What other postitions in the Bush White house are filled with horse trainers?
The Forest Service? EPA? What about the Nuclear Regulatory Commission?
What other parts of our government are filled with the firends of so and so?
Not that this is just a Republican problem, but a government problem.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Reponse to my Letter 6-7-5
Involvement reassuring
In response to Jeremy Oswald's letter of May 25, I would like to remind him that the police "involvement" in our public school system is vital for the protection of our students and staff. (Let's remember that last month there were death threats, and the law enforcement presence was immediate and welcomed by all, as well as the prevention of violence against the same groups.)
Keep in mind that the police keep an office open at each school with a liaison officer available for anyone needing assistance. And they are there for training with the DARE program, fingerprinting and photographing our little ones, teaching safety to all ages, warning against predators and many other programs.
I welcome their presence there all the time, and if they are there to "sneak" a peek at the goings-on before, during and after the prom, then so be it. I would rather that they head off a potential problem ahead of time than have those police officers at my door telling me my child has been lost to an accident or in jail or whatever, when the prom is over and it's too late.
I appreciate those who do so much for our kids.
Sandra Kraak
Grawn
Published in the Traverse City Record Eagle. 6/7/5
In response to Jeremy Oswald's letter of May 25, I would like to remind him that the police "involvement" in our public school system is vital for the protection of our students and staff. (Let's remember that last month there were death threats, and the law enforcement presence was immediate and welcomed by all, as well as the prevention of violence against the same groups.)
Keep in mind that the police keep an office open at each school with a liaison officer available for anyone needing assistance. And they are there for training with the DARE program, fingerprinting and photographing our little ones, teaching safety to all ages, warning against predators and many other programs.
I welcome their presence there all the time, and if they are there to "sneak" a peek at the goings-on before, during and after the prom, then so be it. I would rather that they head off a potential problem ahead of time than have those police officers at my door telling me my child has been lost to an accident or in jail or whatever, when the prom is over and it's too late.
I appreciate those who do so much for our kids.
Sandra Kraak
Grawn
Published in the Traverse City Record Eagle. 6/7/5
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Cop Prom
Here is a letter to the editor I haven't decided to send in yet:
In regards to “Police Keeping a Close Eye on Proms”, I am surprised that police will be “working in and around those proms and parties”. Is there truly a need for undercover police officers to be in the prom, sipping punch with kids, trying to find out if there is a big party afterwards that they can bust? Have the parents of Traverse City become so uninvolved that they need police to manage their children? To have undercover spies mixing with them at a school function so that they can keep their distance and not get to involved in their children’s activities?
I don’t have a child going to the prom, but I don’t know if I would want them going knowing that they were being watched by a government agency that has recently had the audacity to confiscate a pair of police pants in fear that their authority was being undermined by a beatnik on a moped.
Please monitor the roads, let’s keep an eye out for drunk drivers, please pull over a car, or stop a car from being driven by a child who is drunk or has been drinking, but do we need the police in amongst children? Where are the chaperones? I’m sure that there is an army of caring parents at all the proms in the area, who are more than enough to handle any situation that THEIR children are involved in, and are better equipped to handle it. Or they are aware of the situation at the prom, they know and trust the teachers and staff that will be there.
If police are needed I have found that calling them on the phone works well in getting them to an area where there is trouble. By having them sneaking around the prom, watching, spying, what does this teach kids? That deception, sneaking around, hiding, being covert about things is okay? That this is the way the world works? Why not have a very visible police car parked out on the street, making kids know if they make a choice to drive drunk, that there are going to be consequences? It’s spelled out, it’s honest. Then the kids who are just there having fun, not drinking, not doing anything other than being kids, have no fear of the police, aren’t worried that they are being watched and being bad, and don’t walk away believing that we live in a police state. One in which police are always watching, wondering what you are doing, keeping an eye on you.
I don’t live in Traverse City anymore, but grew up there and can remember on more than one occasion being treated rudely by the police while I was in high school. I see many of the same police officers still around so I doubt that they have changed their barking ways. Sometimes I wonder if one of the reasons that I left Traverse City was because the way I felt that I was being watched by police, that for some reason I was on one of their lists. Probably this was just my imagination, but that is the atmosphere that is created by actions such as undercover police milling about kids in a high school gymnasium. It doesn’t need to be that way. Parents, it doesn’t need to be this way, tell your school board that it doesn’t. The police of Travers City, you can only do so much, you have the best intentions in mind, but you carry guns and that is scary.
In regards to “Police Keeping a Close Eye on Proms”, I am surprised that police will be “working in and around those proms and parties”. Is there truly a need for undercover police officers to be in the prom, sipping punch with kids, trying to find out if there is a big party afterwards that they can bust? Have the parents of Traverse City become so uninvolved that they need police to manage their children? To have undercover spies mixing with them at a school function so that they can keep their distance and not get to involved in their children’s activities?
I don’t have a child going to the prom, but I don’t know if I would want them going knowing that they were being watched by a government agency that has recently had the audacity to confiscate a pair of police pants in fear that their authority was being undermined by a beatnik on a moped.
Please monitor the roads, let’s keep an eye out for drunk drivers, please pull over a car, or stop a car from being driven by a child who is drunk or has been drinking, but do we need the police in amongst children? Where are the chaperones? I’m sure that there is an army of caring parents at all the proms in the area, who are more than enough to handle any situation that THEIR children are involved in, and are better equipped to handle it. Or they are aware of the situation at the prom, they know and trust the teachers and staff that will be there.
If police are needed I have found that calling them on the phone works well in getting them to an area where there is trouble. By having them sneaking around the prom, watching, spying, what does this teach kids? That deception, sneaking around, hiding, being covert about things is okay? That this is the way the world works? Why not have a very visible police car parked out on the street, making kids know if they make a choice to drive drunk, that there are going to be consequences? It’s spelled out, it’s honest. Then the kids who are just there having fun, not drinking, not doing anything other than being kids, have no fear of the police, aren’t worried that they are being watched and being bad, and don’t walk away believing that we live in a police state. One in which police are always watching, wondering what you are doing, keeping an eye on you.
I don’t live in Traverse City anymore, but grew up there and can remember on more than one occasion being treated rudely by the police while I was in high school. I see many of the same police officers still around so I doubt that they have changed their barking ways. Sometimes I wonder if one of the reasons that I left Traverse City was because the way I felt that I was being watched by police, that for some reason I was on one of their lists. Probably this was just my imagination, but that is the atmosphere that is created by actions such as undercover police milling about kids in a high school gymnasium. It doesn’t need to be that way. Parents, it doesn’t need to be this way, tell your school board that it doesn’t. The police of Travers City, you can only do so much, you have the best intentions in mind, but you carry guns and that is scary.
Discarded police trousers spur inquiry
Please step out of the brown pants, surrender them
Discarded police trousers spur inquiry
By IAN C. STOREY
Record-Eagle staff writer
TRAVERSE CITY - Nice pants, Keith Schwartz thought when he came across a pair of second-hand slacks at a local thrift shop.
Grand Traverse County sheriff's officials didn't agree with his sartorial choice, however. After spying Schwartz in the well-worn brown britches with the distinctive leg stripes, a detective ran his name through a criminal computer and later showed up at his Traverse City residence to seize the pants.
The charge? Authorities hinted the pants could be used to impersonate an officer, said Schwartz, who added that people often wait for the punch line when he tells the story.
"I certainly appreciate the humor of it all, but I also worry about the dark undertones this has," he said.
Schwartz was running errands in Traverse City early last month when a plainclothes sheriff's detective approached him about his pants - brown, sheriff-style uniform trousers he bought months earlier at a local Goodwill outlet.
He'd paid $3.25 for the pants because they seemed durable and comfortable enough to wear during his nighttime gig cleaning office buildings.
Clad in tennis shoes and riding a moped, Schwartz said he resembled anything but a police officer.
But detective Dawn Wagoner stopped Schwartz and ran a background check on him. She didn't know if it was illegal for him to have the pants, but she told Schwartz to expect additional contact from authorities.
"It was extremely surreal. I thought it was a joke," he said.
Days later, Wagoner - under the direction of Undersheriff Nathan Alger - appeared at Schwartz's home and requested the pants.
Wagoner offered to pay for them, but Schwartz's befuddled wife turned them over, no cost to the sheriff's department, he said.
"These pants were not in pristine condition," said Schwartz, 47. "The stripe was actually coming off."
State law prevents citizens from wearing Michigan State Police uniforms, but Sheriff Scott Fewins said he wasn't sure whether that applies to his department.
Fewins said recent incidents involving police impersonators created a concern about non-officers wearing or possessing any type of police-issued clothing, although he doesn't believe Schwartz had any ill-intent.
"I don't see it being a security issue, although they are very recognizable pants and every once in a while we have people trying to stop cars, which is something we are concerned about," Fewins said. "But if a guy was walking down the sidewalk with a bottom and top (uniform) but no badge, I believe it would be an issue the prosecutor would look at.
"I don't think we would want them back, but we don't want people having them," Fewins added.
Schwartz didn't ask for a refund, but he would like an explanation.
"(Police) didn't elaborate about why I couldn't have them, they just said I couldn't have them," he said. "They said official uniforms are either supposed to be shredded or burned, not sold or discarded.
Schwartz wonders what can and can't be worn, considering that items like hats and shirts with logos of the New York City police and fire departments are fashionable to wear and uniforms of all kinds are readily available at surplus stores and online.
"It would have been different if I was wearing an insignia or something that said this was an official uniform, but they were no different than any other pants you could go out and buy," Schwartz said. "It is the whole issue of government sticking its nose into private lives where it shouldn't be ... it is ridiculous."
Discarded police trousers spur inquiry
By IAN C. STOREY
Record-Eagle staff writer
TRAVERSE CITY - Nice pants, Keith Schwartz thought when he came across a pair of second-hand slacks at a local thrift shop.
Grand Traverse County sheriff's officials didn't agree with his sartorial choice, however. After spying Schwartz in the well-worn brown britches with the distinctive leg stripes, a detective ran his name through a criminal computer and later showed up at his Traverse City residence to seize the pants.
The charge? Authorities hinted the pants could be used to impersonate an officer, said Schwartz, who added that people often wait for the punch line when he tells the story.
"I certainly appreciate the humor of it all, but I also worry about the dark undertones this has," he said.
Schwartz was running errands in Traverse City early last month when a plainclothes sheriff's detective approached him about his pants - brown, sheriff-style uniform trousers he bought months earlier at a local Goodwill outlet.
He'd paid $3.25 for the pants because they seemed durable and comfortable enough to wear during his nighttime gig cleaning office buildings.
Clad in tennis shoes and riding a moped, Schwartz said he resembled anything but a police officer.
But detective Dawn Wagoner stopped Schwartz and ran a background check on him. She didn't know if it was illegal for him to have the pants, but she told Schwartz to expect additional contact from authorities.
"It was extremely surreal. I thought it was a joke," he said.
Days later, Wagoner - under the direction of Undersheriff Nathan Alger - appeared at Schwartz's home and requested the pants.
Wagoner offered to pay for them, but Schwartz's befuddled wife turned them over, no cost to the sheriff's department, he said.
"These pants were not in pristine condition," said Schwartz, 47. "The stripe was actually coming off."
State law prevents citizens from wearing Michigan State Police uniforms, but Sheriff Scott Fewins said he wasn't sure whether that applies to his department.
Fewins said recent incidents involving police impersonators created a concern about non-officers wearing or possessing any type of police-issued clothing, although he doesn't believe Schwartz had any ill-intent.
"I don't see it being a security issue, although they are very recognizable pants and every once in a while we have people trying to stop cars, which is something we are concerned about," Fewins said. "But if a guy was walking down the sidewalk with a bottom and top (uniform) but no badge, I believe it would be an issue the prosecutor would look at.
"I don't think we would want them back, but we don't want people having them," Fewins added.
Schwartz didn't ask for a refund, but he would like an explanation.
"(Police) didn't elaborate about why I couldn't have them, they just said I couldn't have them," he said. "They said official uniforms are either supposed to be shredded or burned, not sold or discarded.
Schwartz wonders what can and can't be worn, considering that items like hats and shirts with logos of the New York City police and fire departments are fashionable to wear and uniforms of all kinds are readily available at surplus stores and online.
"It would have been different if I was wearing an insignia or something that said this was an official uniform, but they were no different than any other pants you could go out and buy," Schwartz said. "It is the whole issue of government sticking its nose into private lives where it shouldn't be ... it is ridiculous."
Police keeping a close eye on proms
Police keeping a close eye on proms
By IAN C. STOREY
Record-Eagle staff writer
TRAVERSE CITY - High school students aren't the only ones gearing up for prom season, as city officers are dusting off their plain-clothes to patrol area proms and parties in an attempt to prevent underage drinking.
Traverse City police Sgt. Brian Heffner said a Michigan Office of Highway Safety Planning grant meant to deter underage drinking will be used to add patrols for area proms and graduation parties.
Traverse City Central High School's prom is tonight, while West Senior High's soiree is scheduled for next weekend.
"We will have our normal patrols out, but in addition there will be plainclothes officers to enforce underage drinking laws," said Heffner. "Now that it is prom season, graduation and senior party time, we will have officers working in and around those proms and parties where youths may be consuming alcohol."
Heffner said city police are also working in conjunction with stores in the Traverse City area to ensure minors are not using fake identification to buy alcohol or having adults buy for them.
Heffner said no citations for minors in possession of alcohol were issued last year during a similar enforcement exercise.
The Story above was in the Traverse City Record Eagle.
When and if I have kids I will not want cops being the ones keeping an eye on them at a school event. That would be my job as a parent, not the states, not my governments. Have we hired the police to act as babysittes when we don't want to do it? We want the police to be the ones that are rearing our children? We send the police in there to spy on our kids, to see what they are doing, what they are saying while we are not around. Are we so paranoid that we need to have agents, the same people that decided a guy who bought a pair of their pants at a thrift store needed to give up, watching our children? Spys intermingling within the kids on an evening that is probably awkward enough as it is, all this pressure to make this night significant some how, but then to have cops hiding in your midst. What does that teach them? Go have fun, but we are watching you? If you were 17 would you even want to go to an event that had "plainsclothes officers to enforce underage drinking" wandering around the event? I think that I would be finding some friends and heading out to some beach somewhere and having a fire and enjoying that, knowing that most of the cops are hanging around the prom.
I wonder how many kids go to the prom?
By IAN C. STOREY
Record-Eagle staff writer
TRAVERSE CITY - High school students aren't the only ones gearing up for prom season, as city officers are dusting off their plain-clothes to patrol area proms and parties in an attempt to prevent underage drinking.
Traverse City police Sgt. Brian Heffner said a Michigan Office of Highway Safety Planning grant meant to deter underage drinking will be used to add patrols for area proms and graduation parties.
Traverse City Central High School's prom is tonight, while West Senior High's soiree is scheduled for next weekend.
"We will have our normal patrols out, but in addition there will be plainclothes officers to enforce underage drinking laws," said Heffner. "Now that it is prom season, graduation and senior party time, we will have officers working in and around those proms and parties where youths may be consuming alcohol."
Heffner said city police are also working in conjunction with stores in the Traverse City area to ensure minors are not using fake identification to buy alcohol or having adults buy for them.
Heffner said no citations for minors in possession of alcohol were issued last year during a similar enforcement exercise.
The Story above was in the Traverse City Record Eagle.
When and if I have kids I will not want cops being the ones keeping an eye on them at a school event. That would be my job as a parent, not the states, not my governments. Have we hired the police to act as babysittes when we don't want to do it? We want the police to be the ones that are rearing our children? We send the police in there to spy on our kids, to see what they are doing, what they are saying while we are not around. Are we so paranoid that we need to have agents, the same people that decided a guy who bought a pair of their pants at a thrift store needed to give up, watching our children? Spys intermingling within the kids on an evening that is probably awkward enough as it is, all this pressure to make this night significant some how, but then to have cops hiding in your midst. What does that teach them? Go have fun, but we are watching you? If you were 17 would you even want to go to an event that had "plainsclothes officers to enforce underage drinking" wandering around the event? I think that I would be finding some friends and heading out to some beach somewhere and having a fire and enjoying that, knowing that most of the cops are hanging around the prom.
I wonder how many kids go to the prom?
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Update
I have not been keeping up. In the last two weeks I've seen Elton John, Sleeping Bear national Lakeshore, Shellac, and new place that I'm staying, snow fall, The loud crappy Pony's, and Colin Powell. It has been a trip. I broke down on Thursday, after moving and cleaning my old apartment and had to come sleep at Sandy's place in the afternoon. I crashed hard for a couple of hours and felt great. This is the week of rock. Five shows in 6 nights, can I do it? New Order, Wilco, and Built to Spill, it will be a test. To top it off there is Mothers day coming up as well and the final leg of my journey down this way, a month in Vegas, the month of June.
This is what I do, and now is not the time to get soft, stay frosty, stay sharp, I'm keeping my eye on the prize: July and August in Washburn! What a sweet payoff. Everyone is welcome.
This is what I do, and now is not the time to get soft, stay frosty, stay sharp, I'm keeping my eye on the prize: July and August in Washburn! What a sweet payoff. Everyone is welcome.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Inside
I am inside all day, in the bowels of the Arie Crown theater, working on McDonald's 50th aniversary party. Should be a fun show. This week I am directing a bunch of PA's around, they are all good people and it is fun to have them around. they go and do a lot shopping, office supplies mostly.
I'm pretty tired, but I hate not to post something.
I'm pretty tired, but I hate not to post something.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Crazy Week
Here I am again in my little coffee shop gleaning out my thoughts. It has been an interesting week. Jeff came down and we saw Bob Dylan twice, great, I love seeing him, it may be my favorite thing to do right now. He played some favorites: Mississippi, and some other things from Love and Theft, (get that record if you don't have it), and then he did "I believe in you", which sounded like a love song to me, but thinking about it, for whatever reason probably this was for the Pope, who died the next day. I read a biography of him and there was a picture of him and the pope, Bob all looking up to him, looking very humble. Ben Schneider and I are going up to see him in Milwuakee this weekend, free tix.
I went on my first internet date, I don't know if that is for me, I don't know what kind of dating is for me at all, but this was weird. I knew within the first 30 seconds that I would not want to date this person, but I went to the movies, and then we went our seperate ways, I was honest and said I didn't feel a connection, and she didn't look to upset, so it was harmless that way. She was the first one to write me back on my profile, so maybe that is not the way to go. It's all in good fun and that is the attitude I will contiune with.
Last night I went and saw a band called Tributasaurus who cover a different band every month. They did Tom Petty this month, it was good.
I'll have a more concrete poting next time, I just like to put something up here.
I went on my first internet date, I don't know if that is for me, I don't know what kind of dating is for me at all, but this was weird. I knew within the first 30 seconds that I would not want to date this person, but I went to the movies, and then we went our seperate ways, I was honest and said I didn't feel a connection, and she didn't look to upset, so it was harmless that way. She was the first one to write me back on my profile, so maybe that is not the way to go. It's all in good fun and that is the attitude I will contiune with.
Last night I went and saw a band called Tributasaurus who cover a different band every month. They did Tom Petty this month, it was good.
I'll have a more concrete poting next time, I just like to put something up here.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Yellow Bellied Sap Sucker
There was a yellow bellied sap sucker on the sidewalk on my way home from work yesterday, just lying there on the sidewalk. It was pretty sad for me, this beautiful looking bird dead with not a tree in sight for it to wrap on. I spread the wings out and it had white polka dots all over, and it had a red head and throat. It's breast was yellowey, hence their name I guess. How did it get here? It was on Milwaukee south of Grand, where that Pickens moving place is, a pretty urban spot. Was it overwhelmed by all the city around it? Poisin? Bird Flu? Who knows. I moved it to a spot under a bush. It was very light, I guess it would have to be to fly.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
President Bush, Red Lake, Schiavo
President Bush has spent much more time addressing the issue of Terri Schiavo than about what happened at the Red Lake Reservation. From what I have heard President Bush has not said a word about the violence there or at any reservation, yet this family was able to bring congress out of recess.
Nothing agianst Terri Schiavo, but shouldn't Red Lake have been a greater priority that this poor woman?
Nothing agianst Terri Schiavo, but shouldn't Red Lake have been a greater priority that this poor woman?
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Baby Gap
It’s Saturday morning and I have started a ritual of coming down to this coffee shop a little way from the place that I am staying and trying to write. It’s a nice spot, I like having a place to go and I can get on the internets and read other people blogs. It has been weird being down here, I have found a new pattern a new way of living life and I like it. I have started rising early and doing stuff around the house before my walk to work. I don’t have the internets at home so I am reading a lot more which is satisfying. I’m working on becoming a civil war buff, which involves a lot of reading, CNN didn’t cover that war, it had to be sketched.
The first few days in the new place I tried to ride the bus to work but the busses didn’t really show up so I started walking the entire way. It takes about half an hour and is a great way to start the day. The city feels like it hasn’t swept up yet from winter, there is still dirt everywhere and all the garbage that ends up blowing into every corner and gutter. A little note to dog owners: you have the dog, pick up the shit. I see more dog shit in my half hour walk than I want to in a lifetime. If I ever see any of you walking away from your pile I swear I will look at you harshly and may even shake my head.
My walking compulsion took me even further yesterday as I went in search of a gift for my cousin’s twins that were born a few weeks ago. I walked up Halsted, doing the look behind for the bus the whole way, only to see it blow past me as I was in the middle of the block and I didn’t want to make the run, so I kept walking. I was on my way to the baby gap, a place I had never been before, but was told had what I needed for a baby visit. BG is in the middle of the CrateandBarrellBordersBedBathandBeyondContainerStoreAmericanEagle vortex that clogs up North Avenue for miles. Maybe because it was a full moon, in fact probably because it was a full moon I entered this area feeling like a complete stranger entering a world of commerce and trade that made me feel insignificant and unprepared. I don’t know if was the way that I saw so many of these products as a feeble attempt to purchase some identity that everyone could take back to their condos and reveal in them what they were to others that came by and judged who they were by what they brought home from this vortex, or I was jealous that lacked the where with all, the planning, the gumption to go out an achieve status so that I too could get the soft green grill for my new condo in the Ukrainian Village. As Bill Hicks would say I was in a mood. I don’t know if it was how in the last three weeks I have gone from the icy shores of Lake Superior, to standing before Martin Luther King, Jrs. Tomb, to getting pushed by a police horse now into this center of commerce that to me was such a hollow place, this place where I saw so many of my peers, struggling around determining patterns and purchasing item.
Entering the Baby Gap I was in a sea of color and I knew I needed a minute to just sort of adjust, get the microphones out of my ears, (something that I purchased to raise my street cred, increasing the contradiction of this entire rant), I did not have a minute I had 17 seconds when I was greeted. My mood although somber, agitated was not inclined to rudeness and I was polite, I even try to be chipper to spread a little friendliness in this fluorescent purgatory.
It is worth saying that no one was mean to me, no one looked at me funny, I hadn’t been cut off in the parking lot, in fact no one had even talked to me or even regarded my existence, which maybe was where this feeling was coming from. This feeling was not hateful, not angry, it was a little sad, but more than anything I think I was disappointed in this, and in what I was a part of. Here we are, all of us, us people on this planet and what do I get? Stuff.
The Baby Gap went well, although the people that work there, although attractive come across as robots who have not interest in who I am and what I am doing there. They wanted to know how many boxes I wanted and if I needed a gift receipt. I was excited to tell them that my cousin had had twins and that they already had two great kids and what was it going to be like having all of these little people around on Christmas, and I was going to see them for the first time tomorrow, what did she think of these clothes that I was buying them.
I signed the chit and got my thank you and walked out, with gifts that I was excited to give new family members, I’m sure that they will look cute, I don’t know if I will ever see them in them, but who knows, maybe. The socks had a cowboy and anchors on them. I stuck my status symbols back into my ears and listened to the band GBH, and some Steve Earl on my way to Borders to find something form Ben and Maggie, the older sister and brother of this clan, kids that I liked and would be excited to see them. I was confused as to what I was going to be to these kids, the odd uncle type figure who had hair that was a little longer and didn’t have partner, a positive influence I hope. I guess since I wrote those things down that is how I see myself, and I must be wonder something about identity to have to think how children see me. I have started seeing a psychiatrist and it has been a pretty positive experience, so pardon the self-evaluation. Art is Therapy, Therapy is Art.
Borders provided some wonderful items for my consumption, a store for me in this vortex, a place that I could identify with and feel comfortable in. I found the kid’s section after a cd in my bag announced my arrival to the store. The alarm went off and I stood and waited until a Borders official came and “deactivated” my bag allowing me complete access to the store. In the kids section I found a couple of classics for Ben and Maggie. Go Dog Go, and the Little Seed. Shopping for kids is not only shopping for kids but for the parents and you never know if you are going to score on all four accounts. Something in this relationship always makes me nervous, something for another session with my doctor, probably not for these pages.
I got into the line at the borders and traveled to the next available cashier, setting down my selections.
“Did you find everything okay” my cashier started.
“Oh yeah” I returned, enjoying a conversation.
“Are you a member of our children’s book club?”
“Ahhh, no”
“Do you buy a lot of kids books, debit or credit?”
“No, debit”, I could answer honestly.
“Do you want to sign up?”
“No thank you”, knowing that not doing so I was somehow throwing money down the toilet.
“Are you interested in becoming a Borders member”?
“No”
“I just need you to sign this please.”
I signed.
“Thanks have a great day”
“Do you ever get tired of trying to sell me stuff instead of having a real conversation with me?” I asked grabbing my bag.
“No”, she answered, “I feel strongly about these promotions about my customers.”
“Thank you.”
I was able to catch a bus home; it ended my walking for the day. I got to get to Naperville to deliver these gifts and see the twins.
The first few days in the new place I tried to ride the bus to work but the busses didn’t really show up so I started walking the entire way. It takes about half an hour and is a great way to start the day. The city feels like it hasn’t swept up yet from winter, there is still dirt everywhere and all the garbage that ends up blowing into every corner and gutter. A little note to dog owners: you have the dog, pick up the shit. I see more dog shit in my half hour walk than I want to in a lifetime. If I ever see any of you walking away from your pile I swear I will look at you harshly and may even shake my head.
My walking compulsion took me even further yesterday as I went in search of a gift for my cousin’s twins that were born a few weeks ago. I walked up Halsted, doing the look behind for the bus the whole way, only to see it blow past me as I was in the middle of the block and I didn’t want to make the run, so I kept walking. I was on my way to the baby gap, a place I had never been before, but was told had what I needed for a baby visit. BG is in the middle of the CrateandBarrellBordersBedBathandBeyondContainerStoreAmericanEagle vortex that clogs up North Avenue for miles. Maybe because it was a full moon, in fact probably because it was a full moon I entered this area feeling like a complete stranger entering a world of commerce and trade that made me feel insignificant and unprepared. I don’t know if was the way that I saw so many of these products as a feeble attempt to purchase some identity that everyone could take back to their condos and reveal in them what they were to others that came by and judged who they were by what they brought home from this vortex, or I was jealous that lacked the where with all, the planning, the gumption to go out an achieve status so that I too could get the soft green grill for my new condo in the Ukrainian Village. As Bill Hicks would say I was in a mood. I don’t know if it was how in the last three weeks I have gone from the icy shores of Lake Superior, to standing before Martin Luther King, Jrs. Tomb, to getting pushed by a police horse now into this center of commerce that to me was such a hollow place, this place where I saw so many of my peers, struggling around determining patterns and purchasing item.
Entering the Baby Gap I was in a sea of color and I knew I needed a minute to just sort of adjust, get the microphones out of my ears, (something that I purchased to raise my street cred, increasing the contradiction of this entire rant), I did not have a minute I had 17 seconds when I was greeted. My mood although somber, agitated was not inclined to rudeness and I was polite, I even try to be chipper to spread a little friendliness in this fluorescent purgatory.
It is worth saying that no one was mean to me, no one looked at me funny, I hadn’t been cut off in the parking lot, in fact no one had even talked to me or even regarded my existence, which maybe was where this feeling was coming from. This feeling was not hateful, not angry, it was a little sad, but more than anything I think I was disappointed in this, and in what I was a part of. Here we are, all of us, us people on this planet and what do I get? Stuff.
The Baby Gap went well, although the people that work there, although attractive come across as robots who have not interest in who I am and what I am doing there. They wanted to know how many boxes I wanted and if I needed a gift receipt. I was excited to tell them that my cousin had had twins and that they already had two great kids and what was it going to be like having all of these little people around on Christmas, and I was going to see them for the first time tomorrow, what did she think of these clothes that I was buying them.
I signed the chit and got my thank you and walked out, with gifts that I was excited to give new family members, I’m sure that they will look cute, I don’t know if I will ever see them in them, but who knows, maybe. The socks had a cowboy and anchors on them. I stuck my status symbols back into my ears and listened to the band GBH, and some Steve Earl on my way to Borders to find something form Ben and Maggie, the older sister and brother of this clan, kids that I liked and would be excited to see them. I was confused as to what I was going to be to these kids, the odd uncle type figure who had hair that was a little longer and didn’t have partner, a positive influence I hope. I guess since I wrote those things down that is how I see myself, and I must be wonder something about identity to have to think how children see me. I have started seeing a psychiatrist and it has been a pretty positive experience, so pardon the self-evaluation. Art is Therapy, Therapy is Art.
Borders provided some wonderful items for my consumption, a store for me in this vortex, a place that I could identify with and feel comfortable in. I found the kid’s section after a cd in my bag announced my arrival to the store. The alarm went off and I stood and waited until a Borders official came and “deactivated” my bag allowing me complete access to the store. In the kids section I found a couple of classics for Ben and Maggie. Go Dog Go, and the Little Seed. Shopping for kids is not only shopping for kids but for the parents and you never know if you are going to score on all four accounts. Something in this relationship always makes me nervous, something for another session with my doctor, probably not for these pages.
I got into the line at the borders and traveled to the next available cashier, setting down my selections.
“Did you find everything okay” my cashier started.
“Oh yeah” I returned, enjoying a conversation.
“Are you a member of our children’s book club?”
“Ahhh, no”
“Do you buy a lot of kids books, debit or credit?”
“No, debit”, I could answer honestly.
“Do you want to sign up?”
“No thank you”, knowing that not doing so I was somehow throwing money down the toilet.
“Are you interested in becoming a Borders member”?
“No”
“I just need you to sign this please.”
I signed.
“Thanks have a great day”
“Do you ever get tired of trying to sell me stuff instead of having a real conversation with me?” I asked grabbing my bag.
“No”, she answered, “I feel strongly about these promotions about my customers.”
“Thank you.”
I was able to catch a bus home; it ended my walking for the day. I got to get to Naperville to deliver these gifts and see the twins.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Computer Concert
Okay this is the second time this has happened. I go to a “concert”, a
“show”, and the “band”, is a guy with a laptop sitting at a card table playing songs off of his computer. This is not a show, this is a guy playing music off of his computer. If I want to hear this, please e-mail it to me. What joy is there in watching a guy on his computer? I can do that in a coffee shop any were for free. The only way that this would be exciting to me is if I could see what was happening on the screen, like in a cooking show, we need the mirror to look down. What could be going on that makes us call this a show?
“What instrument do you play?”
“Power Book”.
Please.
There should be a sign in front of the place and a Surgeon Generals type warning on my ticket:
“Tonight’s music will be coming from a computer, there will a guy, who will bob his head occasionally, sitting at a card table looking at a computer screen.”
People cheered at the end of the song, and I don’t know why. For what? Putting something on the server? Forwarding an e-mail? I guess if you did play the computer you can’t really e-mail a song over as a demo because they may play it and then where does that leave you?
The only place that I think this should be allowed is in coffee shops, that would be cool, but opening up for a rock band is not. Put it on the server, I’ll download it if I want to.
“show”, and the “band”, is a guy with a laptop sitting at a card table playing songs off of his computer. This is not a show, this is a guy playing music off of his computer. If I want to hear this, please e-mail it to me. What joy is there in watching a guy on his computer? I can do that in a coffee shop any were for free. The only way that this would be exciting to me is if I could see what was happening on the screen, like in a cooking show, we need the mirror to look down. What could be going on that makes us call this a show?
“What instrument do you play?”
“Power Book”.
Please.
There should be a sign in front of the place and a Surgeon Generals type warning on my ticket:
“Tonight’s music will be coming from a computer, there will a guy, who will bob his head occasionally, sitting at a card table looking at a computer screen.”
People cheered at the end of the song, and I don’t know why. For what? Putting something on the server? Forwarding an e-mail? I guess if you did play the computer you can’t really e-mail a song over as a demo because they may play it and then where does that leave you?
The only place that I think this should be allowed is in coffee shops, that would be cool, but opening up for a rock band is not. Put it on the server, I’ll download it if I want to.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Two Years
The side of the policeman’s horse was pushing me and I didn’t know why. I was in the street, walking with a bunch of other people and when we got to a spot, the designated protest area, we were herded in, literally. The thousand cops that were there, (I’m not really exaggerating) moved us into this spot and they used the horses to do the pushing. No asking us to move in, not a please, not a thank you, but having a horse push me into the spot. The option of going around the horse was to walk into the arms of a police man who was covered from head to toe like a baseball catcher, and he was carrying a bat. The line of people who were together to recognize the second year of armed conflict in Iraq were ringed with these cops and followed by a fleet of paddy wagons and buses used to carry prisoners. Now I wasn’t sure why I was down in Chicago, my feelings of this war are that we went there on a lie and we are torturing and killing people. If you asked anyone down in the middle of this protest, or march or whatever you want to call it, you would hear a bunch of different answers, but the only thing that united us was the way we were herded by the Chicago Police Department. It was pretty amazing, and it made me angry, not at the war but at whoever decided it was a good idea for a horse to push me out of the street.
I saw people I knew, I saw more people that I didn’t and I saw a lot of people talking about whatever, all while whoever was on stage was trying to address the crowd with a sound system that didn’t reach further than twenty feet from the stage. There was a woman up on the stage telling people about her brother who had been killed in Afghanistan, which would have been nice to hear but you couldn’t. In the rear of the crowd there were a bunch of people showing their political dissent by drumming on empty plastic buckets while the speakers were doing their thing. Another guy did nothing but hacky-sac for about four hours, he probably still is as far as I know. I heard one girl say to another: “That guys sign is so stupid”.
There were young people who had their faces covered with black masks, there were couples with kids in strollers, there were old guys in berets, bunches of signs that defamed President Bush in so many ways, there were people putting down the member of congress who spoke, a woman from Georgia who had voted against the war, calling her a capitalist or something like that. This person was from the socialists I think, some group of complete assholes who are against everything as far as I can tell except maybe the color black. The congresswoman from Georgia was worth the walk downtown. She suggested that the billion dollars spent on military recruitment in this country should go right to the Department of Education. Made sense to me, I clapped. It was hard to hear everything that was said because there were all these people passing out fliers, trying to interview people, or taking a survey. A quarter of the crowd was paying attention to what was being said on stage, the rest were trying to out hate Bush with each other. I liked the woman from Georgia, I’m glad she was in office and it was too bad more people didn’t listen to her, or couldn’t listen to her. She brought up the woman who was in Farenheit 9/11 who’s son was killed in Iraq. I saw that movie and it was inspiring to see this woman, who I didn’t recognize right away walking the walk. It was also neat to see this overweight, normal looking person get up and speak eloquently and simply about her dislike for the policies of our nation at this time. She made it real and reminded me that I too did not think that this violent action in Iraq was a good use of our resources and people. Too bad the people playing drums in the back didn’t hear her.
The speakers went down hill from there. A woman from Iran came up and screamed in the microphone for about twenty minutes, twice as long as the congresswoman about the CIA and how we were going to invade her country next. Then a guy got up and talked about Venezuala, then a lady got up and talked about how shitty the cops were and called them pigs and that we should fight them. I didn’t think that was so bright, and I bet the people with there babies did either, but most people had left by this time and I had started walking around. I am an anti-violent person and I wasn’t comfortable with this woman trying to incite some violence, I left the area where people were listening to her and started picking up all the trash that was now littering federal plaza.
The inconsistencies of the message of this gathering was staggering, I don’t know what the common message was, but I guess we were pro litter. After a few handfuls of this I went across the street to where the group protest warrior was set up. They are like little stormtroopers sucking on Rush Limbuaghs teet, ready to gobble up everything that he and his cronies at Fox News cough up. They were a bunch of kids, early to mid twenties who seemed to love to get peoples goat. One of the guys kept going on about the number oneness of the United States, which was okay I guess but I don’t know how he got his ranking. A guy engaged me, handing me paper telling me that the call for a draft was a farce and that President Clinton had attacked Serbia, and where were the protestors then?
A group of the black clad socialists went by chanting something and a woman with a mega phone pointed at the sky shouted something at them. It reminded me of a high school basketball game, when two different schools clash. The two sides engaged and then about 75 bored cops covered from head to toe with padding went to break them apart.
I didn’t see anyone I knew, things were wrapping up, so I left, stopping to watch an old policeman with a lot of gold stripes and insignia on his uniform talk in front of a bunch of news cameras.
As I walked I wondered what the purpose of this day was and was it time well spent? After two blocks I was just another person, not a protestor, just a person walking, shopping the streets of Chicago. I could stand in the road no problem and not get pushed by a horse, I might get hit by a car, but not pushed by a horse. I wasn’t going to get yelled at by a protest warrior, I could just do my thing. What was the purpose of this get together? How could it be made better?
I reflected on my recent trip to Atlanta and thought about standing in front of Martin Luther King Jr.s tomb and how the movement that he helped lead had worked long and hard to achieve a goal, a reality that could be seen and one that thousands of people not only got behind but went out and sacrificed for. What is the goal of this peace, anti war, anti Bush movement? Drumming? Face-paint? Hacky sac? Right now I see it as a social movement, as a refuge for the odd and starry eyed, I don’t see much intellectualizing about world politics, not in this venue anyway. What I did see was what an organized movement of any kind would face on the streets of Chicago. Tons of muscle who have technique, training and strategy, something that this movement is entirely lacking.
I saw people I knew, I saw more people that I didn’t and I saw a lot of people talking about whatever, all while whoever was on stage was trying to address the crowd with a sound system that didn’t reach further than twenty feet from the stage. There was a woman up on the stage telling people about her brother who had been killed in Afghanistan, which would have been nice to hear but you couldn’t. In the rear of the crowd there were a bunch of people showing their political dissent by drumming on empty plastic buckets while the speakers were doing their thing. Another guy did nothing but hacky-sac for about four hours, he probably still is as far as I know. I heard one girl say to another: “That guys sign is so stupid”.
There were young people who had their faces covered with black masks, there were couples with kids in strollers, there were old guys in berets, bunches of signs that defamed President Bush in so many ways, there were people putting down the member of congress who spoke, a woman from Georgia who had voted against the war, calling her a capitalist or something like that. This person was from the socialists I think, some group of complete assholes who are against everything as far as I can tell except maybe the color black. The congresswoman from Georgia was worth the walk downtown. She suggested that the billion dollars spent on military recruitment in this country should go right to the Department of Education. Made sense to me, I clapped. It was hard to hear everything that was said because there were all these people passing out fliers, trying to interview people, or taking a survey. A quarter of the crowd was paying attention to what was being said on stage, the rest were trying to out hate Bush with each other. I liked the woman from Georgia, I’m glad she was in office and it was too bad more people didn’t listen to her, or couldn’t listen to her. She brought up the woman who was in Farenheit 9/11 who’s son was killed in Iraq. I saw that movie and it was inspiring to see this woman, who I didn’t recognize right away walking the walk. It was also neat to see this overweight, normal looking person get up and speak eloquently and simply about her dislike for the policies of our nation at this time. She made it real and reminded me that I too did not think that this violent action in Iraq was a good use of our resources and people. Too bad the people playing drums in the back didn’t hear her.
The speakers went down hill from there. A woman from Iran came up and screamed in the microphone for about twenty minutes, twice as long as the congresswoman about the CIA and how we were going to invade her country next. Then a guy got up and talked about Venezuala, then a lady got up and talked about how shitty the cops were and called them pigs and that we should fight them. I didn’t think that was so bright, and I bet the people with there babies did either, but most people had left by this time and I had started walking around. I am an anti-violent person and I wasn’t comfortable with this woman trying to incite some violence, I left the area where people were listening to her and started picking up all the trash that was now littering federal plaza.
The inconsistencies of the message of this gathering was staggering, I don’t know what the common message was, but I guess we were pro litter. After a few handfuls of this I went across the street to where the group protest warrior was set up. They are like little stormtroopers sucking on Rush Limbuaghs teet, ready to gobble up everything that he and his cronies at Fox News cough up. They were a bunch of kids, early to mid twenties who seemed to love to get peoples goat. One of the guys kept going on about the number oneness of the United States, which was okay I guess but I don’t know how he got his ranking. A guy engaged me, handing me paper telling me that the call for a draft was a farce and that President Clinton had attacked Serbia, and where were the protestors then?
A group of the black clad socialists went by chanting something and a woman with a mega phone pointed at the sky shouted something at them. It reminded me of a high school basketball game, when two different schools clash. The two sides engaged and then about 75 bored cops covered from head to toe with padding went to break them apart.
I didn’t see anyone I knew, things were wrapping up, so I left, stopping to watch an old policeman with a lot of gold stripes and insignia on his uniform talk in front of a bunch of news cameras.
As I walked I wondered what the purpose of this day was and was it time well spent? After two blocks I was just another person, not a protestor, just a person walking, shopping the streets of Chicago. I could stand in the road no problem and not get pushed by a horse, I might get hit by a car, but not pushed by a horse. I wasn’t going to get yelled at by a protest warrior, I could just do my thing. What was the purpose of this get together? How could it be made better?
I reflected on my recent trip to Atlanta and thought about standing in front of Martin Luther King Jr.s tomb and how the movement that he helped lead had worked long and hard to achieve a goal, a reality that could be seen and one that thousands of people not only got behind but went out and sacrificed for. What is the goal of this peace, anti war, anti Bush movement? Drumming? Face-paint? Hacky sac? Right now I see it as a social movement, as a refuge for the odd and starry eyed, I don’t see much intellectualizing about world politics, not in this venue anyway. What I did see was what an organized movement of any kind would face on the streets of Chicago. Tons of muscle who have technique, training and strategy, something that this movement is entirely lacking.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
MLK
I forgot that Martin Luther King Jr. started his life in Atlanta, but I drove by a sign to the visitors center while driving aroudn down here. Today my cousins and I went and checked it out. If you get a chance, go, it is pretty cool.
Non-violence, not a political concept that we think of too much these days around here, direct action, taking it to the man, a self righteous way to go. How did he put it? Not the actions of a coward, or something like that. It was great to see all the displays about how this group of people decided enough was enough and it was time for them to make a change and stop being stepped on. What could be cooler? Now how do apply this concept so that there is freedom to our friends and families who want to get married but can't because they want to do it with someone of the same sex? If that is a threat to the institution of marriage, then not allowing it a threat to freedom? Does one institution or belief have more weight than another? In a nation that covets freedom I would say that yes, freedom trumps marriage. Now as the religious institutions in this country are the ones that are declaring a restriction of our freedoms is it time to take the facts and engage the churches? They are the ones declaring this against the wishes of God, who suddenly is helping to rule this nation. I don't remember voting for this entity last November, so now is the time to engage those who are using this ficticious being as a tool to stop the freedoms of my friends and family, or all of our friends and families and make them stand up and say, yes this being says you cannot be with this person.
The lessons in social change that Dr. King shared with us can be applied to this struggle and it can be won. I saw that today as I stood before his tomb, down the street from his old house, in the text written in the building dedicated to his legacy. Freedom isn't free and my visit to this shrine today showed me the price tag.
Non-violence, not a political concept that we think of too much these days around here, direct action, taking it to the man, a self righteous way to go. How did he put it? Not the actions of a coward, or something like that. It was great to see all the displays about how this group of people decided enough was enough and it was time for them to make a change and stop being stepped on. What could be cooler? Now how do apply this concept so that there is freedom to our friends and families who want to get married but can't because they want to do it with someone of the same sex? If that is a threat to the institution of marriage, then not allowing it a threat to freedom? Does one institution or belief have more weight than another? In a nation that covets freedom I would say that yes, freedom trumps marriage. Now as the religious institutions in this country are the ones that are declaring a restriction of our freedoms is it time to take the facts and engage the churches? They are the ones declaring this against the wishes of God, who suddenly is helping to rule this nation. I don't remember voting for this entity last November, so now is the time to engage those who are using this ficticious being as a tool to stop the freedoms of my friends and family, or all of our friends and families and make them stand up and say, yes this being says you cannot be with this person.
The lessons in social change that Dr. King shared with us can be applied to this struggle and it can be won. I saw that today as I stood before his tomb, down the street from his old house, in the text written in the building dedicated to his legacy. Freedom isn't free and my visit to this shrine today showed me the price tag.
Friday, March 11, 2005
SEC - Atlanta
There is a basketball tournament happening around here in Atlanta this week so there are all these vehicles referring to Kentucky and Arkansas, I'm in the South by gosh. The hotel is now full of round ball fans instead of the drug reps who are about the most perfect looking group that I have ever seen. They appear to be right out of the greek system into the rep world. Perfect suits and teeth, I was suprised that the gym wasn't more crowded last night. There was one guy in there who threw his nalgene bottle down after he strutted to each machine that he used. Not being a weightlifter, or whatever you call it when you use those machines, I don't know if that is what you are supposed to do, strut to a machine, look at it for a while, then do a quick few reps, then feel your muscle and then sit down, stretch out a little, (definitely move your head around, get the neck), then strut to another machine and repeat. Is that the workout? I just ride the stupid bike so I don't know. I mean iIget sweaty, it's kind of hard to walk after a while, but should I be strutting more? Do I need to throw my towel around?
Any help with this would be great, I want to look good in my swimsuit this summer.
There are a bunch of pan handlers here in downtown Atlanta, I mean more than I have seen since Jamaica, everywhere. The climate won't kill you this time of year down here, so it makes some sense. It is a nice downtown, you can tell that the Olympics had been here, it has the same feel that Salt Lake City had when I was there in 2004, (Toreno 2006, is that a year away?). The only truly odd thing about Atlanta is that every other street is named Peachtree and I am not kidding. That is so asinine it almost negates all the positives about this city. If you want to look like an idiot please name all the streets the same thing in your city. I will get to explore some more of this southern gem this weekend, and will report.
Any help with this would be great, I want to look good in my swimsuit this summer.
There are a bunch of pan handlers here in downtown Atlanta, I mean more than I have seen since Jamaica, everywhere. The climate won't kill you this time of year down here, so it makes some sense. It is a nice downtown, you can tell that the Olympics had been here, it has the same feel that Salt Lake City had when I was there in 2004, (Toreno 2006, is that a year away?). The only truly odd thing about Atlanta is that every other street is named Peachtree and I am not kidding. That is so asinine it almost negates all the positives about this city. If you want to look like an idiot please name all the streets the same thing in your city. I will get to explore some more of this southern gem this weekend, and will report.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Blog-Fight
When I was in 6th grade Chum Skira and I were the only ones in the contest to see how many book reviews we could do to win the "prize". We went back and forth, remembering what books we had read and scribbling down whatever we could to show we read the book. We weren't writing for quality, just quantity. Mr. Risk let this go on for a little while and then I think Chum and I reached a decsion that we would just tie so that he would have to give both of us a bookmark with a half dollar taped on it.
Mary and I are having a little contest now, a blog fight, but we haven't figured out the rules. Mary you just wrote me that we should have a point system for comments. Good idea, but what Chum and I fugured out is that they can't be our comments, we should do it by other peoples words, so I guess we'll have to recruit people to read out blogs. What do you think?
Mr. Risk used to carry around a old silver dollar and would tap it on a desk, I think even on your head, to get attention when things were kind of loud. It stood for 100% of our attention which he wanted, so that is where the half dollar comes in.
When I bought my house last month I took the silver cross pen that Mr. Risk had given me when i graduated from high school to sign all the stuff. I don't use that pen all that much, but I was glad to have it for this. How nice that he came to my Graduation party and gave this thing to me.
So Mary, yes let's try and get some people to read this stuff, and get some comments.
Maybe team Rohlf is the place to start.
Mary and I are having a little contest now, a blog fight, but we haven't figured out the rules. Mary you just wrote me that we should have a point system for comments. Good idea, but what Chum and I fugured out is that they can't be our comments, we should do it by other peoples words, so I guess we'll have to recruit people to read out blogs. What do you think?
Mr. Risk used to carry around a old silver dollar and would tap it on a desk, I think even on your head, to get attention when things were kind of loud. It stood for 100% of our attention which he wanted, so that is where the half dollar comes in.
When I bought my house last month I took the silver cross pen that Mr. Risk had given me when i graduated from high school to sign all the stuff. I don't use that pen all that much, but I was glad to have it for this. How nice that he came to my Graduation party and gave this thing to me.
So Mary, yes let's try and get some people to read this stuff, and get some comments.
Maybe team Rohlf is the place to start.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
March, so far.
I didn’t bring a journal on this trip, I forgot my belt too, but other than that I have everything that I need, a guitar would be nice, but the neighbors appreciate it’s absence. The week was a good one, leaving Washburn with almost a foot of new snow to see me off. Gary my neighbors dad came and blew me out, telling me it was good to have a good neighbor, not really caring for the people who owned the house before me, a little strange he said. I had leftover beers from the housewarming/going away party and left a six pack in the front seat of the mini van.
“I’ll find someone to drink them”, he said. It felt good to give something for the blow out, it would have taken a little while to shovel, I was already delayed. The drive was only a little terrifying, nice and icy. There was a big black pick up on it’s side and a car load of women looking like they were on their way home from a weekend shopping adventure scrambling out of their hatchback as I drove by, one on a cellphone. I felt bad for a second, but what more could I do? I would have blocked up more road and there was no way to stop quickly right there and right then. I drove on, later seeing a semi who went off the freeway, now nestled into the median, un hurt but not coming out of there without help. I drove on, slow, I didn’t want to be in any ditch today and I was sliding a little, that was the terrifying part.
Liz had been in Chicago that weekend, helping Mary getting a dress and we passed each other, waving, each of us with a cell phone in our hand. No time to stop today, each of us ready to get moving. I called my employer on the way down, it sounded like I would work from home, well Ben Schneiders home, and that was okay with me. Luci was back from Europe and down there too, I hadn’t seen her in a few months, a long time for me to think of what had happened and wonder what that reunion would be like, how would it happen? That was tomorrow’s problem, now just get there and not go in the ditch. Stay on the road.
“How are you?”
“Good, where are you?”
“I’m at a vitamin shop, I’m looking for Powell’s Bookstore”
“I’m not far from there, but I need to get to work”
“I think it’s at 825 Wabash”
“Okay, well I’ll call you later”
I hung up and then remembered advice I had been given, go after them, don’t let them just slip away, show that you care. So I forgot about work for a little while and started walking up Wabash, my heart beating and my eyes scanning the street for her. I knew what vitamin store she had been in, I had once had to talk to every business up and down this street for My Best Friends Wedding, there is a scene where Julia and the McDermott guy walk up this street. Central Camera is right there, one of my favorite signs in the city. Nothing yet, I should have a couple more blocks, shouldn’t I be going to work? They don’t know me, it’s my first day, they won’t know. Oh, there she is, did she see me? I hide behind a bush and in 35 seconds I scare the shit out of here,
“What are you doing hiding? You can’t scare people like that.”
“I thought it would be sweet, I wasn’t trying to scare you.”
Later that week I came upon a movie scout and saw a bunch of people that I used to work with. Like a school reunion, but with more teachers than peers. It reminded me of the old career, did I still want it? My blood pressure went up just thinking about it, but of course there were a bunch of good times too. Billy Dambra, I lost his petty cash once, well the driver left it at the hotel and a week later I went and got it. He left me a message about it:
“Where did you put that envelope? I’m about to pop my cork.” I found it, it all worked out, but seeing him reminded me of that moment. Rich Lederer was there, he used to hire me, now Jen Deigl gets those calls and that is fine, I don’t know how much I like that business anymore, but it’s always nice to get the call.
Now I’m in a hotel room in Atlanta, I think I went outside today, it’s warm. I spent all day in a room in the lower part of this place that still has a big Atlanta 1996 Olympic sign in the lobby, which looks like the inside of a whale when you look up. The entire middle is hollow, but the age is starting to show and the $15.00 I spent on a salad and a basket of chips really rubs me the wrong way. I was told that security is tight because of that movie Michael Moore is doing, how can I let him know it is here but not expose myself? Too bad he didn’t give me a job. This weekend I’ll hang with the cousins, maybe see some civil war stuff. Then back to the big windy, my new little sub let, and all the joy of the big city. Three people to play guitar with. It should be a good Spring.
“I’ll find someone to drink them”, he said. It felt good to give something for the blow out, it would have taken a little while to shovel, I was already delayed. The drive was only a little terrifying, nice and icy. There was a big black pick up on it’s side and a car load of women looking like they were on their way home from a weekend shopping adventure scrambling out of their hatchback as I drove by, one on a cellphone. I felt bad for a second, but what more could I do? I would have blocked up more road and there was no way to stop quickly right there and right then. I drove on, later seeing a semi who went off the freeway, now nestled into the median, un hurt but not coming out of there without help. I drove on, slow, I didn’t want to be in any ditch today and I was sliding a little, that was the terrifying part.
Liz had been in Chicago that weekend, helping Mary getting a dress and we passed each other, waving, each of us with a cell phone in our hand. No time to stop today, each of us ready to get moving. I called my employer on the way down, it sounded like I would work from home, well Ben Schneiders home, and that was okay with me. Luci was back from Europe and down there too, I hadn’t seen her in a few months, a long time for me to think of what had happened and wonder what that reunion would be like, how would it happen? That was tomorrow’s problem, now just get there and not go in the ditch. Stay on the road.
“How are you?”
“Good, where are you?”
“I’m at a vitamin shop, I’m looking for Powell’s Bookstore”
“I’m not far from there, but I need to get to work”
“I think it’s at 825 Wabash”
“Okay, well I’ll call you later”
I hung up and then remembered advice I had been given, go after them, don’t let them just slip away, show that you care. So I forgot about work for a little while and started walking up Wabash, my heart beating and my eyes scanning the street for her. I knew what vitamin store she had been in, I had once had to talk to every business up and down this street for My Best Friends Wedding, there is a scene where Julia and the McDermott guy walk up this street. Central Camera is right there, one of my favorite signs in the city. Nothing yet, I should have a couple more blocks, shouldn’t I be going to work? They don’t know me, it’s my first day, they won’t know. Oh, there she is, did she see me? I hide behind a bush and in 35 seconds I scare the shit out of here,
“What are you doing hiding? You can’t scare people like that.”
“I thought it would be sweet, I wasn’t trying to scare you.”
Later that week I came upon a movie scout and saw a bunch of people that I used to work with. Like a school reunion, but with more teachers than peers. It reminded me of the old career, did I still want it? My blood pressure went up just thinking about it, but of course there were a bunch of good times too. Billy Dambra, I lost his petty cash once, well the driver left it at the hotel and a week later I went and got it. He left me a message about it:
“Where did you put that envelope? I’m about to pop my cork.” I found it, it all worked out, but seeing him reminded me of that moment. Rich Lederer was there, he used to hire me, now Jen Deigl gets those calls and that is fine, I don’t know how much I like that business anymore, but it’s always nice to get the call.
Now I’m in a hotel room in Atlanta, I think I went outside today, it’s warm. I spent all day in a room in the lower part of this place that still has a big Atlanta 1996 Olympic sign in the lobby, which looks like the inside of a whale when you look up. The entire middle is hollow, but the age is starting to show and the $15.00 I spent on a salad and a basket of chips really rubs me the wrong way. I was told that security is tight because of that movie Michael Moore is doing, how can I let him know it is here but not expose myself? Too bad he didn’t give me a job. This weekend I’ll hang with the cousins, maybe see some civil war stuff. Then back to the big windy, my new little sub let, and all the joy of the big city. Three people to play guitar with. It should be a good Spring.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Cop Call
Have you ever noticed how when you move somehow the cop fundraiser knows your number so they call and ask for money?
And they act upset when you say no?
How do they know?
Who gives them the number?
Do you think it's the guys on suspension who are making the calls?
Just another think that gets under my skin.
And they act upset when you say no?
How do they know?
Who gives them the number?
Do you think it's the guys on suspension who are making the calls?
Just another think that gets under my skin.
Monday, February 21, 2005
HST
Forty years ago today Malcolm X was killed. Reading his autobiography, or biography by Alex Haley taught me a lot about freedom and what it was to not have it in a country that flaunts it. Two days ago Hunter Thompson took his own life. His books taught me to love my freedom and push it, see how far you can be free and find out who is going to try and stop you. When I think of Thompson I don't think of the decadence but of how he had his own American Dream, one that thought it was okay to blow shit up in your backyard, walk through hotel lobbies in your underwear and drive crazy listening to music real loud. He did these crazy things so that I could write letters to the editor that talked bad about cops riding motorcycles on the sidewalk by my school. He paraded around so that every October I can get together with 200 of my best friends out in the middle of nowhere and have our own little festival if only for a night.
He saw freedom as a joy, and when people tried to take it away from him or others he got pissed and used his words to rally others. I learned more about presidential politics reading Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail, 1972 than from any other source. Read it if you haven't. I never laughed so hard than when reading of picking up hitch hikers, breaking into libraries, and of course hanging out at the Kentucky Derby. The way he described how to pick out the Kentucky elite by looking at their boots for puke because they would never get any on their clothes, but boots were fair game. Or when he was pretending that he was the skier John-Claude Kinney and kids asking him what he was smoking and he told them marijuana, that's what made him ski so fast. So fast, so funny, so much cooler that anyone, not giving a shit about rules, protocol, manners, just live fast and fun.
There was another article about a person being killed in a bar in Los Angeles years ago and the guy picked the case apart, he could research.
Malcolm X was fighting for the freedom that Hunter didn't take for granted and tried to show us how to use it.
I don't know why he did it. Does it matter? I'm sad he is gone, well both of them, but I'm sure I'm not the only one that would have loved one night, one hour with him, just to see how real it was. Now we just have to do it ourselves, which is okay, but it's never as cool when you do what someone else has already done.
Hunter S. Thompson searched for the death of the American dream and I hope he didn't think that it died so he had to as well.
From "Freak Power in the Rockies":
Our program basically, was to drive the real estate goons completely out of the valley: to prevent the State Highway Department from bringing a four-lane highway into the town and in fact to ban all auto traffic from every downtown street. Turn them all into grassy malls where everybody, even freaks, could do whatever's right. The cops would become trash collectors and maintenance men for a fleet of municipal bicycles, for anybody to use. No more huge, space-killing apartment buildings to block the view, from any downtown street, of anybody who might want to look up and see the mountains. No more land-rapes, no more busts for "flute playing" or "blocking the sidewalk"...fuck the tourists, dead-end the highway, zone the greedheads out of existence, and in general create a town where people could live like human beings, instead of slaves to some bogus sense of Progress that is driving us all mad.
Greed heads, freaks, land-rapes. All of these great words,
Malcolm copied the dictionary cover to cover from a jail cell, but he didn't use words like that.
He saw freedom as a joy, and when people tried to take it away from him or others he got pissed and used his words to rally others. I learned more about presidential politics reading Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail, 1972 than from any other source. Read it if you haven't. I never laughed so hard than when reading of picking up hitch hikers, breaking into libraries, and of course hanging out at the Kentucky Derby. The way he described how to pick out the Kentucky elite by looking at their boots for puke because they would never get any on their clothes, but boots were fair game. Or when he was pretending that he was the skier John-Claude Kinney and kids asking him what he was smoking and he told them marijuana, that's what made him ski so fast. So fast, so funny, so much cooler that anyone, not giving a shit about rules, protocol, manners, just live fast and fun.
There was another article about a person being killed in a bar in Los Angeles years ago and the guy picked the case apart, he could research.
Malcolm X was fighting for the freedom that Hunter didn't take for granted and tried to show us how to use it.
I don't know why he did it. Does it matter? I'm sad he is gone, well both of them, but I'm sure I'm not the only one that would have loved one night, one hour with him, just to see how real it was. Now we just have to do it ourselves, which is okay, but it's never as cool when you do what someone else has already done.
Hunter S. Thompson searched for the death of the American dream and I hope he didn't think that it died so he had to as well.
From "Freak Power in the Rockies":
Our program basically, was to drive the real estate goons completely out of the valley: to prevent the State Highway Department from bringing a four-lane highway into the town and in fact to ban all auto traffic from every downtown street. Turn them all into grassy malls where everybody, even freaks, could do whatever's right. The cops would become trash collectors and maintenance men for a fleet of municipal bicycles, for anybody to use. No more huge, space-killing apartment buildings to block the view, from any downtown street, of anybody who might want to look up and see the mountains. No more land-rapes, no more busts for "flute playing" or "blocking the sidewalk"...fuck the tourists, dead-end the highway, zone the greedheads out of existence, and in general create a town where people could live like human beings, instead of slaves to some bogus sense of Progress that is driving us all mad.
Greed heads, freaks, land-rapes. All of these great words,
Malcolm copied the dictionary cover to cover from a jail cell, but he didn't use words like that.
100 Club
Jenny Rogers
Andy Okey
Brad Scrivner
Jeff Kriner
Sara Wroblewski
50's
Karen Hollis
Eric Iverson
Leo and Teresa
Andy Okey
Brad Scrivner
Jeff Kriner
Sara Wroblewski
50's
Karen Hollis
Eric Iverson
Leo and Teresa
Monday, February 14, 2005
The Future
Yesterday I went to a Chinese New Year party with my little friend Emily and her parents. It was a fun little get together with a bunch of little girls from China. It is the year of the rooster and they made little roosters out of paper plate cut outs stabled on a stick. All of the little people were sitting at a table and all the parents ringed them, snapping photos and sharing stories about their different trips to China, how some are going back for another daughter, all daughters, no sons. We ate, a variety of foods, some traditional and then there were cocktail weenies.
I just read about a professor in Colorado, a tenured professor might be ousted because he was to harsh a voice after 9/11.
The witches are coming, the hunt for our thoughts is taking another step up. We have squads of people flying around the world, snatching up people and flying them to countries that torture people, that is happening right now. People are in small cells hidden away, their minds turning to jello, they are going insane. I am paying for this.
After we ate we all attempted a song in chinese, mandarin I guess. Emily needed a break, so we walked down the hall and looked at the eight inch sturgeons in the tank and looked at the display with the eagle, and the otter and the mallard duck, all of this at the interpretive center outside of Ashland. The sturgeons were not moving, they were very still at the bottom of the tank, this fish as old as the dinosaurs, it's numbers dwindling.
Another friend told me that there are now reporters hired by the White House and then given press credentials. These are the reporters that George Bush calls on during press conferences. There was a time when a woman named Helen Thomas was always asked the first question, always. Every president, all kinds of presidents before this one. He stopped this.
Emily and I went back to the conference room that we were using and she got a squeeze box to play in the parade. The head of the parade had a dragons mask and the kids walked around the information counter stomping on bubble wrap, which was just about as loud as firecrackers.
This morning I sit at my computer, I listen to the people speaking at Ossie Davis's funeral on my radio and look out at the four inches of new snow, glad my recycling got picked up before the plow knocked that bin over. What is the next year of the rooster going to have for you little Emily? I don't know but it sure was a nice day we had wasn't it?
I just read about a professor in Colorado, a tenured professor might be ousted because he was to harsh a voice after 9/11.
The witches are coming, the hunt for our thoughts is taking another step up. We have squads of people flying around the world, snatching up people and flying them to countries that torture people, that is happening right now. People are in small cells hidden away, their minds turning to jello, they are going insane. I am paying for this.
After we ate we all attempted a song in chinese, mandarin I guess. Emily needed a break, so we walked down the hall and looked at the eight inch sturgeons in the tank and looked at the display with the eagle, and the otter and the mallard duck, all of this at the interpretive center outside of Ashland. The sturgeons were not moving, they were very still at the bottom of the tank, this fish as old as the dinosaurs, it's numbers dwindling.
Another friend told me that there are now reporters hired by the White House and then given press credentials. These are the reporters that George Bush calls on during press conferences. There was a time when a woman named Helen Thomas was always asked the first question, always. Every president, all kinds of presidents before this one. He stopped this.
Emily and I went back to the conference room that we were using and she got a squeeze box to play in the parade. The head of the parade had a dragons mask and the kids walked around the information counter stomping on bubble wrap, which was just about as loud as firecrackers.
This morning I sit at my computer, I listen to the people speaking at Ossie Davis's funeral on my radio and look out at the four inches of new snow, glad my recycling got picked up before the plow knocked that bin over. What is the next year of the rooster going to have for you little Emily? I don't know but it sure was a nice day we had wasn't it?
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Back to the Alvord
So the last two nights I returned to my college for musical entertainment. A little weird, being back with all these kids remembering how I thought I was such hot shit when I was their age, and it turns out that I'm just normal. But I remembered dancing with so many people in that little theater, it really hasn't changed, it's little indentation of a dance floor, the light grid that takes up the entire ceiling, now holding all of sick lights, that's it, six if you can believe that.
The first night was the Big Wu, a jam band from the Twin Cities that is on the other side of it's bell curve right now. Hopefully they will pull out of it, but for now I get to go see a pretty good band in the Alvord.
The weird thing about going to a show there is that I am now the old guy hanging out with a bunch of college kids. I am right on the edge of creepy, still in the okay, but in a couple of years or so it's going to get harder. I fought through this, (successfully), and was able to have a good time checking out these guys throw down some of their hits, danced a bit and saw some of my pals. Kriner was working sound and Olaf was there, so I was in good company. The guitar player went to Eau Claire instead of Ashland, so they started two hours late. They did a good version of Scarlett Begonias and had some nice moments, but things are darker on the other side of the Bell Curve.
Last night was Greg Brown. If you know him you love him. He came out dressed in a black fedora kind of hat, but was a little to small, a sports coat with a t-shirt and a tie. There was no collar for the tie, so it was just there. You could call the look rumpled. His songs and performance were anything but. This man takes his voice and turns it into a instrument that can remove you from were ever you are and take you to funerals for unliked neighbors, the entire life of a retired minor league baseball player, or get this, way into his mind and heart. In a word he is cool, something that men like me look up to and respect and I haven't met a woman that would drop everything in their world to run off with this man. Olaf recorded it, so I'm excited to get a copy. There were a bunch of people that I knew there, kind of like every event here, you stick around afterwords to talk to your friends and neighbors. Lately I have been getting to tell everyone that I'm buying a house and there are so many people that want to help, it's pretty nice.
That was two days here. Now it's Saturday, I better continue packing, I'm moving.
The first night was the Big Wu, a jam band from the Twin Cities that is on the other side of it's bell curve right now. Hopefully they will pull out of it, but for now I get to go see a pretty good band in the Alvord.
The weird thing about going to a show there is that I am now the old guy hanging out with a bunch of college kids. I am right on the edge of creepy, still in the okay, but in a couple of years or so it's going to get harder. I fought through this, (successfully), and was able to have a good time checking out these guys throw down some of their hits, danced a bit and saw some of my pals. Kriner was working sound and Olaf was there, so I was in good company. The guitar player went to Eau Claire instead of Ashland, so they started two hours late. They did a good version of Scarlett Begonias and had some nice moments, but things are darker on the other side of the Bell Curve.
Last night was Greg Brown. If you know him you love him. He came out dressed in a black fedora kind of hat, but was a little to small, a sports coat with a t-shirt and a tie. There was no collar for the tie, so it was just there. You could call the look rumpled. His songs and performance were anything but. This man takes his voice and turns it into a instrument that can remove you from were ever you are and take you to funerals for unliked neighbors, the entire life of a retired minor league baseball player, or get this, way into his mind and heart. In a word he is cool, something that men like me look up to and respect and I haven't met a woman that would drop everything in their world to run off with this man. Olaf recorded it, so I'm excited to get a copy. There were a bunch of people that I knew there, kind of like every event here, you stick around afterwords to talk to your friends and neighbors. Lately I have been getting to tell everyone that I'm buying a house and there are so many people that want to help, it's pretty nice.
That was two days here. Now it's Saturday, I better continue packing, I'm moving.
Friday, February 04, 2005
The Record-Eagle responds
On Jan 26, 2005, at 9:46 AM, Sandy Langdon wrote:
Thank you for writing, but this would be too much after the fact.
From: "Jeremy Oswald"
To: "Sandy Langdon"
Sent: Wednesday, January 26, 2005 10:47 AM
Subject: Re: Letter to the Editor
Could you please elaborate on "too much after the fact".
From: "Sandy Langdon"
Date: January 28, 2005 8:07:43 AM CST
To: "Jeremy Oswald"
Subject: Re: Letter to the Editor
Check with Dave Miller, editorial pagae editor, at dmiller@record-eagle.com.
Thank you.
From: Jeremy Oswald
To: dmiller@record-eagle.com
Sent: Friday, January 28, 2005 10:40 AM
Subject: Fwd: Letter to the Editor
Hello,
I wrote a letter to the editor that was rejected because it was "too much after the fact". Sandy Langdon wrote that I should take it up with you.
I think that the letter speaks to the reelection of George Bush, not just his inauguration, do you mind reconsidering?
Thanks for your time,
Jeremy Oswald
On Jan 28, 2005, at 10:11 AM, Dave Miller wrote:
Jeremy
The fact that the inauguration was already over and the women had already returned home made this moot.
It was also much too long, more than 600 words; we have a 200-word limit on letters to the editor.
Lastly, I wasn't to let you use them as props for what was essentially a screed on Bush and all his policies. If you'd like to comment on Bush, feel free to do so; but portraying a half dozen women who went to the inaugural as ignorant, unfeeling and complicit is over the line.
Dave Miller
editorial page editor
From: Jeremy Oswald
To: Dave Miller
Sent: Friday, January 28, 2005 11:59 AM
Subject: Re: Letter to the Editor
It is over the Record-Eagle's line. Yes that was my intention and I understand now why you are not printing it, thank you for taking the time to explain it to me, I appreciate it.
These citizens were the ones that worked to put him in office, so shouldn't they have some responsibility for his policies?
In my opinion backing Bush and working for him is ignorant, unfeeling, and complicit and I feel that the piece told that without saying and backing it up.
You are more than likely a busy man, I know that this is your job, but I am enjoying this dialogue if you would like to continue it.
Again, thank you for your time,
Jeremy Oswald
Jeremy
Again, I'd welcome a letter, so feel free to submit. Unfortunately, I have too many fish to fry today, so no time for more.
Dave Miller
Thank you for writing, but this would be too much after the fact.
From: "Jeremy Oswald"
To: "Sandy Langdon"
Sent: Wednesday, January 26, 2005 10:47 AM
Subject: Re: Letter to the Editor
Could you please elaborate on "too much after the fact".
From: "Sandy Langdon"
Date: January 28, 2005 8:07:43 AM CST
To: "Jeremy Oswald"
Subject: Re: Letter to the Editor
Check with Dave Miller, editorial pagae editor, at dmiller@record-eagle.com.
Thank you.
From: Jeremy Oswald
To: dmiller@record-eagle.com
Sent: Friday, January 28, 2005 10:40 AM
Subject: Fwd: Letter to the Editor
Hello,
I wrote a letter to the editor that was rejected because it was "too much after the fact". Sandy Langdon wrote that I should take it up with you.
I think that the letter speaks to the reelection of George Bush, not just his inauguration, do you mind reconsidering?
Thanks for your time,
Jeremy Oswald
On Jan 28, 2005, at 10:11 AM, Dave Miller wrote:
Jeremy
The fact that the inauguration was already over and the women had already returned home made this moot.
It was also much too long, more than 600 words; we have a 200-word limit on letters to the editor.
Lastly, I wasn't to let you use them as props for what was essentially a screed on Bush and all his policies. If you'd like to comment on Bush, feel free to do so; but portraying a half dozen women who went to the inaugural as ignorant, unfeeling and complicit is over the line.
Dave Miller
editorial page editor
From: Jeremy Oswald
To: Dave Miller
Sent: Friday, January 28, 2005 11:59 AM
Subject: Re: Letter to the Editor
It is over the Record-Eagle's line. Yes that was my intention and I understand now why you are not printing it, thank you for taking the time to explain it to me, I appreciate it.
These citizens were the ones that worked to put him in office, so shouldn't they have some responsibility for his policies?
In my opinion backing Bush and working for him is ignorant, unfeeling, and complicit and I feel that the piece told that without saying and backing it up.
You are more than likely a busy man, I know that this is your job, but I am enjoying this dialogue if you would like to continue it.
Again, thank you for your time,
Jeremy Oswald
Jeremy
Again, I'd welcome a letter, so feel free to submit. Unfortunately, I have too many fish to fry today, so no time for more.
Dave Miller
Friday, January 21, 2005
TC Women Attend Inaguration Letter to the Editor
Women in D.C. to attend inaguration
They plan to 'tear up' the town
By BRIAN McGILLIVARY
Record-Eagle staff writer
TRAVERSE CITY- Six area Republican volunteers are enjoying a "once-in-a-lifetime opportunity" as they attend inauguration ceremonies for President George W. Bush.
"I'm really charged up for it," said Janet Reed of Traverse City. "It's such an honor."
All six women, regular volunteers at the Republican Action Center in Traverse City, decided to make the trip after a little prodding from Suzanne Allen, wife of state Sen. Jason Allen, R-Traverse City.
"She said, 'You guys will have a ball' and we decided to go," Linda Witt said.
The six volunteers immediately assigned each other to booking airline tickets and reserving hotel rooms, while the Allens and U.S. Rep. Dave Camp, R-Midland, helped with invitations and tickets.
"We should encourage people from northern Michigan to attend," Jason Allen said. "It's a once-every-four-years opportunity."
Holly Gallagher said the election of Bush was something the women all worked for during the campaign, and they're looking forward to celebrating and welcoming his second term.
The other local traveling volunteers include Lois Boekenstein, Barbara Bachi and Jenny Lee Strait.
This will be the first inauguration for each, and for most of the women this will be their first trip to Washington, D.C .
"I'll be there with all of these ladies and we'll just tear up the town," Reed said. "We thought we'd do a lot more sight-seeing, but we got invited to all of these parties."
They were scheduled to arrive in Washington, D.C., at noon on Wednesday and attended their first of several receptions at 5 p.m.
"There are a myriad of pre-parties and they are fun to attend," said Allen, who arrived Tuesday with his family.
The women's schedule today includes breakfast with Camp, a parade viewing party, the swearing-in ceremony and the Michigan State Society Ball at the American Heritage Museum.
"It's not the presidential ball, but we heard this is a lot more fun," Reed said.
All six bought new gowns for the ball.
"We're excited about the ball and our gowns," Gallagher said, "though we're still not sure who we will dance with because it's all us six women."
Despite the excitement for the ball, Gallagher, Witt and Reed said they expect the swearing-in ceremony to be the highlight of the trip.
"It will be a monumental moment for me," Gallagher said.
Traverse City Record Eagle
Letters to the Editor
January 21, 2005
I read about the women going to Washington D.C. for the Presidential Inauguration. It sounds like a good time. Could I suggest some places for them to stop while in DC? Get away from the mall for an afternoon and go take a look at a run down part of town, go take a look at what a poor urban area looks like and talk to some of the folks that live there about tax relief. You can compare how much you’re saving and how much they were able to save, it will be fun, kind of like a game. On the way back from there, (take the bus, you’ll blend right in and have more opportunities to talk to people about where you live and how your day to day life goes, maybe offer up some Cherry Festival t-shirts), stop by the Vietnam War Memorial and pause to compare how the veterans from Iraq and Afghanistan are going to be effected by their tours and how Vietnam effected that wars veterans. Maybe scout out a good spot for a memorial for the soldiers who have been killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. How big do you think it’s going to have to be? Kind of hard to say right now.
When you go to the swearing in itself do something nutty like wear a t-shirt or pin that says something crazy like “Peace”, or “Stop the Violence”, or “End the War”, anything like that and see if they let you in. Good luck, those words are not allowed in that kind of setting, you may even need to sign a loyalty oath. I know it sounds weird, but just sign the paper, why rock the boat?
If you are still looking for someone to dance with at one of those parties, maybe you can “tear it up”, with one of the soldiers that are recuperating at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. They may or may not be able to dance with you, but won’t it be fun to talk them about what it’s like in Fallujah right now? I guess that whole city was destroyed, just to save it if you can believe that, ask them about it, they might have been there.
Maybe while you are at one of those parties you can find out what's going on with the people that have been locked up down in Cuba. Have they been able to a talk to another human other than a guard since they have been there? You're right, you're right, Rumsfeld says they are guilty so they must be guilty. Three years is a long time to be in jail without being charged, but it's for our safety and that trumps justice any day. Here is a great conversation starter if the dancing doesn’t work out:
“Hey if it’s not lethal, it’s not torture.” Boy does that set people off on tangents!
On your way out of town maybe stop by the new Native American Museum and compare our genocidal tendencies as we pioneered this country to our current actions and policies in Iraq and the rest of the Middle East. (The book “Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee”, should be on sale in the gift store, it’s a good place to start if you don’t know what I’m talking about). While you’re at the museum see if you can find out why so many native people are now suffering from diabetes, some say it’s an epidemic. There also may be some info about how some of the Inuit communities are suing the United States because they believe our country is contributing to Global Warming and we're violating their human rights. Something about thousands of years of tradition and ice melting, keep your eyes open.
It should be a fun trip, and I'm sorry that I'm not going to be there. I guess I have some other things on my mind, but believe it or not I will take a moment and wave my flag a little and reflect on the significance of the day, but pardon me if I'm not doing any dancing.
Jeremy Oswald
Washburn, Wisconsin
Born and raised in Traverse City
PO Box 551
Washburn,WI 54891
715-373-0186
jermy@surfmail.net
They plan to 'tear up' the town
By BRIAN McGILLIVARY
Record-Eagle staff writer
TRAVERSE CITY- Six area Republican volunteers are enjoying a "once-in-a-lifetime opportunity" as they attend inauguration ceremonies for President George W. Bush.
"I'm really charged up for it," said Janet Reed of Traverse City. "It's such an honor."
All six women, regular volunteers at the Republican Action Center in Traverse City, decided to make the trip after a little prodding from Suzanne Allen, wife of state Sen. Jason Allen, R-Traverse City.
"She said, 'You guys will have a ball' and we decided to go," Linda Witt said.
The six volunteers immediately assigned each other to booking airline tickets and reserving hotel rooms, while the Allens and U.S. Rep. Dave Camp, R-Midland, helped with invitations and tickets.
"We should encourage people from northern Michigan to attend," Jason Allen said. "It's a once-every-four-years opportunity."
Holly Gallagher said the election of Bush was something the women all worked for during the campaign, and they're looking forward to celebrating and welcoming his second term.
The other local traveling volunteers include Lois Boekenstein, Barbara Bachi and Jenny Lee Strait.
This will be the first inauguration for each, and for most of the women this will be their first trip to Washington, D.C .
"I'll be there with all of these ladies and we'll just tear up the town," Reed said. "We thought we'd do a lot more sight-seeing, but we got invited to all of these parties."
They were scheduled to arrive in Washington, D.C., at noon on Wednesday and attended their first of several receptions at 5 p.m.
"There are a myriad of pre-parties and they are fun to attend," said Allen, who arrived Tuesday with his family.
The women's schedule today includes breakfast with Camp, a parade viewing party, the swearing-in ceremony and the Michigan State Society Ball at the American Heritage Museum.
"It's not the presidential ball, but we heard this is a lot more fun," Reed said.
All six bought new gowns for the ball.
"We're excited about the ball and our gowns," Gallagher said, "though we're still not sure who we will dance with because it's all us six women."
Despite the excitement for the ball, Gallagher, Witt and Reed said they expect the swearing-in ceremony to be the highlight of the trip.
"It will be a monumental moment for me," Gallagher said.
Traverse City Record Eagle
Letters to the Editor
January 21, 2005
I read about the women going to Washington D.C. for the Presidential Inauguration. It sounds like a good time. Could I suggest some places for them to stop while in DC? Get away from the mall for an afternoon and go take a look at a run down part of town, go take a look at what a poor urban area looks like and talk to some of the folks that live there about tax relief. You can compare how much you’re saving and how much they were able to save, it will be fun, kind of like a game. On the way back from there, (take the bus, you’ll blend right in and have more opportunities to talk to people about where you live and how your day to day life goes, maybe offer up some Cherry Festival t-shirts), stop by the Vietnam War Memorial and pause to compare how the veterans from Iraq and Afghanistan are going to be effected by their tours and how Vietnam effected that wars veterans. Maybe scout out a good spot for a memorial for the soldiers who have been killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. How big do you think it’s going to have to be? Kind of hard to say right now.
When you go to the swearing in itself do something nutty like wear a t-shirt or pin that says something crazy like “Peace”, or “Stop the Violence”, or “End the War”, anything like that and see if they let you in. Good luck, those words are not allowed in that kind of setting, you may even need to sign a loyalty oath. I know it sounds weird, but just sign the paper, why rock the boat?
If you are still looking for someone to dance with at one of those parties, maybe you can “tear it up”, with one of the soldiers that are recuperating at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. They may or may not be able to dance with you, but won’t it be fun to talk them about what it’s like in Fallujah right now? I guess that whole city was destroyed, just to save it if you can believe that, ask them about it, they might have been there.
Maybe while you are at one of those parties you can find out what's going on with the people that have been locked up down in Cuba. Have they been able to a talk to another human other than a guard since they have been there? You're right, you're right, Rumsfeld says they are guilty so they must be guilty. Three years is a long time to be in jail without being charged, but it's for our safety and that trumps justice any day. Here is a great conversation starter if the dancing doesn’t work out:
“Hey if it’s not lethal, it’s not torture.” Boy does that set people off on tangents!
On your way out of town maybe stop by the new Native American Museum and compare our genocidal tendencies as we pioneered this country to our current actions and policies in Iraq and the rest of the Middle East. (The book “Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee”, should be on sale in the gift store, it’s a good place to start if you don’t know what I’m talking about). While you’re at the museum see if you can find out why so many native people are now suffering from diabetes, some say it’s an epidemic. There also may be some info about how some of the Inuit communities are suing the United States because they believe our country is contributing to Global Warming and we're violating their human rights. Something about thousands of years of tradition and ice melting, keep your eyes open.
It should be a fun trip, and I'm sorry that I'm not going to be there. I guess I have some other things on my mind, but believe it or not I will take a moment and wave my flag a little and reflect on the significance of the day, but pardon me if I'm not doing any dancing.
Jeremy Oswald
Washburn, Wisconsin
Born and raised in Traverse City
PO Box 551
Washburn,WI 54891
715-373-0186
jermy@surfmail.net
Monday, January 10, 2005
GBV R.I.P.
The Electrifying Conclusion
This was it, the last two shows and I had tickets that I got in July, standing in line in front of the Metro for a couple of hours. Now it’s here and so am I. Mary was going to go, got sick so Joe got the extra ticket. It was fun to make a few calls offering the ticket to people, a nice way to say hello after nothing for a long time. I don’t live in Chicago anymore so “Hi”, remember me, do you want a ticket to a show that has been sold out for months?
Joe got back to me first so we met in front at 9. We got in and went stage left after Joe bought me a beer, formalities, formalities. It was open up to the speaker stack right off of the stage and then we began out snake inward which went pretty well, we got a lot closer than I thought we would. Now we wait and look.
The Metro was full and lively, the crowd was pumped and everyone was cordial. I wasn’t sure how to act, I mean the last show, shouldn’t there be some pomp and circumstance? Tobin Sprout came out after out wait. He provided some pomp by saying:
“Before I start I want to say that being up here with these people tonight is one of my true pleasures in life”, I am paraphrasing, but that was the gist of it. Properly pomped, the rock began and did not stop for hours. Tobin lives where I grew up, so I am happy to know what he looks like so when I am there I can corner him, (I mean hopefully run into him), to discuss how cool it is that we have lived in the same place at one time. It’s that kind of place, or used to be I guess that’s why I left. There is a lot of water there. The last time I was up there I was in a toy store and asked about him and where his gallery was (he paints well).
“You mean Tobey?” after I asked about Tobin Sprout.
“His wife works across the street, you could go ask her where he is, his gallery has been closed for awhile”
Yeah right just go talk to Tobin Sprouts wife about how cool it is that we all live in the same place, or that I used to live here, I don’t think so!
I was with my mother, brother and his girlfriend and on our way out of town we stopped by a gallery that I thought might have his stuff. California brother didn’t want to stop. I put my foot down and we all benefited. To get back to the story I will just say that Tobin Sprout paints beautiful paintings and if you get a chance see them and if you have an inkling, make a chance to see them. I liked them a lot. Now back to the Metro. I believe that he crafts music as well as he paints and he was a great choice to kick off these two nights. After hearing him and his band I think that I can safely say that the Guided By Voices that I know would not exist without Tobin Sprout. The song that I really remember in his 45 minute or so set was Indian Ink, and some more songs off of the one record of his that I have that is now in Gina’s barn so I can’t even refer to it.
He ended and there was only one other band on the bill tonight. There was a big screen on the stage and the entertainment continued with a slide show of the band through the years interfaced with mountain scenes. I later heard that the whole thing had been put together by a Mortician from Dayton. Think of a funeral and the sparkiest music and then the mountain scenes. The screen was removed and this man who we would all learn was Beatle Bob came out. He had a Beatles cut, looked out of that era and introduced as he called it, the best pop band in the last twenty years, Guided By Voices.
They came out. I am never satisfied until I see Bob, I’m sure I’m not the only one, and there he was, blue striped button down and all. This was not a crowd that needed to get pumped up, this was a group that came ready and prepared for what was about to happen, but now we just didn’t know how it would begin and the boys in the band didn’t seem to know how to start it off either. We all knew that this was to be it, but like a man on a ledge or Frodo before he got in the boat by himself, even with a woods full of orcs behind him there was a moment, a minute for reflection and respect for what was about to happen and then the plunge. Suddenly we were deep in the water and for now there was still no bottom. Like Samwise Gamgee with Frodo we climbed into the boat with Bob and he took us through a tour of the GBV collection and preceded to play a show that got him drunk off his ass and me giggling as I walked out the door, four hours later. Did I mention that there was a bar on the stage, along with the usual cooler of Miller Lites? Go to the web site to find the set list, I couldn’t begin to tell you the first song, or any order whatsoever that first night, but I can tell you that there was a lot of drinking on stage and a lot of bitterness.
“Who is this Fancis Ferdanand? He sucks.” Bob was a little bitter about others success and he admitted it.
“You want to know why he sucks? Because he sold more records than me.” He took some time to let us know that the Shins suck, as do the Flaming Lips, Pavement, and the Clash. He took some time to pick apart Rock the Casbah in particular. This was one long rant in between some great songs, over three hours worth. Doug Gillard kept it together for the night, as he usually does, the strong silent one in the band and then the two yahoos on the left side of the stage that are more like Bob’s drinking buddies. There were a lot of guests that came out, although Steve Albini did not come out after Bob said he was. I got excited, but then it didn’t happen. Many of the people that played in earlier configurations of the band came out. John Thrasher, Joe (?) McPherson, to name two and played on a song a piece.
By about the second song the floor was soaked with beer and if you have been to a sold out show there you know there is no room to move at all. There was a solidarity on the floor though that you could only know if you have been to see a band that you love with a bunch of other people who also love them in this small room. Of course there were people that needed to get in front and there is no room for them to get thru but they squeak by and in Fall of my concert going life I have learned that I am better off just letting them go, why engage, enjoy the good parts.
It was hard to get a footing, so my dancing was a little limited, and I told the woman behind me to give me a good shove if I got too much in her face. She thought I was kidding. It would be kind of pointless for me to try and break down the music of the show. Either you like it or you don’t. If you like Guided by Voices they played a kick ass drunk show and they probably played that one song you wanted to hear, you should always go to a show with more than one, and with this band that is not a problem. Bob went on about how he had written 8000 songs and that most bands suck and he was 47.
“Put me to bed,” he said towards the end of night one, “I’m 47.)
He had at least one great night left.
I went earlier on night two because I wanted to be closer than the first night. The show started at 10, the Go were opening up tonight and I got there at 9. I got good placement, about 3 deep in the dead center. Sweet. There were not as many people there as I thought and only one hard hat as a costume. The night before some dudes had made up baseball jersey’s that said Robot Boy in the name. I had all these ideas about costumes, but I didn’t do it, so why talk about it?
I soon discovered why no one was standing close to the area where I had snaked in. There was a talker right there and he would not shut up.
“I live in the B now, (Boston)”, I heard him say, “but I was 612 for four years, so I’ve got to represent.” (612 is a Minneapolis area code, for phones). This is just one sentence of the three thousand he uttered in the one hour before the show started. I didn’t mind that but he was also a pusher, a guy that doesn’t seem to recognize that his back is right on you and is pushing you and you want to punch him but then you would be asked to leave and miss Guided By Voices last show. Because I am a nice guy and had a grandpa that sold insurance in a rural area I was soon in the midst of this group that consisted of others from Minnesota. They were arguing about the difference between Minneapolis and St. Paul, how people from St. Paul say they are from Minneapolis when they are out of town, so somebody in the group got called out that way.
“If you guys had any guts you would live in Duluth,” I said to them, successfully pushing myself right out of the conversation, but not before some football banter regarding the classic Packer/Viking rivalry. (I hope it doesn’t bite me on the ass on Sunday).
All around me people were telling each other where they were from, and it sounded like from all over. When I tried to help a guy take a picture in a biking cap he said, “Cheers mate” very exotic.
The Go came out and did their thing, which was fun, I had never heard them before, but I would see them again. It is kind of hard to remember what they were like because quite honestly the next band that came out and played as if it would be the last time that would ever play together, and this is already a band that doesn’t hold back, one that drinks so much that in some circles they are known as “Guided By Beer”, a band that will play 50- 60 songs in a night and not even think about it.
“The old homerun record was 60, you can play 60 songs in a night, the new record is 78, by Barry Bonds, that is a little harder.” Bob said early on, so you can understand when I say that it is hard to remember what the Go did, but I don’t have anything bad to say about them.
We got the slide show again, the guys packed up the screen and then they came out and stayed out there for a long time. Did I mention that there were two 5 gallon buckets on the stage, one marked Piss and another marked puke? It is sad to report that one of them was used and that is all I really want to say about it. Doug had a really nice jacket on top hat on, but no one else was really dressed up. Bob had a button down and then the other guys looked like guys. I don’t know what they started with but we got a Tractor Rape Chain, I am a Tree, Pendulum, Cheyenne, Pink Gun, Take me to the Lake, I am a Scientist, Postal Blowfish, I could go on and on. All around me big dudes started showing up and before I knew it I was bouncing off of them and shoving them so they wouldn’t crush me, spinning, laughing, going limp and getting worked over, holding people up, catching people, getting caught, getting picked up after landing on a big dude, pretty much having the time of my life, soaked with beer and sweat and listening to a band that I loved play like it was their last time, because it was and they were up for it. I found myself shouting lyrics to songs I knew arm in arm with people who I didn’t know, many people that I didn’t know, and smiling at so many people and even the stiffs who don’t dance they just seemed to have to laugh at the circle of energy that filled the middle of the Metro floor. Yeah there was a balloon drop, Matador bought the band a magnum or is it a belarthodw of champagne that Bob opened and everyone helped pour it and distribute it to the crowd.
Yes Bob got up and said that he had made up with everyone, that everyone he had talked bad about he was now cool with.
“I made up with Lou Barlow in LA, that is how international I have become, I made up with Lou Barlow in LA. I’m cool with Jim Deregotis now, he’s here right, we’re cool, I’m cool with everyone”. And he was. No smack talking tonight, although he did introduce a guest artist as someone who used to fuck Kim Deal.
“I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry, that was wrong”, he said arm in arm with the would be fucker. My favorite guest for the two nights was John MacPhearson, a drummer who did a stint in the band and went on to play with the Breeders. He kicked ass, a great drummer and I think I know why the early 90’s may have been GBV’s golden time. Not that I am any true conisuer, but this guy hit them hard and complimented everything else that was going on. It must be hard to be in that band where you have a man claiming to be a genius walking around. I don’t know if this was before or after he put the puke bucket on his head. Or if that happened first or the maroon blazer getting thrown on stage during Sad if I Lost It, which he put on. Tobin Sprout came out and played some numbers, I don’t know which ones, I was too busy holding up this kid in a yellow shirt who all night was leaning on everyone to stay up. He was in a daze the whole time, but a song would become familiar and he would pitch and roll to a new place. When the Go left the stage it started to get really crowded and all of a sudden there was this blonde guy about a head taller than me with his elbow in my face. I was still smiling but soon was accused of pushing him, really dicky stuff, but I had been standing in this spot for two hours and I liked it. Pretty soon this guy was pulling my hair up, styling it, so I tried to tickle him, he said he wasn’t ticklish and then his friends were there and they said they were from Dayton.
I asked the guy playing with my hair where he was from, (all the while knowing that anywhere else I could have fought him legally at this point, but being where we were and the fact that I’m a peacenik superceded this), he said Portland, Oregon and that Bob Pollard was his dad. I asked him why he wasn’t back stage, and he said he liked it out here better. This fact I have not been able to confirm, I couldn’t find any info about his family, but hear this pushy guy: You acted like an asshole, I don’t care who you are, and you had nothing but your happiness in mind and did not even consider others. My cool head prevailed, but your actions could have ruined both of our nights. Thank you for letting me air this out. In the end it didn’t really matter because once the music started the crowd was a surge and all you could do was get in the middle of it or head back to the dudes with their girlfriends in their arms like cougars with their kittens. Not that there weren’t women all into the show having the times of their lives swirling around close to the stage, but if you have been to shows you know exactly who I am talking about, the couple who are their having their own good time together, right on the border of the swirl. It is very nice to have that safe zone to go to.
I met a non-dairy creamer explicity laid out like a fruitcake
With a wet spot bigger then a great lake.
Took me the new church and babtized me with salt
She told me Liquor!
I am a new man
Hot Freaks!
If you don’t like that, you don’t like Guided by Voices. There is fan base whose loyalty rivals the Grateful Dead, not nearly as large, but the solidarity in that room was on greater display than any hippy jam band thing I have gone to. Not a cut on the hippies, I love them and will continue to go have a great time at hippy shows, but maybe because this crowd is smaller they feel the need to really cling to it, to display it more freely. Maybe because it is newer and not reflective of another era, a modern musical movement one for this generation, or for this part of the generation that still likes Rock and Roll just because it is Rock and Roll, and love the story of this former teacher who like music, liked writing songs and loved the fact that he just got out and threw it down for people for 21 years not for fame or for money, which he would and has taken, but for fun. That is over now. That old stand by, a show where you could go and you knew that you were at least going to have a pretty good time, and hear at least three songs that you really love, I mean songs that every time you hear them you are going to pause and smile. More than likely you would go and if you wanted to, have the time of your life because Bob Pollard was.
At about 2am Bob cracked open yet another miller lite, poured some in the out reached cups of those front and center and said:
“You think this show is about over? We’re going to play for another hour.” And they did. They left, played an encore that went on for awhile and then came back for the last set. Bob called it and told us that he had been thinking about it.
“This is it kids, the last Guided By Voices set.”
With that they started into Salty Salute, then Postal Blowfish, then I think Motor Away, it is hard to remember, but finally ended with Don’t Stop Now, the last song. I was hoping a set list would be posted on the web somewhere, but no luck so I have to rely on my memory, which isn’t so good, but I have given what I can. They walked off stage and that was and is it. I went home and burned the shirt I had worn two nights in a row and now write this, just a taste for you, it’s rambling and disjointed, but honest, what do you want? It’s Guided by Voices.
This was it, the last two shows and I had tickets that I got in July, standing in line in front of the Metro for a couple of hours. Now it’s here and so am I. Mary was going to go, got sick so Joe got the extra ticket. It was fun to make a few calls offering the ticket to people, a nice way to say hello after nothing for a long time. I don’t live in Chicago anymore so “Hi”, remember me, do you want a ticket to a show that has been sold out for months?
Joe got back to me first so we met in front at 9. We got in and went stage left after Joe bought me a beer, formalities, formalities. It was open up to the speaker stack right off of the stage and then we began out snake inward which went pretty well, we got a lot closer than I thought we would. Now we wait and look.
The Metro was full and lively, the crowd was pumped and everyone was cordial. I wasn’t sure how to act, I mean the last show, shouldn’t there be some pomp and circumstance? Tobin Sprout came out after out wait. He provided some pomp by saying:
“Before I start I want to say that being up here with these people tonight is one of my true pleasures in life”, I am paraphrasing, but that was the gist of it. Properly pomped, the rock began and did not stop for hours. Tobin lives where I grew up, so I am happy to know what he looks like so when I am there I can corner him, (I mean hopefully run into him), to discuss how cool it is that we have lived in the same place at one time. It’s that kind of place, or used to be I guess that’s why I left. There is a lot of water there. The last time I was up there I was in a toy store and asked about him and where his gallery was (he paints well).
“You mean Tobey?” after I asked about Tobin Sprout.
“His wife works across the street, you could go ask her where he is, his gallery has been closed for awhile”
Yeah right just go talk to Tobin Sprouts wife about how cool it is that we all live in the same place, or that I used to live here, I don’t think so!
I was with my mother, brother and his girlfriend and on our way out of town we stopped by a gallery that I thought might have his stuff. California brother didn’t want to stop. I put my foot down and we all benefited. To get back to the story I will just say that Tobin Sprout paints beautiful paintings and if you get a chance see them and if you have an inkling, make a chance to see them. I liked them a lot. Now back to the Metro. I believe that he crafts music as well as he paints and he was a great choice to kick off these two nights. After hearing him and his band I think that I can safely say that the Guided By Voices that I know would not exist without Tobin Sprout. The song that I really remember in his 45 minute or so set was Indian Ink, and some more songs off of the one record of his that I have that is now in Gina’s barn so I can’t even refer to it.
He ended and there was only one other band on the bill tonight. There was a big screen on the stage and the entertainment continued with a slide show of the band through the years interfaced with mountain scenes. I later heard that the whole thing had been put together by a Mortician from Dayton. Think of a funeral and the sparkiest music and then the mountain scenes. The screen was removed and this man who we would all learn was Beatle Bob came out. He had a Beatles cut, looked out of that era and introduced as he called it, the best pop band in the last twenty years, Guided By Voices.
They came out. I am never satisfied until I see Bob, I’m sure I’m not the only one, and there he was, blue striped button down and all. This was not a crowd that needed to get pumped up, this was a group that came ready and prepared for what was about to happen, but now we just didn’t know how it would begin and the boys in the band didn’t seem to know how to start it off either. We all knew that this was to be it, but like a man on a ledge or Frodo before he got in the boat by himself, even with a woods full of orcs behind him there was a moment, a minute for reflection and respect for what was about to happen and then the plunge. Suddenly we were deep in the water and for now there was still no bottom. Like Samwise Gamgee with Frodo we climbed into the boat with Bob and he took us through a tour of the GBV collection and preceded to play a show that got him drunk off his ass and me giggling as I walked out the door, four hours later. Did I mention that there was a bar on the stage, along with the usual cooler of Miller Lites? Go to the web site to find the set list, I couldn’t begin to tell you the first song, or any order whatsoever that first night, but I can tell you that there was a lot of drinking on stage and a lot of bitterness.
“Who is this Fancis Ferdanand? He sucks.” Bob was a little bitter about others success and he admitted it.
“You want to know why he sucks? Because he sold more records than me.” He took some time to let us know that the Shins suck, as do the Flaming Lips, Pavement, and the Clash. He took some time to pick apart Rock the Casbah in particular. This was one long rant in between some great songs, over three hours worth. Doug Gillard kept it together for the night, as he usually does, the strong silent one in the band and then the two yahoos on the left side of the stage that are more like Bob’s drinking buddies. There were a lot of guests that came out, although Steve Albini did not come out after Bob said he was. I got excited, but then it didn’t happen. Many of the people that played in earlier configurations of the band came out. John Thrasher, Joe (?) McPherson, to name two and played on a song a piece.
By about the second song the floor was soaked with beer and if you have been to a sold out show there you know there is no room to move at all. There was a solidarity on the floor though that you could only know if you have been to see a band that you love with a bunch of other people who also love them in this small room. Of course there were people that needed to get in front and there is no room for them to get thru but they squeak by and in Fall of my concert going life I have learned that I am better off just letting them go, why engage, enjoy the good parts.
It was hard to get a footing, so my dancing was a little limited, and I told the woman behind me to give me a good shove if I got too much in her face. She thought I was kidding. It would be kind of pointless for me to try and break down the music of the show. Either you like it or you don’t. If you like Guided by Voices they played a kick ass drunk show and they probably played that one song you wanted to hear, you should always go to a show with more than one, and with this band that is not a problem. Bob went on about how he had written 8000 songs and that most bands suck and he was 47.
“Put me to bed,” he said towards the end of night one, “I’m 47.)
He had at least one great night left.
I went earlier on night two because I wanted to be closer than the first night. The show started at 10, the Go were opening up tonight and I got there at 9. I got good placement, about 3 deep in the dead center. Sweet. There were not as many people there as I thought and only one hard hat as a costume. The night before some dudes had made up baseball jersey’s that said Robot Boy in the name. I had all these ideas about costumes, but I didn’t do it, so why talk about it?
I soon discovered why no one was standing close to the area where I had snaked in. There was a talker right there and he would not shut up.
“I live in the B now, (Boston)”, I heard him say, “but I was 612 for four years, so I’ve got to represent.” (612 is a Minneapolis area code, for phones). This is just one sentence of the three thousand he uttered in the one hour before the show started. I didn’t mind that but he was also a pusher, a guy that doesn’t seem to recognize that his back is right on you and is pushing you and you want to punch him but then you would be asked to leave and miss Guided By Voices last show. Because I am a nice guy and had a grandpa that sold insurance in a rural area I was soon in the midst of this group that consisted of others from Minnesota. They were arguing about the difference between Minneapolis and St. Paul, how people from St. Paul say they are from Minneapolis when they are out of town, so somebody in the group got called out that way.
“If you guys had any guts you would live in Duluth,” I said to them, successfully pushing myself right out of the conversation, but not before some football banter regarding the classic Packer/Viking rivalry. (I hope it doesn’t bite me on the ass on Sunday).
All around me people were telling each other where they were from, and it sounded like from all over. When I tried to help a guy take a picture in a biking cap he said, “Cheers mate” very exotic.
The Go came out and did their thing, which was fun, I had never heard them before, but I would see them again. It is kind of hard to remember what they were like because quite honestly the next band that came out and played as if it would be the last time that would ever play together, and this is already a band that doesn’t hold back, one that drinks so much that in some circles they are known as “Guided By Beer”, a band that will play 50- 60 songs in a night and not even think about it.
“The old homerun record was 60, you can play 60 songs in a night, the new record is 78, by Barry Bonds, that is a little harder.” Bob said early on, so you can understand when I say that it is hard to remember what the Go did, but I don’t have anything bad to say about them.
We got the slide show again, the guys packed up the screen and then they came out and stayed out there for a long time. Did I mention that there were two 5 gallon buckets on the stage, one marked Piss and another marked puke? It is sad to report that one of them was used and that is all I really want to say about it. Doug had a really nice jacket on top hat on, but no one else was really dressed up. Bob had a button down and then the other guys looked like guys. I don’t know what they started with but we got a Tractor Rape Chain, I am a Tree, Pendulum, Cheyenne, Pink Gun, Take me to the Lake, I am a Scientist, Postal Blowfish, I could go on and on. All around me big dudes started showing up and before I knew it I was bouncing off of them and shoving them so they wouldn’t crush me, spinning, laughing, going limp and getting worked over, holding people up, catching people, getting caught, getting picked up after landing on a big dude, pretty much having the time of my life, soaked with beer and sweat and listening to a band that I loved play like it was their last time, because it was and they were up for it. I found myself shouting lyrics to songs I knew arm in arm with people who I didn’t know, many people that I didn’t know, and smiling at so many people and even the stiffs who don’t dance they just seemed to have to laugh at the circle of energy that filled the middle of the Metro floor. Yeah there was a balloon drop, Matador bought the band a magnum or is it a belarthodw of champagne that Bob opened and everyone helped pour it and distribute it to the crowd.
Yes Bob got up and said that he had made up with everyone, that everyone he had talked bad about he was now cool with.
“I made up with Lou Barlow in LA, that is how international I have become, I made up with Lou Barlow in LA. I’m cool with Jim Deregotis now, he’s here right, we’re cool, I’m cool with everyone”. And he was. No smack talking tonight, although he did introduce a guest artist as someone who used to fuck Kim Deal.
“I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry, that was wrong”, he said arm in arm with the would be fucker. My favorite guest for the two nights was John MacPhearson, a drummer who did a stint in the band and went on to play with the Breeders. He kicked ass, a great drummer and I think I know why the early 90’s may have been GBV’s golden time. Not that I am any true conisuer, but this guy hit them hard and complimented everything else that was going on. It must be hard to be in that band where you have a man claiming to be a genius walking around. I don’t know if this was before or after he put the puke bucket on his head. Or if that happened first or the maroon blazer getting thrown on stage during Sad if I Lost It, which he put on. Tobin Sprout came out and played some numbers, I don’t know which ones, I was too busy holding up this kid in a yellow shirt who all night was leaning on everyone to stay up. He was in a daze the whole time, but a song would become familiar and he would pitch and roll to a new place. When the Go left the stage it started to get really crowded and all of a sudden there was this blonde guy about a head taller than me with his elbow in my face. I was still smiling but soon was accused of pushing him, really dicky stuff, but I had been standing in this spot for two hours and I liked it. Pretty soon this guy was pulling my hair up, styling it, so I tried to tickle him, he said he wasn’t ticklish and then his friends were there and they said they were from Dayton.
I asked the guy playing with my hair where he was from, (all the while knowing that anywhere else I could have fought him legally at this point, but being where we were and the fact that I’m a peacenik superceded this), he said Portland, Oregon and that Bob Pollard was his dad. I asked him why he wasn’t back stage, and he said he liked it out here better. This fact I have not been able to confirm, I couldn’t find any info about his family, but hear this pushy guy: You acted like an asshole, I don’t care who you are, and you had nothing but your happiness in mind and did not even consider others. My cool head prevailed, but your actions could have ruined both of our nights. Thank you for letting me air this out. In the end it didn’t really matter because once the music started the crowd was a surge and all you could do was get in the middle of it or head back to the dudes with their girlfriends in their arms like cougars with their kittens. Not that there weren’t women all into the show having the times of their lives swirling around close to the stage, but if you have been to shows you know exactly who I am talking about, the couple who are their having their own good time together, right on the border of the swirl. It is very nice to have that safe zone to go to.
I met a non-dairy creamer explicity laid out like a fruitcake
With a wet spot bigger then a great lake.
Took me the new church and babtized me with salt
She told me Liquor!
I am a new man
Hot Freaks!
If you don’t like that, you don’t like Guided by Voices. There is fan base whose loyalty rivals the Grateful Dead, not nearly as large, but the solidarity in that room was on greater display than any hippy jam band thing I have gone to. Not a cut on the hippies, I love them and will continue to go have a great time at hippy shows, but maybe because this crowd is smaller they feel the need to really cling to it, to display it more freely. Maybe because it is newer and not reflective of another era, a modern musical movement one for this generation, or for this part of the generation that still likes Rock and Roll just because it is Rock and Roll, and love the story of this former teacher who like music, liked writing songs and loved the fact that he just got out and threw it down for people for 21 years not for fame or for money, which he would and has taken, but for fun. That is over now. That old stand by, a show where you could go and you knew that you were at least going to have a pretty good time, and hear at least three songs that you really love, I mean songs that every time you hear them you are going to pause and smile. More than likely you would go and if you wanted to, have the time of your life because Bob Pollard was.
At about 2am Bob cracked open yet another miller lite, poured some in the out reached cups of those front and center and said:
“You think this show is about over? We’re going to play for another hour.” And they did. They left, played an encore that went on for awhile and then came back for the last set. Bob called it and told us that he had been thinking about it.
“This is it kids, the last Guided By Voices set.”
With that they started into Salty Salute, then Postal Blowfish, then I think Motor Away, it is hard to remember, but finally ended with Don’t Stop Now, the last song. I was hoping a set list would be posted on the web somewhere, but no luck so I have to rely on my memory, which isn’t so good, but I have given what I can. They walked off stage and that was and is it. I went home and burned the shirt I had worn two nights in a row and now write this, just a taste for you, it’s rambling and disjointed, but honest, what do you want? It’s Guided by Voices.
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