Harleys, Cars, Girls & Guitars

Library Fair Day in Woodstock

Library Fair is the biggest event of the year in Woodstock. The goal, of course, is to raise money for the library. Years ago, when the daughters were young, I took the family to the fair for the swap meet, hot dogs, hamburgers and watermelon. Some years, I played music on a flatbed trailer with whoever I was playing with at the time.

Before the advent of the internet, I spent a lot of time at the library, borrowing books, yakking with people and attending social functions. Like all other Woodstock institutions, the library leans very far to the left. As I moved away from the far left, and started doing more of my reading on the internet, my visits to the library became less frequent. Then, I stopped going. I can't remember the last time I was in the library.

I passed by the fair on my way to the liquor shop, where I picked up a bottle of wine for a birthday party I was attending. Passing by the fair was just an accident.

Woodstock serves a wide variety of people. On beautiful summer days, the bikers descend on town, stopping for lunch before they hit the mountains. This beautiful Harley bagger was parked in front of Taco Juan's, our Mexican fast food joint.

Political causes and Woodstock just go together. I passed by the Lutheran Church, and took a picture of the sign below. Long gone are the days when people fasted for their sins. Now, they fast to repent over their carbon footprint.

The old commies were out on the Village Green demonstrating against an Israeli cosmetics company. Woodstock's sick, Stalinist left has sunk to the bottom of the shit pile. These days, these assholes are pro-Hamas! That's right. Our low life commies have thrown in behind the Arab terrorists. Go figure. If you have the stomach for reading the ravings of these madmen, click here. 

I stopped to talk to these old folks who were counter protesting in favor of Israel.

The bane of the Woodstock music scene is politics. Our local clubs aren't really music clubs at all. They're propaganda and indoctrination venues for the extreme left. The Colony is the focus of this bullshit. And, as you can see from the poster below, they host some truly vile events.

The birthday party was great. New friends, all of them riders. I ran into them a couple of weeks ago at Panera in Kingston. Drank a couple of beers and had a glass of wine.

The Chevy Volt Song

By way of the estimable Iowahawk, this truly deplorable PR video for the $41,000 Chevy Volt.

Lame, right? As the Hawk notes, car songs once rocked America. He names a few great ones. I'd add “Hot Rod Lincoln,” “Baby Let me Drive Your Car” and “Rocket 88.”

I'm not an expert on energy or cars, but I know a scam when I see one. The “green” energy movement is a scam. Everything has a price tag. In some ways we will always pay a price for energy that includes living with dirt and accidents. There is no philosopher's stone of energy.

Lot's of politicians and scam artists raking in the bucks on the green energy and electric car scams. And, they're taking the fun out of driving a car, too.

The Chevy Volt Dance is anything but electrifying.  It's corporate twaddle.

Classic 1955 Chevy 3100 Pickup on Route 28

Driving back home from Kingston yesterday, I passed by this great Chevy pickup. Just had to stop and take some photos. If I had the money, I might buy the damned thing.

Don't you love those big round wheel wells and the two-tone paint job? My next car is going to be a pickup truck. Unfortunately, I'll have to spend my money on practical transportation, not a trophy vehicle.

1955 was the last year for Chevy's Advanced Design Trucks.  The wrap-around windshield was an innovation, along with a fresh-air heater and defroster. I checked inside the cab on this pickup... no radio. A very spartan cab it was, too.  Just a bench seat.

The paint job, by the way, is not original. Most likely, this truck began its life pale green. That was the standard.

By 1956, Chevy trucks lost all their curves and became boxes.  Eliminating those beautiful wheel wells extended the size of the box and increased payload.

I checked out 1955 Chevy 3100s on eBay. $18,000 to $25,000! Not bad for a classic. Still too much for a guy who's really on the market for basic transportation. While I'd love to keep this baby in my garage, I'll probably go for a new, stripped down Ford F150.

Work for Us for Free! Awful Economy Gets Worse

I keep a close eye on craigslist, in search of new clients. No doubt about it, finding work is very tough. And it seems to be getting worse. Here's the proof.

Please work for us for free! In return, we'll give you a beautiful cubicle in our office!

The job market is getting desperate.

Thoughts on Football and Jack Tatum

I lived in San Francisco in the 1970s, during an era of great Oakland Raiders teams led by QB Ken Stabler. Jack Tatum was a defensive back on those teams. The Raiders, a team of rebels, misfits, partiers and scoundrels, were pure Oakland. Tatum's death brings back memories of Oakland and football.

Oakland was and is a tough town, the spiritual opposite of its twin city across the bay, San Francisco. Wear a flower in your hair if you're going to San Francisco. You might want to carry a club if you're going to Oakland. To me, Oakland meant The Hells Angels, motorcycle rock bands like Steppenwolf, black gangs and working class, blue collar guys who did dirty jobs.

I played in the biker bars in Oakland. These venues were among the toughest I ever played in. And the gigs were fun. I'm not really a tough guy. The bikers knew that the musicians were sissies, so they left us alone. I also played in the coffee houses and folk clubs in Berkeley. A parallel and opposite universe. There I met the wildest and goofiest hippies and world savers.

The border of Oakland and Berkeley was a no man's land of violent crime, drug dealing and prostitution. It was also the place where the hippies and intellectuals from Berkeley met Black Panthers to form strange alliances. We were still talking revolution in the early 1970s.

The Raiders represented Oakland well. Al Davis, the owner of the Raiders, was famous for taking in the bad boy, reclamation project from other teams and turning that player into an all-star. The Raiders were big, mean and wild... and they won!

Tatum was the enforcer on the Raiders. He was known as “The Assassin” for good reason. One of his hits severed Darryl Stingley's spine and turned the poor guy into a paraplegic. And Tatum delivered this hit in a meaningless exhibition game! Tatum played his college football at Ohio State during the years when I was an undergraduate at the University of Illinois. So, I followed him throughout his career.

I still enjoy a good football game. I follow my alma mater with some fervor, and I go home for a game every other year or so. Pro football doesn't interest me as much. When the playoffs roll around, I start to pay attention.

I carry with me scars of my brief football career... four years in high school. I was, in fact, a star player on a small town high school team. But, I managed to acquire a knee injury that still bothers me when my arthritis flares. And, I still wonder about the damage from a severe concussion I sustained. Will I pay for it one day with dementia?

Is football worth it? Warren Farrell calls football on the youth level “organized child abuse.” I don't know if I agree with that. Football separates out the hard, big and tough men from all the others. In one way or another, we need to do this. Jack Tatum was the second hardest and meanest man I ever saw. The hardest, meanest man I ever saw on the football field was Dick Butkus, the great Hall of Fame linebacker from my alma mater, Illinois. It was probably just a matter of luck the Butkus didn't sever the spines of some of his opponents. He certainly tried.

Tatum was a killer. No doubt about it. We need warriors, just like we need pacifists. Different sides of the same coin. The wheel of karma keeps on spinning, and the same old story keeps getting retold.

Woodstock Walk... Vacant Shops and Dharmaware

I've completed my walk around the Village Green. Now, we'll head west along Tinker St. (Route 212) and look at the public buildings along that route.

Hard times have hit Woodstock, too. The two shops in front of the Old Forge building stand vacant. So many shops owners have lost their life savings trying to make a living in this building. I remember a hair salon, a bead shop (a hippie favorite), a funny eyeglasses store, etc. Why do so many people open shops in Woodstock and dump their life savings down the hole?

Well, once you've moved here, you're “Wood Stuck!” Great place to raise the kids. First rate public schools. No end to the hiking and bicycling spots. But... and this is a big but... no jobs, at least no jobs that pay decent money. Unless you're a school teacher, lawyer, nurse, doctor or policeman, you're sunk. You can try to hold onto that job in New York City, but that means commuting six hours a day on the Trailways bus. What kind of life is that?

Even the owner of the Old Forge has thrown in the towel and put the building up for sale.

So, you're Wood Stuck. What do you do now? Brainstorm! Open your very own shop! That's the answer! The trouble with this idea is that the big malls in Kingston are only 30 minutes away. So, all of the basic needs shopping is already covered. Selling curios to the tourists, opening an expensive gallery (again hoping to sell to the tourists), or finding some unserved niche for Woodstockers are the only possibilities. Or, you could open a restaurant, if you really want to go bankrupt in a hurry.  Dream on, sucker!

So, here's the old story: (1) get Wood Stuck, (2) invest entire life savings in shop, (3) go broke and bankrupt, and (4) decide to leave town to move back to the city. Sad, but true.

In the back of the building, the Old Forge still has one stable tenant, Dharmaware.  This is a “gallery of the sacred arts.” Anything Tibetan or Buddhist is likely to sell in Woodstock. We even have a band called “The Dharma Bums” who've been around forever. (Garth Hudson, keyboard player for The Band even plays with them at times.) Buddhism is sort of the official “good” religion of the hippies. Unlike Christianity, it's supposed to be pacifist and vegetarian. And it's the number one religion of Asians, who occupy a warm spot in the hearts of hippies. Asians are cool. Well, Asian peasants who live a small scale, sustainable lifestyle are cool.

The entrance to Dharmaware is a bit dilapidated, another sign that times are hard. Inside, you'll find bronze bells and statues, Buddhist literature, meditation cushions and the like. Dharmaware continues to survive because of its online mail order business. Note: if you can sell your stuff online, as well as out of your shop, you've got a better chance of surviving in Woodstock.

Don't get Wood Stuck! Remember, I warned you. That $200,000 house is going to look like an incredible bargain when you take that weekend daytrip up from the city. How are you going to pay that $2,000 a month mortgage? A good, non-professional job in Kingston pays $35,000. The savings from those big paychecks in the city will dry up in a few years. And, we're already up to our neck in yoga teachers.

For most people, it's a struggle just to get by in Woodstock. And, right now, times are very hard.

The Job Interview Marathon

I have four job interviews coming up this week! Two of these are for freelance, work-at-home jobs. The other two are for full-time jobs. I'm 60 years old and I'm still interviewing! Why?

The first order of business for the interviewee is to prove that you don't have any significant problems or fundamental disorders that signal disaster to the interviewer. So, at the interview, we are required to pretend that we have an ordered plan for every aspect of our lives, that we chose the target company for logical reasons and that we want nothing more in this life than to advance the interests of that great XYZ Corporation of our dreams.

In reality, as Fred Reed writes, our lives “...ha[ve] more in common with the path of a large ball-bearing through a pinball machine.” 

Certainly, that is true of my life.

Last week, I struggled through the first phone interview with one of the companies that offers a full-time job. The woman who interviewed me wanted to know why I hadn't been employed at a full-time job for the past four years. I tried to give her what seemed a logical answer. The publishing firm that I worked for downsized and bought me out four years ago. The consulting job at the pharmaceutical company came along in a hurry, and for all practical purposes that was a full-time job.

Often in this life, we are commanded to tell anything but the literal truth.

After Myrna's death, I was like that giant ball-bearing careening through the great pinball machine of life. I fell apart, psychologically, spiritually and emotionally. For several years, I was undecided about whether I wanted to continue living without my incredible wife. Finding that perfect job that advanced my well-considered career plans was the last thing on my mind.

I was just dragging myself out of bed every day, trying to find a reason to continuing living. The job at the pharma came along, it paid well, and I took it for the very good reason that I might have committed suicide if I didn't have something to occupy my days.

This article, “Death by Interview,” describes in vivid detail the various circles of Hell that the interviewee must pass through.

I'll tell the interviewers what they want to hear to the best of my ability. What else can I do? No interviewer wants to hear that my wife's death eviscerated me. That would be a problem. I will tell the interviewer that I've dreamed my entire life of working for XYZ Corporation. And, of course, I am a team player who wants nothing more in this life than to contribute to the vivid diversity of said XYZ Corp.

Walking Through Woodstock... Kleinert/Byrdcliffe

I've almost completed my series of photos of Woodstock's business district. Next, I'll move on to the outlying areas. Today, let's take a look at the Kleinert/James Arts Center and Woodstock Byrdcliffe Guild.

The Arts Center is a small performing space capable of seating (maybe) 60 people. Haven't been there in decades, because the performances are heavily politicized. As you can see, a musician named Steve Reich will be performing soon. Egg head conceptual music is one side of the equation at the Center. The other side is far left propaganda. Every year, you can count on the Center to redo the Beat poets, bring in some “revolutionary” rock band from the 60s and throw a dance party for the pioneers of the hippie communes.

Sorry for the critical tone. I'm just not interested in any of that stuff.

It's no accident that this sign stands at the entrance to the Center. The Woodstock left always believes that it is practicing the higher form of patriotism, which is always dissent. This weekend at The Colony, this works out to a pro-Hamas, anti-Israel rally. The “dissent” favored by Woodstock's far left somehow always means rooting for enemies of the U.S. I've tried to discover the identity of the Robert Hass in question, with no luck.

Of course, painters founded the Woodstock arts colony. The Byrdcliffe Guild takes on the name of the founders. The building to the left of the Kleinert Center was acquired by the Guild only in the past year or two. Previously it had housed a curio shop. The wrap around scroll at the top of the building is a new addition.

The Byrdcliffe Arts Colony started on the slopes of Mead Mountain. Our local historian, Alf Evers, quipped that the artists chose the elevated landscape so that they could “look down their noses” on the rubes who lived below them. Contempt for middle class American life has always been at the heart of this Woodstock cult. To this day, the cult believes that it knows better than middle class America.

Hipsterism lives at the Kleinert Center and the Byrdcliffe Guild. Once, I was hip. I confess. I'm a sinner. My hipsterism slowly slipped away. Now, I'm just a 60 year old middle class guy, limping toward the finish line, hoping and praying that I can somehow manage to maintain that wonderful middle class American existence.

Don't Think I'll Retire in Belize

I'd heard rumblings that the Central American country of Belize is the new, cheap and fashionable retirement site for Americans. My one day port stop in Belize did not encourage me to pack up and move south.

If you want to get the official PR version of retirement life in Belize, go here. Maybe it's true. Or, if you like, check out the retirement "Villas at Cocoplum."  That's the luxury route. Want to go cheap?  This site claims you can retire in Belize for $450 month. 

The one cool thing about our stop in Belize was that the ship anchored about five miles offshore, then we were ferried into port. The picture above is a pretty accurate representation of this process. Once we arrived in port, my enthusiasm began to fade.

The water in the small bay was filthy. We pulled into the dock and got our pictures taken by the Carnival crew, and quickly discovered that the accessible area extended about four blocks long and one block deep. This area was walled off and heavily patrolled by security guards. Those guards tried to discourage any of the cruise passengers from exiting the walled off area. While the Karaoke Queen looked at jewelry, I walked around and tried to learn something about the place.

All around the walled off area, black guys were waving placards and shouting at the tourists, trying to lure them into escorted trips around the city.

An Australian couple who had walked through the security gates into the surrounding city stopped to talk with me. They were out of breath.

"We tried to walk around a little, but at the end of the block we saw heavily armed troops in armoured vehicles," they told me.

I needed to check my e-mail, so I left the walled off area to walk to a Radisson Hotel that had an internet cafe. Belize is an astonishingly poor country.  The locals were dirty and poorly clothed.  Buildings were rotting and crumbling into the ground.  Every few steps, I was hassled by somebody offering to sell me something or to simply escort me to my destination.

Belize is next door to Honduras, Nicaragua and El Salvador. These countries have experienced savage political violence for decades. Hundreds of thousands of people have been disappeared and executed. A rigid racial caste system rules, with blacks on the bottom, mestizos in the middle and whites and light skinned natives at the top.

The little walled off port had virtually nothing to offer. For the remainder of the cruise, passengers joked with one another about what a shit hole Belize had been. Every time I spoke with another passenger about Belize, he or she mentioned the threatening aura of violence in the port.

Hard to form an opinion about an entire country from such limited experience, but I wasn't sold on Belize as a retirement destination. It's cheap, but that's obviously because the country is so damned poor and desperate.

The Karaoke Queen and I have talked about retiring to the Philippines, or living part of the year there. Filipinos also often live in dire poverty, and political violence is endemic. But, if I lived there, I would live within the protective shell of the Queen's family. I could still move about in Cebu, without being imprisoned in a walled environment.

My little visit didn't encourage me to believe that this would be true in Belize. Looks like American retirees would have to live in total isolation from the locals, behind walls and protected by heavy security. Maybe I'm wrong. Don't know.

Check out the official U.S. State Department advisory about Belize and see if it helps.  The Belize Gringo is a weblog that discusses retirement in Belize.

Ryno for Cubs Manager!

The dismal history of the Chicago Cubs has destroyed yet another manager, this time Sweet Lou Piniella. Imported to Chicago in 2006, Piniella was supposed to bring with him the winning aura of the Yankees. The 2006 and 2007 Cubs made the playoffs and were swept out in the first round in both years. So much for that.

Lou's an old grandfather now. He doesn't storm out onto the field to fight with umpires. The Chicago press thinks he's been coasting for the past couple of years, collecting his mega-salary while the team declined into irrelevance. Don't know if that's true. Aramis Ramirez and Derek Lee aren't the players they were in 2007, and probably never will be again. And, the playoff beatdowns destroyed the confidence and morale of the team.

So, who's going to be the next sucker? Who's going to be the next manager to try to break the 102 year old curse?

My vote is for Ryne Sandberg , the great Hall of Fame second baseman of the 1980s and 1990s Cub teams. Take a look at this picture. The great Ryno is 50! Time keeps on slipping away.

Why Sandberg? Well, he was a relentless worker and perfectionist on the field. He holds the record for consecutive errorless games for a second baseman, at 123. Ryno has been coaching his way up through the minor leagues for the past four years, so he's learned his trade.

The critical issue for the Cubs is performing in the pressure of the playoffs. Although the public image of the Cubs is that of the hopeless loser, the Cubs have improved tremendously over the past two decades... so much so that playoff appearances are now demanded by the fan base. The Cubs made the playoffs in 1989, 1998, 2003, 2006 and 2007. So, the culture of the Cubs really has changed.

Now, the Cubs must learn how to win in the playoffs. Sandberg is one of the few Cubs who performed at the highest level in his playoff appearances. He's a career .385 hitter in 10 playoff games. Add in 6 RBIs in those 10 games. That would average out to 100 RBIs over a 162 game season. Sandberg handled the pressure of the playoffs and excelled.

So, maybe Ryno is the guy who can shepherd the Cubs to a world championship. A new generation of position players is emerging from the minors, led by the incredible Starlin Castro. Tyler Colvin will be a great player. The Cubs are set for the next decade with Geovani Soto catching. Even though the team has stunk this year, the pitching has been very good.

I vote for Ryno! I know that most people would love to lure Joe Girardi away from the Yankees. So would I, but that just ain't gonna happen. And, the Cubs have tried several times to import managers with Yankee pedigrees in the hope of siphoning off that winning tradition. That hasn't worked either. Time to try to build a winning tradition from within.