Harleys, Cars, Girls & Guitars

The Art Bus

Out shopping today, I happened across The Art Bus in a parking lot in Kingston. Converted busses are dear to the hearts of hippies. In the 60s, communes and bands converted the old yellow school bus into traveling homes and vans. So, The Art Bus is definitely following an established tradition.

Why do we need a “Mobile Studio for Aspiring Artists?” I’ll let The Art Bus people speak for themselves.

The Art Bus is a mini bus that has been converted inside and out to become a mobile studio. We are a not-for-profit corporation with it’s primary function to sustain and promote the Arts throughout the state of New York and the Northeast. It is intended to foster the growth of a new generation of printmakers and painters, with particular emphasis on printmaking. We travel to public and private locations with the intention of engaging as many people of all age groups and skill levels in creative work and instructional sessions.

Everything Breaks in Time

Ever go through a period when everything you own seems to be breaking? I’m going through it now.

My lawn mower died. So, I took a trip to Home Depot and bought a close out mower for what I thought was a great price… $180! Started it up and 10 seconds later it shut down. So, tomorrow, I’m going to have to return the mower.

Tried to load the mower into my Ford Ranger pickup truck, and the latch on the tailgate broke! With my recently broken collar bone, I couldn’t lift the damned thing over the tailgate. So, I called up my future son-in-law and he had to drive out and supply the muscle.

My iPhone is nearing the end of its life. Not sure what’s wrong. Maybe the battery no longer can retain a full charge. The phone is several years old. I’ve probably got more service out of it than I could have expected. Don’t know whether I’ll trade up to a 3G or an iPhone 4.

Why do things break in bunches? Is it a curse?

One of my keyboards, the Kurzweil PC2X needs a complete overhaul. The memory chip doesn’t seem to be holding the software program. The Kurzweil is easily 10 years old and it’s taken a hell of a beating.

The speedometer on my Harley died a couple of weeks ago while I was riding up to Albany. The injuries from my fall on the bicycle probably put an end to my motorcycle riding season, so I’m putting off the repairs until next spring.

Of course, my collar bone was broken in the bicycle crash.

Just to really rub it in, my computer printer won't pull in paper.

Everything is breaking. All my stuff is getting old. Ain’t no spring chicken myself.

There is a Bad Moon on the Rise

The next year, I think, will be extremely chaotic. As we approach the presidential election, the public atmosphere will be incredibly angry and vengeful. The economy is likely to remain volatile. So, what does a prudent person do to protect himself?

Already, the Democrats have shown their hand. You’re a racist if you oppose the re-election of President Obama. So, the public arena will be absolutely poisonous over the next 15 months leading up to the election.

This is a serious problem for me, because I’ve got to navigate the waters of working in the media hive of New York City. While I’m not a political activist, I do not share in the far left belief system that dominates that media hive.

How do I survive in the midst of an environment where people will not shut up about their far left political views?

On the personal financial front, the next year looks even more problematic. Will it be possible to work? Is it time to just sell out and hold onto whatever cash I have? The markets may be headed toward the final collapse, or they may bottom out and rebound.

I’m approaching retirement. This complicates the economic questions. I’m no longer in the position of waiting around for long term gain. I might need money from my savings just to survive.

The next year will be an intense struggle, I think, for just about everybody. It won’t be pretty. The public environment will be angry and confrontational. And, just paying the bills might become a very serious problem.

Woodstock Volunteer Appreciation Day

I dropped by Andy Lee Field yesterday for the annual picnic in honor of Woodstock volunteers. I saw my colleagues on the Rescue Squad for the first time since the big crash. The squad brought out the ambulance and put it on display, which I thought was a nice touch.

Of course, the local bands lined up to play in the pavilion. Maybe next year, I get the Old Dogs into the lineup. I haven’t played in Woodstock in quite a while.

Most of the local stores donated a food dish. I worked my way through the line and tossed out my calorie counting for the day. I even had a chocolate brownie. Sat down and talked with the locals and listened to the music.

I didn’t drive back into the town for the fireworks. The town always puts on a good show. But, I could hear the fireworks at my house, some six miles away.

As soon as the doctor gives me permission, I’ll be returning to Rescue Squad duty. Every day, I feel a bit stronger. I do a ten mile bicycle ride easily. Today, if I can squeeze it in between the rain, I’ll do fifteen.

Dilbert Answers That Interview Question

I'll have to try this at my next interview. I can't tell you how many times I've sat there, looking at the interviewer, trying to figure out how to answer this damn question.

Now, if only Dilbert would solve that other interview dilemma... the gotcha question from the tech guy.

Here's what happens. You've made it past the HR guy. Then, the department manager grills you. Everything is going great! Then the nerdy tech guy ambles out and demands a programming solution to a coding problem he's been living with for 18 months. And, he wants an answer on the spot!

The aspiring coder is caught like a rabbit in a trap. What do to? What to do?

We All Fall Down

Took my first bicycle ride since Big Joe and I crashed three weeks ago. Rode ten miles. Max speed: 20 mph. Average speed: 10.5 mph. My left shoulder is still weak. Collar bone mending. But, it felt good to break a sweat and to build a little confidence in my body again.

I felt a little wobbly when I jumped on the bike. The doctor didn’t exactly give me the OK to ride. He said: “Go ahead if you want to, but make sure you don’t fall.” Good advice.

I think about a lot of things while I ride. Sometimes, I write a letter to the editor of the Woodstock Times. Something along the lines of: “For God’s sakes, aren't you commies ever gonna give up on that shit?” Usually, I think better of this and move on to something productive. Like writing a song.

Writing a song about falling seemed appropriate. (Remember when everything was either appropriate or inappropriate? Back in the late 90s.) So, here’s my chorus and my first verse:

We All Fall Down

We all fall down
We all get hurt
You gotta pick yourself up
You gotta brush off the dirt

I’ll tell you the truth
You fall, it hurts like hell
God never said life was easy
You can’t live in a shell
I buried my daddy
I buried my wife
I wanted to die
God said get on with your life

I like it. I’ll start writing some music to go with the words this afternoon.

Off to get a haircut. More interviews next week. Life beats you down. You struggle to stand up. You go on.

Wind Farms Murder Eagles!

Yes, they do. Excuse me for getting a chuckle out of this. I haven’t got anything against eagles. In fact, it’s not uncommon to see a Bald Eagle in my back yard. The humor here is the sanctimonious belief on the part of the environmental whackos that energy can be produced without some cost in terms of life or environment.

The Woodstock Times prattles on endlessly about wind farms and other forms of green energy. They got this burr up their butts in Rhetoric 101 back in freshman year of college. The staff of the Times could not do a simple long division problem without a calculator if they had a week to try. But, they like to pretend that they know something about science.

The green energy scam is just about entirely that. Gas, coal and oil will be our primary fuels for a long time. The green energy scam is funded by massive state and federal subsidies. In other words, it is simple political corruption on a grand scale. The greenies love this shit because it’s another excuse to create a centrally planned economy.

The greenies now have eagle blood on their hands! Sorry about that eagles! You must die so that the greenies can have their windmills.

Vacation in London! Write Actionscript!

The Indian recruiters often do not consult a map before they contact me. They often seem to think that the entire U.S. of A. is within driving distance of Woodstock. The recruiters routinely pitch me for jobs in Los Angeles and Texas. Today marks a first. An Indian recruiter tossed a job in London at me.

I’ll take the job! All the employer has to do is pay for my transportation to the U.K., and provide me with housing.

Aren’t they having a spot of trouble in London right now? Something about rioting and arson?

Somehow, I don’t think the employer is willing to foot the bill to set me up in London. Must be somebody on the other side of the Pond who knows how to create a Facebook site.

Rehab Again

I rehearsed with the Old Dogs last night. This was, literally, my first strenuous activity since I dumped the bicycle and face planted on the asphalt. First time out for Big Joe, too. Man, it was hard! And, today, I’m pretty sore.

That’s Big Joe, above, trying to find his groove. Not easy for him either. He took a worse hit than me, going airborne over my back. The docs have pasted him back together. We’ll see whether the repaired version is better.

Rehabbing is tough when you’re an old fart. Healing takes longer. While my collar bone is healing nicely, I’ve got another six weeks or more before I’ll be strong enough to do yoga.

Got my bike back from the shop a couple of days ago. I’ll hit the road for a slow and easy 10 mile ride tomorrow. Can’t put too much pressure on the bad shoulder. The doctor told me that it would be a bad idea to fall again.

Everything seemed easy with the Old Dogs until Big Joe and I went down. We put together a huge repertoire in a hurry, and we were laughing it up all through rehearsal.

Last night, we really struggled to find our spacing and to hit the beat. We did OK with the blues standards. John, our bass player, has a very good voice, and I enjoy doing harmony with him. Mike, our drummer, is always enthusiastic and in the groove.

I didn’t even try to play guitar last night. Don’t want to put any weight on my shoulder. Just played keys.

We’re gonna focus on 15 songs next week. I’m gonna get in some practice to try to pull my playing together.

You can teach Old Dogs new tricks!

 

Fred Imus Ascends to that Trailer Park in the Sky

Fred Imus hosted one of my favorite shows on Sirius Radio, a Sunday afternoon country music extravaganza known as the Trailer Park Bash.  He’s now in that Trailer Park in the sky, dead at the age of 69.

You might know him better as Don Imus’ brother. That's Fred on the left and Don on the right in the picture above. I think of Fred as the songwriter who produced the hilarious country song, I Don’t Want to Have to Marry You.

The Trailer Park Bash was a great mix of gentle country jokes about growing up white trash and old time country music. I’ll miss listening to Fred on Sunday afternoons.