Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Curarre looks just like a heart attack

That was a line in a Graham Nash album I remember from a song called See You in Prague. Just as I was sitting down to write this, my Blackberry buzzed and an e-mail arrived on it. It was a training request from a company in Prague, Czech Republic. Ummmm... YEAH!, send me!!

Got home Sunday night. I watched Survivor and Amazing Race (Thank goodness for the DVR) before going to bed. One nice thing for me about traveling is that I sleep through the flights. That helped a lot when I was zipping back and forth across date lines. Not so helpful now. Now I just can't sleep when I get home.

I love this quote from Winston Churchill: "Americans can always be counted on to do the right thing... after they have exhausted all other possibilities." That is so true that I get all tingly.

Taking the wife to a plastic surgeon today. I can't really remember the set up, but the punchline to the old joke was something about getting boobs put on her back. Ha Ha Not. Anyway, it is nothing like that. It is actually plastic surgery on her belly button (her accent and it's avoidance of the "n" sound cause her to pronounce it "belly butt") for pain management on her appendectomy scar. And you thought... I mean there was... ridiculous really... boobs on her back.

I did buy a six of Blue Moon in Vegas as the Gun Trash recommended. It was rather expensive, but then so was everything, so I don't know why that surprised me. The only Blue Moon I saw was a pale ale, I think made from wheat. It was light, and tasted good. But then, most everything, except green leafy vegetables, tastes good to me. Gunner, my pledge to you: If you'd like to drink vicariously through me, I'm there for you. As long as you stick to manly whisky and beer. No fou-fou drinks.

Not much else to say. The job seems straightforward and easy enough. The travel, at least for the time being is welcomed. I could live with less expense paperwork, but if that's the price of free travel, then I'm all about expense paperwork. Will keep you posted if I'm off to Czech. That'll be cool beyond my normal cool. I've never been to Eorope. When in Rome do as Roman Gabriel would.

This popped into my head as I wrote Roman Gabriel's name. Here, a pig is said to go "oink oink". In Thai, it is said to go "oot oot". The progression? I think it was something like Roman Gabriel -> Philedelphia Eagles -> Football -> Pigskin -> oink/oot. Even I am not completely sure of the mental paths that get me places.

Oh very young, what will you bring us this time?, out
Ramblin' Ed

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Not so much

Went out tonight. Bought a diamond bracelet and some diamond earrings for the wife. Had a Hawaiian hamburger, which I didn't even know existed and walked around the strip looking for a sidewalk beer. There turned out to be nothing much to do, unless you went into a casino. Oh well. I came on home. I was going to post some good pictures from my walkabout. These are not so good, but Gunner might like the shot of the Harley Cafe.

Might try to get out tomorrow and/or Saturday night to enjoy the freak parade that the numerous Halloween parties ought to inspire. Pictures will be took, for shore.This is the slot machines at the baggage claim. Don't know why it's so crappy. The place was well lighted. It looks better if you expand it, though.
The H-D Cafe

The best view of the strip that I managed to get. There was too much construction and/or tackiness around. Same strip, different view. Home for now.

Flamingos & Fashionistas, out
Ramblin' Ed

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

PDT (An update)

I had forgotten the nice things about Pacific Time. Such as Monday Night Football coming on at the sensible hour of 5:30 PM. We are working at the airport from 0500 to 1330, so I was able to watch football all the way and still be in bed before 9 PM.

We are right off the strip in this hotel, with the Las Vegas Hard Rock right across the street. I ate a BBQ samwihch there, which was a bit expensive. But I did sit beneath Brian Setzer's git-fiddle, so I guess the expense was worth it. Unless you're going, "Brian who?" And then I guess it wasn't. On the other side of us is UNLV and the Thomas & Mack Center where the Runnin' Rebels play. I can see Tark chewing on his towel as I speak.The only other thing I've seen here in America's playground was a sandwhich shop in the back of a liquor store that has humongus $5.50 foot-long subs. Good eating! And on the way out, I had to pick up a bottle of Bulleit Bourbon Frontier Whiskey. AGT is the only one that I suspect will recognize that. No, not calling him an alkie. Calling him a Kentuckian.
Hope to get out tomorrow to buy the wife some jewelry. Something nice, but $500 or less. All I worry about is making her think I'm going to do that on every trip. I really just want to say thanks for being (somewhat) patient (sometimes) while I got my feet under me and landed a decent job. Counting pennies was difficult on us after the life we had been accustomed to.

Looks like we'll be in for a week and then off to Houston. Or Tulsa. Or both. Just glad I didn't throw away all of my coats. Just may need them after all. I'm finding Nevada a bit chilly. Hey, I may get to change my name back to Travelin' Ed if this keeps up.

Looking for a grand adventure tomorrow. Think I'll tote the camera.

Daytime operator rates + a 40% hotel surcharge, out
Ramblin' Ed

Friday, October 20, 2006


...living on the edge now, Jeffery. Women will often strike us. - John Lithgow

The dwarf fainted.- Denny Crane (William Shatner)

Last night found me cleaning up bourbon pawprints. We were sitting there, the dog and me like we usually do, sipping Early Times and watching Ugly Betty. I was tossing the magic sock lazily every so often and Bella would get up lazily, me-e-e-a-a-ander over and get it, and bring it back. Then she'd plop back down. Kind of like fetch, in slo-mo and with much apathy.

I again absent mindedly picked up the sock, and for some reason she bolted up like a bee had stung her butt, jumping and tripping and falling all over me in an effort to get to the sock. Tumble went the tumbler... Early Times was now a puddle of seen better times... and there were bourbon pawprints all down the hall.

I like Ugly Betty. I record it and watch it right after Survivor. I have to tape My Name Is Earl at the same time too. Thursday is a right fair TV night.

It is official. Six days in Vegas at a motel on Paradise Blvd. Somehow that ought to be a song or something. I fly out Monday.

Job is fun but I have yet to get my laptop working correctly. The IT Dept has everything set up so you don't have permissions to do anything. So if it don't work, and so far it don't, you pretty much gotta keep bothering them til it does. But I can get the e-mail on my blackberry, so I suppose I can wing it until I get back.

Oh no! There goes Tokyo, out
Ramblin' Ed

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Doha (or Don't-ha... only her hairdresser knows for sure)

So, I had been at my new job about 14 hours when I was informed that I would have to spend next week in Las Vegas. Ummmmm... OK. He said, in fact, that my first few months would be heavy with travel. Again I say, "OK".

So, it seems I must mention Doha, Qatar once again. We may have to train 150 Qatarians (?) to run our machines. I volunteered to go do it. I'm sure most folks are not real keen on the idea of traveling to the middle east right now, so I wanted them to know that I was willing. But more importantly, if you will remember my Leiutenant buddy is headed to Doha for a year. We can meet up and I can buy him a beer. We can bet on camel racing. Or whatever you do in Doha.

Looks like this is going to be a fun job for me. And the pay is good, too. While we're mentioning money, the wife is busy as a one legged man every day. She is going to be raking in the bucks, I can tell. This is just their second week open and already they are booking repeat business. I think that finally income is not the biggest of our worries anymore. However, making time to spend our moola is moving up the list. And if you think about that critically, you will realize it is a much better problem to have than that other one. You know, the involuntary vow of poverty one.

Hopefully, there will be tales from the road.

Going to Carolina in my mind, out
amblin' Ed

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Working Again

OK, back working again. Great company. Good benefits. Just found out we're doing something called nine eighty where we work nine hours a day and take every other Friday off. That means two 3 day weekends a month and some of the Monday holiday 3 day weekends are now 4 day weekends.

It's a pretty long commute made bearable by 1) a sunroof, 2) Drive By Trucker and Shooter Jennings CDs, and 3) a cigar. Rain'll take away #1 and mouth cancer will take away #3. But like a stray dog in a rich man's yard, I'll always have #2.

Had me the pink eye for my 4 day unemployment weekend. Since I quit Wackenhut on Wednesday and didn't start L3 until Monday, I had four days to kill. So I drove to see the Lieutenant up in Jacksonville. Pink eye kicked in, which is not near as benign or cute and cuddly as the name would suggest. It hurts and makes you hyper sensitive to light. The drive to and from Jax was pretty white-knuckle, given my inability to keep my eyes opened and free of tears and my fellow Floridian's inability to drive or signal their intentions. I think it is about gone now, thank you very much. The pink eye is about gone now, that is, not Floridian's inability to drive.

On the way out, LT hooked me up with a bottle of Johnny Walker's Blue Label and a bunch of Cuban Romeo y Juliet cigars, both courtesy of the Baharain Duty Free shop. He'll transfer from stateside to Doha (Qatar) here at MacDill, so I will see him again for a few days.

My brother was on national TV (48 Hours), shown testifying at a murder trial that the murder weapon was his. Well, you just know how proud that makes the family. He was accidentally mixed up in a pretty sordid tale. Well... at least it wasn't Geraldo.

All the critters saw was a gator mouth, out
Ramblin' Ed

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

A Nod Towards A.I. (Sorta)

I have a friend in Iraq who has a blog that I visit. He's a good guy, although we differ on a few things like eating bear is good (I think no) and eating livermush is good (he thinks no). I kind of wonder if maybe we should compromise and he should save up scraps of bear and we could whip up some bear mush. I am not experienced, to answer Jimi Hendrix's burning question a few decades after it is relevant,in bear grinding and bear cooking, but seems to me that any food that goes by the last name of mush can't be that difficult to make. I guess you just kinda, um, mush it.

But the point I was going to make about my friend was that now that he's away from home and work, and the distraction of easy access to the Wicked Weasel home page, his posts have gotten quite good. I've never been in the Middle East more than 10 days or so at a time, so I can't speak to that desert life. But I used to spend 2 to 3 months at a whack on a ship at sea and know the busy and boredom of military life in a crappy location. And back then, at sea, at 3 AM, I'd drain a big old urn of coffee sitting there chain smoking and writing some of the best stuff I ever wrote. My over caffeinated, hyperactive brain just stayed in overdrive. Warp speed, Mr. Sulu. I don't think my buddy has all (or maybe any) of my vices, so his stuff should continue to be entertaining. And coherent, a promise I could seldom make and never keep.

So today was my next to the last day at the Wackenhut Corporation. It was a day that was hot when the air was still and cool when it stirred. If there was an in between as the breeze transitioned, it was imperceptable. To me, it seemed, it was one or the other.

As the pleasant wind wafted through the windows, not blowing the curtians that were not there, I looked longingly at the grass beyond the fence in front of me. It was green and freshly mown, giving off a strong, sweet scent. It may be phermones that occur naturally when one has ones head lopped of at the shoulder with a weed whacker. I prefer to think of it as the soft smell of summer. The grass was lush and nestled invitingly between the cat tails on the one side and a stand of pine trees on the other. The pine trees cast a long lazy shadow across most of the lawn. If mother nature ever prepared a place for the perfect nap, this was probably it.
While I could not just leave the post to lie down and luxuriate in an impromptu nap, I could, it seems, engage in the drowsey drops head nods instead. Like a sympathy nap that was coming on and could not be stopped. Eyes close and head drops. Spittle forms and neck rolls. Brain disengages and then re-engages with a start when noggin goes free fall on it. Yep. The drowsey drops. And nothing, not even Steven Segal, in all his far eastern mystic mumbo-jumbo glory could stop it. Chuck Norris could, but that ship has sailed. Would Chuck Norris be nearly so fearsome if he were named Chick Norris? Would he fight like a girl? Holy bat baffle, Robin, I... don't... know.
Jimmy Buffet is coming to town and nowadays I just don't care. He lost his edge and his relavance. Went all soft and feel good around the edges. Kinda like Harley somehow, some time turned into the ride of choice for white, fifty-something conservative veterans. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'm just saying, look at H-D's customer base over the years and try to pinpoint when it turned middle aged and married. Oh, and I don't begrudge Jimmy Buffett his mellow contentment. "Barometer Soup" is no "Pirate Looks At Forty", but then we all lose some of the roughness as we wander through life. I did, too. But I never penned the song "I'm Growing Older But Not Up" either. You can't pin me down on that one.

I used to smoke Parliments, but I switched to Funkadelics, out
Ramblin' Ed

Breef Inder Lude

These are two of my favorite Drive By Trucker songs. They are truly amazing.

I met a 15 year old girl in a trailer park in Dixie Inn, Louisiana. I was up from Pascagoula, Mississippi visiting my ex-wife and she was babysitting her and her brother and sister. Anyway, tihs poor girl didn't know anything but the trailer park. She knew hard times and drinking and more hard times. She was against safe sex, but she didn't know exactly what or why that was.

She was well developed for her age and could have passed for much older than she was. I figured the boys were already sniffing around some. I knew she would eventually break free of this trailer park. Probably around age 16 or 17. And only to move as far as the next trailer park. To raise her family. With or without their daddy. Or daddies. So, as you're reading Zip City, think about this girl I met years ago. Think about the cycle of ignorance and poverty she was wrapped in.

I think DBT is the most authentic southern band there is. They can't help it. They don't write about the south, they write about their lives. No they don't write about the south, they are the south.The south, in all of it's grand dysfunction and gothic shadows, is the thread that makes up the fabric of their lives.

The dead on, most chillingly accurate lines in Zip City I bolded and colored red. I knew this girl. I knew more like her. You've known her too. And the protagonist in the song probably gives her the best advice she'll ever get. And probably won't heed.

I ain't got no good intentions, out
Ramblin' Ed

(Cooley / DBT)

Your Daddy was mad as hell
He was mad at me and you
As he tied that chain to the front of my car and pulled me out of that ditch that we slid into
Don't know what his problem is
Why he keeps dragging you away
Don't know why I put up with this shit
When you don't put out and Zip City's so far away

Your Daddy is a deacon down at the Salem Church of Christ
And He makes good money as long as Reynolds Wrap keeps everything wrapped up tight
Your Mama's as good a wife and Mama as she can be
And your Sister's puttin' that sweet stuff on everybody in town but me
Your Brother was the first-born, got ten fingers and ten toes
And it's a damn good thing cause He needs all twenty to keep the closet door closed

Maybe it's the twenty-six mile drive from Zip City to Colbert Heights
Keeps my mind clean
Gets me through the night
Maybe you're just a destination, a place for me to go
A way to keep from having to deal with my seventeen-year-old mind all alone
Keep your drawers on, girl, it ain't worth the fight
By the time you drop them I'll be gone

And you'll be right where they f
all the rest of your life

You say you're tired of me taking you for granted
Waiting' up till the last minute to call you up and see what you want to do
Well you're only fifteen, girl, you ain't got no secretary
And "for granted" is a mighty big word for a country girl like you
You know it's just your Daddy talking
Cause He knows that blood red carpet at the Salem Church of Christ
Ain't gonna ever see no wedding between me and you

Zip City it's a good thing that they built a wall around you
Zip up to Tennessee then zip back down to Alabama
I got 350 heads on a 305 engine
I get ten miles to the gallon
I ain't got no good intentions

(Hood / DBT)

Ain't about my pistol
Ain't about my boots
Ain't about no northern drives
Ain't about my southern roots
Ain't about my guitars, ain't about my big old amps
"It ain't rained in weeks, but the weather sure feels damp"
Ain't about excuses or alibis
Ain't about no cotton fields or cotton picking lies
Ain't about the races, the crying shame
To the doggone rich man all poor people look the same

Don't get me wrong It just ain't right
May not look strong, but I ain't afraid to fight
If you want to live another day
Stay out the way of the southern thing

Ain't about no hatred better raise a glass
It's a little about some rebels but it ain't about the past
Ain't about no foolish pride, Ain't about no flag
Hate's the only thing that my truck would want to drag

You think I'm dumb, maybe not too bright
You wonder how I sleep at night
Proud of the glory, stare down the shame
Duality of the southern thing

My Great Great Granddad had a hole in his side
He used to tell the story to the family Christmas night
Got shot at Shiloh, thought he'd die alone
From a Yankee bullet, less than thirty miles from home
Ain't no plantations in my family tree
Did not believe in slavery, thought that all men should be free
"But, who are these soldiers marching through my land?"
His bride could hear the cannons and she worried about her man

I heard the story as it was passed down
About guts and glory and Rebel stands
Four generations, a whole lot has changed
Robert E. Lee
Martin Luther King
We've come a long way rising from the flame
Stay out the way of the southern thing

Monday, October 09, 2006

Not as Big as Who Done It

I can actually play tarot. Not read tarot cards, but play the card game. I wonder how many people know that it's a French card game. Not the mystical hippies that sell the cards. They always assure me that I'm mistaken. But look it up. It's a game and I can play it pretty well. Except I get caught up in bidding on the chien.

Calvin (of "and Hobbes" fame) used to say that when you're cool, the world bores you. To answer the questions: Yes. No. Yes. The questions are, of course,
1. Is Calvin a personal hero of yours?
2. Are you cool?
3. Does the world bore you anyway?

I have been losing weight eating as much as I want to. As much as I want to pay for, that is.

I can deal with gay. It just does not bother me, as long as I remain a non-participant. But those two homos on Amazing Race had to go. And go they did. I just do not care for the feminine voiced, helpless acting, "oh honey, you tried so hard" variety of fruit. It's just creepy. Elton John, Barney Frank, Ellen Degeneres I can deal with.

Roger Daltry. There you go. I know you hadn't thought about him in a while.

Quick, call me a taxi. OK, you're a taxi.

I intend to road trip on up to Jacksonville this weekend to see an old buddy before he moves to Doha for a year. He's pretty much the last of my friends still active duty. The rest of us have all bought the requisite "US NAVY RETIRED" window sticker and/or license plate. He was an OS Chief who went LDO. He had to do a lot of time to pay them back for that little promotion and to retire as an officer. It's a lot more money for him to retire as an officer, but he's hating life. All of us are gone and he's still being sent all over the world over his protestations. That was navy life for you. He got off of a 6 month deployment 3 weeks ago and in 3 more weeks is transferring to the Middle East. He complained that he had just gotten off of deployment (meaning: "I'd like to spend some time with my family") and they assured him that Doha was shore duty. Yeah, I know. After watching JAG and NCIS you had the impression that navy folk were smart, good looking, and hard charging. Ummm... Strike one, strike two, strike three, you're outta there!

I certianly do like cheese. It goes with anything except fudge.

I gotta say, my hat's off to the Amish. A couple dozen of them went to the kid killer's funeral. Not to protest. Not to heckle. Not to demand nothing. But to be sure that someone was there to mourn for him also. All kidding aside, that is how Christianity is supposed to work. And it touches me deeply.

I pass a subdivision on my way to work. Well, actually, it's more like one subdivision after another. Osprey Pointe. The Villas at Bloomingdale. Buckhorn. etc. Then there is the one called Random Oaks. What the hell kind of name is that for a subdivision? Think about it and get back to me, will ya?

I like John Prine's attitude. He once said (in a song... much to my consternation we have never spoken) "I've got a friend who doesn't know that he's my friend just yet". That's such a great attitude. That is why every day I strive to be more Prine-like. And yes, I know I misquoted him to fit my purposes. It's what I do.

Still have not heard back from Mr. Neil Young. I'm starting to think that he prefers to write his own songs. Eh--it happens.

I learned over the weekend that I have several "on demand" channels with my digital cable. One of those cannels is BBC On-Demand. It begs the question, why do I have that? Footballers Wive$... Cheaters... what, we don't have enough sleazy American TV? Now we gotta import it?

Reminds me, does anybody remember the show Love American Style? That should have been on my list the other day, but I just thought of it.

With no more substance than a popcorn fart, out
Ramblin' Ed

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Yawner-san the 16th & The wayback machine

I got the job with L3. I start on the 16th. I got my asking salary. Whoo-hoo!! I can gas up the car again without looking for empty coke bottles first. Hmmmm. Wait. Something tells me that they don't do that anymore, huh? But I got a drift and you get it. So, again I say, Whoo-hoo!

William Shatner isvery sleazy and gigantagiously funny as Deny Crane on Boston Legal. Telling that midget that looked like Demi Moore to "undress so I can see that tight little package". He's a hoot. Over the top like all get out. I couldn't stop grinning. David Kelly rocks.

In case you're wondering, the Japanese original Gojilla (or something like that, but who cares since we say Godzilla anyway) is available on Netflix. It is supposedly an indictment on nuclear war and politics, although my experience with the Japanese was that they couldn't pull something nuanced like that off. They, when dealing with westerners, were either very direct to the point of bluntness or so indirect that we wouldn't pick up on it at all. I'm sure in their own, all Japanese all the time circles, they had pretty much the equivilent of psychobabble chick (Loony-san), boring guy (Yawner-san), mama's boy (Flaccid-san) and the exaggarater (Pocking Liar-san). Still, with all that said, we are finished with the topic. Next item, please.

91X in San Diego Quad 102 1/2 in Tampa The Loop in Chicago

The sun shone on the cat tails that made up the hedge area between buildings. They swayed slightly in the breeze. Gently. Slightly gently, I suppose. And I found it quite perplexing. Cat tails? Hedge? How could it be? I am not exactly a juggernaut of botanical information although I do know which end of a plant to stick in the ground and that the banana cob is edible. But to me it seems that cat tails were a water loving plant, growing in ditches and pond banks, in marshes and, ahem, wetlands. This place is not a wetland. All of the surrounding area is. Well, wetland and live oak trees. But it looks to me like the developing man who built this place found the only dry area in the swamp and filled it with asphalt and steel. You know, because we have laws here in Florida that prevent you from draining and developing wetlands or enviornmentally sensitive places. But just, you know, thank God none of them are here around our beaches and rivers and lakes where people like to put their condos. 'Cause that'd suck.

Battlestar Dogmatica.
Freedom Fries. (5 years later and that's still stupid!)

How come people only remember they were abused as children when they are either under indictment or there's a big lawsuit on? If I went to church and somebody put their hands (or worse) in my knickers, you can bet I'd be down at the police station about 5 minutes later, remembering that shit while their fingerprints were still on my waistband. Otherwise, I just don't buy the "repressed trauma" of it all. Sure, color me unsympathetic.

What were some of my favorite shows as a youngin, you ask? OK, actually I ask it. Humor me. It's a segue thing.

The Little People
Little Rascals
Brady Bunch & Partridge Family
Red Skelton / Laugh-In / Smothers Bros.
My Three Sons
Mr. Peabody (and his boy, Sherman)

The Gong Show
The Rat Patrol
Green Acres
Don Kirshner's Rock Concert / In Concert
Art LinkletterKids say the darndest crap)
The Jetsons
Roller Derby
All in The Family
Dan'l Boone (and his trusty Indian sidekick, Ed Ames)
Flip Wilson
Six Million Dollar Man
Johnny Cash Show / Mac Davis Show / Sonny & Cher Show
Graham Kerr The Galloping Gormet
Johnny Quest
Carol Burnette (AKA Carol Bur-bur-nay)
Speed Racer
The Banana Splits

Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom
Lost in Space (That..does..not..compute.)
The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Death Race 2000 (OK, so it was a movie)
The Munsters
Dark Shadows
As ye can see. I liked comedy, which is why my business-like persona is so surprising. I guess in a world full of laughter where funny things matter, I became the anti-laughter. I became anti-matter. Movie quote from somewhere: It's just mind over matter. I don't mind, because you don't matter. (Oh wait, wasn't that one of those juvenile delinquent Marines addressing Gunny Highway in Hamburger Hill? I do believe it was. The semi-famous black guy said it. Mario Van Peebles, or something like that.)

My two main men are Jesus and old John Birch.
So tonight I'm headed out to the gun sale at the church. Out.
Ramblin' Ed

George Bush sings "Sunday Bloody Sunday" for Ramblin' Ed's graduation

Thanks to http://onegoodmove.org and Rx @ http://thepartyparty.com/

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Weird stuff is only useful when it's needed

Title quote comes from Neil Young on the CD Mirrorball. I found it very profound, and profundity is not exactly my middle name. In fact, it's not even partly my middle name.

I liked her red hair, in the sun, beneath a scraggly assed pine tree near the corner of the parking lot. She was smoking, which normally I don't care for, but in this case the cigarette's butt was not the one that had my attention. I could hear The Dixie Chicks singing "Landslide" from somewhere, probably a car radio, although the lot was mostly full of pickup trucks. She sat down on the bench nearby, and the sun shone even brighter through her hair. The dragonflies flitting thisaway and that in the line of sight between us as they did whatever it is that they do when it appears they are doing not much of nothing really. It gave the scene its summery feel.

I was thinking out of the corner of my brain that I wish I knew how much a dentist charges for a root canal BEFORE it appears on my credit card statement. Not that I will, but as Yoda would say, "Nice it be would." Luckily we... well, actually the way things have gone lately, none of my stories begin with any favorable derivitive of the word "luck". However, a lot of them do start with a word that begins with the letter 6 places to the left. And exclamation points. Lots of exclamation points.

Still, one of life's complex perplexities has been the inclusion of Peter Criss' makeup scheme in KISS (KI backards Z backards Z for thse who can visualize them things). They were a super group and, honest engine parts, the first concert I ever saw that was not The Killer (Jerry Lee Lewis) or Willie Nelson. The first record I ever owned was "Counting Flowers on the Wall" (B-side "Billy Christian") by The Statler Brothers and the first record I ever bought, if you count asking dad to get it for you on his way home from work to be buying a record, was "Dizzy" by Tommy Roe. Yes, I am truely aged. But I am listening to Cindy Lauper singing about girls just wanting to have fu-un, so I believe I am considerably less dusty internally. I'm guessing 19-ish or so, but it's hard to gauge.

I really did write to Neil Young and that really was the e-mail I sent. And he really did not answer me back so far. What that tells me, and you too if you are keeping score, is that things are pretty much right on track. I mean, as a rock n' roll diplomat to the world, or at least the free world in which he's rockin' in, he's gotta be far too busy to answer unsolicited e-mails concerning crap that is equally unsolicited. Even if I did spend 26 minutes or so of my life that I'll never get back slaving over lyrics that nearly rhyme. KnowaddImeenrokstarratbassdard ?

If you're lost you can look and you will find me time after time. Hmmm. Still scintillatingly Cindy. But Bowie's "Young Americans" is queued up and it contains the super cool, all time slickest outro, which includes the line "Pimp's got a Caddy and the lady's got a Chrysler".
I do feel like I am all ready to bust out of my skin if I don't get some excitement SOOOOOOOON! I am not made for inaction like this. I was afeared that trying to settle down was going to be against my natural instincts and I am mostly correct, which is an indirect way of saying that I was completely correct, in being afearedsome of that. "Have you been the un-American? Just you and your idol singing falsetto?" See, the grass is mowed and, except for the one's that don't, the neighbors all seem to like me. I enjoy the cigar tree and the weather suits me OK. But I still have a pretty big aaarrrgggghhhhh factor going here. I need to move more. To follow the yellow sticked road. Wal-Marts and Dentists and Cars...oh my!

Just added some Dean Martin into the mix. I like the silk voice and the horns. "You're nobody til somebody loves you, so find yourself somebody to love". I have been working with my partner in sublime in writing a song. All the parts like instruments and voices and echos and such. He is a self-taught piano man. He needed piano in the music and making new friends, say one who perchance played piano, was out of the question since he had one friend already and what's to be gained, really, by overdong it? I thought to post the lyrics here, but he worries a lot more about copyrights and stuff than I do.Then again, I know there ain't no one out there anymore but some drive by blogger friends. Suits. Me. Just. Fine. Most of the time. Sometimes I wish I were popular, and when that happens I just remind myself that even if I'm not wildly popular, I am not exceedingly interesting either. These things seem to have a commonality, a common thread or something, but I am not sure yet what it is. Sometimes the truth hurts, but sometimes, like now, the truth is like a commercial garbage truck headed off premises at a high rate of speed. And that's just what this is. A premises. Or a premise. Or, perhaps, a preemie. Not sure/don't care. I do know that if you add an "s" to piano, you get "pisano". Well, unless you put it at the end. Then you just get "pianos".

Since forgiveness is easier to get than permission, I will post the lyrics we wrote here. It's a communal effort, this here songwriting. Not communal like playing naked in the mud at Woodstock communal, but communal as in both of us working together. Or maybe that's "colloboration". Ever what. So read the words that appear below. I am off to LimeWire the Ben Folds Five song "Battle Of Who Could Care Less". It occurs to me that it would make a righteous theme song. Ja!

A bottle of white. A bottle of red. Perhaps a bottle of Rose instead, out
Like army ants in giant pants, out
Wooden leg and rubber titty, I met her down in Ybor City, out

Ramblin' Ed

morning [revision one: 10/2/2006 ]

like a fire in the east there's a new sunrise

feeling it's promise, rub the sleep from my eyes

morning, and everything seems so clear

blue. deep like the lake, like the sky in her eyes

there next to the woods where we kissed until light

morning, I wake. I know that she's near

eyes meet lips part

hearts beat love starts

touching her slowly, needles and pins

she so easily smiles

beginning again

my heart's like a flame she holds in her hand

her warmth like the spring in my cold winterland

morning I reach out and I touch her hair

as she's sleeping there

(in her underwear

with yogi the bear

and her german au pair.)

Sunday, October 01, 2006

My letter to Neil Young (A very true story)

Dear Mr. Young,

I read in the local paper that this war has no "Four Dead in Ohio" associated with it and that set me to thinking........
If Elton could rewrite Goodbye Norma Jean for Princess Diana, Neil Young can redo "Four Dead in Ohio" for the war in Iraq.
Of course all I would want is co-author credit or a T-Shirt.

Ed Abernathy.

Tin Can Bomb (Ed Abernathy 28 Aug 2006)

Marched in, gonna save the blameless
Dug in, gonna save them all
This evening I sip my coffee
This evening more soldiers fall

What do we do now?
How can we walk away?
How can we pack up and go?
How can we keep doing
What ain't been getting it done?
And killing our boys in the road

Don't figure they're fighting for freedom
Don't figure they're fighting for oil
Don't figure they know exactly
What brought them into this war

Don't say that they're wrong for going
They're patriots fair and square
I reckon there's blood been spilled on
The hands that sent them there

What do we do now?
No exiting gracefully
So how do we get them back home?
How do we stay there
When bombs are blowing up daily?
And killing our boys in the road

I wanted to see Sadaam fall
I wanted to take Iraq
I read it all in the papers
Attack or be attacked

But where has this gotten us?
And where is it leading to?
How do you wash your hands clean?
'Cause I need to wash mine too

So what do we do now?
When do we call it a day?
Swallow our pride and let go?
How do we tell a mother
Her son died a hero's death
From a tin can bomb beside the road !?

Marched in, gonna save the blameless
Dug in, we're gonna save them all
This evening I sip my coffee
This evening more soldiers fall

Tin soldiers and Nixon's coming, out
Ramblin Ed