During George W. Bush’s two terms as President, not a day went by without some loudmouth on the Left shrieking, “He’s shreddddding the Constitution!” Presumably, this blather was driven by what one can only assume was a reverence for the document allegedly being “shredded.”

One would think that the very same shriekers would welcome the Republicans’ stated intention to open this session of Congress by actually reading aloud the Constitution, the document which each and every elected representative has taken an oath to “preserve, protect and defend.” Unfortunately, bad sadly predictably, the Left views this as a Republican gimmick and has characterized the Constitution as nothing more than an old scrap of parchment that is impossible to understand with no relevance to the world today.

Where did all the Bush Era shriekers go?

If you are sufficiently illiterate to understand the language in the Constitution, despite its age, or if you believe the Constitution lacks relevance because iPhones and Twitter didn’t exist at the time of its creation, you should either take the time and effort to educate yourself, or stick to watching network TV shows and leave the important things to the grownups.

It’s pretty simple. If the Constitution means nothing, then the federal government can do whatever it wishes, whenever it wishes, however it wishes, to whomever it wishes. We appear to be heading in that direction.

It’s time for all Americans to shriek.

As many of you know, I don’t do power tools, particularly those with chains or those with sharp-toothed blades. As you also know, I am easily intimidated by computers and electronic gadgets. As such, a while back when I bought this fancy schmancy computer and all the gizmos and software that came with it, I stared helplessly at the multiple boxes until my buddy Mike the Computer Maven came to the House by the Parkway and spent the day hooking everything up and moving the stuff from my old computer to the new one. There is simply no way I could have done it.

A while later the computer developed a problem and had to be sent to HP for repair work. In the process of doing the repair work, HP wiped my hard disc. Double yikes! Mike spent a shitload of time getting that all squared away for me.

Mike is most definitely a geek’s geek and a gadget guy’s gadget guy (He actually reads and understands the stuff on Slashdot.), and he’s gotten around to starting a blog. Although he is writing about various things, the posts seem to be weighted a bit in the direction geekery and gadgetry, but they are written with non-geeks in mind.

Mike’s a good guy, and the name of the blog is “Lost in the Details.” Give it a look. I figure if I send enough traffic Mike’s way, he may show me how to operate my DVR.

Last night, I did something I’ve wanted to for quite some time, which was to check out the Albert Music Hall and see if I could do a bit of pickin’ there.

As you can see from the website, the place has become a cultural institution in New Jersey. I had been to the old location many years ago, before it burned down. Back then, I went into the theater to see the show, which I enjoyed very much. However; what intrigued me most about the place was the musical action that was taking place in the parking lot. People playing all sorts of instruments (mostly stringed) clustered in groups and just played and sang for themselves and anyone who felt like watching – and many did.

The spontaneous parking lot “concerts” became part of the tradition, so when the new building was built, a “Pickin’ Shed” and a porch were included for those who show up with instruments and want to play (there are photos on the website).

So, I decided to give it a shot. I put my guitar (not the Gibson) in the trunk and headed over there to see how the pickin’ thing works. When I arrived, there were already about ten people playing in the Pickin’ Shed. Not knowing the “rules” (e.g.Was some minimal level of competence required? Does it cost anything? Do you need someone’s permission?), I asked one of the peeps, “Can anyone play?”

Answer: “Sure.”

With that, I took the guitar from the gig bag, watched people’s hands to see the key of the song everyone was playing and started right in. There were about a half-dozen guitar players, a couple mandolin players, a guy playing the dobro, a guy way older than I playing harmonica and even a guy keeping time with brushes on a share drum. After playing about ten songs, the guy who seemed to be the main guy looked in my direction and said, “The fella over there in the green shirt strumming that guitar… [i.e. me] … Would you like to sing one?”

Of course, I did not refuse. I sang one and then sang another couple tunes over the next few hours. I learned that players and spectators come in and out all night. Later in the evening, an absolutely amazing fiddle player showed up. He was kind of a goofy, happy guy who had no problem doing a bit of a crazy dance while he played. Truth is, I heard him play some serious stuff outside the shed, and I’m convinced that he must be an accomplished violinist who does the “fiddle” thing for shits and giggles.

I closed out the night by moving to the porch to play. It is my impression that the porch is where more serious players seem to congregate. The guy playing banjo was great. I just stayed on the fringe doing my damndest to keep up with the rapid-fire chord changes in bluegrass tunes I had never heard before.

My fingers are sore today, but it was a great way to spend Saturday night. Hell, I may well become one of the “regulars.”

Note: Be sure to click on the Video link on the website for background on the Albert Music Hall. You can also see the video by clicking here.

1. During this morning’s groundpound, I noticed that a woman was backing her car out of her driveway. In the past, having almost been hit by a person backing a car out of a driveway, I stopped to wait for her to finish backing out. She stopped the car, but never looked at me. Seeing as how her backup lights were still on and she was still looking straight ahead, I continued to wait, rather than step behind the ton of potentially moving steel.

After about ten seconds, she turned in my direction and waved her hand out the window while saying, “Ga Head.” I understood her perfectly.

2. It occurs to me that, when in Jersey Mode, I pronounce the contraction “we’re” as “wur.”

3. Similarly, when in Jersey Mode, I pronounce “I’m” as “ahm.”

I figure everyone else toowaks wrong.

Last night’s rain squall brought with it a beautiful autumn morning. It’s always great to be awake early enough on a Sunday to have the streets largely to myself. Normally this street is heavily traveled, and the cars are often driven by people who confuse the brake pedal with the horn. Clear day, with cool, comfortable temperature and a rare bit of quiet made for a great Sunday groundpound.

Virtually every sewer grate looked like this one. Last night’s rain took down many of the color-changing leaves, which is a bad thing, and it clogged the storm sewers resulting in many flooded streets and horrendous driving conditions, which was a really bad thing.

My thoughts meandered, but they tended to drift in the direction of the excellent peeps I didn’t have a chance to see this weekend in Tennessee, as I absolutely, positively had to be somewhere else. It was the first gathering there that I’ve missed. I look forward to reading all about it.

I don’t know if it’s a nationwide thing, but around here Comcast has decided to drop its analog signal. What that means is that if you have a TV already hooked up to digital service (as is the one in the room with Mr. Recliner), you’re cool for that TV. However, if you have other Comcast cable TVs, which are not hooked up to a digital box, you will lose a shitload of stations. For those TVs, one needs the digital thingy, available from Comcast.

Comcast has sent letters and made robo-calls reminding users that they may well need one or more digital thingies. As an additional “reminder,” certain stations began to disappear over the last few days. I finally got off my arse and ordered two digital thingies. They arrived the other day, and being lazy and a techno-chicken, I let them sit in the box for a few days, thinking that maybe there will be nuclear strike or something and I won’t have to deal with them. However, tonight, Fox News dropped off the scope on the kitchen TV, and it was time for action.

As usual, I broke out in a sweat at the thought of screwing around with wires and televisions, but ya gotta do what ya gotta do. So, I followed all the setup directions and then logged into the website to activate the thingies. Well, it worked, but knowing how I fare with things techno, I thought, “Yo, this was way too easy.”

Of course, I was right.

Everything was cool with the TV in the kitchen until I tried to use the new remote that came with the thingy to turn the TV off. No dice. What now? Leave the TV on forever? Rather than risk a cardiovascular accident, I turned the TV off with the old remote, and I resolved to deal with it tomorrow. I had enough of coaxial cables, and checking for blinking lights on remotes for the night.

Wrong.

It seems the upstairs TV when squirrely when Mrs. Parkway tried to watch a DVD. Mind you, this is a DVD that only plays discs; it doesn’t record anything, so the setup instructions for a TV/VCR that came with the thingy did not apply (there is no coaxial input on the DVD player). After about 45 minutes of pushing various buttons on two remotes, it seems that the problem was not with the digital thingy, but rather the series of button pushes one has to do to turn on the DVD player without screwing up the TV.

This “easy setup” gobbled up a few hours in the shank of the evening.

So, at the end of the day and my latest bout with electronic stuff, here are my thoughts. The digital thingy is yet another damned widget, it occupies yet another socket, it has left us with a bunch of messy wires to contend, a remote that still has to be fiddled with, and a bizarre series of button pushes in order to watch a DVD. What we get in return are a handful of additional program offerings, none of which interest me in the least.

I suppose I should stop bitching, because I’m old enough to remember sitting real close to the ten-inch black and white with rabbit ears sitting atop the box (usually with balled up tinfoil on the end of each “ear” for enhanced reception) and having to change the channels (chunk, chunk, chunk) with a pair of pliers, all to watch Howdy Doody.

It was a rough day, and I’ve had a few Firefly Sweet Tea Vodkas in order to get perpendicular to the center of the earth.

At this moment, blogging appeals to me about as much as a sharp, shit-covered stick in the eye.

You would be well advised to go here to see what Kanye is up to. (Drink warning)

I thank Dogette for pointing me in Laura’s direction. Some really good stuff right there.

Holy crap! Earth Day is almost over, and I forgot to celebrate.

If I knew Al Gore’s present whereabouts, I’d go outside and fart in his general direction. Hell, I’ll just go outside and add to the methane levels in the atmosphere and hope that a few molecules of the bowel windage find their way to Al’s nares.

Boffo!

Hit bound!

Chart buster!

Not exactly.

The Very Brief Backstory

It was 1966. Hell, I wasn’t even old enough to legally drink. I played in a band with a name that would be most politically incorrect nowadays, but back then, it was a pretty handy gimmick, given the appearance of the group, which was comprised of three Japanese-American brothers and two caucasians, one of whom was Yours Truly. The name of the band was “Saby and the Orientals,” and we performed wearing happi coats (here is the closest image I could find of how they looked).

Annnnnyway, as I said, it was 1966, the British Invasion was in full swing, so we thought we should make a record. Saby (pronounced “Sobby”) had written a bunch of songs, so we picked out two of them and arranged for (i.e. paid for) some studio time in New York City. I think we had only purchased two hours, so it was a case of hustle in, set up and try to get it “right” the first time. It was then we learned that we wouldn’t be singing and playing at the same time. First we would have to do the music track and then stand in front of the recording guys and sing into boom microphones to our track — no headphones. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Pretty low tech by today’s standards, methinks.

This was back in the days of 45 RPM records, so we recorded an “A” side and a “B side.” About a week or so later, we picked up a couple hundred 45’s. We handed them out to friends and even naively sent a couple to radio stations. We learned that it actually got played once on some station in Albany and on another in Hawaii.

A year or so later, Life 101 took us in various directions (for me, following college graduation, it was a couple years in the Army). The three brothers moved to places like Colorado and Hawaii. Ed packed up his guitar and became an insurance company executive.

Many years later (in 2002) we had a reunion in Colorado and a friend of one of the guys put the 45 on to a CD. I tucked it away, never giving it much thought until I came across it a week or so ago while cleaning out some bookcases.

So, I sort of figured out how to place it somewhere out there in the ether so you can hear it. There is probably a more efficient way of doing that, but I remain cyber-challenged.

The Players
Guitar – Saburo (Saby)
Organ – Tatsuo (Tatsy)
Bass – Hideo
Guitar – Ed
Drums – Me

The Disclaimer
Hey, it was 1966.

The Songs
Baby Come my Way
(I’m the guy who sounds like Gary Lewis)

Little Girl.
That’s Ed out front.

We’ve gotten together every two years since 2002. I’ve written about the record and our subsequent reunions before, including noting that someone was selling one of the 45’s for $200.00 and “Little Girl” found its way to an album called The The White Group Sound. Obviously, the person who put the album together never saw the band.

Saby still writes songs and plays professionally (keyboard, these days) on the beautiful island of Maui.

So, there you have it. No cyber tomatoes, please. As I said, it was 1966.

Last night, I sent e-mails to Senators Snowe and Collins of Maine and to Senator Specter from Pennsylvania, the three Republican Senators who reportedly were leaning in the direction of voting in favor of the dreadful “Stimulus” Bill. In each case, I respectfully shared my views on the bill and urged them not to vote for it.

In short order, I received two robo-replies via e-mail, one from Senator Collins’ office and one from the office of Senator Specter. The reply from Senator Collins’ simply acknowledged receipt of the e-mail and indicated that a response would be forthcoming if I had requested one (I had requested one).

The response from Senator Specter suggested that, because I am not a Pennsylvania resident, I should not expect a response and that perhaps I should not bother him, but rather deal with my own Senators. Here is the pertinent portion of the e-mail for the office of Senator Specter:

(Please do not reply to this email)

Thank you for taking the time to contact me.

I receive a large volume of E-mails, phone calls, faxes and letters every week from concerned citizens like yourself.
Unfortunately, due to the high volume of mail, I can only respond if you’re a resident of Pennsylvania. If you need to find out who your U.S. Senator is please go to www.senate.gov.

Golly, Senator, I apologize for wasting your time, but I am a U.S. Citizen, and I wrote to you because you are about to put your fingerprints on a monumentally horrible piece of legislation that will affect citizens in all fifty states, not just Pennsylvania. In fact, it will affect future generations of citizens of all fifty states, not just Pennsylvania. I foolishly thought that you might want to hear what supporters of your party think of the Bill.

As for my Senators, I assure you I know their names, and I do write to them from time to time. There is no point in writing to them about this Bill, because, if they had their way, the Bill would be twice its size.

I suggest that if you are going to vote with the Democrats on this Bill, you might just as well change your party affiliation, because I want no part of this Bill, or any so-called Republican who votes for it.

Sincerely,
Jim