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss,
He went for his gun and I pulled mine first,
He stood there lookin' at me and I saw him smile.

And he said: "Son, this world is rough
And if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough
And I knew I wouldn't be there to help ya along.
So I give ya that name and I said goodbye
I knew you'd have to get tough or die
And it's the name that helped to make you strong."

He said: "Now you just fought one hell of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right
To kill me now, and I wouldn't blame you if you do.
But ya ought to thank me, before I die,
For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye
Cause I'm the son-of-a-bitch that named you "Sue.'"

I got all choked up and I threw down my gun
And I called him my pa, and he called me his son,
And I came away with a different point of view.
And I think about him, now and then,
Every time I try and every time I win,
And if I ever have a son, I think I'm gonna name him
Bill or George! Anything but Sue! I still hate that name!

And now for the mini-rant. I listened to RP for a good portion of my day today. My ears perked up a bit when Bill played some song or other and back-announced it as “…off the sound track for The Motorcycle Diaries, which is a film about a motorcycle trip Che Guevara took through South America. It’s out on DVD now, and it’s a great film. Highly recommended.” (paraphrased) Oh, damn. Say WHAT? “A great film?” About a frickin’ unhinged Commie megalomaniac? Well, for an alternate take, go read this scathing review of said film. Actually, it’s more than a film review, it’s serious social commentary on the “Cult of Che.” Sample:

The cult of Ernesto Che Guevara is an episode in the moral callousness of our time. Che was a totalitarian. He achieved nothing but disaster. Many of the early leaders of the Cuban Revolution favored a democratic or democratic-socialist direction for the new Cuba. But Che was a mainstay of the hardline pro-Soviet faction, and his faction won. Che presided over the Cuban Revolution's first firing squads. He founded Cuba's "labor camp" system—the system that was eventually employed to incarcerate gays, dissidents, and AIDS victims. To get himself killed, and to get a lot of other people killed, was central to Che's imagination. In the famous essay in which he issued his ringing call for "two, three, many Vietnams," he also spoke about martyrdom and managed to compose a number of chilling phrases: "Hatred as an element of struggle; unbending hatred for the enemy, which pushes a human being beyond his natural limitations, making him into an effective, violent, selective, and cold-blooded killing machine. This is what our soldiers must become …"— and so on. He was killed in Bolivia in 1967, leading a guerrilla movement that had failed to enlist a single Bolivian peasant. And yet he succeeded in inspiring tens of thousands of middle class Latin-Americans to exit the universities and organize guerrilla insurgencies of their own. And these insurgencies likewise accomplished nothing, except to bring about the death of hundreds of thousands, and to set back the cause of Latin-American democracy—a tragedy on the hugest scale.

The present-day cult of Che—the T-shirts, the bars, the posters—has succeeded in obscuring this dreadful reality. And Walter Salles' movie The Motorcycle Diaries will now take its place at the heart of this cult.

There’s a lot more in this vein, in addition to a straight-up critique of the movie, but perhaps you get my point. At any rate, I encourage you to read the whole thing. On with our tale/rant.

That was Bill's first shot across my bow. The second came later when he strung the following three songs together:

2:23 pm - The Guess Who - American Woman
2:21 pm - Randy Newman - Political Science
2:18 pm - RX - Imagine / Walk On The Wild Side

If you’re familiar with these songs, you know the messages contained therein are all blatantly anti-American. Good tunes, bad messages. I can live with that; I actually like “Political Science,” Randy Newman is an excellent satirist. But Bill totally pissed me off when he delivered a commentary on “American Woman” that said (once again, paraphrased) “I first thought the song was about a girl, then on second or third hearing I realized it was radical Canadian anti-American propaganda and thought ‘Cool! Another reason to like the song.’”

Oh Shit, Oh Dear. This not 48 hours after I so generously gave them my Master Card number and the authorization to hit it for a support donation. Don’t get me wrong. Everyone is entitled to their opinions. I can take this sort of stuff, in small doses. It doesn’t mean I agree with the sentiments, or condone them. Quite the contrary. The music mix is good enough, superior to anything I’ve heard in the past five or ten years, actually, that I’m willing to overlook the occasional moonbat rant. And it’s Bill’s station, so he can say whatever the Hell he wants to. This is America. But the minute the frickin’ Che tee shirts or “Public Service Announcements” for MoveOn appear on the web site, I’m voting with my feet and will consider my lil donation as just another lousy investment. I do have limits.

I kicked off a lil bit of a dust up in the comments section to “American Woman.” You can read it by clicking the link to American Woman, above. I wasn’t alone.

So. Bottom line: I don’t like Bill’s politics, but I LOVE his station. Radio Paradise remains highly recommended. For now.

Afternoon... Already?

Well, the cartoon wars still dominate discussion on the right-side of the blogosphere, but it’s morphed somewhat into a discussion of the “true” nature of Islam. A lot of folks I respect have thrown in the towel and have begun writing that the “conflict of civilizations” has, indeed, already begun. Two people I link quite frequently have written in the “inevitable” vein: Lex and Dr. Sanity. My jury is still out. I’m encouraged by the fact that some moderate Muslims are beginning to speak out against the current insanity, although their numbers are still WAY too low to generate that “warm and fuzzy” feeling. Lots of links to moderate Muslim reactions over at INDC, if you’re interested. (Don’t let the sarcasm fool ya!) And if you want more on this subject, just go to memeorandum and pick a link…there are MANY.

When I first posted on the Mohammed cartoon flap last week I noted the Left was strangely silent on the issue. Now that Muslims are rioting, embassies are being torched, and Islamic fundamentalist imams are calling for retribution of the scariest sort, the Left has found its voice. Not much of a voice, still, at this point, but at least there are some Lefties coming out of the closet. One such is Anatole Kaletsky, who, in a Times Online Op-ed (“All right, I insulted Americans – but they are not planning to behead me”) essentially opines that Islamic fundamentalists are calling for our submission, and contrasts those calls for acquiescence with the basic precepts of western liberalism. Here’s a graf:

This brings me to the third and most important distinction that Americans seem to understand much better than we in Europe. This is the distinction between religion and other beliefs. Why should religions be entitled to legal protection from “insults” and “attacks”? Would anyone suggest that communists and fascists or, for that matter, Tories and social democrats, should be protected from insults? Yet the first two of these movements were all-embracing secular religions and their believers, who numbered in the hundreds of millions, believed in them every bit as passionately as Christians, Jews and Muslims believe in their religions.

His screed is worth a read. It’s short and to the point, as well.

I’m still working on my morning coffee although the sun is well over the yardarm as I write. Why? Because I can! Actually, I had another episode of personality-identification with one of my minor heroes, Dave Attell of Comedy Central’s “Insomniac.” Dave is my kinda guy! Wildy funny, irreverent, drinks a lot, and is more than mildly curious. Ever watch him? Aside from laughing your @$$ off, you’ll learn more than a little bit, too. Recommended. (PS: I don’t drink a LOT, but I sure do love great bars! And I’ve been in literally thousands, world-wide. No brag, just fact.)

And the flipping crawl is back; my ‘net connection today is slow-Slow-SLOW. No internet radio for the time being, and this really pisses me off! I’ve become addicted to Radio Paradise. Withdrawal is a beeyotch. I suppose there are worse things in life, but don’t get me started. I’m doing my level best to present myself as an optimist here, and that’s somewhat contradictory to my…ahem…true nature. Full disclosure, and all that.

Wednesday: It's a Wrap

Late dinner this evening. I cooked, for a change; but I nearly always cook after a re-supply run. One the menu: a dozen gyoza (those wonderful Nipponese pork-filled pot stickers) flash-fried to brown them, and then steamed until they’re plump and nearly bursting, accompanied by my home-made mirin-soy-wasabi dipping sauce and a large green salad.

So, dinner is done and the kitchen cleaned up, including emptying the sink of a three-day load of dishes. (I HATE housework! Have I mentioned this before? Oh, I have? No, Really?) I think I’m gonna work on a bachelor quality of nutrition algorithm, and it will evaluate nutrition as a function of the contents of multiple days-worth of dishes in the sink. You'll survey the contents of the sink, apply the algorithm, and get a number in between zero and ten that indicates just how well said bachelor has eaten over the past X days. As an example, this evening I washed:

8 spoons
2 knives
1 fork
1 glass
2 small bowls
1 large bowl, i.e., a salad bowl
3 coffee cups
1 frying pan

Now what does that tell you about the menu chez La Maison Mobile de Pennington over the last three days? Hint: the frying pan, the fork, one knife, and the salad bowl were from dinner this evening. The rest of the mess was from the previous two days’ “dining.” I’m pretty sure my algorithm is gonna focus on the ratio of spoons to other flatware. I might have to work in the contents of the trash, too, with emphasis on pizza boxes/fast-food wrappers. Much work needs to be done here. I’ll keep you posted.

I owe you a song of the day.

Song: She Said

Artist: Collective Soul

Album: Dosage

Year: 1999

Source: Personal Collection

Makes Me Think of & etc.: Another one of those top-down driving songs. I must have listened to this song six times in a row today. I love the music and the lyrics; I love to sing it at the top of my lungs while driving ridiculously fast; and I know this woman. Not literally, of course, just a woman exactly like her. Come to think of it, I know a couple of guys like her, too.

You can hear the song in its entirety here. The Audio player is on the left side of the page, scroll down the track list until you see “She Said.” Click the title and boom: it’s "She Said." Enjoy! Lots of good tunes here. Other favorites include "Run" and "December."

Lyrics:

She said that time is unfair
To a woman her age
Now that wisdom has come
Everything else fades

She said she realizes
She’s seen her better days

She said she can’t look back
To her days of youth
What she thought were lies
She later found was truth

She said her daddy had dreams
But he drank them away
And her mother’s to blame
For the way she is today

Life’s river shall rise, she said
That only the strong shall survive, she said
But I’m feeling quite weak, she said
Will you comfort and forgive me, she said

She says she’s still searching
For salvation’s light
Yeah, she wishes all day
And then, she prays all night

She said she won’t speak of love
’cause love, she’s never known
And it’s moments like these
She hates to be alone

Life’s river shall rise, she said
That only the strong shall survive, she said
But I’m feeling quite weak, she said
Will you comfort and forgive me, she said

Life’s river shall rise, she said
That only the strong shall survive, she said
But I’m feeling quite weak, she said
Will you comfort and forgive me, she said

Life’s river shall rise, she said
That only the strong shall survive, she said
But I’m feeling quite weak, she said
Will you comfort and forgive me, she said

Forgive me
She said
Forgive me
She said

See ya tomorrow!

Mission Accomplished

Well, mostly accomplished. Ran the errands in the big(ger) city and out at the base. Got the car washed and gassed up. I’m replenished and re-supplied with food and other consumables for the next ten days or so; I won’t go hungry. The car is bright and shiny for the next 12 hours. The base library didn’t have a copy of William Manchester’s The Last Lion on the shelves but will get it for me by the first of next week through an inter-library loan.

I DO have a couple of nits to pick, however.

I stopped by the Clovis mall to pick up some note cards (those ten-to-a-box plus envelopes thingies I use to write my youngest son) and browse the bookstore, a favorite past time of mine. There used to be a stationary store in the mall, Hallmark, I think. No more. There also used to be a B. Dalton’s in the mall, too. No more. There are still tee-shirt shops, jewelry stores, a Penney’s, Sears, Bealls, and Dilliards, none of whom have stationary. I can’t believe Clovis, a town of 30,000+ people doesn’t have either a book store or a stationary store. I went to Walgreen’s, Office Max, and another store recommended to me by the folks at Office Max, and had no luck finding suitable note cards. Un-flipping-believable!

In Clovis’ defense, there may well be a bookstore or stationary store I don’t know about. But the folks at Office Max didn’t know of any, either.

The Army and Air Force Exchange Service (AAFES, other wise known as the Base Exchange, or BX) came to my rescue, with a wide range of suitable note cards. I’m sure there are less than 3,000 people who shop at the base (active duty, families, and retirees), and that’s being pretty damned generous. Go figure.

OK. Got THAT off my chest! It was a great day, otherwise. Today was brisk and cool (mid-60s), nearly wind-free with nary a cloud in the sky, just perfect for tooling around town and country in the car sans top. A bright ‘n’ shiny clean car, I might add.

Apropos of Those Cartoons

OK, the previous post wasn't my last word. I just happened to recall this excellent tune and thought I'd share it with you.

Warren Zevon wrote this song, Mohammed’s Radio, back in 1976. I find it seriously eerie he was so prescient. And I LOVE this tune for its musicality, and even more so now, for its lyrics. The entire album, titled Warren Zevon (1976), is excellent and, IMHO, his best album.

Everybody's restless and they've got no place to go
Someone's always trying to tell them
Something they already know
So their anger and resentment flow

But don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long
Mohammed's Radio
I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful
On the radio, Mohammed's Radio

You know, the Sheriff's got his problems too
He will surely take them out on you
In walked the village idiot and his face was all aglow
He's been up all night listening to Mohammed's Radio

Don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long
Mohammed's Radio
I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful
On the radio, Mohammed's Radio

Everybody's desperate trying to make ends meet
Work all day, still can't pay the price of gasoline and meat
Alas, their lives are incomplete

Don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long Mohammed's Radio
I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful
On the radio, Mohammed's Radio

You've been up all night listening for his drum
Hoping that the righteous might just might just might just come
I heard the General whisper to his aide-de-camp
"Be watchful for Mohammed's lamp"

Don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long Mohammed's Radio

Warren died of a form of lung cancer in September, 2003. RIP, Warren.