A man walks into a bar… Springsteen is playing.

 A man walks into a bar and sees his friend sitting beside a 12-inch pianist. He says to his friend, “That’s amazing. How did you get that?”

The man pulls out a bottle and tells him to rub it and make a wish. He rubs the bottle, and a puff of smoke pops out and tells him that he can have one wish. So the man thinks and says, “I wish I had a million bucks.”

The genie says, “OK, go outside, and your wish will be granted.”

The man goes outside, but all he finds are ducks filling the sky and roads. He goes back in and tells his friend what happened, and his friend replies, “I know. Did you really think I wanted a 12-inch pianist?”

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New job. New apartment, and a book.

I feel good today if just a little uninspired. Word of my past troubles have reached friends at home and two old and dear friends have reached out.

One was my old manager, Fred Puglia. I forgot how much I missed this man. He took a bunch of 20 something, flannel wearing, longhairs and put us in suits with new haircuts and booked us some of the best shows I ever played.

One sticks out in particular. Sam Moore.

Sam was ½ the duo of Sam and Dave. His recording of Soulman, Hold on, I’m Comin’, When Something is Wrong With My Baby, I Thank You, as well as a handful of deep cuts, made me want to put together a band with a horn section.

I was playing with a band called The Wild Hairs and it was going nowhere. We played a lot of Tom Petty, John Mellencamp, Rolling Stones.

I talked with the band leader and told him what my plan was and if he wanted to do it with me. I pulled out a piece of paper with a song list on it. “He said wow! This looks great.”

Cool I’ll do some legwork and see if I can find some players. I grabbed the drummer (We’ll call him DC. Great drummer, horrible band-mate. Pain in the ass from the word go.) I’d play bass and my buddy in the Wild Hairs could play guitar and I was going to attempt to steal my partner in crime George Ozier from his band. His gravel Joe Cocker/Greg Allman style would fit my sound perfectly.

I got together with the Wild Hair band leader and he suggested “Instead of horns, let’s get a keyboard player! We could do some Tom Petty, John Mellencamp and Rolling Stones. I got together with the Wild Hair band leader and suggested “Instead of horns, let’s get a keyboard player! We could do some Tom Petty, John Mellencamp and Rolling Stones.

I said I was cool with it but I’m going to put together a horn band anyway…And boy howdy did I ever..

Fast forward a few years and Dr Wu’s Rock n Soul Revue had become a force to be reckoned with. Decked out in suits, three horns (four when George picked up a valve trombone) and a set list that didn’t stop. A one two punch in the face. Great music, great sound, great band. 1…2.. Ba ba baaaaaaam “THEY CALL ME MISTER PITIFUL!” Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett, Sam and Dave, the Temptations… 60’s Memphis soul played by a rock band with a bad-ass horn section.

So Fred gets us a gig as the band for Sam Moore. A hero of our band. We played all his stuff. Hell Sam played the White House and Madison Square Garden with Springsteen. He and Dave hated each other but when Jaco Pastorius (The greatest bass player of our time) needed a singer, He called Sam and Dave.

We had rehearsed the show backwards and forwards. We knew Sam’s set like the back of our hand. He played Soulman in a different key that we did. Sometimes switching keys is easy, This one was not. I had to relearn the song with different chord shapes. And different licks. It was tough but I figured it out.

The night of the shows we were playing for an audience of thousands. Hot August night. Plowing through soul tunes with the Jesus of Soul Sam Moore.

I wanted to get a recording but video cameras were a no no. So the bass player Doug Evans and I set a camera on record and put it behind our amps. We’d get audio if nothing else.
We are doing the last tune. Soul Man was raving up (in the key of A major) Sam says his thank you, and walks off the stage. We go on a bit more and end the show.

Unbeknownst to Doug and Me, Sam and his wife were standing by our recorder. We could hear them candidly talking. I can hear Sam say, “Well they aren’t bad”

Unbeknownst to Doug and Me, Sam and his wife were standing by our recorder. We could hear them candidly talking. I can hear Sam say, “Well they aren’t bad”

Dr Wu’s Rock N Soul Revue “Not bad” `S. Moore

I fooled him. The next show I played with him we did videotape. Sam was looser and was tossing in ad libs, having a skat vs. Pat, our sax player, Thanked us over the mic with a huge introduction, and then ending once again with Soul Man. (in A major with a key change so now i’m in B flat major) He’s ad libbing Sly Stones ‘Dance to the Music’  and he turns to me and says “I wanna hear some guitar to make it easy to move your feet!” HELL YES! I’m thinking.. I got soul! I’m not bad, let me lay a cool blues lick on you.

“…and he turns to me and says “I wanna hear some guitar to make it easy to move your feet!” HELL YES! I’m thinking.. I got soul! I’m not bad, let me lay a cool blues lick on you….”

I grab that G string and I knash down on it with my pick… I play that note with all the soul and heart I got…in the wrong key.

It’s a note that will haunt me forever. I jumped back into the right key immediately but my first musical interaction was in the wrong key. A split second probably 10 people in that crowd heard but I heard it, the band heard it and Sam heard it. Luckily I have video evidence.

I met the Fixx also.

---

A teacher of mine has come back into my life. He was great. Spoke nothing but sarcasm and took me to see concerts. ZZ Top, Journey, The Firm (A really bad band that featured Jimmy ‘Led Zeppelin’ Page and Paul ‘Bad Company’ Rogers)

He played Stevie Ray Vaughan in study hall. Long before he was big time. He took me to Chicago and St Louis for the first time and was probably a hug influence on becoming a musician. He always had music around him. I’m blessed to be back in touch.

---

I’ve written a book. I’m self editing at the moment, then I’m going to have someone else edit it and put it on the market.

The working title is ‘Depression for the Undepressed.’ A book for those who want to understand what it’s like going through life with it. I’ve interviewed some people I know and everyone of them has been so honest. Their stories will explain why we do what we do. Suicide, anxiety, PTSD, coping, and its effects on us and those around us. It’ll be awhile before it comes out. Writing it was the easy part.

The voice sync is off but luckily it’s shaky and you can’t see him anyway. Hear and feel my pain.

 

 

Lies, Gratitude and Love

Life has been somewhat surreal since September. I have been collecting on every piece of karma I have put out into the cosmos.

It’s tough to talk about my depression in real time and not in generalities. This one was a mother fucker. Sorry but that’s really the only way to describe it.

When ever I am stressed to the max I will literally black out. I lie about the stress and the horrible feelings that come along so that I don’t scare the living shit out of friends and family. This is a double edged sword.

I lie about the stress and the horrible feelings that come along so that I don’t scare the living shit out of friends and family.

One it makes me me a liar. I lie to escape the advice of  Dr. Phil watchers. I lie to quickly get rid of the immediate stress until I can hide. Kind of a ‘Look over there” as I make an escape. I lie about how I’m feeling. That one is more like talking myself into feeling better. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.

I found out that the lies I use to protect myself and others, make me a “pathological liar.” I know this is true because I heard specific examples. I’m a pretty easy target because I internalize my sadness instead of getting up and punching you in the nose for being cruel. But I’m not going to point fingers today or any-day. I will just know who is and who isn’t there to count on.

I blacked out in September and I tried to remove my hand by cutting it off at the wrist. I did a pretty good job except I hung on. Barely, but I did. I awoke in the hospital after bleeding out in my apartment for about three hours. My sweet neighbor Brooke found me hours later called 911 and I guess they drug me out and I came to in the hospital. I would give anything to have not put her through that. I am not her cross to bear.

You brought this on yourself

My ‘friend’ went into panic mode and started making calls to make sure she looked 100% innocent and not a cruel bitch who verbal abuse at me like tomahawks. She called around and gathered info to make sure that, even though I felt bad, I didn’t feel bad enough. As they were pouring blood into me my friend called and wanted the Version account number. My ER nurse actually ripped the phone out of the wall and wouldn’t allow anymore calls after the ones that came through.  Let me repeat… SHE RIPPED THE PHONE OUT OF THE WALL! “Don’t let any one else call this guy!” The Mother Theresa’s were out in full that day making sure I knew I wasn’t feeling bad enough for them.

From there I healed and then checked into the Monterey Monkey House. I walked around in my jammies and went to Group, colored pictures and watched movies with the rest of the loons.

As the song ‘Message in a Bottle’ by the Police says, ‘I’m not alone in being alone.’ in fact I’m normal when it comes to severe depression.

---

In Group they finally explained the stages and severity of depression, mania, and bi-polar condition. As the counselor went through the habits of each of these conditions she would ask if any of us had these habits. EVERYONE in that group of 20 people raised their hands.

I’m going to explain it once and for all and never apologize for it again.

I’m going to call this the Fuck Dr Phil and his Bullshit Show and his Dumb-ass forty minute diagnose’s  or FDPAHDAFMD for short.

Imagine a  scale of 1-10.  1 being bad, 10 being good…kinda

Most ‘normal’ people live around 5. but can fluctuate up or down a number or two. Having a bad week might make you dip to a 3 for a bit or waiting on Christmas might put you at a 7. They are short term and will pass and the median will still be right in the middle.

Bi-polar people can range from 1 to 10 depending on the day and usually stay around 3 or 7 depending on the person. Mine is depression so I stay about 3-4 daily. I’m going to only focus on depression.

The term they use for me is Dysthymia. It is long term but a person can function. You can work, be social, go places, take care of yourself and hide the pain.

• Feelings of sadness
• Feelings of hopelessness
• Fatigue
• Trouble concentrating
• Changes in sleep habits — oversleeping or not sleeping enough
• Changes in appetite — overeating or poor appetite

When I am under stress, I can dip down to the 1-2 area, also called Major Depressive Order

• Fatigue or loss of energy almost every day
• Feelings of worthlessness or guilt almost every day
• Impaired concentration, indecisiveness
• Insomnia or hypersomnia (excessive sleeping) almost every day
• Markedly diminished interest or pleasure in almost all activities nearly every day (called anhedonia, this symptom can be indicated by reports from significant others)
• Restlessness or feeling slowed down
• Recurring thoughts of death or suicide
• Significant weight loss or gain (a change of more than 5% of body weight in a month)
• Feelings of fear
• Memory problems
• Suicide

And there it is. I usually hit 1-2 when under a ton of stress. I have abandonment issues that pop up and people either don’t know or worse DO KNOW and use it against me as a threat.

Some people strike out and crawl up in a tower and shoot into McDonalds. Some people like myself internalize it and their brain just shuts down. Too much stimuli and fear, and months of feeling like you can’t do anything right. It becomes a self fulfilling prophesy but all I can do is follow my doctor’s orders.

The abandonment comes from the feeling of not being worth sticking around for. Friends and family write you off and you hear from them twice a year out of some sense of dreaded duty. Like having to pay taxes. Ya do it, but you don’t want to. I can tell and I can feel the resentment and the out of sight out of mind attitude. Hell I’d probably do it myself. I put these people through a lot so I can’t really blame them, but I also can count on them to either disappear, distance themselves, or pawn you off onto a doctor. I’m not looking for happiness. I have happiness. I’m looking for peace.

I’m not looking for happiness. I have happiness. I’m looking for peace.

The funny thing is, the number one thing every doctor and counselor tells me that I must have is emotional support. I’ll say it again THE NUMBER ONE THING YOU NEED IS EMOTIONAL SUPPORT! If you can’t get it here, then find it somewhere else. I get it that you need to distance yourself but you have to also get it that I will too. The difference is  you have the choice. My part is getting over the resentment I feel when I know I can’t call and cry. I don’t blame anyone really, but I do miss them. Life goes on, just without them.

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It is Thanksgiving today so I’m going to give thanks where I know it is due. In no specific order.

• Brooke Weston. My beautiful neighbor for two years who makes the greatest lowbrow art. Thank you and I love you.
• Jen Shipley. A surprise friend, and my angel.
• Lily, the other angel in my life.

Lily and Jen met for the first time when they broke into my apartment and grabbed my guitars and computer. They had never met in person and I hadn’t met Lily until later. When I got out of the hospital they brought me home and put me up. Now that is a friend. They knew so little about me yet they did so much for me.

The Mighty Dr. Wu

• My brothers and best friends from Dr Wu’s Rock and Soul Revue. They dropped everything and gathered the money and the love and support to get me home to heal up and be around people who loved me. My Doctor, myself, and the fellas thought this was exactly what I needed. So Pat ‘Mr. Sax’ Lee, Mark ‘the Master’ Cornell, Dr. Shane Pitsch DMA, and his ex-wife Jamey, Kent “Sweet’ Aberle, George Ozier, Doug Evans, Chris ‘H.C.’ Taylor, J.B. and Michelle Faires, Bugsy Eagleson, and Doug Evans.
• My brother’s in the Matt Poss Band, Matt Poss, Tim Alverson (I want that Tele back someday!) and Mac McDevitt.
• My brother’s in Poprocks Jon Clarkson, Wally Hooker, and Brendan Gamble.
• The loves of my life Kelly Guerrettaz, Brandi Yagow, Beth Kintner, Karen VanBlaircum, Jenny Green, Michelle Robertson,  Joi Green, Marna Neese. If I ever get married again, it will be to one of these women. Don’t worry ladies I’m never going to get married again, the last wife cured that and the last girlfriend cured me of relationships. Rest easy.
• Tommy Dunn, Ike Edwards, Damian Light. Corey Neidigh, I have more love for you guys than I can ever express.
• Rich Matlock, I never had a bad time at a Rhythm Pigz show, or with you.
• Aaron Cox my oldest friend.
• And who ever I missed. I got out of the hospital and found hundreds of ‘I love you’ messages.
• My sister Mo for talking me through a lot of this.

When it comes to life the critical thing is whether you take things for granted or take them with gratitude. ~ Gilbert K. Chesterton

A special thanks to J.B. and Michelle Faires. You put me up, took no shit, gave your love your time, your advice, and your studio to a guy and his cat who had no place to go. I have been thinking everyday how to tell you what that meant to me. I have never found the words that even come close to the the appreciation I feel. Thank you.

Dr. J.B. Faires DMA

Jon invited me to lunch and to hang regularly. Pat did too.

Michelle Faires said something as she was walking out the door one day. I told her I was overwhelmed by the out pouring of love from so many people and she replied “And the common denominator is you”

So I can look at these scars and know these people cared enough to get up and help me when I was sicker than I have ever been in my life. You don’t get in the paper for helping with an invisible illness. You did it anyway. I can’t express my gratitude enough.

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So I’m back in California, I’m feeling better than I have in a really long time. It’s a shame some of the people in my past couldn’t hold out a little longer because the best has yet to come. I am actively searching for work in San Francisco doing graphics. I sold my guitars, even my beloved Telecaster that I have had for 25 years, to get back to Californie  but what the hell? I don’t feel like making music anyway. Now I have no choice LOL.

A Ketch, not THE Ketch

In the interim I just spent the week at the Breakwater Marina in Monterey working on my new friend’s boat. I spent seven days 8-14 hours a day in the sun, climbing ladders (the boat was in dry dock) cutting wood for bulkheads, painting the boat, smelling salt air and listening to the sea lions bark. I have a farmer’s tan and a new friend in Eric.

Eric is a character. He fits right in with the rest of my friends perfectly. He laughs a lot, He looks like Ritchie Havens, he listens to 80’s Rush, He hates Trump, and he’s famous. For real famous, not infamous. Award winning film star, scuba instructor, lives on a boat in the Caribbean. I’m sure many of you have enjoyed his work and I have put the pressure on him to hook me up with his friend-ish Sarah, who is also famous.

I want to take her to Dairy Queen for ice cream and then to the ASPCA to pet kittens and puppy dogs.  Eric seems to think she’ll expect a nicer date but ya know what? That seems like a great date. If she wants to dress up and go to dinner and dancing, we’ll just crash a wedding. If Sarah doesn’t want to go screw her, He knows plenty of people that I’m a fan of. I bet one of them would love ice cream.

Ice cream and petting puppies with Sarah

I watched a beautiful Ketch (it’s a boat) being lifted up and put into the Pacific yesterday. We smoked cigarettes and sat on the boat he restored. The two masts looked a mile high. It never felt so good to be so tired. Thank you Eric for giving me the opportunity and for not getting too pissed because I can’t remember anything. Call Sarah…

I have too much to be thankful for. I hope you all do too.

S.

Phubbing. An American Epidemic. You May Already Have It!

I knew the ex-wife was lying about screwing around. She kept her phone held to her chest like it was the only thing keeping her heart from stopping. She was cheating. Erasing all messages, never setting it down. Texting late. Plus she was stupid and gullible and I tricked her into spilling the beans. She never was the sharpest tool in the shed.

I absolutely hate my phone. I despise it. When it rings I don’t answer it. I don’t know hardly anyone who answers the phone. If I know you then you will know to text or send an instant message. I don’t always reply like I should but I set my phone down when I’m home and I don’t have it tied to me like a house arrest ankle bracelet. I’ll check it when I get to it.

I work on a computer so Facebook is up all day. Even I check it multiple times a day. Only on the computer. Never on my phone. My phone is used to hold music and give me directions. Other than that I don’t want it. When I do call, my friends answer because they know I wouldn’t call unless I had to.

I see them at concerts all the time. Why did you buy a ticket just so you could watch the show on a shaky distorted phone? The action is in front of your face. Are you really going to watch it again? I doubt it. Just sit back and watch Def Leppard the old fashion way. With your eyes and ears.

It is an empty feeling being in a group who would rather …. Well I guess I really don’t understand what is so important? I spent most of my life without one and I still am here. If you wanted to hang with another friend, go there. Don’t let me stop you.

Dating. If a woman who has no children, pulls out a phone, we might as well ask for the check. I can eat alone at home. If you have kids leave it out by all means and I have no problem with you checking on them. Taking a picture of your food and chatting with your bestie while I’m buying drinks is a no-no. It’s rude, it’s disrespectful, and I resent it. If you don’t want my company why are you here?

I had a great time this evening, would you like to go out with us again?

I’ve walked out on two dates in my life. One of them was texting the dude next to her as I bought drinks, (because I’m stupid and wouldn’t know *eye roll*), I told her I figured she could catch a ride home finished my drink, put on my coat and left her at the bar. We are good friends for sure, but you know what you did.

There have been a few tests meant to stop phone addiction. My friend Bugs told me “When you get to dinner, everyone stacks their phone in the middle of the table. The first person who checks their phone picks up the check.” Genius

Man I want to party with these guys!

If you want to show a true test of integrity and trust, swap phones with your partner for the day. You can dig through mine all day long. You’ll realize I don’t know what I’m doing and what most of my apps are for. I have 30 pictures of the inside of my pocket, the rest of the cat.

If you want to show attention, put it away. The world is passing you by and your messages, food pictures, and the mandatory prayers will be there when you get back. If I learned anything this past month is Facebook won’t replace the time spent offline. That is where the treasured memories are. I’m glad I had real face time with those I love. A hug beats a thumbs up anyday.

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My friend and musical brother Dirk Baker passed away this week. A tall, lanky ginger. All my love Dirk. The hole in my heart where my friends that I have met and lost through music is getting larger. Like everyone else who knew him, there is a little less light in the world. I’m happy for the time I did have.

Here’s to you Dirk.

Dirk, you are truly missed.

I raise my glass and I wish I had someone here to grieve with. To tell the stories and good times we had. I know that many of my friends  have gathered and are helping each other.

I feel farther away from friends everyday. loneliness, helplessness, and my shrink doesn’t want to hear it. I’m not sure the cat gives a damn either.

I NEED A JOB!… So why does this guy get the offers? Hello! San Francisco!

Mr Cropp was serving a two-year jail term for aggravated robbery when his brother did the facial art using a makeshift needle and fermented food.

He went to Facebook and pled his case. “No one will hire me because I have a tattoo all over my face.” He received 45 offers for work and he’s just waiting on the right one…

I can’t find work due to my prison tattoo

I’ve been living in California for over a year and since everything cost five-times what it did in the Mid-West, I love it.

I have been hitting all the recruiters who alert me to Graphics jobs. I apply I hear nothing. Yes or no. I don’t even know if these alerts are real.

I replied to my recruiter to one of my daily recruiters today. Phil from Ziprecruiter.com

Hi Phil, I hope you are real. I get your updates.

I have been living in CA for over a year. I have applied many times through Ziprecruiter but never received a single bite. I have never heard back. I’m not even sure the position is real.

I am good at my job. I have freelanced for Disney, Warner Brothers, CNN, I have worked at a newspaper. Talk about deadlines. I’ve always met if not exceeded my client’s expectations.

I can list off abilities all day. I can design your next product, brand it, make a graphic for the container, animate it, and build a website from scratch. Take your ad for the product and design a wrap for your car plus a design for the business card and the billboard.

I could stay in and work pre-press making sure files are up to  par. Then separate it into CMYK and print it in a magazine that I have laid out myself, import the Excel file of addresses and walk to the post office to send them.

While I’m there I can work on a forklift and a coal boiler. I can show your children magic tricks at a professional level, teach you to play a guitar or bass, write and record an album, book a tour, and come back with the cash. I can juggle. Where am I going wrong?

I’m going to  Petco tomorrow and asking them for a job. I’m college educated, 20+ real world years of skills to offer, I’m reliable and dependable and I’m going to be cleaning up Parrot crap. I will give it 100% like I do everything. It’s a shame Petco is going to get one of the finest graphic artists you’ll meet.

I have a bad ass sister also looking for work. One day Fortune 500 Company where she managed hundreds of employees with her hard head, smart mouth, and the ability to get things done, the next day going over job boards. I have to shake my head when I hear of her troubles with work. Some company is going to luck out when they hand Michelle (my sis) a job. Stand back, you’ll only get in her way. I think they have a Pet Smart in Mattoon, IL. I hope they are hiring. Gonna be some lucky Parrots in clean cages.

I’m frustrated Phil.
–Samuel Roan

So Mr. Moog, while waiting for the right position to come along. You know; desk job,  secretary with a face tattoo.

Forty Five offers were given to this guy while Forty five people who never held anyone at gunpoint, made the decision not to tattoo their face in prison with a makeshift needle and vegetables as ink. Forty five people who were at a disadvantage because they were wise enough not to do what Mr. Moog did.

Plus Moog hasn’t taken a single one of the offers.

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My Dad died a few weeks ago. He wasn’t the man he should have been, an alcoholic with a penchant for going to town for smokes and coming home three weeks later. I think back and I really don’t remember doing much with him.

I played little league on year. I remember going with him to the local parts store and sportsman supply shop in Greenup. He bought me a ball glove way too big (You’ll grow into it) and went home and put 3 in 1 oil all over it and I think we put a ball in it and put it under my mattress. I don’t think he saw any games. I remember calling him when I got on base the one time. Michelle and I used that glove for years during P.E. class. He took us to see King Kong (70’s version) and Jaws at the drive in.

I could go on but it hurts a little too much and the guilt is a little heavy and my great support team is 2500 miles away. I couldn’t ask for a better bunch of best friends, the community of Greenup and specifically the kindness of Priscilla Schrock who had a ticket waiting for me within an hour of being told to come home. The Greenup Southern Baptist church who got me back and helped big time with the rent. My family. Michelle and Mom and Jim.

I didn’t tell anyone I was home even though I’m sure they knew. I spent two weeks 24/7 with a sober, funny, and frightened father. Not that he ever showed me he was scared. My old man doesn’t get scared.

I’m an Atheist so I don’t imagine Pa sitting back with his brother and best friend John Roan tossing back Busch beer and telling Navy stories. I also know energy can’t be destroyed. So somewhere the energy that was my father is floating around in the either. I don’t think I ever did much to make him proud. I’m all music and art, he was carburetors and beer.

I think those were the best two weeks I ever had. We became close again and of all things nightly, we would watch Frasier, the A-Team, and Miami Vice while smoking cigarettes and telling stories. I never knew my dad was in Italy, Greece, Jamaica… He never spoke about it and wasn’t one to take pictures.

We laughed a lot. I get my vision of absurdity from him. Michelle and I both got our sense of humor from him. I got his curly hair, which was always too long for him. Does that shit matter today? No. It’s just hair and too many wasted years.

If I can ever get my favorite singer Brandi Yagow to sing my version of an old Iron Maiden tune “Wasted Years” I will record it. Mine isn’t heavy, fast or angry. It’s just me missing my dad. I can still hear him telling me to “Turn that shit down!” and ironically I’ll be dedicating one of those tunes to him.

Here is the original. Mine is nothing like this except the words and the chords. Until I get it done it’ll have to do.

If you want to do me a solid, follow and share, and get me a freakin job doing what I do best!

Why does Music Scare the Hell Out Of Our Government?

Victor Jara. Singer, poet, activist

In the early 1970’s there was a Chilean teacher, theater director, poet, singer-songwriter, and political activist named Victor Jara (pronounced HAR-a.) He was a leading member of a group of folk musicians who established the Nueva Canción Chilena (New Chilean Song) movement. This led to an uprising of new sounds in popular music during the administration of President Salvador Allende and made Victor Jara a famous singer in Chile.

On September 11^th, 1973 a CIA-backed coup d’état brought down the democratic Allende Government.

The Chilean military quickly arrested Victor Jara along with other leftists groups. They took them to the Santiago Stadium and locked them inside.

As the crowd waited Victor Jara, guitar in hand, led the prisoners in song after song to help ease the fear. One of the soldiers recognized Jara. He was taken to the center of the stadium and with the butt of their rifles, the soldiers smashed his hands. Afterward they  said “Let’s hear another song Victor.” And “Play your guitar for us Victor” Then a soldier pulled out a pistol and shot Victor Jara in the head.

After his murder, Jara’s body was displayed at the entrance of Chile Stadium for other prisoners to see.  He was 37. His songs were about love, peace and social injustice. Songs scared his government so much they had him murdered to stop his voice from being heard.

The Clash

Please remember Victor Jara,
In the Santiago Stadium,
Es verdad – those Washington Bullets again.
~The Clash

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I must have read it a hundred times. Entertainers need to keep their mouths shut. You are to be wound up, enjoyed and put away.

~~Bob Marley had an attempt on his life that was politically motivated.
~~Woody Guthrie wrote this ‘Land is Your Land.’ Look up ALL the verses to this song. It’s about socialism.
~~Springsteen wrote ‘Born in the USA.’ President Reagan used it (without permission) as a song to rile up his crowds. Too bad no one on Reagan’s staff bothered to listen to the lyrics. It is a bleak picture of Reagan’s America.
~~’We Shall Overcome’ was sung by the Civil Rights Marchers in the Sixties.
~~ Pete Seeger was blacklisted for not snitching on his peers in the McCarthy hearings.

Burl Ives. Folk singer, snitch, canary, deep throat, fink, informant, nark, rat, rat fink, informer, snitcher, squealer, stoolie, stool pigeon, talebearer, tattler, tattletale, telltale, whistle-blower and all around general bastard.

Luckily Burl Ives came in and sang like a canary. This is why you see Burl in ‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof’ and you don’t hear Pete Seegar as the Snowman in ‘Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’ in fact, you didn’t see him for close to fifteen years. Thanks Burl. I love pissing off of the Burl Ives Bridge any chance I get.
~~James Brown stopped Detroit from rioting after MLK was killed by playing his show live on the radio.
~~Sammy Davis Jr. arguably the most gifted entertainer of all time worked as the first black entertainer in Vegas. After selling out his shows at the Sands he would have to go stay at a hotel across town because the Sands didn’t allow n****rs in their hotel.
~~The CIA has a file on John Lennon.
~~Bob Dylan had something to say…

They all scared the living shit out of their leaders. Music. If we are entertainers why do you care if we protest and join a cause? Because we know something that you know too. You can’t live without music in your life and sometimes that music has a message. It’s been that way since the first caveman beat on a log in 4/4 time.

Around 1982 A waitress from Detroit hopped onstage with thrift store clothes and a piece of pop fluff she called a song. She turned that into  ½ a billion dollars. Madonna had no  million dollar start up. No TV show to make her famous in six weeks. She didn’t have producers fixing her vocals. She negotiated million dollar deals constantly, then she hopped her happy ass on a tour bus and spent years on the road.

She is a self-made millionaire who took her shot and made it. 30 years later she is a Superstar. From Ramen to riches

Trump’s dad gave him a small million dollar loan and a bunch of cronies. But Madonna is the one who should shut up because she’s an entertainer…. SHe doesn’t know what it’s like to be one of us like Trump does.

Anyone here ever been to Detroit? Then you know what I mean.

To quote Madonna “FUCK!”

In physics, string theory is a theoretical framework in which the point-like particles of particle physics are replaced by one-dimensional objects called strings. It describes how these strings propagate through space and interact with each other.

I am an American
I have the right to speak, even if it isn’t what you want to hear.
I am an activist. I act on things that are important to me. Your lack of empathy won’t stop me. Your apathy is what I’m counting on.
I am not a jukebox or a toy. I am a skilled entertainer with the broken hearts and scars that go with it.
I am informed. Musicians don’t listen to music after a gig. Talk radio is king or silence. I listen to a lot of news.
I read. I can tell the difference between a fact and an opinion. I don’t need led by the nose.
No, I don’t have to see it your way.
I don’t believe in Alt-truths any more than you do.
I don’t have it any easier than you do.
I have sacrificed to become the entertainer I am. I know what it means to be poor.
I am educated and smart.
I won’t accept lack of compassion as an excuse.
I know shit from Shinola so don’t piss on my President and tell me it’s raining.
….And I can play a bad ass fucking guitar
–S.

Like Share Comment. What do you think? Why does music scare our leaders?

Madonna…. Keep preaching sister. What is this? An entertainer expressing her view? I thought putting a boot in your ass was the American way?

Trumped at My Own Game. A Trolling Gone Very Wrong

What is trolling in social media?

A social media troll, by definition, is someone who creates conflict on sites like Twitter, Facebook and Reddit by posting messages that are particularly controversial or inflammatory with the sole intent of provoking an emotional (read: angry) response from other users.

I was taught to troll by a Master Troller who we’ll call ‘John’. This is not his real name. His real name is Jon.

We troll groups that deserve a trolling. Hate groups mainly. We do it for fun, a hobby, a time waster, make each other laugh, and to try and top the last troll the other guy did. It is a form of cyberbullying, but it’s like cyber bullying the Westboro Baptist Church. That OK. No innocent people are harmed in White Hat Trollling.

John successfully disrupted a group of snooty self-impressed acoustic guitarists back when this was all done on a forum. He taught me to troll with intent. Use my own intellect, talents and Google to make these people miserable while manipulating the group. Give them enough rope and haters will turn on themselves.

I have trolled everything from Anti-LGBT sites to Gene Simmon’s fans. I never had one blow up on me like this…

I found a group of Donald Trump fans who were calling Michelle Obama’s MOTHER the worst names you can call a black person while feeling this false sense of pride like Trump himself was watching them. The group was called “The Basket of Deplorables” an obvious play on what Hillary Clinton had called Trump supporters. The group was not even hiding the fact that they were a hate group. Screaming racial epithets at any shade of brown darker than a paper bag, hailing fake news as real and real news as fake. 

They would ask questions like “Should I be able to fly an American Flag on my property any time I want?” followed by HUNDREDS of “Hell Yeahs” and “Libtards better try and stop me” This is not a debatable group. No discussions under any of the threads, just “Hell Yeah” and “God Bless Donald Trump.” No lie. Not big thinkers but there were 43,000 of them, so they had numbers.

I made the fake Facebook account. DontTred Fred. Disabled, big Elvis fan, Trump supporter. A few image grabs uploaded and memes posted on my page and I was off. I posted fake stories I asked stupid questions and I hit ‘like’ on every redneck, hate spewing post. I was in.

The Best way to troll is to stay just close enough to find their weak spot and jab it. Play along, so to speak.”Obama started ISIS!!!!!”

This group was a cesspool of ugliness and ignorance. I couldn’t take this much stupidity and hate for long. I told John I was outing myself on Friday.

I would tell them all how I made up the stories and how they are assholes and bigots and puppy kickers. I told them I was going to send those racist posts to their places of work. That I had more fake profiles to spy on them in the group. I would point out their hypocrisy and they would all feel like fools and then I would waste their time as I sat back and let the hatred of 43,000 Trump supporters massage my feet and those of my high horse.

That is exactly what I did. John joined the group to send me updates when they tossed me from the group. It was time, Tora, Tora, Tora, I wrote John. DontTred Fred posted my Big Meme explaining how I had made them fools. I posted it with the words “Don’t fuck with the King.”. Then I waited.

One guy popped up and said “dumbass.”

I replied “lame. Is that the best you got nimrod?”  Goading the Basket of Deplorables group do their best. Come and kill me in my apartment in Terre Haute Indiana.

Then they started coming in.

“Libtard”
“Trump is still the winner”
“Amazing what the left will do”
“Obummer… 

John hopped in to help get the trolling rolling. He started mirroring them, but as a Trump supporter. IN ALLCAPS RUN ON SENTNCES AND MISPELLED WURDS!!!!!1!!

Where was the burst of hate? Could they see my post? I finally told John in a private message that I was confused. Maybe ten people commented and one of them BUSTED JOHN OUT as a fake.

Slowly I came upon the realization that this simple bunch didn’t know I was trolling them. I called them out and they thought it was about someone else. My plan failed due to incoherence on THEIR part. GUYS! GET MAD!  I THINK YOU SUCK AND ARE IDIOTS! Crickets…

I have had my ass handed to me in a debate, I have been caught as a troll, I convinced a death metal band to change their name, but I have never been outwitted by sheer stupidity and obliviousness. AS I WAS TELLING THEM I WAS DOING IT! 

I’m still in the group. Head down. The troll was slain with slow wit and obliviousness. Well played Trump supporters….Well played.

Donttred Fred. The name is a family name. It’s French/Cajun

Someone turned DontTred Fred into the Facebook Police. They disabled my page until I could provide them proof of my identity. No lie. They wanted a copy of my ID. With Photoshop in hand, my Troll came back to life. Reenergized and ready to jump back into the business of fuckery!

You simple bastards got me this time, but DontTred Fred will be back. Don’t fuck with the King.

Hey, you can have a copy of my last album if you click on the button on the side. Hope you enjoy.

It’s a new Year, I miss my friends especially bad. But it is sunny and my window is open. I hear they are getting an ice storm back home. I love you guys. You know who you are.

Like Follow and all that other stuff. Comment. Do Something for God’s sake!

–Sammy

#deplorables # Trumpsupporters #goldenshowers 

Factcheck.org… A Liberal Rag. My Views on the Woefully Uninformed

The title of this post comes from a discussion I had earlier this week. It’s a Trump world where his supporters are somehow emboldened to say what they want no matter how little they have investigated. Where does this false sense of pride in a grown man’s ignorance come from? Why does he feel he can get personal with my life? It is because his mentality has become mainstream. If Trump can grab a woman’s pussy, then by all means psychoanalyze me.

                         Poor Parenting

My choice to move wasn’t so that I could pee with other liberals. It wasn’t because I’m embarrassed where I come from. It was a mixture of many things.

 

I’ve never hidden my depression and at times it became debilitating. It was chink in the armor the man used. The problem was, it removes the question of his character also. He has none. But his leader can find fault with someone suffering from Muscular Dystrophy then he feels like it’s fair game. Well score one for you.

Somehow this man feels superior in his ignorance and child-like name calling and keyboard warrior-like threats of physical violence. ( A sure sign you are winning an argument). He has no idea how petty I am. You never want to mess with a man who possesses graphic artist skills like mine. Not only could I make a picture of him singing “Lime in the Coconut” while dressed as a penis… I could have it seen by thousands of people…Not wise. Kind of like in the music business, never argue with the soundman. He’s holding a serious hand; you better hope he has mercy.

I use my friends to test out new projects. Thank You Doug. You Da Man!

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This guy forgot, or maybe never considered that the town I love and the people I see and also love, became a constant reminder of dark days. Not their fault at all. A trifecta of heart breaks leaving me numb to any sort of love in my heart for years. That my one constant, music, had become something I dreaded due to burnout and lack of inspiration. I stub my toe on the ACME Anvil that is in the form of a half-finished album. I just don’t have the words. Here is a demo I have had in the can for two years.

                  This is what I see when I go to a concert.

   These people made me a better musician and have all been great friends.

For 25 years I have been in the smile business. I sell smiles. Here, have one on me. Looks good on you. Have another. I did it with a guitar and some of the most talented and grooviest people in the world. Some people get their smiles from riding a Harley, or mudding in a Jeep. They get it in a sport. They let it loose as a fan. What happens when that smile is missing from your own life? I worried a lot of people over the years and felt the resentment. I decided I could get by, or get going.

 

My cat Milton and I packed in an hour. And as I gassed up the car I said goodbye to the lady at the Casey’s General Store. I hit St. Louis and took a right. I drove as far as I could without drowning. Like the Joad Family, promises of new starts, new chances, high paying work in my field.

I weighed the two options. I decided to leave it all and go. The  adventure of a lifetime. Going with nowhere to land. Scariest and most exhilarating experience I have ever had.

                            I’m out of here

I know a few people here that are quickly becoming friends of mine. I opened my windows on Christmas Day, and I drove ten minutes down to the Pacific and watched the Sea Otters playing in the kelp. I’m living simply but I am living again. I have guitars, recording equipment, and blank paper. I’ll be using them all.

Not with a smile but with a brazen grin. Because I’m up to no good.

You Have the Mark of Cain in your Underwear

I swear on all that is Holy that I have seen the light. It’s a black light though. The kind you don’t want to turn on in a cheap hotel.

I have been disheartened before, but never like this.

As a musician most of my heroes were black. Jimi Hendrix, Otis Redding, Aretha Franklin, Etta James, Sammy Davis Jr., Miles Davis, John Coltrane,  Howling Wolf… I could go on for days. The music you hear today, YOUR favorite song,  came from these people. I have stood onstage playing with the Shirelles, the first black girl group. Sam Moore, the Soul Man himself. Gene Chandler, The Duke of Earle.

Miles Davis

I’m not saying that I don’t have just as many white musical gods. Van Halen, David Gilmour, Bob Dylan, Steve Earle, Lyle Lovett, THE SCORPIONS! They are soulful players and writers.(Ok that’s a stretch for the Scorps but they made me want to play guitar in the first place) You can draw a line from a Black Southern Baptist Revival to your favorite song.

Little Richard invented Rock and Roll. A homosexual black man during the 50’s. Thank him when you turn on your stereo. Thank him twice when the stereo does the same thing to you.

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When the first rehearsal came with Rock and Roll Hall of Fame member Sam Moore. I shook his hand and told him I couldn’t come up with the words to tell him what an honor it was to be playing behind him. The man popped out classic tune after classic tune. Hold On, I’m Comin’, When Something is wrong with my Baby, I Thank You, Soothe Me, Soul  Sister, Brown Sugar, and yeah, I’m a Soul Man. He has recorded and performed with Springsteen, He has performed at the White House, and He is a National Treasure.  It was like a Catholic getting to have an hour long conversation with the Pope.

I have a tattoo of the Rat Pack on the back of my arm. Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. One night at a Casey IL bar, the local meth head wanted to see my tattoo sleeves. I was happy to show her. When we got to Sammy Davis she asked, and I quote “Why would you put a nigger on your arm?” I rolled down my shirt sleeve and said “Do they still make people like you?”

They do. They were closer than I thought. She looked down on one of the greatest entertainers of our time. What had she done to feel superior? Sammy was missing an eye, she was missing her teeth.

My buddy George always warned any black singer I was recording with about going into Greenup. I told him that was his generation. If I was to walk into the local bars with a black friend I would have laid money that she would be greeted with nothing but kindness. Bullshit. George was right. She would be considered a spook, jungle bunny, nigger, because the pigment in her skin is darker than the yellow hue of the alcoholic at the end of the bar with pickled liver disease. Greenup, IL has a population of about thirty-five-hundred people in it. I used to believe that most people were naturally good people. Hell I used to believe that most of America was good.

I was dumbfounded by a friend who turns out doesn’t like my Girlfriend because she is 1/2 Chinese, a woman, gorgeous & smart. A woman who is unafraid of a misogynistic gun nut who wonders why he can’t get a date? Maybe it’s because you have narrowed it down to only white folks.Then mark out anyone outside of the Cumberland Co. area. Then funnel the ones out who have progressive ideas, then funnel the ones out who will put up with me Tarzan you Jane attitude. Prick.

A close friend, loving, sweet, bad-ass, highly educated, model, and I won’t bring her to my local bar for fear of someone embarrassing me in front of my friend. Sucks being a racist. I think she’s single.

I saw a large group of people who sleep like babies, go to church, and somehow can overlook admitted sexual assault, hate, bigotry, removing women’s rights, fear of Blacks and Latinos. Scared of the Muslim religion. Somehow thinking that the migrant workers picking the veggies that they buy at Walmart for pennies are ruining America as they drive through a boarded up downtown business district because they didn’t support the local businesses.

Ever wonder why you get these products so cheap? The people you look down on make them, pick them, and load them on the trucks. If you are dying for the chance to take those jobs for America, I bet they would put you on. You could get a job picking strawberries anytime.

If these minorities have it so great, I ask you; would you trade places with them? No. Their work is too hard and a dollar an hour plus twenty-five cents a basket doesn’t lend itself to weekend trips to Branson.

I have watched interviews about the Presidential Election from both sides. I get it. You care about the economy, about your health care, about your jobs.Understandable, but you also sold out a lot of people in the process.

You bought an absurd idea that a giant wall is going to built around the southern border of the US. Fear, mistrust, self imposed ignorance and lies. My question is; how can you as members of the human race overlook, admitted sexual assault against women, race baiting, anti-intellectualism, fear mongering and hatred? Our President ran on that platform.

Does anyone remember the outrage of a Muslim man making his wife wear a burka? Trump will put a Supreme Court Judge in place and he will figuratively and literally have his hand on your pussy, and there is nothing you can do about it.

If the voting record shows us anything, 50% didn’t care enough to vote; about 25% voted pro sexual predator. Fuck you. You are disgusting. I won’t forgive Brock Turner and I won’t forgive sexual assault from anyone. I have no idea how it has been justified. But it was.

Brock Turner. Rapist, elite, and ready for Congress. Brock tells it like it is.

Most Presidents have a 100 day plan. Ideas they want done quickly. For the most part we nod our head and say “Yeah! This is the stuff that didn’t get done the last time! (Not always a reflection on the previous President) This will help and makes us a stronger, better country for it.”  Not that we all agree, but we all agree that we want what is best. So we hope the policies are put in place.

These policies are based on hate and xenophobia. I in no way shape or form want a single one of Trump’s policies to pass. We have stepped back. Women will be fighting again for the rights they once had.

Our Vice-President has put laws in place in his state to discriminate against gays based upon which God you pray to. I’m an atheist; I wouldn’t serve any of you mother fuckers.

He is a climate change denier, and believes the Earth is 6000 years old. This makes him a 6^th grade Earth Science Textbook denier as well.

I root for the home team and honestly hope that I will eat crow and swallow my words as Trump finds out a way to give us world peace, stop starvation and cures cancer. I will carve his mug in Mount Rushmore with a spoon all by myself.

1964 Kitty Genovese was stabbed to death in New York City over a period of forty-five minutes.  Thirty-seven people heard her cries for help and some actually saw the stabbing and watched as Genovese crawled around the corner only to have her attacker return to finish the task of stabbing her to death. No one called the police and no one came to her aid. Apathy killed Kitty Genovese. The ability to block out the cries of a dying woman. It’s happening again only this time it’s the world that is being stabbed. We closed our windows and turned up the TV.

1964 Kitty Genovese was stabbed to death in New York City over a period of forty-five minutes.

Sleep well but know when you get up tomorrow you have made someone else’s life harder than it was yesterday. Explain that shit to Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates, explain it to your daughter. I don’t want to hear it. You have the mark of Cain in your underwear. All the Tide© in the world won’t remove this shit.

Apathy, hypocrisy, and heartlessness will destroy America, not an illegal immigrant.

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Hey do me a solid and subscribe and like my blog. Even better, let’s talk about it.  I don’t mind debate, and I’ve been known to change my mind from time to time if the correct argument is made. Thanks for reading! It’s Hip To SHARE!

Daily Life in Third World America

TRUMP: “We have become a third world country, folks.” Sept. 26th, 2016 Presidential debate.

The struggle is real folks. I didn’t realize how we had fallen so far. It’s time to let the secret out to the rest of the world. We have went from Superpower to Third-World under Obama.

9:15 am-ish. I wake up to a cold apartment. I have an old thermostat so it’s hard to regulate the heat.
I need coffee. I see I am out of coffee. So I make due and WALK 50 yards just to have to wait in line to buy my coffee at a gas station. A GAS STATION!

Not only was the coffee in the back, very far away from the checkout counter, but when I pull out the lids, two come out. I ONLY WANTED ONE!. I couldn’t find the creamer or sugar. Good thing I take my coffee black.

9:30 am: I sit down in front of my computer. Yes I work and use the same computer to do other tasks and for entertainment. I need a new one but I don’t have the money right now. This computer is three years old. I have to live with this shame. But in a Third World I’m lucky to even have this.

10:30 am: I read the news on my ancient outdated computer. It’s how I have to do it since I don’t own a TV or buy newspapers. God? Why do you let these things happen to good people? I should ask my old school mate (even though she is young) Aimee. She’s smart. She lives in England for most of the year. But talking to her over video chat in real time across the globe, just isn’t the same.

11:00 am: I need medication. My 2010 Ford Fusion started (thankfully) and I began my five mile trek to the pharmacy/grocery store called Safeway. The pharmacy is also in the back. They make me wait behind a line before they dispense my meds. My Third World insurance covered it. No charge. Finally things are looking up. My only complaint was having to walk by all the food in the isles. I hugged a worker there and expressed my sorrow at him working for only a living wage. I’m liberal. It’s what I do.

12:00 pm:I get home and I can’t find my phone. I WALK across the whole wide room and have to have my computer dial my phone so I can find it. The screen is cracked. It makes it tough to see texts, the weather, what time the pharmacy opens, photos, videos, the guitar tuner, YouTube, email, Instagram, Twitter, the Stock Market and my entire music library. Luckily It will give me audible directions. Lord I wish I had a map!

12:20 pm: I have to drive into the city. I talk to my  phone and pull up Spotify. Yes I can listen to all my favorite songs but since I don’t pay $9.99 a month I have to listen on shuffle mode. It’s 2016. I’m an American, and sure, I can listen to any album I want, anytime I want to, but not in the original order? I guess luxury comes with a price. Only the top 1% ever get to skip the ads. Facktcheck.org

1:30 pm: I finally get into the city. The fear of the tunnel collapsing and the state of the left lane for two miles was atrocious. Probably because men are busting up that lane with jack hammers and back loaders. Merging into one lane isn’t the America Grandpa grew up in. All he had to worry about was Polio.

2:00 pm: The comic book shop was closed today. CLOSED! They must be rationing comic books. I will try again tomorrow. 

I notice all the homeless people wandering the tourist district with nothing but digital cameras bowling shirts and sun dresses. They are forced to carry their bags with “I  Love Monterey” T shirts and refrigerator magnets. They look longingly at the Pacific. They are wishing for a better life, like in South America, or Africa. Who can blame them?

I decide to eat at a Vietnamese restaurant. I have to ask for water, and they make me eat with sticks. You read it right. STICKS! And the portions were too big. So I eat half of it, and stiff the waiter for making me eat with a stick.

4:00 pm: My afternoon nap is taken on the futon in my studio. Not even a couch. A room with  no air conditioning. I like my studio to be a constant 45 degrees. But it’s impossible with the window open and the saltwater air blowing the 70 degree heat through here. I can’t sweat, and my feet are dirty from wearing only sandals every day. Not even real shoes. Dirty toes are common here. They are known as ‘Valley Feet.’

5:30 pm: Back to grinding out logos and webpages. Illustrating and animating. I’ll never get used to it. My elbows are calloused from leaning on the desk, My coffee is now luke warm.

The immigrants and illegals have taken all the jobs here. I walked miles and miles of fields and can’t find a single strawberry or stalk of broccoli to pick. They have looted the fields here and taken all the strawberry picking jobs that Americans want. Want in one hand and put strawberries in the other, see who’s hand is holding the strawberries. Mexican hands.

Migrant farm workers in strawberry fields. (Mark Miller/Getty Images)

I can hear them laughing in the trailer park. The comradery among THOSE people is overwhelming. You’ll never find a white man like me being invited to live with a dozen Mexicans in that trailer. Racism. The Hispanics are living it up and I have to deal with a cracked phone.

6:30 pm: I trek across the parking lot to order from Kathy’s Little Kitchen. Mexican food. Sure they take my order in English but they speak in Spanish to each other. Possibly about murdering and raping me. I get my burrito and hurry out the door. I run back to the apartment looking over my shoulder. I consider calling Homeland Security and turning Kathy’s in. Kathy isn’t even a Hispanic name. What are they hiding?

7:00 pm: The only way I have contact with my family is over Facebook, or a text. Possibly call or Skype. Being so far away in a Third-World country means being cut off. My only options to see my mother are either driving the interstate or getting on an airplane. It’s a 4 hour flight to see my dear Mother. Home just a dream.

8:00 pm: Netflix is not showing the movie that I have been skipping for two months. I guess I’ll have to read the book. Maybe I’ll just watch ‘Family Guy’ even though it’s all reruns. But I really wanted to watch the live action ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’. I can’t win *Sigh*

9:00 pm. I’m a so hungry… I go around the whole wide corner to buy the fresh fruit. My debit card now has a chip in it and I have to put the card in to pay for my bananas. What ever happened to swiping? Just one more inconvenience other countries don’t have to live with. In California many people even carry their own bags. Why should the local wildlife get the perks? Why am I carrying my bananas in my hand just because a seal is swimming around with a Safeway bag in his colon? I should have more rights than a seal. If only a bananas were wrapped in some sort of package. Dirty banana peels caused the Red Death that wiped out 1/3 of Europe a few years ago. Factcheck.org

9:15 pm. I take my shower. The conditioner is almost out and I have to put a little water in the bottle to get the last bit. I could use a new razor, but they are in my medicine cabinet so I reuse my old one. After only 45 minutes the hot water is running out. No hot water.

10:00 pm: I start my work for the day. I’m uninspired from being beat down by a system set up to keep me down.

10:05 pm: I’m watching ‘Family Guy” on Netflix. Tweet my thoughts, and hop on Facebook to tell other people why they are obviously wrong.

Walk a mile in my shoes! Even though I haven’t walked a mile in them. But I have probably a dozen pair of shoes. So you taking my shoes doesn’t bother me that bad. Probably a Mexican took them.

I call 911 and five minutes later the cops finally show up. I explain the stolen shoes and wanted to make sure I had an airtight alibi in case my shoes were used in a rape or a murder. I was assured I was white and this would not be the case.

I then quickly whipped out a pistol that I owned and was rather proud of, to show the officer. He admired the gun, told me that it was a good thing I had the loaded pistol on me. After all when a Mexican is raping you, what are you going to do? Call the police? We both laughed.

11:00 pm: I’m STARVING!! I am forced to forage for food at the convenience store. If I don’t eat I will surely die from malnutrition and starvation. Funyuns.

12:00 am: I grab a blanket and curl up in the corner. I have my gun in one hand and used copy of “Tuesdays with Morrie” in the other. I check the gun one more time to make sure there is a round in the chamber and I pee a little bit thinking about shooting a Mexican rapist through my door.

12:01 am “Tuesdays with Morrie” sucks. I think I’ll watch ‘Family Guy’

4:00 am: I go to bed. I am saddened at the fact that I can’t look up and see the stars. The roof blocks the view. I cry myself to sleep hoping I can hang on. The salt in my tears rust my gun under my pillow.

I don’t see any end to this cycle of having to wait for 30 seconds when I want it NOW!

I am an American and I deserve more than this! Why do I have to spend more than $25 dollars to get free shipping from Amazon? Why does the government  have to be all up in my face fixing roads, making sure my meat is suitable to eat and the water drinkable. I’m a slave to the electric company!I am an indentured servant. If I want anything I can think of , it all comes with a price.

That’s a lot of strawberries

–A

My great friend and amazing musician JB Faires has recently started his blog. I’ve spent many a smokey evening discussing music and the ways of the world. He is truly inspirational

Help me out and give me a like and a share. I will personally write you an email thanking you. I have nothing else to offer.

Inspiring speech. Not dated in the least. I salute you Joe Friday!

You can’t hold a job, and you have erectile dysfunction, and you beat your Wife!

I’ve become obsessed with Automata. It’s the art of engineering and making machines that move either by a motor or a hand crank. A Cuckoo Clock is Automata.  So is a toaster.

I have a macabre image of building a found art Automata of a circus freak show. My first project will be a man hammering a nail into his skull. Yep. I’m going to go through a huge learning curve of gears, ratios, cogs, and a lot of frustration to make a piece of art (shit) that I won’t tell my Shrink about.

My lady, Lisa has twin girls and a little boy all within a year apart; roughly the same ages, in fact two of them are exactly the same ages. She asked me last night “Why don’t you make something I’d let my kids look at?”

I said, “What? Like Santa?”

“Yeah”

I could do that. I might do that. Make it an angel. My Mom collects angels and I’m broke so I have to give her homemade gifts (which are the best.)

But you know what would be cooler to make? A machine that makes a lady turn into a gorilla before your very eyes. Which would you rather see? Santa, or gorilla woman? I thought so.

I’m 100% American in loving to see someone suffer. We live for this as a nation. We are closet sadists in La-Z-Boy Recliners. Let’s flip on the tube and watch the new season of the Voice/American Idol/America’s Got Talent. It’s the new season and I want to see people who think they have talent be shamed in front of the world.

If I’ve heard it once I’ve heard it a million times. “You should be on American Idol”

Here is how AI works.

• Open casting call. Come on down.
• Wait in line for your turn to meet the first people who will judge you. Mainly on looks and some sort of hook, like single crack baby mother who found Jesus. Then you sing and they either blackball you for any number of reasons, talent being a very small part or move you on to the next judges…and on and on.
• By the time you are standing in front of three has been Celebrities, they know your story, they know ahead of time if you suck. In fact, you have been passed on simply because you are suck! Earlier that day they have sent Aretha Franklin home because she’s too black and too fat.
• If you succeed then they put you on a multi million dollar stage with the best equipment and the best band you’ll find. Then we sit and wait for your amateur voice to crack in front of the Nation, and tweet each other as we watch their dreams get crushed.

I like to see that kind of shit too. Cracks me up. The nastier the better.
I know this gal, well I don’t KNOW her but I know a lot about her. She was 22. She fell in love with her boss. Her boss was married. The wife didn’t know a thing about it.

Judas being a prick.

Her ‘Friend’ set her up like the Judas she was. She claimed to be her friend but never was or ever intended to be. She gained her trust, talked about it on the phone nightly. Everything was spilled. She didn’t hold back while confiding in her friend.

The ‘Friend’ came out one day and explained proudly, how she had set this young girl up. She told everyone each and every sordid detail of the affair. She had records and recordings that she had made. Her friend RECORDED their heart to heart conversations to use against her.

The husband deserted her. Threw her under the bus. Claimed he didn’t know shit.
She was eventually to become the butt of every joke in town. And sixteen years later she’s being shamed again. For the sins of almost two decades ago when she was at an age where she couldn’t even rent a car. She’s in her freakin’ 40’s now! Only the petty wouldn’t drop it.  Like any old joke, it wasn’t that funny to begin with. If you don’t know who I’m talking about I’ll spill the entire beans at the end of the article.

I can’t throw stones. I’d be willing to bet neither can you. Have you been ,or do you currently know of a moral crime that would crush someone if they knew about it? Do you tell them as a  concerned citizen?. A friend, a spouse, a girlfriend or boyfriend, a boss, a co-worker. I’d also be willing to bet that we all have done something to be ashamed of. Most of it while we were young. Before we really knew any better.

There is a kid just north of me who raped a passed out girl behind a dumpster until two guys came along and stopped him. He was given a sentence of six months because the Judge felt like the boy had way too much going for him that he didn’t want to ruin this boy’s life by giving him 20 years. He got out in three months. The father had written a letter to the judge stating that the boy was so depressed he couldn’t even eat his steak. And he loves steak.

Daddy’s Letter

That sentence and the Judge and Father’s re-victimization of this raped girl was nothing but the Justice System failing.

We love suffering. But not like this. I don’t know anyone who would ever even think “Well she was asking for it by over drinking, or the way she was dressed” That would be the most heartless thing you can say to this woman.

Of course she wasn’t asking for it! She was the victim of a horrible crime.

I don’t get political in these posts. I’m not going to right now. I have seen signs and memes for over a year that say something like “HILLARY SUCKS, BUT NOT AS MUCH AS MONICA!”

So we are blaming Hillary for her husband’s infidelity now? Isn’t this re-victimizing the victim?

Vote how you want but show some empathy if you can’t muster up the class.

Monica Lewinsky did a TED talk (ugh) on shame.  She based it on the quote from Dr. Brene’ Brown. “Shame can’t survive empathy.”

20 years ago a girl fell in love with her boss and we feel like we have a right to never forgive. Hop on our high horse and gallop from the Oval Office to your living room. It’s just someone with blood, a heart,and a beret. It’s ok because we hid the many hats we wear everyday in the back of the closet. Some place where no one will see. After all it’s our business and we don’t want to become the butt of the joke.

But she’s a slut!

And you can’t hold a job, and you have erectile dysfunction, and you beat your wife, You like midget porn, you are a bully, you killed someone with your car, and you were arrested for shoplifting, you are a bad mother, You smoked pot in college, You lied to your boss,  You are on welfare, You are a heartless cold SON-OF-A-BITCH!

Print it on a T-shirt for all to see, but no fair mentioning anything else.Things like, I was a kid, I was stupid, I didn’t know any better, I didn’t know till it was too late, I don’t know what I was thinking, I chickened out, I was scared, I’m ashamed or I was a prick. Just the facts.

America loves blood and it seems like sometimes our thirst for it can’t quenched. Hooray for us.

 

Help a brother out and ‘Like’ and “Share” this piece of drivel.  Leave a comment. I’ll pretty much discuss anything. What I don’t know I’ll make up.

~A