Trippiness
I've been to almost all 50 states, thanks in large part to my parents, and a couple of cross-country trips I took with my family in 1972 and 1980, the second and longer of which began 25 years ago this month.
The July/August 1972 trip was originally going to be a Canada trip only, but as we began to journey east through western Canada, after visiting Vancouver, we noticed that there wasn't much there there, and so we headed back down to the states and drove through the midwest. We saw Mount Rushmore and the Little Bighorn battlefield, and went down the long stretch of highway in South Dakota that leads to the famous Wall Drug. There were literally hundreds of billboards advertising the wonders of Wall Drug, but when we finally passed by there, it was getting late at night and the store was probably closed. I wanted to check it out further -- all I saw from the highway was the "Wall Drug Dinosaur" -- but my parents were too cool to fall for the cheap hype, I guess. We later passed through Nebraska, and I don't know if I've ever been as congested as that day and night, when the summer pollen really got to me.
We motored through Chicago and Milwaukee and Detroit -- my folks found Chicago scummy looking -- and then went back to Canada to visit my mom's grandmother, my last surviving great-grandparent, in her hometown of Windsor, Ontario. She was frail and in her late 80s at that point, and my mom shed a tear after driving away from her house, figuring that was probably the last time she'd see her. Which it was, as my great-grandmother died the following April.
We got as far as upstate New York, Buffalo and Niagra Falls. It was heady stuff for a 10-year old left coaster like myself, who hadn't counted at all on getting this far east, to see the Falls. I wanted to go on to New York City, but my parents wanted to turn back, and so we headed back west, pretty much over the same roads we'd traveled, save the western Canada ones.
The 1972 trip, we had a GMC Travelall truck pulling a trailer, with barely room for five. By 1980, we had a fair-sized RV and a much better planned itinerary. Five weeks, from May 31 to July 5, with stops in Boston, New York City, Philadelphia, Washington D.C., New Orleans, San Antonio, Houston and Las Vegas. With additional stops at Monticello in Virginia, New Mexico's Painted Desert and Carlsbad Caverns and the Great America amusement park near San Jose. An amazing vacation, beginning the very day of my high school graduation ceremony. It turned out to be the last trip we ever took together as a family, as my mom and dad separated the following November.
For about the first two weeks of the trip, which lasted through our visits to Boston and Philly and NYC and D.C., it was pretty much magical. Great weather, and a remarkable list of places seen: Niagra Falls (again), Freedom Hall, the Gettysburg battlefield, the Liberty Bell monument, the Lake Placid arena where the U.S. won the 1980 Olympic hockey gold medal, the Pro Basketball Hall of Fame, the Smithsonian museums, the Boardwalk in Atlantic City, Plymouth Rock, the Capitol Building, Arlington National Cemetery (JFK and RFK and the Tomb of The Unknown Soldier), the Lincoln Memorial, The White House (just the outside), the World Trade Center (I stood on the observation deck, enjoying a magnificent view of the Manhattan skyline), the Empire State Building, Central Park, Times Square, and the Statue of Liberty (back when you could still climb the inside steps to the top.) At the Boston-area RV park we stayed in Foxboro, near the old Patriots football stadium, we showed off our sample of Mount St. Helens ash, while people near our RV came round to take a look.
All this, and I kept an aircheck of radio stations in each city which I still have, and which I hope to get online sometime. Included is Don Imus in his WNBC days, with a bit about "Mary Had A Little Lamb" where Mary "lived in a septic tank of a country called Iran." (Things haven't changed that much in 25 years, have they?)
By the beginning of the third week, we were starting to get on each other's nerves more, particularly my dad and me. This made the second half of the trip less enjoyable, but still there were plenty of great moments. Starting with a tour of Jefferson's home & slave quarters & gravesite at Monticello, then winding down through the south toward Louisiana and Texas, as all the while I continued to record airchecks of the local radio stations and my brother took professional quality pictures with his camera.
In New Orleans we stayed away from the French Quarter unfortunately -- parents must've figured it was an adult thing -- but, hey, I got to see the Superdome, and I first heard the Rolling Stones song "Emotional Rescue" while in Nawlins. And the night we spent there was so frickin' humid, I could barely breathe. I thought I was going to pass out (or worse) at one point in the middle of the night, and only opening up the RV window next to my bunk and lucking into a snatch of good air saved me.
Then came Texas, with stops at a beach by the Gulf of Mexico, the Astroworld amusement park in Houston and The Alamo in San Antonio. (There's no basement at The Alamo, by the way.) We briefly drove across the Texas border into Mexico, to say we'd been to Mexico. (My first real visit to Mexico will be this November, when I spend much of Thanksgiving Day in Ensenada.) And near Houston we played miniature golf and started dancing out there on the course when Elvis' "Burning Love" hit its "hunka hunka" part at the end.
In New Mexico the summer blanket of stars was a remarkable sight, as was the beauty of the desert. Parts of our visit to the underground Carlsbad Caverns are memories that are nearly as clear in my mind as if they happened yesterday. I was trying to make deep memory imprints throughout the trip, because I knew it might be a long time, if ever, before I'd see a lot of this stuff again. As it turned out, the only times I've ventured east since 1980 were trips to Chicago in 1988 and Florida and the Bahamas in 1998.
In the home stretch of our mega-vacation, I actually got to stand on a corner in Winslow, Arizona. (Well, for me it was a highlight.) We drove through Las Vegas, went to Circus Circus, and then for one final flourish headed to California to go to what was then Marriott's Great America. (I later went back there on my honeymoon in 1994, when it had become Paramount's Great America.) I taped one last aircheck, of San Francisco's KFRC as it neared the end period of its AM Top 40 glory days. KFRC was doing a "Silver Anniversary of Rock" tribute (25 years since "Rock Around The Clock" went to #1) for the Fourth of July weekend, and now it's the Silver Anniversary of that Silver Anniversary.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Hair
Barber gets unique view of changing campus
by Greg Hough
Originally published April 1989 in the University of Oregon Daily Emerald newspaper.
There are a million stories in the Emerald City -- and Ed Mayars can probably tell about half of them.
Sitting in one of three barber chairs at his business, the Kampus Barber Shop at 851 E. 13th Ave, Mayars spent part of a morning reminiscing about nearly 30 years of cutting hair in the heart of the University area.
On a mirror behind the chairs is placed a sign that Mayars and his cutting crew find humorously apt: "Cows may come and cows may go, but the bull in this place goes on forever."
"I have the best clientele in the world," Mayars said. "Very rarely do you get someone in here who gives you trouble."
The business opened in 1922, only the second to set up ship on what became known as Campus Row to generations of students. By the time its founder, the late Leo Deffenbacher, handed over the reins of ownership to Mayars in 1964, the shop had established itself as a historical reference point for generations of alumni.
Twenty-eight years after Mayars began to work for Deffenbacher, he says he's looking toward selling his lease of the shop in the next two or three years.
"I'm not planning on breaking Leo's record," he said.
Mayars said the shop has cut the hair of all University presidents since 1922. He said he should ask incoming President Myles Brand "to come in at least once, 'cause I'd hate to break tradition."
Mayars recalls giving a crew cut to then-interim President Charles Johnson only days before his death in an automobile accident in June 1969.
"He told me he was under a lot of pressure," said Mayars, recalling the days when Johnson led a school rife with student protest over the Vietnam War.
The presidents who've come to Kampus Barber Shop were "kind of quiet, most of them," Mayars said. "Now (William) Boyd, he talked a lot. He was from back east, but I know he liked to get out and camp and go horseback riding.
"(Arthur) Flemming was also from back east," he said. "I don't think he ever got a driver's license -- he'd always lived where there was a subway or taxicab. So he had someone chauffeur him around."
Flemming served as University president from 1961-68, followed by Johnson, who served one year as interim president. Boyd succeeded Robert Clark in 1976, and staying at the University until 1981, when he was followed by current President Paul Olum.
Mayars said he's seen many University athletes come into the shp over the years, including former Duck quarterback Dan Fouts, who went on to stardom in the National Football League.
Two famous University sportsmen whose paths never crossed Mayars' cutting tools were Dick Harter and Ron Lee, hubs of the successful "Kamikaze Kids" men's basketball team of the mid-1970s.
"I think both of them went across the street to get their hair cut by Pete," Mayars said, referring to Pete Peterson, longtime owner of the Red Rooster Barber Shop on E. 13th Avenue.
Mayars, who works with two other barbers, estimated that about 80 percent of his recent business has come from the University. Over the years he's seen student hairstyles come in and out and back in again.
"I had very little problem adapting to long hair," Mayars said of the 1960s-70s long-hair trend among male students. "I tended to leave a little hair on anyway; it was what I called a 'businessman's cut.' So when long hair came in, I just cut it basically the same as I did the short hair."
Looking through the shop window all these years has given Mayars a close-up view of student fashion trends, from paisley shirts to Dorothy Hamill cuts to baseball caps. Most of these trends have involved hair or clothing, but Mayars recalls one exception -- the 1973-74 age of the streaker, when students ran around in the buff.
Mayars recalls this thrilling piece of Americana: a group of 15-20 naked students streaking E. 13th Avenue, then heading into the bank across the street from his shop.
In recent years Mayars has had a large world map posted on one of the shop walls. On the map are small pins denoting areas where visitors to the shop have come from.
"Some of the local customers were down on the University, saying that students just come and go out of town and don't give anything back to the community," Mayars said. "My idea was to show that the students coming into the community from foreign countries were doing more for the world situation than all the diplomats combined."
The map indicates that several students from Norway have visited the shop. Mayars told of one Norwegian customer who was asked how the weather was that day.
"He said, 'God, it's hot!' -- and it was only 70 degrees outside," Mayars said.
There's hardly an area on the map that isn't represented by at least one pin. Even the South Pole got a pin -- Mayars remembers a customer who said he'd been stationed there on naval research.
Barber gets unique view of changing campus
by Greg Hough
Originally published April 1989 in the University of Oregon Daily Emerald newspaper.
There are a million stories in the Emerald City -- and Ed Mayars can probably tell about half of them.
Sitting in one of three barber chairs at his business, the Kampus Barber Shop at 851 E. 13th Ave, Mayars spent part of a morning reminiscing about nearly 30 years of cutting hair in the heart of the University area.
On a mirror behind the chairs is placed a sign that Mayars and his cutting crew find humorously apt: "Cows may come and cows may go, but the bull in this place goes on forever."
"I have the best clientele in the world," Mayars said. "Very rarely do you get someone in here who gives you trouble."
The business opened in 1922, only the second to set up ship on what became known as Campus Row to generations of students. By the time its founder, the late Leo Deffenbacher, handed over the reins of ownership to Mayars in 1964, the shop had established itself as a historical reference point for generations of alumni.
Twenty-eight years after Mayars began to work for Deffenbacher, he says he's looking toward selling his lease of the shop in the next two or three years.
"I'm not planning on breaking Leo's record," he said.
Mayars said the shop has cut the hair of all University presidents since 1922. He said he should ask incoming President Myles Brand "to come in at least once, 'cause I'd hate to break tradition."
Mayars recalls giving a crew cut to then-interim President Charles Johnson only days before his death in an automobile accident in June 1969.
"He told me he was under a lot of pressure," said Mayars, recalling the days when Johnson led a school rife with student protest over the Vietnam War.
The presidents who've come to Kampus Barber Shop were "kind of quiet, most of them," Mayars said. "Now (William) Boyd, he talked a lot. He was from back east, but I know he liked to get out and camp and go horseback riding.
"(Arthur) Flemming was also from back east," he said. "I don't think he ever got a driver's license -- he'd always lived where there was a subway or taxicab. So he had someone chauffeur him around."
Flemming served as University president from 1961-68, followed by Johnson, who served one year as interim president. Boyd succeeded Robert Clark in 1976, and staying at the University until 1981, when he was followed by current President Paul Olum.
Mayars said he's seen many University athletes come into the shp over the years, including former Duck quarterback Dan Fouts, who went on to stardom in the National Football League.
Two famous University sportsmen whose paths never crossed Mayars' cutting tools were Dick Harter and Ron Lee, hubs of the successful "Kamikaze Kids" men's basketball team of the mid-1970s.
"I think both of them went across the street to get their hair cut by Pete," Mayars said, referring to Pete Peterson, longtime owner of the Red Rooster Barber Shop on E. 13th Avenue.
Mayars, who works with two other barbers, estimated that about 80 percent of his recent business has come from the University. Over the years he's seen student hairstyles come in and out and back in again.
"I had very little problem adapting to long hair," Mayars said of the 1960s-70s long-hair trend among male students. "I tended to leave a little hair on anyway; it was what I called a 'businessman's cut.' So when long hair came in, I just cut it basically the same as I did the short hair."
Looking through the shop window all these years has given Mayars a close-up view of student fashion trends, from paisley shirts to Dorothy Hamill cuts to baseball caps. Most of these trends have involved hair or clothing, but Mayars recalls one exception -- the 1973-74 age of the streaker, when students ran around in the buff.
Mayars recalls this thrilling piece of Americana: a group of 15-20 naked students streaking E. 13th Avenue, then heading into the bank across the street from his shop.
In recent years Mayars has had a large world map posted on one of the shop walls. On the map are small pins denoting areas where visitors to the shop have come from.
"Some of the local customers were down on the University, saying that students just come and go out of town and don't give anything back to the community," Mayars said. "My idea was to show that the students coming into the community from foreign countries were doing more for the world situation than all the diplomats combined."
The map indicates that several students from Norway have visited the shop. Mayars told of one Norwegian customer who was asked how the weather was that day.
"He said, 'God, it's hot!' -- and it was only 70 degrees outside," Mayars said.
There's hardly an area on the map that isn't represented by at least one pin. Even the South Pole got a pin -- Mayars remembers a customer who said he'd been stationed there on naval research.
Bee-eye-en-gee-oh
Bingo fever spreads throughout Molalla
by Greg Thomas Hough
Originally published January 2002 in the Mollala (OR) Pioneer newspaper.
The continuing popularity of "bingo nights" around the country is such a common and long-running part of Americana that it tends to be taken for granted at times. In Molalla, the all-American activity can be found in no less than three venues, with reliable, even soothing tones of bingo caller keeping regulars entertained and up-to-date with the latest game numbers.
At the Molalla Moose Lodge, an average of 15-to-20 patrons show up on Friday evenings to attend the bingo events there, usually called by lodge member (and longtime caller) Arnold Lucht.
"We have two or three others who call games here, I just started doing them again last year," said Lucht. "I did it for about 10 years in the '70s and '80s. I'm not too crazy about playing the game itself, but I do like to call."
Both the Moose Lodge and Molalla Masonic Lodge in Mulino offer weeknight local bingo sessions for the adults, open to the public. By state regulation, players purchasing game cards who are aged 18-21 must be accompanied by an adult over 21.
Chris Bute, a member of the Masonic Lodge who manages the Wednesday bingo nights, said he's trying to promote a more "family-like atmosphere" at the bingo games, with younger players being encouraged to visit.
At the Moose Lodge, there is a monthy bingo game open to area youngsters that is held in the lodge kitchen area.
"We run the kids' bingo on Sunday afternoon starting at 1 p.m.," said Lucht.
"The next one is on Jan. 20. We don't charge the kids for cards -- we just play for some prizes. Usually it's toys that we're able to give out, for kids aged from 4 or 5 to around 13 or so."
For the adult games at the Moose Lodge, the bingo tickets are one dollar a card, with a "10 pack" and "five pack" of cards available, for the 15 games played per bingo session.
At the Masonic Lodge, for the weekly three-hour session, it's $3 for a sheet with four bingo games on it. Six dollars gets a player two sheets, and $2 is charged for each additional sheet.
Buse said that in February, the Masonic will raise bingo card prices, which will go to help increase the amount and quality of the prizes given.
"We'll always try to have gift certificates available, for Thriftway and Safeway," said Bute.
The Masonic, like the Moose Lodge, pays off based on the amount of players competing.
"A typical game, the top prize is $15," Bute said. "If I make $160 or more on a game, then it will be that amount. If it's less than $160, the prize amount goes down."
"We have a 60-to-70 percent payout to the winner," said Lucht of the Masonic Lodge bingo games.
"We also play 'blackout bingo' on our tenth game," Lucht added. "If you blackout a card on an amount of called numbers up to the specified limit for the month (for January, it'll be 55 dollars or less), you win $1000."
Other games played at the Moose Lodge, besides regular and blackout bingo, include: railroad, horizontal, double, four corners and diagonal bingo games.
At the Masonic, games include regular and blackout bingo, along with games featuring six "free" numbers -- and "caller's choice" games, selections that could include bingos given for "Z" or "X" patterns attained on cards.
The Masonic also offers a "powerball" game, in which a player who wins a bingo with a particular number, will also win an increasing jackpot. For January, it will be $75.
Lucht said the Moose Lodge get "a lot of regulars every week, with a few extra who come in when the pot gets bigger."
Bute also said that the Masonic games have a sizable patronage of seniors, and plenty of those regulars play their bingo with a quiet intensity.
Sandwiches prepared by the "Eastern Star" (the female side of the Masons) is offered at the Masonic sessions, along with soda pop and coffee, said Bute.
At the Molalla Adult Center, there is a bingo game for area seniors on the fourth Monday of every month, in the main dining room of the center.
A maximum of three bingo cards are offered to players at no cost, although a contribution of at least 25 cents is appreciated, according to Adult Center director Lola Burge, who also currently helps call the games.
"We don't have a license to sell cards," said Burge. "So we offer prizes based on contributions, and often they are 'white elephant' gifts that people donate -- a variety of items including groceries, colognes and soaps."
Burge added that the attendance at the two-hour bingo sessions has gone down in recent months, due in part to illness of regular game caller Millie Brashears, and the passing last year of another frequent game caller, Peggy Pearson.
"We've canceled it for the past couple months," said Burge. "Our staff is putting out a call in the community to anyone who's interested."
Bingo fever spreads throughout Molalla
by Greg Thomas Hough
Originally published January 2002 in the Mollala (OR) Pioneer newspaper.
The continuing popularity of "bingo nights" around the country is such a common and long-running part of Americana that it tends to be taken for granted at times. In Molalla, the all-American activity can be found in no less than three venues, with reliable, even soothing tones of bingo caller keeping regulars entertained and up-to-date with the latest game numbers.
At the Molalla Moose Lodge, an average of 15-to-20 patrons show up on Friday evenings to attend the bingo events there, usually called by lodge member (and longtime caller) Arnold Lucht.
"We have two or three others who call games here, I just started doing them again last year," said Lucht. "I did it for about 10 years in the '70s and '80s. I'm not too crazy about playing the game itself, but I do like to call."
Both the Moose Lodge and Molalla Masonic Lodge in Mulino offer weeknight local bingo sessions for the adults, open to the public. By state regulation, players purchasing game cards who are aged 18-21 must be accompanied by an adult over 21.
Chris Bute, a member of the Masonic Lodge who manages the Wednesday bingo nights, said he's trying to promote a more "family-like atmosphere" at the bingo games, with younger players being encouraged to visit.
At the Moose Lodge, there is a monthy bingo game open to area youngsters that is held in the lodge kitchen area.
"We run the kids' bingo on Sunday afternoon starting at 1 p.m.," said Lucht.
"The next one is on Jan. 20. We don't charge the kids for cards -- we just play for some prizes. Usually it's toys that we're able to give out, for kids aged from 4 or 5 to around 13 or so."
For the adult games at the Moose Lodge, the bingo tickets are one dollar a card, with a "10 pack" and "five pack" of cards available, for the 15 games played per bingo session.
At the Masonic Lodge, for the weekly three-hour session, it's $3 for a sheet with four bingo games on it. Six dollars gets a player two sheets, and $2 is charged for each additional sheet.
Buse said that in February, the Masonic will raise bingo card prices, which will go to help increase the amount and quality of the prizes given.
"We'll always try to have gift certificates available, for Thriftway and Safeway," said Bute.
The Masonic, like the Moose Lodge, pays off based on the amount of players competing.
"A typical game, the top prize is $15," Bute said. "If I make $160 or more on a game, then it will be that amount. If it's less than $160, the prize amount goes down."
"We have a 60-to-70 percent payout to the winner," said Lucht of the Masonic Lodge bingo games.
"We also play 'blackout bingo' on our tenth game," Lucht added. "If you blackout a card on an amount of called numbers up to the specified limit for the month (for January, it'll be 55 dollars or less), you win $1000."
Other games played at the Moose Lodge, besides regular and blackout bingo, include: railroad, horizontal, double, four corners and diagonal bingo games.
At the Masonic, games include regular and blackout bingo, along with games featuring six "free" numbers -- and "caller's choice" games, selections that could include bingos given for "Z" or "X" patterns attained on cards.
The Masonic also offers a "powerball" game, in which a player who wins a bingo with a particular number, will also win an increasing jackpot. For January, it will be $75.
Lucht said the Moose Lodge get "a lot of regulars every week, with a few extra who come in when the pot gets bigger."
Bute also said that the Masonic games have a sizable patronage of seniors, and plenty of those regulars play their bingo with a quiet intensity.
Sandwiches prepared by the "Eastern Star" (the female side of the Masons) is offered at the Masonic sessions, along with soda pop and coffee, said Bute.
At the Molalla Adult Center, there is a bingo game for area seniors on the fourth Monday of every month, in the main dining room of the center.
A maximum of three bingo cards are offered to players at no cost, although a contribution of at least 25 cents is appreciated, according to Adult Center director Lola Burge, who also currently helps call the games.
"We don't have a license to sell cards," said Burge. "So we offer prizes based on contributions, and often they are 'white elephant' gifts that people donate -- a variety of items including groceries, colognes and soaps."
Burge added that the attendance at the two-hour bingo sessions has gone down in recent months, due in part to illness of regular game caller Millie Brashears, and the passing last year of another frequent game caller, Peggy Pearson.
"We've canceled it for the past couple months," said Burge. "Our staff is putting out a call in the community to anyone who's interested."
Thursday, May 19, 2005
I Need A Link
New additions to the WATP list o' links: That wild and wacky Wonkette blog all the cool kids are talking about; Harry Shearer's new Eat The Press blog (he's been updating it frequently); and two of my favorite guilty web pleasures, Find A Grave and Find A Death. (Wanna see where Mister Rogers is entombed? You got it!)
Also, no collection of Greg T. linkage would be complete without some recent articles giving the Bush maladministration, and those who enable it, a richly deserved what for. Here then is quality output from four of my favorite writers, people who actually make decent money (imagine that!) writing words for public consumption: Mark Morford, Molly Ivins, Paul Krugman, and two (1 and 2) by William Rivers Pitt.
New additions to the WATP list o' links: That wild and wacky Wonkette blog all the cool kids are talking about; Harry Shearer's new Eat The Press blog (he's been updating it frequently); and two of my favorite guilty web pleasures, Find A Grave and Find A Death. (Wanna see where Mister Rogers is entombed? You got it!)
Also, no collection of Greg T. linkage would be complete without some recent articles giving the Bush maladministration, and those who enable it, a richly deserved what for. Here then is quality output from four of my favorite writers, people who actually make decent money (imagine that!) writing words for public consumption: Mark Morford, Molly Ivins, Paul Krugman, and two (1 and 2) by William Rivers Pitt.
Horse With No A Name
I pay attention to the TV screen showing the horse races, and the website showing names of horses entered in races from coast to coast. And so, from my cube at my horse race wagering establishment, comes another list of interesting and/or unusual racehorse names:
Suicidal Blonde
Bogart's Cat
Gas Hog
Brave Sir Robin
Iwannabesedated
Caviar Emptor
Chewy Gross
Emotional Episode
Fuzzyheadedlizard
Log On
All Things French
The Name's Bond
Cranky Pants
Gin Makes U Sin
Flying Elvis
Family Guy
Baby Shaq
Malfoy
Pink Duck
Presidential Brat
Bologna Lips
Western Id
I pay attention to the TV screen showing the horse races, and the website showing names of horses entered in races from coast to coast. And so, from my cube at my horse race wagering establishment, comes another list of interesting and/or unusual racehorse names:
Suicidal Blonde
Bogart's Cat
Gas Hog
Brave Sir Robin
Iwannabesedated
Caviar Emptor
Chewy Gross
Emotional Episode
Fuzzyheadedlizard
Log On
All Things French
The Name's Bond
Cranky Pants
Gin Makes U Sin
Flying Elvis
Family Guy
Baby Shaq
Malfoy
Pink Duck
Presidential Brat
Bologna Lips
Western Id
Friday, May 13, 2005
USA For Oprah
He was "the rude pundit" before "The Rude Pundit" was cool. Here again is our own Chester Magpie, underground pundit:
"Have I mentioned how much I hate these people? God, the frustration I feel as I dilute my anger with distraction to pass the time and wait. Karl Rove has earned a bullet to the temple but too bad Oprah's got his back. If they haven't outright won they are damn close.
The bloody corpse of Christ continues to butcher its way into our lives. To folks who have half a brain these fundie freaks look like bad animation, but I guess to most of the NASCAR nation the hideous mutant Jesus/Satan looks good in his new lace sleeves.
Too bad history is repeating in Hitler fashion but ain't that just like 'Japs on acid' reality? The little psychopaths don't give a shit if they own half a country that teaches the three C's (church, church and church!) -- they still want to suck more liberal blood and more conservative cock.
We being the (powerless?) 45-50% of this whored-out country might as well be loading our muskets with Lewis and Clark rather than sitting around waiting for Howard Dean to brush his teeth. But then again the revolution will be televised...and while Katie Couric comments on the carnage, little inroads could still be made for us.
The '06 midterm election will be another important make-or-break point in this country. But the Democratic Party? To date, they have let democracy get slaughtered by Bush's Army of God. I don't know if I should show up on election day with my vote or a gun.
May the 'real' God help me!"
He was "the rude pundit" before "The Rude Pundit" was cool. Here again is our own Chester Magpie, underground pundit:
"Have I mentioned how much I hate these people? God, the frustration I feel as I dilute my anger with distraction to pass the time and wait. Karl Rove has earned a bullet to the temple but too bad Oprah's got his back. If they haven't outright won they are damn close.
The bloody corpse of Christ continues to butcher its way into our lives. To folks who have half a brain these fundie freaks look like bad animation, but I guess to most of the NASCAR nation the hideous mutant Jesus/Satan looks good in his new lace sleeves.
Too bad history is repeating in Hitler fashion but ain't that just like 'Japs on acid' reality? The little psychopaths don't give a shit if they own half a country that teaches the three C's (church, church and church!) -- they still want to suck more liberal blood and more conservative cock.
We being the (powerless?) 45-50% of this whored-out country might as well be loading our muskets with Lewis and Clark rather than sitting around waiting for Howard Dean to brush his teeth. But then again the revolution will be televised...and while Katie Couric comments on the carnage, little inroads could still be made for us.
The '06 midterm election will be another important make-or-break point in this country. But the Democratic Party? To date, they have let democracy get slaughtered by Bush's Army of God. I don't know if I should show up on election day with my vote or a gun.
May the 'real' God help me!"
Metropolitan Areas
UNDER AND OVER THE BAY
Lyrics by Greg T. Hough, 1987
© 1997 Greg Hough
From Market to Mission
From Mission to Market
To California Street
And the Hashbury signs
I am walking in circles
Remembering lately
The thunder that left me
The fog that is mine
So where is my heart?
And just where is my mind?
Well it's under and over and under and over
Nowhere can I start
And no one has the time
Well it's under and over and under and over the bay
Bay-ay-ay-ay
Bay-ay-ay-ay
Bay-ay-ay-ay
Bay-ay-ay-ay
At the dawning of morning
I'm at Martin De Porres
Then I head my way downtown
To St. Anthony's line
Soon I'll wash in the rest room
I'll get bread for my plasma
In the brightness of August
It is how I survive
Now where is my heart?
And just where is my mind?
Well it's under and over and under and over
Nowhere can I start
And no one has the time
Well it's under and over and under and over the bay
Bay-ay-ay-ay...
On a hill full of trees
Deep in Golden Gate Park
I am in magical squalor
As I hide in the dark
But survival is struggle
And my loneliness drains me
On a whim to The City
On a whim to depart
Oh where is my heart?
And just where is my mind?
Well it's under and over and under and over
Nowhere can I start
And no one has the time
Well it's under and over and under and over the bay
Bay-ay-ay-ay...
LONG DARK HAIR OF CHICAGO
Lyrics by Greg T. Hough, 2001
© Greg Hough
In this dream I awake
There's a fog off the lake
I can feel the long dark hair
I've an ivy fatigue
In this national league
Still I feel a comfort there
Oh Chicago it seems
Calls to me in my dreams
Could it be the long dark hair?
Could it be the long dark hair?
In my summertime grace
With the wind in my face
I can feel the long dark hair
I've got nothing but time
For my rhythm and rhyme
And there's music in the air
Oh Chicago it seems
Calls to me in my dreams
Could it be the long dark hair?
Could it be the long dark hair?
As the young and the old
Brave the heat and the cold
I can feel the long dark hair
As the years roll away
And the hair turns to grey
I will sleep with not one care
Oh Chicago it seems
Calls to me in my dreams
Could it be the long dark hair?
Could it be the long dark hair?
I FOLLOWED HER IN NEW YORK
Lyrics by Greg T. Hough, 1991 & 1997
© 1997 Greg Hough
She was slim and short and youthful
Dark brown hair
And eyes so truthful
Sweetness, shyness
Like her highness
In a dream
And I was a would-be poet
Once I had the nerve to show it
Like when lava cuts a pattern through a stream
I walked alone
Past surreal Hudson River
Tinted windows
Sunny sidewalks
Famous signs
Looked up her name
In the hotel PC notebook
Shut my windows
Turned my channels
Closed my blinds
When I followed her in New York
When I followed her down to the barstool
Then she got on a bike with her boyfriend
And rode away
I followed her in New York
And I followed her down to the barstool
Then she got on a bike with her boyfriend
And rode away
She put pen and paint to passion
Lit her pipe
And smoked her fashion
She pursued the Soho sandwich of her dreams
And I had a stubborn question
Grabbed at truth
And lost confession
Still invisible
And tearing at the seams
I walked alone
Up the statue steps at midnight
Ghosts of madness
Drunken gladness
Filled the air
She danced and played
In the summer sound procession
Filled her canvas
Drowned her sadness
Paid her fare
When I followed her in New York
When I followed her down to the barstool
Then she got on a bike with her boyfriend
And rode away
I followed her in New York
And I followed her down to the barstool
Then she got a bike with her boyfriend
And rode away
UNDER AND OVER THE BAY
Lyrics by Greg T. Hough, 1987
© 1997 Greg Hough
From Market to Mission
From Mission to Market
To California Street
And the Hashbury signs
I am walking in circles
Remembering lately
The thunder that left me
The fog that is mine
So where is my heart?
And just where is my mind?
Well it's under and over and under and over
Nowhere can I start
And no one has the time
Well it's under and over and under and over the bay
Bay-ay-ay-ay
Bay-ay-ay-ay
Bay-ay-ay-ay
Bay-ay-ay-ay
At the dawning of morning
I'm at Martin De Porres
Then I head my way downtown
To St. Anthony's line
Soon I'll wash in the rest room
I'll get bread for my plasma
In the brightness of August
It is how I survive
Now where is my heart?
And just where is my mind?
Well it's under and over and under and over
Nowhere can I start
And no one has the time
Well it's under and over and under and over the bay
Bay-ay-ay-ay...
On a hill full of trees
Deep in Golden Gate Park
I am in magical squalor
As I hide in the dark
But survival is struggle
And my loneliness drains me
On a whim to The City
On a whim to depart
Oh where is my heart?
And just where is my mind?
Well it's under and over and under and over
Nowhere can I start
And no one has the time
Well it's under and over and under and over the bay
Bay-ay-ay-ay...
LONG DARK HAIR OF CHICAGO
Lyrics by Greg T. Hough, 2001
© Greg Hough
In this dream I awake
There's a fog off the lake
I can feel the long dark hair
I've an ivy fatigue
In this national league
Still I feel a comfort there
Oh Chicago it seems
Calls to me in my dreams
Could it be the long dark hair?
Could it be the long dark hair?
In my summertime grace
With the wind in my face
I can feel the long dark hair
I've got nothing but time
For my rhythm and rhyme
And there's music in the air
Oh Chicago it seems
Calls to me in my dreams
Could it be the long dark hair?
Could it be the long dark hair?
As the young and the old
Brave the heat and the cold
I can feel the long dark hair
As the years roll away
And the hair turns to grey
I will sleep with not one care
Oh Chicago it seems
Calls to me in my dreams
Could it be the long dark hair?
Could it be the long dark hair?
I FOLLOWED HER IN NEW YORK
Lyrics by Greg T. Hough, 1991 & 1997
© 1997 Greg Hough
She was slim and short and youthful
Dark brown hair
And eyes so truthful
Sweetness, shyness
Like her highness
In a dream
And I was a would-be poet
Once I had the nerve to show it
Like when lava cuts a pattern through a stream
I walked alone
Past surreal Hudson River
Tinted windows
Sunny sidewalks
Famous signs
Looked up her name
In the hotel PC notebook
Shut my windows
Turned my channels
Closed my blinds
When I followed her in New York
When I followed her down to the barstool
Then she got on a bike with her boyfriend
And rode away
I followed her in New York
And I followed her down to the barstool
Then she got on a bike with her boyfriend
And rode away
She put pen and paint to passion
Lit her pipe
And smoked her fashion
She pursued the Soho sandwich of her dreams
And I had a stubborn question
Grabbed at truth
And lost confession
Still invisible
And tearing at the seams
I walked alone
Up the statue steps at midnight
Ghosts of madness
Drunken gladness
Filled the air
She danced and played
In the summer sound procession
Filled her canvas
Drowned her sadness
Paid her fare
When I followed her in New York
When I followed her down to the barstool
Then she got on a bike with her boyfriend
And rode away
I followed her in New York
And I followed her down to the barstool
Then she got a bike with her boyfriend
And rode away
My Kind Of Mix
I've copied about 30 CDs since my household finally got a CD burner in February. It's only been this month, however, that I've gotten comfortable enough with the burner system to start making the kind of homemade compilations I've long done on cassette. Here are my first three CD comps:
CLASSIC FRANK SINATRA 1950s-60s
You Make Me Feel So Young
I Get A Kick Out Of You
Fly Me To The Moon
Summer Wind
I've Got You Under My Skin
Night And Day
My Kind Of Town
Nice 'N' Easy
(Love Is) The Tender Trap
The Way You Look Tonight
The Lady Is A Tramp
Witchcraft
The Best Is Yet To Come
Young At Heart
Come Fly With Me
All The Way
Luck Be A Lady
Anything Goes
In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning
Love And Marriage
Ebb Tide
It Was A Very Good Year
That's Life
One For My Baby
A LEONARD COHEN AFTERWORLD
Suzanne
I'm Your Man
The Partisan
Night Comes On
Who By Fire
So Long, Marianne
Tower Of Song
The Guests
Democracy
Bird On A Wire
Hallelujah
First We Take Manhattan
Chelsea Hotel No. 2
The Future
Famous Blue Raincoat
In My Secret Life
FOUNTAINS OF WAYNE - HIGH HAT MIX
Bright Future In Sales
Radiation Vibe
The Valley Of Malls
All Kinds Of Time
Joe Rey
Stacy's Mom
Red Dragon Tattoo
Denise
Sick Day
Amity Gardens
Leave The Biker
No Better Place
Hat And Feet
Valley Winter Song
You Curse At Girls
The Senator's Daughter
Mexican Wine
A Fine Day For A Parade
Hey Julie
Little Red Light
She's Got A Problem
Prom Theme
Laser Show
All clock in just under the 80-minute CD limit, and all flow real well. The Frank Sinatra one, in particular, is good enough that Reprise or Capitol would have a hard time topping it as a quality mix of FS at his '50s-'60s peak. They might've substituted "High Hopes" (a hit, yes, but IMO a glorified children's song out of place among the resolutely adult work here) and "Learnin' The Blues" (a tough omission for me) for my "Anything Goes" and "Ebb Tide," but I'll stand by my choices. Both "Ebb" and "Anything," I think, rank up there with "There Used To Be A Ballpark" as Sinatra songs most deserving of more attention.
If my blank CDs had 90 minutes of space, I would add "Learnin' The Blues" and "South Of The Border" to the Sinatra comp; to the Fountains of Wayne CD I'd add two new songs from their soon-to-be released Out Of State Plates ("The Girl I Can't Forget" and -- hey wait a minute, I wrote a song with this title 21 years ago -- "Maureen"); and to the L. Cohen collection I would add "Everybody Knows" and "Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye."
I've copied about 30 CDs since my household finally got a CD burner in February. It's only been this month, however, that I've gotten comfortable enough with the burner system to start making the kind of homemade compilations I've long done on cassette. Here are my first three CD comps:
CLASSIC FRANK SINATRA 1950s-60s
You Make Me Feel So Young
I Get A Kick Out Of You
Fly Me To The Moon
Summer Wind
I've Got You Under My Skin
Night And Day
My Kind Of Town
Nice 'N' Easy
(Love Is) The Tender Trap
The Way You Look Tonight
The Lady Is A Tramp
Witchcraft
The Best Is Yet To Come
Young At Heart
Come Fly With Me
All The Way
Luck Be A Lady
Anything Goes
In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning
Love And Marriage
Ebb Tide
It Was A Very Good Year
That's Life
One For My Baby
A LEONARD COHEN AFTERWORLD
Suzanne
I'm Your Man
The Partisan
Night Comes On
Who By Fire
So Long, Marianne
Tower Of Song
The Guests
Democracy
Bird On A Wire
Hallelujah
First We Take Manhattan
Chelsea Hotel No. 2
The Future
Famous Blue Raincoat
In My Secret Life
FOUNTAINS OF WAYNE - HIGH HAT MIX
Bright Future In Sales
Radiation Vibe
The Valley Of Malls
All Kinds Of Time
Joe Rey
Stacy's Mom
Red Dragon Tattoo
Denise
Sick Day
Amity Gardens
Leave The Biker
No Better Place
Hat And Feet
Valley Winter Song
You Curse At Girls
The Senator's Daughter
Mexican Wine
A Fine Day For A Parade
Hey Julie
Little Red Light
She's Got A Problem
Prom Theme
Laser Show
All clock in just under the 80-minute CD limit, and all flow real well. The Frank Sinatra one, in particular, is good enough that Reprise or Capitol would have a hard time topping it as a quality mix of FS at his '50s-'60s peak. They might've substituted "High Hopes" (a hit, yes, but IMO a glorified children's song out of place among the resolutely adult work here) and "Learnin' The Blues" (a tough omission for me) for my "Anything Goes" and "Ebb Tide," but I'll stand by my choices. Both "Ebb" and "Anything," I think, rank up there with "There Used To Be A Ballpark" as Sinatra songs most deserving of more attention.
If my blank CDs had 90 minutes of space, I would add "Learnin' The Blues" and "South Of The Border" to the Sinatra comp; to the Fountains of Wayne CD I'd add two new songs from their soon-to-be released Out Of State Plates ("The Girl I Can't Forget" and -- hey wait a minute, I wrote a song with this title 21 years ago -- "Maureen"); and to the L. Cohen collection I would add "Everybody Knows" and "Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye."
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Can Do
Ah, solitude. Drinking coffee, surfing the net, listening to the "Classic Sinatra 1950s-60s" CD comp I just burned. The lawn needs mowing again, and I suppose I'll get to that sometime today.
It's a brief moment of peace before the flood -- I'll be working 11 hours on Friday and a whopping 13.5 hours on Saturday at my horse-racing wagering workplace, opening up wagering accounts and taking account deposits for action on this weekend's Kentucky Derby. I consider the 2003 Derby Day the hardest I've ever worked, and we'll see if Saturday equals it.
With the Derby, the Preakness and the Belmont making my life extra busy over the next month or so, I might not have much energy for blog posting on my off days. I've got some lyrics and a past article or two I could put here, plus probably a new list of interesting horse names, and that should provide some decent filler, if necessary.
After posting this, I will return to reading Bob Dylan's first volume of autobiography, Chronicles. It's a hard book to put down, as I'm fascinated by the approach Dylan takes, and the style with which he does it. Rather than write a conventional year-by-year "And then I did this" autobio, Dylan the stubborn iconoclast focuses on points in his life (1960-61, 1969-70, 1987-88) when he formulated new personal modes of musical creativity.
For people interested in the creative process, particularly the craft of songwriting, it's an essential read. Dylan's attention to descriptive detail is impressive, and sprinkled throughout the book are edifying tangents where the author muses on everything from the Civil War to Pete Maravich.
While writing about recording Oh Mercy in New Orleans, he compares Andrew Jackson, the hero of the Battle of New Orleans and the 7th U.S. president, with a few other national leaders we could name:
Jackson said he'd that he'd burn New Orleans to the ground before he'd surrender it. Jackson, Old Hickory, Master of Bloody Deeds -- tall and raw-boned, blue eyes and bushy gray hair, cantankerous, a backwoodsman, opposed the Bank of the United States. At least he didn't drop bombs killing civilians and innocent children for the glory of his nation's honor. He wouldn't be going to hell for that.
This from a man who later in the book says his favorite modern-day politician is Barry Goldwater. Dylan contains multitudes, he does.
Ah, solitude. Drinking coffee, surfing the net, listening to the "Classic Sinatra 1950s-60s" CD comp I just burned. The lawn needs mowing again, and I suppose I'll get to that sometime today.
It's a brief moment of peace before the flood -- I'll be working 11 hours on Friday and a whopping 13.5 hours on Saturday at my horse-racing wagering workplace, opening up wagering accounts and taking account deposits for action on this weekend's Kentucky Derby. I consider the 2003 Derby Day the hardest I've ever worked, and we'll see if Saturday equals it.
With the Derby, the Preakness and the Belmont making my life extra busy over the next month or so, I might not have much energy for blog posting on my off days. I've got some lyrics and a past article or two I could put here, plus probably a new list of interesting horse names, and that should provide some decent filler, if necessary.
After posting this, I will return to reading Bob Dylan's first volume of autobiography, Chronicles. It's a hard book to put down, as I'm fascinated by the approach Dylan takes, and the style with which he does it. Rather than write a conventional year-by-year "And then I did this" autobio, Dylan the stubborn iconoclast focuses on points in his life (1960-61, 1969-70, 1987-88) when he formulated new personal modes of musical creativity.
For people interested in the creative process, particularly the craft of songwriting, it's an essential read. Dylan's attention to descriptive detail is impressive, and sprinkled throughout the book are edifying tangents where the author muses on everything from the Civil War to Pete Maravich.
While writing about recording Oh Mercy in New Orleans, he compares Andrew Jackson, the hero of the Battle of New Orleans and the 7th U.S. president, with a few other national leaders we could name:
Jackson said he'd that he'd burn New Orleans to the ground before he'd surrender it. Jackson, Old Hickory, Master of Bloody Deeds -- tall and raw-boned, blue eyes and bushy gray hair, cantankerous, a backwoodsman, opposed the Bank of the United States. At least he didn't drop bombs killing civilians and innocent children for the glory of his nation's honor. He wouldn't be going to hell for that.
This from a man who later in the book says his favorite modern-day politician is Barry Goldwater. Dylan contains multitudes, he does.
