Crying for Argentina and dead folks

Well boy did they just pop off this week. First Ed McMann genial smiling guy at the end of Johnny Carson’s Sofa all those years. He would laugh and say Hiyo from time to time and chortle when Carson would say things like ‘Wrong Water buffalo Breath”. All in all not that bad a gig – there some kind of Star Search thing and those big Publisher’s clearing house checks that he would force on terrified villagers as well but mostly he was Johnny’s bud.

Thinking about the Tonight Show when Carson was on I am remembering it as just a lot looser than either of the current shows – guests would often just be on the show to be on the show – nowadays it’s all about plugging something you’re doing – there was that as well but a lot of the time they just talked. Johnny could listen very well and ask the right question – it’s a hard skill – which I didn’t appreciate because he made it look so easy.

And that is Ed’s fate I guess – I start writing about him and sidetrack right to Johnny Carson. Sorry Ed.

Mean time the woman for whom my generation were damn near commanded to feel lust for and buy that poster passed away as well after a long illness.

I’m probably un-American in saying this but well blondes have never really done it for me personally – I’m not sure why they just didn’t – also I remember disliking Charlie’s Angels mostly because of what everybody else liked – the jiggle stuff. And to show just how out of step I was I liked Kate Jackson she seemed to have a brain in her head – unlike the other two..

No of course it wasn’t true but American TV and (and probably still) prefers very good looking women to be dumb – smart and beautiful is just too much – witness Diana Rigg’s horrible US sitcom. Not a single writer had the slightest idea what to do with her.

But Fara wasn’t content to be an air head and worked on being an actor – then had massive ups and downs and then because fate can be cruel – got cancer that took her away inch by painfully inch.

And then Michael Jackson dropped dead.

And while Fara death is sad because it was really too soon – MJ had been a dead man walking for years – a trainwreck of a life that made Elvis’ last years seem sane calm and measured. Not a huge fan of the music although I recognize the quality. There was a time when he was inescapable but that time was gone.

It’s interesting he always seemed proudest that Thriller was the best selling album in history – but as the years dragged by Thriller became an albatross that he kept chasing – to sell more than that. It killed his art.

Lost in all the Shuffle was the passing Sky Saxon lead singer of the early garage band The Seeds.

Meantime- in what should come as no surprise; it turns out that yes Mr. Sanford the Governor of South Carolina did pay for a trip to his mistress with state money. Which means he’s done. He may flail about here and there but he’s on borrowed time as governor of South Carolina.

Which frankly after his absurd grandstanding about not taking federal funds even for unemployment insurance strikes me as having the grim grind of the karma wheel. Which can be hard to believe in when Dick Cheney isn’t being struck by lightning every day but no matter – leave him to heaven.

The one thing that struck me here – after Amada at Pandagon pointed it out was that this was not your typically cynical use power and money to get some nookie political scandal this guy fell in love with this woman, madly franticly probably for the first time in his life he was carried away by passion. It doesn’t really excuse his actions but it adds a note of humanity to what happened – this was not Switzer’s order a woman like you order delivery pizza which is one of the appeals of using expensive hookers – this was something else.

It’s sad really – I’m guess he and his wife’s life had been lived with the idea of control of meeting obligations of repressing emotions even as a youngster and when this volcano of emotion hit, he was totally incapable of rational thought – I haven’t looked at the emails no need.. The ancient Romans thought romantic love was a form of madness and locked folks away for it. Sanford would have been a candidate.

It does argue for that if you are going to fall in love with a woman you shouldn’t (I let you define just what that means) it’s better to do this when you are young so the damage it does to your life is limited. Which in the nature of full disclosure is what happened to me I fell like a crazy person for someone and she (oddly enough) fell for me too – the resultant disaster almost killed me but I was young and I manged to recover - well mostly. So I have a bit of understanding for this guy. He’s still a rotter but it’s the second circle of hell – not good but not so bad either.

Peace, Love, Buffeted by Winds

thoughts, New Orleans and all that

One of the problems cited with the news as it exists these days is that contrary to what is normally presented we are not overwhelmed by a blizzard of stories – what happens is that we get one story over and over and over again – until something else pops up and we get that.

Currently – it’s Dave Letterman – no not really but you could be excused for thinking that.

The other difficulty with modern communications is that while electrons move at the speed of light – human events move at their own pace and while the networks might want news now – things will take their own damn time.

At that is the last I’m going to say about Iran right at the moment. We’re doing the right thing keeping out of it.

Got back recently from New Orleans- it was a bachelor party I won’t mention names but it wasn’t anybody in the band.

First of all it was hot and humid – 90 degrees in the day time - and I just poured sweat – next time I go I’ll have to bring about 3 t-shirts per day.

Didn’t get to as many restaurants as I wanted to – we had a large group of people and unless there you’re in a tour group – things end up with you having long discussions in the middle of Bourbon Street that go on and on and on

“How about this?”
“Well I don’t know”
“what’s wrong with it.?”
“I’m just not thrilled.”
“Well where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know where to you want to go?”

For the rest of the dialogue please see the film or televideo of Marty.

Our ability to make decisions was not helped by folks wandering over to one of the many bars and shops and purchasing some form of booze and then wandering back to the group. After a few moments of this the group had the total brain power of a Labrador with ADD.

One thing they all agreed upon was a visit to a strip club – Bourbon Street is full of them - hell it’s Disneyland for perverts – with world class restaurants right near by on the street itself. Its part of what New Orleans is.

So we went to a strip club – I wasn’t that thrilled with the idea – up till then I had lived a long and happy life without going to a strip club and had no real desire to change that but – party on Wayne was the motto.

I was told some time ago that there are strip club guys and there are non-strip club guys – well put me firmly in the non-strip club guy category. After about 20 minutes I realized 1) I was very uncomfortable 2) I was very very bored and 3) there are only so many things you can do with a pole.

The whole thing seemed like crude cheese to lure crude mice to spend there money.

As I said not for me. The rest of the party was having a fine old time however.

At various points during the event one of the girls would walk up and start talking to me - this was a way of trying to encourage someone to pay for a lap dance or some such It took a great deal of effort not to say something hideously rude or just wrong:

“So hon would you like a lap dance.”
“Sorry, since the Accident I haven’t been a complete man.”

And while nothing lasts for ever – but lord did this seem like it.

Anyway my best memory of the city came one night as I was separated from the group – we were to meet later – there was a courtyard off of Bourbon Street with statues of Al Hurt, Fats Domino and others – there was a little band playing there just a guy with a banjo and one guy vocals/trumpet. He did a couple of songs and then launched into “Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?”

In the album Sketches of Spain – Miles Davis’s trumpet playing is described in the gypsy mode or that of a “heart Pierced by sorrow.” Well on that night – Miles had nothing on this guy – he played his horn and in that sound there was mourning for the loss, a celebration of what it had been and a hope for what could still be- I had tears in my eyes when he was done.

It was the moment I ‘got’ New Orleans.

Peace, Love. Jazz.