Dude! Where’s My Cat!

Did you take my cat home with you?

He vanished the night of Monday 8/24/09 and was last seen nearby Half Price Books on Belmont Ave. between Olive and Denny.

He is small and dark with random light hairs and probably seemed feral because it was late @ night and he was outside and he had no collar.

He may have seemed love starved but he is not, I love him very much and hope that his return will be imminent.

If you know anything regarding this matter;
please, please, please, please, please, contact;

206- 491- 7482

I would welcome him back readily, no questions asked.

His name is Gatcho, (El Gato Chocolate), and I miss him dearly.

A Million Melons

Mel Hunter has to be on guard every moment and he is never safe.  His very existence is one of the greatest, and most closely guarded secrets in the history of  of counter espionage. Things that most people don’t notice could mean death for him!

This is legit and it is a precursor to what became one of the coolest openings for a TV show ever.  In a television  movie that predates the show, Steve Austin becomes more than the man he was, as Dusty Springfield compels us to catch him, beat him, and love him; if we can. Six Million Dollar Man is swinging. He’s THE MAN!

My next door neighbor  Scott Kerman and I were pretty good friends growing up and  he was the only grandchild of  rich grandparents, so he had all of the great action figures and their accessories.  Before Star Wars the action dolls for boys like GI Joe were all twelve inches tall. I never had any of these kinds of toys growing up but my favorite one that Scott had was the Evel Knievel stunt cyle, Scott had the Steve Austin that you could actually see through the bionic eye with. Scott also has the Oscar Goldman doll with the exploding briefcase that is featured in the next clip.

Bethany, who was breastfed until she was five, thinks her mother’s milk is better than anything in the world, even mango! She  calls her mothers breast Milk Eeyore, and she would rather taste her mothers breast milk than eat a million melons! Weird and wild stuff that has to be experienced to be completely realized.

Two One’s To Know By

On the night of January 20th, there is a very real possibility that there will be hip hop at the Inaugural Ball and that those attending could be getting their swerve on to some thick beats. If it happens, it would be the first time that the party in the White House is bumping the same soundtrack that is heard all over the rest of D. C.. Just think of it, the music that has served as voice for those who don’t have one, will finally be heard on Pennsylvania Avenue.

For the last eight years it has been difficult to conceive of the President as a man who has the future in mind, but one look at Barack’s two beautiful daughters assures us that the new guy is going to be different. Although perilous circumstances provided the context for his ascension to power, it will be comforting to know that those kids are there to affect the decisions he makes.

I am absolutely certain that we can trust President Obama to act on the behalf of his children and not his parent. The responsibility of raising kids is both humbling and empowering at the same time, much like the presidency, and small actions can be magnified exponentially. It can safely be assumed that Mr. Obama, an obviously bright individual, has considered this as a parent, and now as he prepares to move into the Oval Office.

When we don’t use vision to look forward with hope, toward the outcome of our choices, the results often turn out poorly. It’s a new dawn folks and for the first time in years people are encouraged to take on their bad circumstances with a genuine belief that things stand a chance of being different later. We hoped for change and now it is here, and because of it we are all obliged to look beyond the obvious, toward conquering the impossible. Good luck Mr. President.

Do As I Say

Today the Pentagon announced that it was dropping war crimes charges against five detainees at Guantanamo Bay after the prosecutor who was to try them resigned, and accused the military of withholding evidence that could clear the men. Of course, because our government is making up the rules for the war on terror as it goes along, with little regard for the human rights we supposedly esteem, new trial teams have been appointed for the men while, according to published reports, the military reassert their case. It is likely that the men will be charged later and forced to face the kangaroo court that the current administration refers to as a military tribunal.

Jose Padilla is an American citizen who was declared an enemy combatant after being arrested on U. S. soil. He was held without any charges being brought against him for over three years. After being convicted by a Florida jury he was given a seventeen year prison sentence. When he was eventually charged in a civilian court, none of the accusations leveled against him were related to the alleged, domestic dirty bomb plot he had initially been detained for.

When I visited Gitmo many years ago before the first Gulf War I looked beyond the wire fence that surrounds the U.S. Naval Air Station, and I saw a barren panorama spread out before me. Today there is prison where I stood and looked out through the wire, and the men held captive there are predetermined as enemies of the state.  Like the naked land that stretches out beyond that fence, the future for those being held there is as bleak as the landscape.

In the directive issued March 28th, 2003, that details the Standard Operating Procedures for Camp Delta at Guantanamo Bay, it specifies that captors should “not relate terrorism to Islam”, and that “it is inappropriate to equate any religion to such heinous activity”. After the Abu Ghraib abuses in Iraq that came after it, the directive has the appearance of being mere lip service despite the fact that Cuba is a long way from the Middle East.

At Republican rallies, back here in the United States; the Democratic rival is announced derisively as Barack Hussein Obama, his middle name making the implicit connection to TERROR. In television ads that are running infrequently due to the McCain campaign’s depleted war chest, republicans continue to infer a link between Senator Obama and domestic insecurity, sticking with dogged determinism to the strategy that got them into such a mess. I guess you dance with the one that brought you.

Believe it or not, all human’s are created equal and are entitled to a speedy and fair trial, and we are all still welcome to exist regardless of what we believe is God. These things aren’t solely an American birthright though, everyone who lives should share these entitlements, and more, simply because we are human. America cannot hold the World up to a standard that values human rights if we think that our citizens have more of a right than people in other countries. Either all men are created equal or not, and if we cannot match our actions with our words then maybe we should be saying something different.

Dark days are ahead if we do not get a handle on the systemic hypocrisy that plagues us after the last eight years of Bush. We could wind up with even more troubles than we already have. No one wants to live in a world where government employees eavesdrop on private phone conversations, and then joke about the strangers personal lives while on a coffee break.

Joe Biden said something I agree with, that growing up in his neighborhood; if you had a problem with someone you said it to their face. I would go the Vice Presidential nominee one further and say, don’t feed me a line of crap and glad hand me to my face, if you know that you are going to turn around and do the exact opposite. Because of America’s diminished standing and influence around the world after the last few years, I hope that everyone feels exactly like me on November 4th when they go out and vote.

Peace.

That’s Crazy Talking

During last night’s debate, John McCain continued to define his status as a maverick who stands apart, by sounding the alarm and warning us not a moment to soon, that the very fabric of democracy was in danger of being torn apart. Because of voter apathy, our democracy is not what it could be,surely though it is strong enough to resist the stress that tests. It is not in danger of being destroyed, least of all by a small band of rogues.

En route to becoming an overnight sensation and some sort of symbol, a guy called “Joe the Plumber” was mentioned by Mr. McCain more than twenty times. Today we found out that his name is actually Samuel Wurzelbacher and that, though he isn’t recognized as a plumber by the union or licensed as a plumber by the state, he does happen to work for a plumbing company. In the wake of Governor Palin’s nomination, no one accuses the McCain camapign overly vetting the people it chooses to represent them.

Things truly took a desperate turn when Senator McCain turned reports of  outbursts at his own rallies around on the Democratic Presidential nominee, and damanded that Obama “repudiate“, recent “hurtful” comments, by Senator John Lewis. McCain went on to claim that both candidates need to “absolutely not stand the kinds of things that have been going on”, forgetting how things had gone on at his own events, while he just stood there and winced.

The Arizona Senator came across like curmudgeonly Grandpa Simpson in response to a question about Joe Biden.  He praised Biden and condemned him, before the  solidifying his own image as an angry old man by using the word “cockamamie“. Intrigued my McCain’s use of a term that sounds nothing but ironic when uttered by anyone under seventy, I discovered it’s origin is in the word word decalomania, which was an art form that was popular in the United States during the late 1800′s. Cockamamie, the slang term that derived, last saw wide usage in this country about forty years ago during the 1960′s.

The pariotism of John McCain remains unchallenged because he endured more than five years in a cell during the Vietnam War at the hands of merciless captors. For his service to this country we all owe Mr. McCain a debt of gratitude. The time he spent in that cell, though it could be used as an explanation for Mr. McCain’s unwillingness to adopt any viewpoint other the his own, even for perspective, is a testament to Mr. McCains immovable courage and sense of duty to his country. John McCain’s time as a POW is also one of the reasons that he does not have either the temperament or the decision making skills to be the President of the United States during a time when this country needs someone who comes across as steady, even handed and rational.

Everything New Wave Is Old

Here’s a  bunch of  New Wave videos from the late seventies through the eighties that caught my attention when I was putting together something else. Each one has something going on and I just had to point them out. I have also taken the time to sprinkle goodies throughout this thing so have fun unearthing the many gems.

Electronic -  A  so called “super group” that included  Bernard Sumner from Joy Division and  New Order, along with Neil Tennant from The Pet Shop Boys, and the legendary Johnny Marr doing a song by the original super group, Blind Faith. This one is only audio.

Generation X -Kiss Me Deadly with great shots of the band before fame them turned them into assholes.

Generation X -A grimy, glam version of  Valley of The Dolls.  At this point they thought they were too cool.

The Damned – I Just Can’t Be Happy Today performed with ferocity, confidence, and vigor before a Finnish crowd in 1981.

The Damned – Disco Man

The Damned-Grimly Fiendish

Simple Minds -Sanctify Yourself at Wembley Stadium ’88. Happy Birthday Nelson Mandela!!!

Thompson Twins – A bubbly In The Name Of Love closes this 1983 Liverpool show.

FGTH -Two Tribes full length video.  Listen to the voice saying follow me.

FGTHWar. Wicked.

Wire Train -  A Bay Area “almost was”  performing their big hit which stands the test of time better than the VHS tape it was recorded on.

Wire Train – Live in Zurich 1986 performing Bowie‘s Rebel Rebel. This is some really random footage.

Please Allow Me To Reintroduce Myself

Growing up in The Bay Area, The Tubes were one of my favorite bands, and long before I ever became one myself, their song White Punks On Dope was anthemic for me. Back in the day, it wasn’t their over the top stage show which included; gigantic pills with legs, soft core porno cheerleaders, platform boots so high that KISS wouldn’t go near them, and a maniacal ring master who called himself Quay Lude, that compelled my adoration.

Music starts working its magic at your ear hole and if it doesn’t happen there, then all of the fake blood, and laser lights, and satin spandex in the world isn’t going to turn things around.  To this day, the bands that I really love make it happen with sound, and when they can add some wild theatrics to the mix, that’s just gravy.

By the time  I returned to the West Coast in the early nineties my buddies from high school had discovered The Grateful Dead. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the traveling circus that the Dead had become by that point, it is difficult to convey with words what these shows were like. The best way I can describe it is that they took rock and roll as far as it can go each and every night, and that those of us who were  lucky enough to have been there for the ride relished every damned minute of it.

At the Dead shows the audience wore the costumes and acted like fools, while onstage the boys in the band took the crowd on a ride that felt like sex on a roller coaster. Not only was everyone high at the shows, we were all high on the same batch of drugs. Jerry eventually died of a heart attack in a rehab center while trying to cure himself of his heroin addiction, but at those shows he played that music as though charged by God himself with the task.

Eventually I lost my mind and my innocence all in the same night at one of those shows. Knowledge is a tricky business, and I have spent the majority of my adult life yearning for the ignorance of my youth. Once something is known, it can never become unknown to you again and on one fateful night I learned that the old adage is true, you really cannot ever go back again.

Humans are stubborn, and as one, I have proved to be quite tenacious when desire wells up within me. It is not surprising that I continue to refer to  the blissfully mindless days of my youth as good old ones.  Thanks to you tube, nostalgic dalliance is right at our fingertips and wasting the day away remembering the moments that were has become an international pastime.

I suspect it would be a strange feeling to randomly encounter myself in a video of an event from my past that has long since been forgotten.  I know that it was pretty wild when my brother’s face filled my computer screen unexpectedly not long ago, causing me to leap excitedly up from my chair like a maniac before I called everyone in my family to validate the reach of our brave new world.

It turns out that Grateful Dead Parking Lot was filmed by a couple of guys named Chris Corsello, and Mike Patterson who lived on the same floor in the dorms over at Cal State Sacramento as my brother. Bill isn’t even the same guy anymore as the one who appears at 4:54 in the video wearing a tye dyed “Space Your Face” tee shirt that I had bought just prior to melting down, and that he inherited from me.

He has kids, and is a business man, and he likes guns and expensive tequila, and he is not going to be stoked about this post. Back then it was all duuuuuude, and sweeeet, and totally maaan. Nowadays the guy is all business and that’s the way it has to be when you have three kids and a mortgage.

Somebody said something about the penalty for not recollecting the past is that you are forced to repeat it over again.  Thanks to technology we are able to relive history on demand regardless of whether or not we can remember it, and sometimes those images from the past don’t jibe with what we have become.  We have created a situation where our past can return unannounced and sometimes the version that returns to us is the one that we wanted to forget.

,