I am currently scheduled to guest on Sunday night on Armed American Radio with Mark Walters.
Hope you can tune in!
After 12 years, this blog follows a fairly set schedule:
The purpose of today’s noon post is to let you know there won’t be a noon post today.
See you on the air tomorrow, and have a great weekend!
It was July 1, 1984. I took off from Jamestown at around 5AM in – what else? – my ’73 Monte Carlo
with a 396, Fuellie heads and a Hurst on the floor, and drove through a long, hot July day. Poring over my Amoco map of the Twin Cities – where I’d never driven before – I got to Saint Paul, pulled off the Marion Street exit and parked up by the Cathedral (where a friend of mine had parked the car when we drove down to see The Who in 1982), and made my way down Kellogg to downtown Saint Paul around 2 in the afternoon.
I wandered down to Saint Peter and then Wabasha street, back in the days when there were still stores between Fourth and Sixth streets across from Dayton’s and Ecolab, dazzled by the hustle and bustle of downtown Saint Paul.
I did mention I was from North Dakota, right? And that “hustle and bustle” were very relative concepts? Compared to Fargo – the biggest city I’d ever spent serious time in – Saint Paul was kinda hustly and bustly.
In those days, anyway.
Some of the landmarks from my wandering are still there; the Coney Island still has the exact same hand-scrawled paper “Under Renovation” sign today that it had back then, I think; I thought about eating at Mickey’s Diner, but it was too crowded and I wanted a damn beer. Others – the Burger King/Taco Johns in the funny glass building on 5th, across from Daytons; Daytons itself; Brady’s Pub, where I stopped for a burger and a beer for lunch, Gallivan’s - are long gone.
After lunch, I wandered down Fifth to the Plaza in front of the old Civic Center.
It was getting toward three in the afternoon; I heard some noises inside, and it sounded like the band was getting into its soundcheck. The plaza – including the long row of stairs leading to the endless rank of doors – was thronged with people, mostly looking for tickets. I walked past, listening to the sound of a bass guitar tuning up.
And I figured “nothing ventured, nothing gained”.
I walked to the very leftmost of the long row of doors that overlooked 7th and Kellogg, and gave it a furtive tug, expecting to find it locked.
It wasn’t. It pulled open a few inches; I could hear someone tapping on a drum set.
Understand – I was never much of a rule-breaker. I was always terrified of being in trouble.
But I checked to make sure nobody was watching, inside or outside, and slipped indoors.
I hustled across the concourse to a gate, stepped inside…
…and saw the E Street Band, down on the stage, a level below me. Nearest me was the Big Man, with his sax, wearing sweats and a cap. Danny Federici was on the riser behind him, checking registrations on his Hammond. Nills Lofgren was warming up downstage. Max Weinberg tapped drums as the sound guy rang out the room. Gary Tallent played some scales; Roy Bittan noodled on the keyboard. Then they stopped, chatted, and then Max counted four, and they launched into an instrumental of “Glory Days”, as the sound crew adjusted levels.
I grabbed a seat, and watched the band, and listen to the sound guys tweaking the levels, and just marinated in the whole wanton lawnlessness of it all.
About the time the song ended, someone tapped my shoulder. It was a roadie, in a black t-shirt and jeans. I half expected to get my ass kicked – and it would have been worth it, honestly.
“Excuse me, sir…”
“Yeah, I know”, I responded, getting up. “I’ll leave”.
The roadie nodded. “Thanks”. He was downright polite about the whole thing. “Hey, before you go – how did you get in?”
I showed the roadie the unlocked door, and he thanked me as I stepped back out onto the plaza. I walked down to Kellogg…
…as a white Olds Cutlass with a “Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band “Born in the USA Tour 1984″ Tour” decal rolled past. In the passenger seat was Bruce.
He waved back.
I walked down to Paddy McGovern’s for another beer. I had some time to kill.
So technically that – and not the actual concert, still 5-6 hours away – was the first time I ever saw Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band live.
Eventually – the doors opened at 7, I think – I got into the building legally, found my seat (row 59 on the floor), and waited for the show. And waited.
And finally – right around 9PM – the lights went down, the crowd got on its feet, the band filtered onstage in the dark, and a spotlight picked out Springsteen at the mike. He counted off four, and Bittan’s skirling synths and Weinberg’s drums kicked off “Born in the USA”.
The rest of the show? It’s a blur – and yet vast swathes of the show are as clear in my head as if I’d just seen the show:
I think the band stepped out for a brief intermission here.
And then the band left the stage.
And returned a few minutes later to play an encore:
They left the stage again – but the crowd would have none of it.
The concert let out around 1AM. I debouched onto the street with the rest of the crowd, and made a beeline for my car, up by the Cathedral.
And as I walked up Cathedral Hill, I thought – yeah, it ain’t no sin to be glad your alive.
And as I walked up a side street toward my car, I looked back at Saint Paul, all lit up and teeming with people and knew it; I just had to start angling my life plans toward getting out of North Dakota after I graduated.
(For those who were around at the time? No, it was the second night of the tour. I didn’t get tickets for the first night, June 29, at the Civic – the opening night of the entire tour. The one where they filmed the “Dancing in the Dark” video, in which a very young Courney Cox, planted in the audience, was introduced to the world via a “live” vid produced by Brian DePalma. Sure, you remember it.
But it was pretty cool anyway. Here’s a fanpage with a ton of scanned memorabilia from the June 29 show, and a much less complete set of swag and quotes from the show I was at. And here’s the complete audio from the June 29 show – the opening night of the Born in the USA tour, two nights earlier).
Oh, yeah – the ticket? For 59th row on the floor? $16.50.
Today was one of those days when 5:30 came about three hours too early. I’m going to take today off.
My old friend Gary Miller is giving a speech to a Young Republican group tomorrow.
Or maybe a College Republican group. And it might have already happened, for all I know.
But the particulars aren’t as important as the theme of his talk; “Why I’m No Longer a Republican”.
Gary was of course the proprietor of “Truth Vs. The Machine”, one of the great paleocon GOP blogs of the mid-2000s. Over the past year or two, he’s left the GOP and become a Libertarian; at times, he’s even described himself as an “Anarcho-Libertarian”, one of the small crowd of Libertarians who believe that the only good government is a non-existent government.
And, I suspect, he’s going to describe the genesis of his disenchantment with the GOP, and his eventual move into the Libertarian sphere of things.
I’m sure it’ll be worth attending. Although I’d probably get carded and 86ed.
But for the benefit of those YRs that might be interested, I thought I’d describe a full circle. Because where Gary is now, I was, close to 20 years ago. The details were different, but the disenchantment was the same. As to the final results? Well, we won’t know that for quite a while.
Underwhelmed: I’ve told the story on this blog, and on my show, many times; in 1994, disgusted with Republican support for the 1994 Crime Bill (the last great successful push for gun control in this country), I quit and joined the Libertarians.
I called myself a Libertarian with a big L for four years. I ran for State Treasurer, and won a moral victory in the 1998 election; my only platform plank was to abolish the office of State Treasurer. That election, the people of Minnesota voted in a Constitutional initiative to abolish the office, proving they didn’t need pols to do their abolishing for them – and you can’t get more Libertarian than that).
And then I left. There were really two reasons.
Screaming Into The Void: If a Libertarian proposes a policy in the woods, and nobody hears them, do they really exist?
Judging by how American government has morphed over the past two decades, the answer is obviously “no”.
I left the Libertarian Party because it’s a party of great, brilliant ideas, declaimed with authority to rooms full of people who vigorously agree, and who remain magnificently above the fray, neither having to try to implement any of those ideas as policy nor, in many cases, claiming to want to try. To some, the fact that politics is about compromise – battling to a consensus with people who disagree with you – is an invitation to perdition; one might need to compromise ones’ core principles!
So while they think their big thoughts in their salon full of other big thinkers, the non-Libertarian do-ers, unworried about sullying their principles because “getting power for ourselves” was their guiding principle, would be out on the street actually convincing the unconvinced to give them more of it.
And the more I tried to discuss this, the more I realized that while Libertarians paid lip service to the idea of actually winning elections and affecting policy, to way too many Libertarians the goal seemed to be able to say “I told you so” to the rest of society as it slowly turned away from the light.
And that struck me as completely pointless.
So I thought “where can I go where I can work on pushing more Liberty into actual policy that affects real people?” I went back to the GOP more or less by default; I figured it was a more hospitable party to the idea of “liberty” (and I was right – there is not and can never be a Tea Party, or any Pauls, Rand or Ron, in the Democrat Party).
Quixotic? Sure. No moreso than trying to change society from within an echo chamber, though.
Reality Bites: The other reason? Libertarians – collectively and singly – are right about just about everything. Freedom is better. Government largely is the worst possible solution to every issue. Decentralized is better than centralized. Markets are better than regulations.
But there are threeissues about which Libertarians – individually, rather than as a Party – are dead wrong:
The classic Ayn-Randian Libertrian vision – and to some extent, our founding fathers had it as well – is that society is a mass of autonomous, disconnected equals, whose fate is governed entirely by their own merits and talent in navigating The Market.
But humans are social animals. We gather instinctively into groups – marriages, families, clans, tribes, villages, congregations, religions. Some of them are voluntary, some aren’t. All of them have rules. Those rules sometimes take the form of “laws”, and laws are by their nature enforced by something, whether it’s Don Knotts or Catholic Guilt or a SWAT team.
Of course, those rules – “laws” – exist for a bunch of reasons, the most useful and justifiable of which trace back to our evolutionary imperative to make sure our next generation grows up healthy and able to take care of us and able to raise yet another generation. Rules like “if you have a kid, take care of it, dont’ run off, don’t kill it”. Then ” don’t kill other peoples’ kids”. Then “Don’t kill the people that take care of those kids”. Then “don’t steal the means by which people feed and care for the next generation – food, land, property, means of production”. And finally, “don’t go taking the land and killing the people that are the who and where our next generation gets raised”.
Put another way – thou shalt not kill, steal, lie, cheat, covet other peoples’ stuff or piddle on whatever order we do have.
And in a nearly perfect world, those rules have to be arrived at by consensus – so we, the people, end up with the bare minimum of “government by consent of the governed”, meaning me. I want my government to be my employee, not my self-appointed master.
And I want that government to exist for, and deal with, a strictly limited list of things; enforce our contracts, impart consequences on those who do violate the bare minimum of rules we do have (mostly related to using force and violence against others)…
…but, most importantly, when I find my property crawling with Methodists with guns and bombs and knives, to respond with snipers and paratroopers and tanks, to drive the Methodists from all of our property as we sing “Constitutional Capitalist Collective, F**k Yeah!”, and “we’ll put a boot in your ass, it’s the Strictly Limited Government way…”.
Those are really the only three reasons why anyone should have to interact with anyone else on a non-social basis. And as it happens, they are the only three that matter…
…and are the ones on which libertarian purists are the most lost in the philosophical clouds.
So that’s why I’m no longer a Libertarian.
I’m a libertarian-conservative who votes to prevent as much damage to liberty as possible, election by election.
To some, the distinction is meaningless. To others, it’s meaninglessly precise. Either way, that’s me, and that’s why.
“Are you that Mitch Berg?”
When I moved to the Twin Cities, I looked in the Minneapolis phonebook. I counted seven Mitchell Bergs. To the best of my knowledge, I was number eight.
I didn’t think about it much, again, until probably the early 1990s, when I was trying to make a living in the IT business. During the five years I was a technical writer, and a few more times when I switched to user experience, I’d go to interviews, and be asked “are you the Mitch Berg that used to work at Control Data”?
Apparently, there is a Mitch Berg in the IT business – or was, anyway. He is at least a few years older than me, and more of a programmer than an analyst/designer. But a Mitch Berg nonetheless.
And though over the years I’ve met all sorts of people who had met the other Mitch Berg, we’ve never met, nor have I actually met anyone who has but we met the other Mitch Berg. At least, not the Control Data Mitch Berg.
Of course, about the time I was getting into my career as a user experience guy, I got a lot more of the “Are you Mitch Berger, the Vikings punter?” But I haven’t had that one in a few years.
Of course, a year or two ago a number of Twin Cities liberal bloggers and other such bilge hit their pointy little knees every night praying that I was the Mitch Berg, City Councilman of some eastern border town along the St. Croix River, who had apparently resigned under some kind of fire. Because in the narrow, gray, lumpen, claustrophobic public restroom of the Lefty blogger “mind”, a juicy “gotcha” is really the highest joy one can aspire to. But no such luck – Not only have II never been elected to any office, I will never run for one.
And now, I’m told the circle was turning; a colleague of mine knows of a family with a young fellow named – you guessed it, Mitch Berg. I think he may have just graduated from high school, or is at least in that general age bracket.
And I can only hope he goes into IT, and has 10 or 15 years of being mistaken for me.
Or that other Mitch Berg.
Or that other other Mitch Berg.
UPDATE: The initial draft of this story was written entirely using my phone’s “Voice to Text” feature. As, indeed, some of you noticed.
But my mental reminder to “edit the post before you publish it” apparently didn’t sink in.
And it showed.
(There is no “Natalie Berg” – that I know of…)
Light posting today. It’s been a busy week, and getting busier today.
I’m just going to take a moment here to throw in a good word for the Northern Alliance’s good friend and Miss Minneapolis, Julia Schliesing.
She’s raising money to go towards suicide prevention – which is Julia’s cause. And if you can throw a buck or two in the kitty, it would help a lot.
I’m going to run this for one more day. If you feel like it and are inclined to throw a buck or two in the kitty, it’s much appreciated.
Many thanks to the folks who have already donated!
And above all, thanks for reading all these years.
…and, for that matter, 35E, I started to understand what goats feel like…
….navigating trails in the Bolivian Andes.
Who used to look like an extra from “Gangs of New York”, and married way, way up twenty years ago today?
Why, that’d be my friend and long-time radio colleague Ed Morrissey and his wife Marcia, that’s who!
Congrats to the Morrisseys, and may they have many, many more anniversaries!
I’m waiting with bated breath for the “out the door” temperature to be 33 or above, soon, so I can start biking to work again. I’ve missed it terribly (and didn’t get to do nearly enough last season). It just plain makes me feel good.
Of course, as I pointed out a few years back when I was interviewed in the Utne Reader, it’s really not a political thing for me. It’s just one of few forms of regular exercise that don’t bore me stiff.
Unfortunately, both left and right have opted to politicize biking. Smart conservatives attack the political cronyism, payoffs, and mindless noodling with urban geography that Big Bike is trying to wreak on cities like the Twins. Not-so-bright conservatives attack people who ride bikes because they ride bikes.
But for every conservative chowderhead cyclophobe, there’s a small cloud of two-wheeled human smugginess that proves the theory.
John Gilmore noted the uproar of a biker, Marcus Nalls of Minneaopolis. Or as the “biking community” knew him, a guy on a bike assassinated by a car:
WCCO-TV had a fascinating online report about the “memorial” which focused on Nalls’ means of transport much more than the actual human being. “More than 200 riders made their way from Loring Park to the sidewalk along Franklin [where Nalls died]. There, in a solemn procession, they walked their bikes past the “ghost bike,” which is a memorial bicycle that’s painted white.”
All cults need icons and what better, more effective icon than one associated with death? A ghost bike? Was this some sort of sick joke? No indeed, as I found out to my amazement. Such sorts of “remembrances” take place throughout the country when a biker dies. There’s even a disconcerting website: http://ghostbikes.org/
Naturally, what is really going on is the narcissism of the biking community being put on prominent display for the public to see but mostly for themselves. One white bike after another: no individual, just the hope that bikers still living won’t die in a similar fashion. White bikes are the crucifixes for the secular, “spiritual but not religious” types in our midst. The dislocation of religion into environmentalism and Portlandia lifestyles is relentless.
Gilmore mentions Portlandia.
That’s one of the funniest things about that series; knowing that grimly serious people live out the parody every day.
I was about to head to work this morning when I remembered; it’s February 5.
My blog’s anniversary.
I’ve been doing this for (counts fingers, removes shoe, continues counting) 12 years now.
And I can honestly say two things:
I’m a conservative talking politics in a liberal metro area, so I’ve ruffled a feather or two – mostly the feathers of good people who can handle a little discussion. I’ve made a few enemies – without exception, stunted, risible little people who don’t have the balls to face me in a face-to-face discussion, and whom I laugh about until I switch back to ignoring them.
Because they are overwhelmingly outnumbered by the friends I’ve made; other bloggers, readers, the other NARN guys and all the listeners that the show brought into my life, and all of the many, many people that all of this writing has brought me into contact with on the twelve-year journey that this blog has led me onto.
So anyway – thanks, everyone!
Yesterday would be the 110th birthday of my grandmother, Beatrice Berg.
I need to get a little clearer on some of my family’s lore – my immediate family has always been terrible at passing its stories down. Near as I can tell, she was the older daughter of a Norwegian immigrant farmer and immigrant from Sør-Trøndelag, Berndt Græsli (anglicized to Gresley), born not far from Thief River Falls, MN. She grew up in or near Middle River.
When she was in her late teens (as I recall the story) she took up with a couple of her aunts – who were, according to the accounts I’ve heard, the sort of thing that they’d write Lifetime movies about today; a couple of flinty, hard-bitten businesswomen who were in the business of starting photography studios around northern Minnesota. Grandma worked at a few of these studios, learning the trade.
It’s there that Grandma Bea did something that, likely, most of you are acquinted with. She was working at the studio of Eric Enstrom in the small northern Minnesota town of Bovey, when…
…well, I’ve never heard the definitive story; some of it, I got from my parents; others, from a Jamestown Sun piece from the 1970′s that I still remember. The stories include various elements from the following narrative, all of which I’ll relate just for simplicity’s sake. One day she met an old guy in a mainstreet cafe, Charles Wilden, a travelling salesman namedwith a striking visage, whom she introduced to Enstrom. And then helped dress the set and assisted with the photo shoot, and helped do some of the hand-coloring of the print afterward (along with Enstrom’s daughter – like I said, the story gets complicated).
Whatever the facts were – and most of them certainly were true – the end result is upper-midwestern art history:
Nearly every dining room in the Upper Midwest seems to have a copy of “Grace” hanging on the wall – or so it seemed when I was a kid. It’s the Minnesota State Photograph.
Grandma went on to work at a slew of photography studios. At one of them, she met my grandfather, Oscar. They got married, had Dad…
…and then Oscar died. Grandma ran the studio herself for the next twenty-odd years.
For all the yapping about “strong women” from feminists, I don’t suspect many of them could have carried my Grandmother’s purse.
Joe Doakes from Como Park emails:
I saw the article in the pie-pan (Pioneer Press) about the new bicycle boondoggle. The estimate for the loop downtown is $18 million. Which means the true estimate that they had is $30 million, and the actual cost will be $45 million.
The story quotes the City of St. Paul’s Sustainable-Transportation Engineer and also the Environmental Policy Director. St Paul only has two director-level positions for bicycle ideas. Now that, truly, is a bare-bones operation.
If only the wicked Republicans would give St. Paul more LGA, then they could plow the streets. Meanwhile, what can we do with the cupboards being bare and the offices empty.
I love biking to work.
I just wish government spent less time and money making sure tax-paying drivers hated me while I was riding down the street (that I already paid for).
I’ve accumulated about 60 sick days since I’ve been writing this blog. I’m using one today.
See you tomorrow.
Are “Avery Librelle” and “Moonbeam Birkenstock” guys or girls?: Isn’t it perfectly obvious? I think that’s pretty clearly answered here. Or at least I think so.
You only attack the left? Why don’t you go after the miscreants on the right? Especially in the GOP?: That’s a fair cop, sort of. Partly because we have a state full of media, “progressive” groups, “watchdog” non-profits and bloggers (pardon the serial redundancy) who already watch the right. I’m adding balance in my homespun little way. And partly because I generally agree with the right. Because I’m a conservative!
And I attack the left more than the right because I reasonably believe that “the right” – conservatism – is a generally better, more valid, more noble idea than the “progressivism” of “the left”. And “the left” is currently on the ascendant in this state and the US.
You will note – if accuracy is what you seek, and I’m just sure it is - that the most-viewed post in the history of this blog is entitled “Note to Bill Frist: You Suck“.
You know who Bill Frist was. Right?
So that means you’re biased!: Well, duh. I am, and I make no bones about it. Although another part is this; I don’t do much “reporting” on whatever’s going on in the GOP’s bureaucracy because, frankly, the subject – bureaucracy – bores me. You’ll note I rarely write about the inner workings of the DFL, either, and when I do, it’s usually to link to someone else’s writing.
Covering bureaucracies is like watching paint dry, or watching writers from the oldMinnesota Independenttrying to meet people at bars; it’s slow, nothing much happens, and it’s pretty predictable.
Conservatism is dead. Millennials are deserting the GOP. It’s time to update your approach: That’s not a question. But it brings up two questions.
First: Since when have people under thirty ever been Republicans or conservatives? Good lord, I’m almost as sick of hearing society has to jump to the wishes of “Millennials” as I am about Baby Boomers.
Second: Why? One of conservatism’s beliefs is that new ideas face a fairly stern burden of proof. Which isn’t sexy for, say, marketers to try to sell, and it’s not something “young people” are disposed to believe, but it’s true. So put your “new” ideas out there, and let’s debate! The kicker is, ideas in the world of society and politics are like pop music; there really are no new ideas. They’ve all been around for a while, and most of them are untried for a reason. Which isn’t to say that something new, or a new take on something old, isn’t possible; it’s just that you need to make the sale.
Can you make the sale?
There is no difference between Republicans and Democrats!: Again, mostly statements, not really questions, here. But if that were true, wouldn’t at least one Republican have voted for Obamcare?
So what about your various stalkers?: Oh, them? One of them has been pretty tame for a while here, as far as I can tell. The other – well, I’ve been ignoring him for over a year and a half. I think he misses the attention – he’s reportedly gone quite over the edge recently but – here’s the kicker – I wouldn’t know. I read “his” material less than I read the Strib.
Who do you support for Governor and Senator?: I’m starting to develop some preferences. But I’d never talk about ‘em publicly.
Part of it is that I genuinely don’t have my mind made up completely, and all the candidates have a lot more questions to answer – some of the, many many many more.
And part of it is that if I did come out and express a preference now, five months before the convention, it’d be kinda hell on bookings for the show, now, wouldn’t it?
Keep ‘em coming!
The Wombat reminds me that I used to do this sort of thing all the time.
Self-indulgent? Sure. Why not? It’s my blog, and I can do what I want.
1. Was 2013 a good year for you?: All in all, sure. Notables: I got a new job that was a real step forward. When you’re a contractor for a long time, you find that each year is pretty much a rerun of every other year you spend as a contractor. I’m an employee for the first time in a while, I’m leading a group, and it’s been a lot of fun so far.
2. What was your favorite moment(s) of the year?: Seeing my niece Sniperbaby for the first time. (She’s six, and while Sniperbaby isn’t her actual name, she actually does get hits on prairie dogs at 100 yards with a .22 Magnum).
3. What was your least favorite moment(s) of the year?: We’ll talk about that over a drink sometime. If we have a drink sometime.
4. What did you do in 2013 that you’d never done before?: Went to the east coast of Florida. Ate scallops. Played a ukulele. Kicked one of my demons in the groin.
5. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?: I never do them.
6. Where were you when 2013 began?: At home.
7. Who were you with?: A dog, two cats, and my guitar.
8. Where will you be when 2013 ends?: About the same.
9. Who will you be with when 2013 ends?: A dog and two cats and my guitars.
10. Did anyone close to you give birth?: Other than some Facebook friends, no.
11. Did you lose anybody close to you in 2013?: No, thank God. It’s been a while.
12. Who did you miss?: Nobody, really.
13. Who was the best new person you met in 2013?: No one person. Lots of new co-workers. The guy who works for me is a great fella.
14. What was your favorite month of 2013?: I can’t imagine ever having a favorite “month”. May was kinda fun.
15. Did you travel outside of the US in 2013?: I haven’t been outside the US since college. That kinda depresses me. I may just drive to Canada this year for the hell of it.
16. How many different states did you travel to in 2013?: North Dakota, Wisconsin, Florida and Ohio.
17. What would you like to have in 2014 that you lacked in 2013?: Time for a project I’ve been noodling with for over a year. I’d like to have something ready to go by April at the latest.
18. What date from 2013 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?: Plenty of days; no dates.
19. What was your biggest achievement of the year?: I’m finally managing people at work. It’s never been a goal, but it’s an achievement. Sorta.
20. What was your biggest failure?: Not finishing the project I mentioned above.
21. Did you suffer illness or injury?: So far so good. Knock wood.
22. What was the best thing you bought?: This is weird – nothing. I don’t actually recall buying anything all year. Some books, some music, groceries.
23. Whose behavior merited celebration?: My kids made some good progress. Long story, and you’ll have to know me pretty well to hear the story.
24. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?: Our government at all levels.
25. Where did most of your money go?: The mortgage from hell. I live with it, but it’s the bane of my existence.
26. What did you get really, really, really excited about?: Music. Long story.
27. Did you drink a lot of alcohol in 2013?: I haven’t drunk “a lot” of alcohol since about 1990. I haven’t had “a lot” of alcohol at one sitting since 2008, and that was only once. I drink so rarely – seriously, the MOB parties and a couple of semi-regular happy hours with some college and work friends are about it.
28. Did you do a lot of drugs in 2013?: Ibuprofen. Which, other than the odd antibiotic, is the only drug I ever use…
29. Did you treat somebody badly in 2013?: Er…not that I remember? I usually try to treat people well…
30. Did somebody treat you badly in 2013?: Nothing I couldn’t not only handle, but mock with style.
31. Compared to this time last year, are you: A little happier, about the same weight, a little richer.
32. What do you wish you’d done more of in 2013?: I wish I’d had an actual vacation. I have been a contractor most of my career, so I have little concept of or skill at down time.
33. What do you wish you’d done less of?: Worry. Same as last year.
34. Did you fall in love in 2013?: Yeah, Kate Mara. But don’t tell Scarlett Johannson.
35. What was your favorite TV program(s)?: This is the first time in decades I’ve watched first-run television or cable. I loved House of Cards and Breaking Bad. And I hate to say it, but Walking Dead is really good. And the final episode of “The Office” was really really excellent, in an absolutely absurd way.
36. What song will always remind you of 2013?: One of my own. Maybe I’ll let you hear it someday.
37. How many concerts did you see in 2013?: It occurs to me that I haven’t been to a concert of any kind since Springsteen in 2002. Pathetic, huh?
38. Did you have a favorite concert in 2013?: Asked and answered, indirectly.
39. What was your greatest musical discovery?: Mark Knopfler’s been hiding in plain sight for thirty years. I’ve always been aware of his most notable stuff, but I’d never really done the deep dive into the Knopfler/Dire Straits catalogue. I did this year.
40. What was the best book you read?: ”The German Invasion of Norway” by Geir Haar.
41. What was your favorite film of this year?: I saw some good ones – more than usual. I used to go to actual theatres maybe once every two years or so. It’s been more frequent this past year. Best one, though, is probably Lone Survivor.
42. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?: Nothing interesting, and none of your business.
43. What did you want and get?: A birthday without having to deal with someone else’s crisis. And for the first time in six or seven years, I got it!
44. What did you want and not get?: I never want much.
45. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?: Having Premiere start lining me up to replace Limbaugh when he retires.
46. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2013?: Personal fashion concept? ”No beards without mustaches”
47. What kept you sane?: Same as every year; having an outlet.
48. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?: Kate Mara was giving Scarlett Johannson a run for the money.
49. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2013: Stay hydrated. Persevere. Let it turn to something else.
50. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: OK:
Heel y’ho boys, let her go, boys
Bring her head round into the weather.
Heel y’ho boys, let her go boys
Sailing homeward to Mingulay!
Anyway – Happy New Year to you and yours! I hope 2014 is a good year for all of you!
It’s Christmas week.
And if you’ve been a regular reader of this blog, you’ll know I’m not much of one for “vacations”.
But since traffic falls deep into the tank on Christmas week, this week will have very light posting.
Enjoy the week!
Some guys grew up fantasizing about the car they wanted, someday.
For others, it was the gun, the girl, the guitar.
I did all of those, naturally (’67 Mustang, HK91, Marisa Tomei, 1959 Les Paul Standard).
But above all? When I was a kid – and not so much a kid – I used to fantasize about the band I’d have someday.
Usually, the dream focused on some combination of two guitars, keyboards, bass and drums. Nice and flexible, allows for all sorts of combinations of guitar sounds. Sorta like Tom Petty and the classic Heartbreakers (here with an added sax player and background singer, which I’d also dig):
Of course, through much of the eighties – and (koff) the nineties, I thought it’d be fun to have something a little bigger, less garage-y, frighteningly tight, and danceable.
Although that’d mean recruiting someone else to sing. And lead singers are a pain.
At various times, I’ve thought “screw it – I’m gonna go full Stax/Volt”:
And truth be told, that’s where I’m at right now; a band that is something like the classic Asbury Jukes lineup, complete with the horn section.
But then I remember all the crap that goes into keeping all the personalities in even a four piece band together, and I think “screw it; I’ll do a power trio”:
Of course, as always, I’ll stick with “whatever I can find”.
Er, when I start another band…
It’s going to be another light posting day.
And I am.
I am thankful, for starters, that someone posted Linda Thompson’s version. Dave Swarbrick’s nasal delivery would put me off my thanksgiving meal…
Everywhere I go – from the radio show to the grocery store, and even on different floors of my home – people ask me “who are all these characters, fictional and otherwise, that pop up on the pages of your blog?”
Some of them are from my series of satiric dramatizations. Others are actual writers on this blog.
Now – for the first time – a complete list of this blog’s personalities, real, imagined and not quite sure which, can be found here.
It’s been a long, long time since TV stations “signed off”, at least in major metro areas. TV’s been a 24/7 business ever since cable became a dominant part of the media world.
But when I was a kid, the sign for “now it’s time to be tired” came when Channel 4 in Fargo would reach the end of its broadcast day – it may have been around midnight, if I remember correctly – and the orchestra would get rolling, and this piece of film would start:
And then, for the next minute or two…:
And then? Lulled by Leo Mann’s voice-over and the silent test pattern, you’d be jarred back to reality by REALLY LOUD STATIC as the carrier signal went silent, turning the frequency over to a universe full of random electromagnetism.
It always felt and sounded jarring; to go from the orderly humdrum of late-night small market TV to the transcendent ethereality of “High Flight”, to silence – and then, cacaphony. It was unsettling – that feeling of going from “something” to “nothing”, of going from watching a coherent signal from Fargo to random, formless signals that’d skittering about the universe for billions of years, ending up as “snow” on a cathode ray tube.
I usually wished I’d fallen asleep earlier – and eventually learned to hit the power knob before the “Indian” was done.