The 'H' Stands for 'Harvey'

Landscapes

2010-10-17T10:36:00.008-04:00

I've reached a point where I no longer find it a desirable exercise to try to remember how many years ago something took place - It happened - If any events in my life are important, in the grand scheme of things, the fact that they happened is what matters.

It's gotten harder to remember, to pinpoint times of events. Perhaps that's a sign of decline associated with age. Maybe it's just the way memory works as you add more and more and more as the years pass... also associated with age, it would seem. Probably both.

Viewing this revelatory moment as an accoutrement of wisdom would probably be wrongheaded. It's an annoyance to search my brain pan and come up empty as often as I do. It's that simple, I think.

Yet there are many times I succeed, and find it an unsatisfying exercise. Perhaps that's because so many reference points are so far advanced past the years I expected to be riding in flying cars, and those very future-world dates now sit so very long ago.

It occurs to me, now, as I'm writing this, that I've NEVER been good at such estimations, just as the reckoning of someone's age has never been a strong suit of mine. So maybe the only thing notable about all this is that I'm finally devaluing such skills.

And we'll harbor no notion of this being a surrender to the dulling of the edges, a sad and important decision that will lead to my being less and less sharp as I continue on the road to dotage. I'll read a book now and then, and will continue keeping my razor sharp mental reflexes honed by picking on people... and playing synapse challenging games of Tetris with continued regularity.

And down the road don't ask me when this moment of clarity occurred. I'll be lucky if I remember that it happened following a percocet, a big shot of Patron, and a Founders Centennial Ale at a Greg Dulli show.

Hey. It happens.

"Suck What?"
Robert Mitchum to Director John Heller on the set of "Eyes of War"
in the year 19-who-gives-a-shit?

So You Hate the Yanks, but...

2010-10-08T13:53:00.014-04:00

So here’s the thing. As a Yankee fan I have to hear crap all the time:
- They have a history as a racist organization that extends beyond the integration of baseball.
- They have spent so much money that any successes they’ve enjoyed should be considered the fruits of the sales of that many souls to Satan.

Well folks, Jackie Robinson and Larry Doby started no great flood from the Negro leagues. But what we see here is that we can bitch about the Yanks in that respect, because they're the Yanks.

I know the Yankees have outspent everyone else, pretty much forever, and thus have so many more World Series wins, that to non Pinstripers, it isn’t funny. Only to a Yankee fan, it’s fun, and to a BASEBALL FAN, it should be as well.

World Series Winners over the last decade, their payroll and where that ranked:

2000 Yankees:
$114 /1st
2001 Arizona:
$81.2/ 8th
2002 Angels:
$61.7 15th
2003 Marlins:
$48.7 25th
2004 Red Sox:
$127.3 2nd
2005 White Sox:
$75.2 13th
2006 Cardinals:
$88.9 11th
2007 Red Sox:
$143 2nd
2008 Phillies:
$98.3 12th
2009 Yankees:
$208 1st

As a Yankee fan, we've lived with the Ed Whitsons, the Kenny Rogers, the Carl Pavanos, and have been told to keep our mouths shut because having so many trophies excludes us, as baseball fans, from the SOUR GRAPES LEAGUE, (as opposed to the Crybaby League). The idea is that if we spend enough money, we'll ultimately get it right and win yet another WS, so we're not allowed to look at the above list and note that the Yanks won 2 out of those 10 titles, though by far having that highest payroll EVERY year, in 2003 even taking a beating at the hands of the minimum wage Marlins!!

So OK, the Yankees are the richest, and will always be told they bought their titles. What exactly does that mean?

Why We Watch:
I saw beautiful, relentless baseball from a bunch of really talented guys the last two nights. I got to see a team that, when working well, was an absolute joy to watch. Joining one of the early NYC Rotissery leagues turned me far more into a baseball fan, in that I paid attention to BASEBALL, not just my favorite team. I came to appreciate performance. When Sugar Ray Leonard (who at the time I was a huge fan of) went into the ring for the first time with Roberto Duran, as a fan, I felt more joy at getting to see such transcendent performances than sadness for Ray.

Enjoying greatness, as we see it so seldom, anywhere in life, is something to be treasured.

So if you can put together a fabulous team that rocks on all cylinders, I'd rather see that than one made up of a handful of guys that shouldn't even be in the majors. When I watch baseball I want to see GOOD baseball from pros. That too, in this day and age, is in short supply.

Yet we've seen excellence, as proven by the above list, from a lot of teams other than the Yankees.

Now, of course, we also watch to see our hometown guys prevail, and our support provides us with a certain vicarious pleasure in helping our boys take the title.

Of course, I'm not an idiot. I'm a Browns fan!!! So, I get it, fellas.

But this just speaks to Yankee hating.

Who Else We Should Hate:

The Yanks and the Sox and the Dodgers pay out, by far, the most into the revenue sharing pot. This is because they are compelled to, no lofty or noble purpose here. It's meant to help level the playing field some, at worst, keeping another team or two solvent.

Check this out: ALL BUT TWO TEAMS IN MLB SHOWED A PROFIT LAST YEAR!

Folks, we have a lot of small market owners who are wealthy and are NOT putting the best team they can on the field. They are doing what happens in Cleveland, picking the two or three guys with some real value and contracts coming up and jettisoning them before they have the vaguest idea if they might have that balance of youth, spirit, energy and veteran talent to be able to get into the playoffs, where clearly anything can happen, and some serious damage might be done... and the Indians show a profit!

While conventional wisdom states that if they do well, that could lead to better attendance the next year, and the foundation to build on, the 'actuarial tables' of MLB's revenue sharing tell us that there has to be a monumental turnaround in literally no time at all to make it worthwhile for the profit seeking ownership of a team these days to follow any success by holding their hand and adding to it.

Dolan, owner of the Tribe, walked away with a profit of $181 million in 2009.

If it does NOT pay to win, the fan suffers. So what needs to happen is there have to be more strings attached to revenue sharing, compelling teams to put a greater percentage of it on the field, so YOU TOO WILL HAVE A BETTER CHANCE OF HUMILIATING THE BIG, CREEPY, RICH BITCH YANKEES AND THOSE OF THEIR ILK!

And I'll get to see overall better baseball being played more often by more teams.

Honesty 101:
If your local team had ownership with buttloads of money, willing to spend a reasonable number of said loads with the intent (successful or otherwise) of putting an awesome to watch and awesome to cheer team on the field year after year, you'd take it without a blink.

Further Honesty:
And you'd all still hate the crap out of the Yankees until the day you die.

I get it. I'm just sayin'...

back yet again?

2010-10-02T13:48:00.013-04:00

So my wife, the proprietor at The Dolli Mama's Vintage Warehouse was showing me her 'stats' and it was kind of inspiring to see how many people and countries have dropped by to check out her recipes. Don't blame them, it's good eatin'.

For my part, I've been busy trying to find enough WD 40 to move my project YourBeerNetwork along before every possible bit of craft beer/food programming has been developed, pitched, sold, produced, archived, and moved into late night cable re-runland. That would be three different internet elements, all reachable (such as they may be) by going to www.yourbeernetwork.co m

The one thing I find about facebook is the suggestion, just by the mere architecture of it, to be brief, something as you may know, I've never been very good at. So as the stats for this site tell me that no one has yet visited from Mozambique, and just basic sense tells me not everyone is on facebook, let me leave a little something here for anyone who might drop by. This is from a thread I started on facebook based on the kid who recently got cyber-pushed off the GW Bridge:

I sent a letter to my Senator last night asking about new laws, or reinterpretations of existing ones and the approaches to enforcement concerning this world of cyber assault, one that operates on all sorts of levels, with a potential that's growing exponentially. At a loss to really say how I'd frame any change, I suggested that parents be held more responsible for their kids' actions in cyberspace. If they break a streetlight, a parent has to pay. if they taunt a kid to death, well... consequence is a great motivator to teach and control. Won't change the dark components of what makes us human, but how they are allowed to manifest themselves amongst others needs to be tended to in this new arena.

Social networks and the internet in general are game changers. Perhaps laws need to be passed that DO limit our freedoms a bit. Totally against my grain, and certainly the ACLU's and maybe even the Constitution, depending on who's sitting, but the internet is NOT an exclusively American enterprise. It is an entire world unto itself that lives throughout our existing world. Maybe some international law/regulation could allow us to protect ourselves without feeling we're setting 'local' precedent that would have ramifications elsewhere where we don't want it.

And last... maybe we can legislate Fox News out the door while we're at it.

After, a pal wrote: "WOW! I agree with you, Harv! Could we be getting more conservative in our old age or just a bit wiser?"

I just think we are simply recognizing that, in so many ways, Marshall McLuhan was right about how manifest the changes were going to be when this kind of technological environment took off, growing and accelerating at Einsteinian proportions. Call it his 'Global Nervous Breakdown' if you will. I mean, it's not even Science FICTION, it simply is what it is, and we're getting outpaced by it. It's like handing an automatic weapon to a really angry monkey.

First, there is evil. There's no arguing it. It exists. This applies to everyone, old and young.
Second, youth, specifically, gives us boundless energy, raging hormones, a weird sense of immortality and invulnerability in a cocktail with a sense of doom and TOTAL emotional vulnerability. Youth is where so many great things come from as we see much less consequence to our actions.
But experience isn't there, all the modifiers and equalizers that the experiences of life bring haven't been rolled out yet. A blessing and a curse. Many don't wish to do harm, but don't have the tools to see ahead or around the corner enough to understand the idea of avoiding doing harm.
"We didn't mean to drive him to suicide." True, but what you didn't do was anticipate how damaging this might be and AVOID creating such an environment.
The difference today is in the weaponry, both in the zeros and ones, and recent generations living in a couple worlds now... and when it comes to actual GUNS, a line got crossed a while back, a chilling one changing the relationship so many have with death. It REALLY is a different time and needs to be recognized as such.
A friend once observed that there was conscious evil and unconscious evil, he far preferring to be face to face with the conscious kind. Of course this makes sense and this is why we need to deal with this problem specifically and, as a culture, need to REALLY get our arms wrapped around what is an amazingly different Operating System we're living in from as recently as 5 years ago, destined to be unrecognizable 5 years from now... as well as we can manage.

And... legislate Fox News Net off the air.

From another friend: 47 states have laws similar to Ohio's (links below), there are also Federal laws regarding cyberstalking, etc.

ORC 2903.211(A)(2) et al http://codes.ohio.gov/orc/2903.211

ORC 2917.21 regarding telecommunications harassment - scroll down for the post 9/13/2010 version http://codes.ohio.gov/orc/2917.21

Links to other states' laws can be found here: http://www.ncsl.org/default.aspx?tabid=13495

Thanks for these to Susan Mueller Baranoff.

So.... I'm just shivering a little at the landscape I think we're seeing clearly here. Gay assaults, hetero-assaults, economic fraud, even the capacity to drop a worm into Iran's nuclear control system, all paint the picture of a Deadwood with no borders, no limits, growing like an insane cancer, with such little oversight. Brave New World, indeed.

Healthcare Reform

2009-10-09T16:07:00.003-04:00

OK, there are a lot of arguments, a lot of jaded, politically motivated crap muddying the waters. My position is that we MUST get something in place, period. Then it can be tweaked. Social Security, Welfare, Medicare and Medicaid have all been altered, fixed, messed with over the years. Let's just get started for God's sake.

But in this forum, today, a note I received from an old high school friend. Her husband, in his upper 50s, with beautiful daughters and a great wife, has a heart that doesn't work anymore. He's been hooked up to an LVAD. If you're a Grey's Anatomy viewer, it's the machine Denny was hooked up to while he awaited a heart for transplant.

Here's the note my friend sent me yesterday:

Howdy Harv....that's how we talk out West. We may be in Ohio in a few weeks/months if ---- can get stabilized on his LVAD. Pretty sure we're going to Cleveland Clinic. My sister-in-law has a house in Aurora we can use.

I'm assuming that you and Dolli are in favor of sweeping health reform. I'm really finding out how bad our system is. We pay $1300/mo for health insurance and have a $5 million lifetime cap. Good so far or ---- would already be dead (this hospital would have never taken him without a comparable plan).

So even though we've been told we have one of the best plans around, there are no contracted Physical Therapy providers in Spokane (so no Cardiac Rehab) and our co-pays are running about $150/week for Clinics, meds, etc. That brings us to $1800/mo which is OK because his bills are over 200K so far.

We're lucky because we don't have to think about bankruptcy yet. Most people we've met in similar health positions have sold everything they can to make a dent in their bills. They are honorable people who don't want charity but are losing everything. Waiting room talk is all about money not about rest and healing. I want to go home! OK, I'll stop whining but this health care thing is so crucial. Spread the word! I've been reluctant to talk about it on FB since it's too public (and such a draaag) but maybe I should. May see you soon.......XOXOXOXO

So one story from one end of the spectrum. Then look at the stories of those with a broken ankle, a kid with some violent flu symptoms, cancer patients stuck coming on and off Cobra after losing their jobs with no one who will now insure them. Then what happens?

Please:

http://www.healthreform.gov/support.html

Twitter Musings

2009-08-07T15:03:00.010-04:00

A friend of mine, Catherine Ventura, wrote a lovely little blog for The Huffington Post. She alerted me to it in an e-mail in which she apologized for a guy she sent our way to look into sharing some of our NY office space flaking out by not showing up or returning calls after contacting us to display an interest.

First, her post, totally readable:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/catherine-ventura/the-day-my-twitter-boutiq_b_253620.html

The e-mail:

Sorry if 'Clifford' turned out to be a flake....
Hope you got someone for the space.

No worries, you tried to send us 'Clifford.' It just would have been nice if he had returned Dan's call when he decided to not show up. Oh well. people, right?

I loved your post. I was going to comment. But as each day passes I find myself closing in on, if not already embracing, my generation's version of my father's inability to figure out how to set the clock on his VCR. I find my learning curve is awful in the face of my 'artistic temperament,' or what very well might have been called ADD had that been a term in my day. My dad called it 'lazy,' of course.
So I sensed it too difficult to figure out how to subscribe to Huffington (I'm a Mac user. If a double click doesn't get me there, I'll likely either not go, or continue on and fuck something up), and will post my comment thusly:

I've found two real values in internet communication. First, in the broadest sense, it allows people to communicate without having to be in the room at the same time, and without having to have the discipline to find paper, pen, a stamp. It allows us to send off 'postcards' via quick connecting e-mails, conversations through IMs, and of course, the reality of The Jetsons, via Skype. Joy abounds!!

But it's greatest value, I think, has been the ability it gives us to rediscover the lost art of letter writing. I think this is an amazing gift. That said, I find with the advent of facebook, even I, with this literary clarity, have progressively less and less time allocated, less patience, and less desire to write lengthy tomes as a way to communicate. This is a real shame, because if I, a child of the 50's, thus spawn of the people who came of age in the 20's, am seeing this erode, then I have to believe that this 'gift' probably, outside the world of blogs (which is, I grant you, an important component here), isn't even recognized by most people, folks who are embracing a communications medium with a radical word limit.

So maybe I would approve, maybe I'd even sign up (might yet do so), if I didn't feel Twitter was the cyberworld's version of the continued attack (MTV established this on the tube a couple generations back) of the "Short Attention Span Theater." I'm not avoiding in protest. I think I'm avoiding as I can see what it might do to me, and I think I don't approve.Still, I'm glad you wrote the piece as it forced me to do all this thinking out loud, on your dime, and got me to write a letter, instead of stopping after the roughly 35 words it took to respond to your note about Darryl. Well done, Catherine.

Best

xo

As Relates to Loaded

2009-05-18T22:27:00.006-04:00

This follows a facebook conversation about this:

If art works, not just because it works, but because the observer passionately wants it to work, then yes. Then no? So yes it did and now it doesn't. If it doesn't endure is it still art? I'm not arguing IF it endures. If it becomes art to me because I so badly want it to be, then blink twice, twirl thrice and it no longer matters to me... was it art, did it stop being art, or did I (or it) stop being relevant?

When I was THAT age I wanted everything, anything, nothing, less... but I did so, developmentally having no choice in the matter, Passionately. Youth isn't wasted on the young. It's just a simple reality that the young guzzle gas.

So I'd be OK if I called today's music 'noise' or 'sissy pop' or simply worthless crap, as that would have me doing what my dad did before me and his before him. It's a matter of culture. But here's my version of looking back at Sinatra, or Mario Lanza - Joe Louis and Jack Dempsey, and saying I can't listen to them anymore, and those boxers were overachieving light heavies in a different era. I can revisit the first three Velvet Underground albums and find just wonderful things all over them... and by the way, I like a fair amount of what I hear today, even if I don't listen to as much anymore.

Two days ago, I hit the play button and was hoping for a wonderful, comfortable, not plaid shirt and got an uncomfortable, derivative denim shirt in a room where country rock geetar licks belonged not a whit, but lived on almost every track.

Doug Yule, is that you? Lou, was that you thinking you were normal and before you decided to be an iconic art star? You thought you had an album 'Loaded' with accessibility, didn't you?

I'll grant you, it was an album of process, Sweet Jane and Rock & Roll two enduring gems, but otherwise... not a good album.

Makes me a little sad... she ain't got nothin' at all.

CONCLUSION:

I have always professed that we are all the versions of ourselves. I'm not only the 50 something Harvey, but also contain the 19 year old Harvey as well (just missing some Pall Malls and about 60% of my energy and endurance). Point is, it ALL stays with us, so above was only a, perhaps, clumsy and too quickly thrown together way of saying :

"I bought 'Loaded' on CD at Time Traveler last week and anxiously threw it on, expecting to hear a wonderful, funny, smart, and evocative album from end to end, but heard two songs that did this and the rest was largely rubbish. How disappointing."

Fact is, it DID transform me back in the day, as a stand alone album and as part of what the Velvets meant to me overall, which was huge. So I had my time with it back in the 70s and am grateful. But after I-podding 'Sweet Jane' and 'Rock & Roll' I'm done with it.

OK then. Sorry. I'll try to be m0re articulate in the future. And I will, undoubtedly fail.

6 Degrees of Face

2009-05-16T15:27:00.008-04:00

So I just topped 300 Facebook friends. Some of them true friends, some of them friendly acquaintances through the biz I'm in, my reason for being on Facebook a hybrid of 'friendship' and 'networking.' But truly, friendships come from everywhere, or at least should, so such
distinctions should go by the wayside.

For example, I have a 'friend' in Herb Scannell. He's a serious player in the TV biz. Former President of Nickelodeon, where my ex worked and I produced a number of things, he's also a Tin Huey fan. We did work together, tangentially, on some Nick UpFronts, the most notable, the one he and I were totally in synch with as I produced Devo Unplugged onstage at the Waldorf, as "Los Devos."

But he and I, on Facebook, have talked about music and how, should I unearth my copy of that taped Devo performance, I'll burn him one and send it off. No bidness whatsoever.

In other cases, I'm an unabashed whore. I even got my wrist slapped, by the very service that even boasts the profile option of 'networking' for sending out announcements to all my pals, in and out of the business, to come see Gold Teleproductions' new website and reel, which we are, justifiably proud of. they shut down my ability to mail for a few hours as punishment. Boo.

http://www.goldtele.com

But the reason I'm writing this is because I randomly stumbled upon a phenomena. I have friends from all over. Yes, Ohio, where I live has a lot, but my school chums are spread across the country, my business associations are overwhelmingly in NY and LA. When I search a name, any name, even one attached to no one I know, pages open up where I can scroll down and almost every one of them has at least one friend we share!

Is 300 some sort of critical mass on Facebook that makes this like the you know who game?

Never felt more tribal in my life. Never had such a useless epiphany in my life either.

Just thought I'd share.

PS Since I published this, Dolli explained to me that Facebook is instinctive in the sense that it sorts, starting with number of shared friends, then location.
Thanks honey.

Next up for Dolli????

One (of 2 or 3) Reasons to Be

2009-04-29T09:45:00.003-04:00

A Facebook Moment

From Nic:

I have this album somewhere...this is why I own a theremin now...
Machines Lothar and the Hand People
Source: www.youtube.com

Harvey Gold

April 28 at 10:44pm

Dolli bought me a therimin for X-mas two or three years ago. She also got me a musical saw the same year. My, my.

Nicholas Lawson-Padia

April 28 at 10:50pm

I'm not at all musically inclined, so it's been fun terrorizing the cats, but it is hard to play. I mean, like a real tune. I have this idea of doing "Heroin" only changing the lyrics to "Theremin". You, my friend are partially responsible for my twisted take on tunes. I must thank you here and now. You have made an impact with your visionary talent. Bless you. Hope the shows with Ralph, et al. go well. My best. Nic.

Harvey Gold

Today at 9:34am

Well I hope 'you' is more of a collective reference. The longer I go on the more I can attribute much of the forward, or rather 'off to the side' musical leanings I have to years with Mark Price and Michael Aylward. My old roomie and Hueys roadie, Rick Peters with his ridiculous fake compositions and adoration of the Bonzo Dog Doo Da Band made a real difference. And finally my pal Jim Kauffman put a set of headphones on me one day and by the end of 'Sister Ray' nothing would ever be the same again.

That said, whether it was something always inside, or an acquired thing to go along with all my pop sensibilities may not matter... the main reason I did it all these years was, certainly, given what we did, with little to no expectations of rock stardom, for the occasional comment such as yours.

Thanks Nic. Kind words, indeed.

xo - h

Sling Blade

2009-04-17T17:44:00.001-04:00

"Y'ought not o' killed my little brother. He ought to had a chance to growed up. He would have fun sometime."

Quote of the Year

2009-03-16T23:52:00.001-04:00

From Paul Koestner:

"I experience chunks of nothingness every night, at least during those times when monsters aren't chasing me. There's nothing to it."

Talk Me Down

2009-03-05T12:39:00.011-05:00

... or Harvey rants his way through a 360 and will now need a nap while you berate him and his sissy logic!!!

OK , so I’ve been watching CNBC and MSNBC and tuning in (at least as much as I can stand, which is revealing a relatively low tolerance for the stuff) to get a feel for what’s going on with our economy.

Suddenly, I’m finding myself wondering about the Obama/ Democratic Party/Workingman-in-need approach to things.

I’ve been a lifelong Dem and have always believed that our tax dollars (even those couple of really good years where technically, I should have been a Republican) should be directed at entitlements for those not doing as well as us.

Obama wants to make sure the rich don’t get richer and the working Joe gets some relief. I couldn’t agree more. This POV is reflected in his taxation policy and appears to color (if not determine) everything we’re doing in the recovery packages.

So here’s where the terror sets in.

Anyone who watched ‘Network’ or read the novel could see some sense of inevitability when the big boss explains that everything in this world is determined by dollars, petro-dollars, pounds, yen, pesos, etc. etc. He is saying that global distinctions are no longer geographic or even cultural borders, but are defined by Exxon, GE, Sony… corporate entities, their fiefdoms and how they figure into the dynamic of things.

Now while of course, there are cultural issues that are overwhelming, and there are countries, and this is a bit of overstatement as to the inner workings of everything , let’s push in a bit here.

You give more money to the little guy and he pays off some debt, maybe buys a TV, and maybe the economy is stimulated.

But if you make allowances so businesses can operate more freely, there are jobs, benefits, and an economy. What I’m wondering (help me out folks) is if Ned Beatty’s speech in the movie wasn’t more right than wrong, that capitalism, a currency based world in fact, in full fruition in the 21st century, REQUIRES a recognition that corporations have to be able to act with a level of support, that the symbiotic relationship between business as an institution and the worker is, after all, only functional as a trickle down, with larger chunks of money hitting the top effectively keeping things running with a more singular sense of purpose far more than taking on the issue from the bottom up, where there’s little rhyme or reason… at least no structural or institutional controls other than the need to buy food, gasoline, heating and a roof over our heads, and many other ways to spend (or hoard) the money beyond that list serving little to no useful purpose to the economy at large.

Those of us who would be seen as liberal Democrats, off to the left hippies, have justifiably criticized the implementation of trickle down economics based on the idea that the corporations have been, in effect, answerable to no one, reflecting upper echelon personal greed, resulting in an unsupervised disaster. This is what we’re experiencing now.

I understand the pain that we’re all feeling right now as a result, and most certainly, justice, revenge, retribution for what has happened should all be on the plate, but here’s my question:

Does it appear that the system really has evolved (devolved?) to a place where the trickle down theory has actually been proven and the thing that’s wrong is how it’s been operated, not the institutional structure itself?

Is it likely that throwing money at a general population- one that is likely to hide it under their mattress and spend on the bare essentials as so many of us are out of work with NO income- is not going to right the economy?

Is it possible that with serious oversight, but stimulation – such as allowing, for a set period, corporations to bring offshore money and investments back into the states tax free for a time to allow for expansion and recovery, as it’s not being taxed now anyway…. again, with serious and unprecedented oversight, is more of an answer?

It has to be easier to enforce a discipline and a set of regulations on structured corporations than on a world full billions of individuals, in a 100+ different countries, with a 100 + different cultures, all with different agendas.

As I write this, I guess I’m seeing that the Obama administration is doing just that. Billions to corporations to keep them going, trying to regulate and go for transparency. I think, ultimately, the purpose of this rambling is to come to the realization that President Obama shouldn’t be crucified for doing what might be seen as ‘Republican’ things in his dealings with this problem, just as those of us who are supporters shouldn’t be shocked (though feel free to disapprove) when we come to see that he’s also not a Dove. He never, by the way, ever claimed to be.

It would be good, though to see some public floggings. No one can fault me for that!

I guess I talked myself down, kind of, but feel free to talk back.

First Real Funfest of '09

2009-01-25T00:05:00.014-05:00

We just spent 10 days in Florida folks. Sounds great, right? So my friends from up north call me a coddled AWOL son of a... and the Floridians affectionately blame me for the 60 or lower temps the whole time we're there.

I finally lost it and reminded the northerners (particularly my NY/NJ pals) that just 4 days before my departure, I shoveled just under 11 inches of snow out of my drive and found the temperature to be 0 degrees the morning I left. I mean, really, WHAT WOULD YOU DO? NOT GO OUT OF SOLIDARITY, YOU MISERABLE BITTER WRETCHES?

As for you Floridians, running around in your sweats, shivering, bitching and moaning about the possible frost that would mess up your beautiful flowers... well... YOU OWE ME!!! I didn't once wear my board shorts. I had to dig out MY hoodie, which was supposed to sit in a closet until we left. Apologies that are offered will be accepted.

So this morning we get up far too early, and make our way home.

Our oldest daughter Gayle, bearer of both our granddaughters, Elliott Rose, 4 years, and Frankie Jane, 2 months, picks us up in my car and drives us home to several inchesof the white stuff in the driveway. I grab a shovel and zap a path for Dolli (don't want to wreck the MBTs... though she DID have socks on, forcing her to look , from the ankles down, like a Birkenstocked schoolmarm), and took in all the luggage, computers, etc.

Dolli and Gayle decide to each grab a shovel (thanks to this year's visit to Lowes, we have 38 of them) and between the three of us, knock off the driveway in 15 minutes or less (small drive). While out front, Gayle grabs the paper from across the street, tosses it into the drive, I hand it to Dolli, she throws it in the house and... locks us out.

All cell phones and keys are in the house... and it's kind of chilly. I circle our old jernt and confirm the only unlocked window is behind a screen. So I tear the screen and muscle up what has always been a tough window wide enough for Gayle to slither in.

I get one of those green plastic yard 'end tables' from the back for her to boost up, and as she steps on it, she does a Three Stooges and steps right through the frozen (now completely shattered) booster.

So I do the school kid thing , lace my fingers, boost her up and in she goes, unlocks the door, and we resume shoveling.

We finish up and I get a mallet, managing to loosen, then lower, the window without shattering it. THAT might have been the big victory of the day.

.
That and then ME, of all people, later this evening picking the top 5 (out of 12) winners at Miss America, only erring by having the winner and the first runner up reversed. The new Miss America, btw. looks a lot like a brunette, taller, Lauren Ambrose (from '6 Feet Under' Fame). How weird.

OK not that spectacular, but that's the story.

I DID, however, while away, read Michael Chabon's "Gentemen of the Road" and found it to be delightful. He has written that most adventures occur in the effort to make it to some destination away from our home, and the trip back. Makes sense to me.
OK then. Now That's All Folks! 'nite.

NEWS

2008-12-18T22:43:00.003-05:00

OK, so I don;t have a lot to write about... at least in quantity, but there's one big one and we need to lift the mood of this site for a minute:

News Item #1: Frankie Jane Carter. Born 11/24/08 21" long 8lb. 13 oz. I am a Grampa times two now and thrilled by it.

News Item #2-infinity: Nothing as important as News Item #1.

More later. HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Mark

2008-11-21T23:16:00.006-05:00

I want to be filled with joy...

- Joy over the years of strengthening Mark did with his life force so that it might rocket to the heavens.
- I want to be happy that Mark feels no more pain, that these last four years have brought him varying amounts of joy, music and love to go along with his suffering, suffering that's no more.

- I want to feel so very grateful for the years I managed to travel a path that involved Mark, to experience what was the most singular of experiences one could enjoy, that of Mark Richard Price.

- I want to remember with a smile the Tin Huey gig at which Mark played a riff so ridiculously complex, creative, and so remarkably uncalled for, that we all stopped playing, screamed, maybe threw a couple things at him, probably pushed or punched him, then resumed playing the song.

And I do... all the above.

And yet I'm so very, very sad for me, because my Mark isn't here anymore. For all the above and all the good spiritual events that may have taken place leading up to and since his earthly death, what I suffer is the inability to speak with him, to see him, to laugh with him, to actively, in a physical realm, love him.... this, of course, also includes yelling at him.

I'm sad for everyone else who no longer has access to Mark by picking up a phone or walking into his room, or getting on a plane, picking him up at the airport, or opening our door and seeing that smile only he had.

I'm so sad. So very, very sad... and so, my friends, is Swensons, and some lonely assed Galley Boys.

Any offerings , by request of Mark's brother Stephen, should be made to Hospice by the Bay up by his place in San Rafael , CA.

http://www.hospicebythebay.org

or direct to the contribution page:

https://www.hospicebythebay.org/Foundation/Contribute_Form.html

Golly kids.

Paul's on a Roll: A Political Message from Joe Sixpack

2008-10-16T20:45:00.006-04:00

JOE SIXPACK SITS IN FRONT OF A DRAPED AMERICAN FLAG, CRADLING A SIXPACK OF BUDWEISER. HIS BASEBALL CAP IS REVERSED AND HIS SHIRT ADVERTISES HIS ALLEGIENCE TO THE DETRIOT LIONS.

JOE

Hi, I’m Joe Sixpack, and given the choice of having to sit through a session of Face the Nation or tuning in to old reruns of Baywatch, I think you know where I’m keeping the plasma screen tuned.
But while I’m a big proponent of self-sedation, mostly to ease the pain of watching my Lions get their asses whupped every weekend, I can still spot a snow job when I see one.
So Sarah, you smiley-faced, suffix-clippin’, double-talkin’, muck-rakin’, commie-watchin’, earmarkin’, bridge-buildin’, caribou-filetin’, tax-rebatin’, gay toleratin’, soccer mommin’, prompter quotin’, bogus stat totin’, drill baby drillin’, snake oil sellin’, self-promotin’ maverick for the little guy… Thanks, but no thanks!

JOE POPS OPEN A CAN OF BUDWEISER AND TAKES A BIG GULP AS WE FADE TO GRAPHIC:

THIS BUDDY BOY’S FOR OBAMA

VOICE OVER: I’m Joe Sixpack, and I (BURRRRRRRRRRRRRRP) approve this message.

From my pal Paul

2008-10-12T23:24:00.008-04:00

Paul Koestner, a fine cinematographer and really neat cranky old bitch, also author of "On the Wind and a Prayer" a delightful saga about a man, woman, a boat, and a meatloaf, available through Amazon.com wrote me the following tonight:

Root, Root, Root for the Home Team

While I was in high school, we had some really good sports teams. For some reason, that was incredibly important to Catholics, as if a loving cup might vindicate the vainglorious promise of the Gospel according to Luke. Your cousin might be up on rape charges, but if he was an all-stater, your family had nothing to be ashamed of.

We had some lousy teams too. I know, because I was on one of them. There are a ton of sports programs occupied on any given day across the land, and it’s tough to field a winning team on each and every one of them. Even so, we Americans love our physical challenges, so bring it, Charlie. We got some smokin’ cheerleaders standing by to heal the wounds.

The thing is, regardless of the standing of the present team we’re supporting, the American story is always the same. We are the greatest, and everybody else is a pathetic, detritus-eating dog. Morale is the key to success, and it is no different in the political arena. In the midst of the most laughable team ever fielded by Republicans, the cheerleaders simply hike up their skirts all the higher, and scream all the louder: Your team sucks, and ours is the greatest.

Sarah Palin is so very special, because she’s somebody you’d normally expect to find on the sidelines doing splits that defy human anatomy, while all the boys who didn’t make the team are straining for a view of her Fruit of the Looms. Instead, old Johnny U has handed off the hallowed pigskin to the pompon gal, and we’re all watching to see if she takes it in for the T. She’s so damn inspirational there, with her indefatigable smile, that the refs have their twitchy hands peremptorily on their flags, while the golden gal side-steps her way past reasonable scrutiny, toward the hallowed hash marks of democracy. Sweet Jesus, she might just score! Somebody dress my consolation wiener before the whistle blows.

Recently, Sarah has been looking for a strategic block from Joe Sixpack. I’m wondering if she realizes that he’s under the bleachers trying to feel up the piccolo player before the halftime show. My suspicion is he’ll fall short of his mission, and end up finishing off that six-pack all by hisself.

After that, he’ll do what any red-blooded American boy would do. He’ll finish the job on his own, all the while swearing off any chick with a song-and-dance routine that promises him the stars, while delivering Jack Squat.

****

Well ranted, Paul!!!

To Senator McCain

2008-10-11T09:51:00.013-04:00

I'm not thrilled using this page as a bully pulpit to influence all my readers (Kirk, you out there?) on our political race, but again, along with a couple newspapers I sent a variation of this to, I feel a compelling need to say this

Please,

As a Democrat, I'll admit I've felt for years (much to my surprise and odd comfort) that if I had to have a Republican president, I could live with it being John McCain. My impression was that you were a fiscal conservative and, largely, moderate to liberal on many social issues.

But things are now getting out of hand. This election may be getting away from you based on what's going on with our economy but please, I beg you, don't continue this poorly veiled campaign of hate that has developed over the last couple weeks.

You know Barack Obama is not a member of Islam, and you know he has never 'consorted' with terrorists, and you know he's an American. The kind of campaigning you're doing now has Americans that support you HATING the man who might be the next President.

You say your life has been based on service to your country. Is this horribly divisive appeal that stirs up all the rage and frustration that lower income white America has, to the point that these rallys are producing 'mobs' that are yelling that Barack Obama should be killed, what you see as service?

Is this what you want as your base, as your LEGACY?

I've seen interview after interview. So many of these people have no idea who Sarah Palin is, no real idea of you and your history, other than you were a P.O.W. They only 'know' that some guy with an Arabic name, as told by attractive Sarah and ads on TV, is some unpatriotic foreigner trying to steal their country.

You may say publicly "No, he's a good man" but your people are doing this constantly, and no one, for one minute, believes you're not aware of this.

Please stop.

** I posted this and then it occurred to me. This kind of hatred that your ads, your spinners, and your running mate are all fomenting is something powerful enough to cross the timeline of Nov. 4th or January '09 and continue on. In this sense, in that your campaign is actually aiming to encourage distrust and caste hatred of Sen. Obama, as these are not actual policy issues spoken about anymore, this could truly be something of a telegraphed treason, isn't it? Now is THAT what you call service to your nation, what you would call a legacy? Truly Senator, this is out of control and you may be the only one who can put his foot down and stop it.

So again, I beg you to do so.

Obama - Biden

2008-10-09T17:12:00.020-04:00

Dolli and I just got back from casting early ballots (NO Diebold Machines) I can't remember EVER getting tears in my eyes as i was about to fill in a ballot. But then I saw it there, with the oval waiting for me to check it in:

Barack Obama
Joe Biden

My throat tightened, my eyes teared. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time, a truly terrible 8 years, filled with frustration, humiliation, anger, resentment, you name it- whatever one feels when they are a dot living in a country that does bad things, to people in other lands and to their very own brothers and sisters, with seemingly no recourse, in a country founded on the principal that we shall absolutely have that very recourse.

As we waited for our ballots, we struck up a conversation with an older African American woman there with her husband, he a quiet, gentle, smiling man wearing a Soap Box Derby hat with a Wingfoot on it, for all you Akronites looking for a real symbol. She told us she had had a vision. The right vision. Given that she also, she told us, had a falling out with her son and HE ended up in the hospital, I'll go ahead and hope this good voodoo of hers is on the money

As we were leaving, we had a short conversation with one of the Democrat canvasers out in the parking lot past the line of demarcation for campaigning. I told the younger black man that this was the most important election of his life. "No," he responded," The most important election of my life was the one that got us into this horrible mess in the first place." Couldn't argue with that.

We then went to Obama Headquarters where we signed the board and rang the bell as early voters, receiving applause from the office. I offered, since I work from home, to drive people to the polls during early voting leading up to November 4th. Dolli signed up to take a day off work on election day to drive voters.

Things are bad and they are going to get worse. I like this man and truly wish THIS was not what his presidency was going to have to start out like. But then again, if I can believe a presidency can help us, elevate us, define us, which I do, then this is the man that we have to have . He's the guy that has a shot, if a shot is to be had.

Weird. What a stirring and scary day... and such a proud day to be an American.

PLEASE VOTE!

OK OK OK

2008-10-03T22:00:00.014-04:00

So I obviously need to build momentum here, and will therefore write a new blog posting now.

My interpretation of the debate last night:

Sarah Palin did well enough to raise the bar to the point that we dispensed with the dramedy sufficiently for her to simply lose the debate. Realistically (you all know the melody) who could ask for anything more?

Take 2:
I pretty much hate the foreign policies of both candidates, which make sense as I am becoming a quasi semi pseudo isolationist... today... which is why my Right Wing Libertarian Indie Pal Steve is so conflicted... he loves me so.

This, however, does not deter me from absolute loyalty to the Obama and Tyson ticket. God love Joe's smile!!

Volume 3:
As wonderful as "My Man Godfrey" is, "Life With Father".... isn't.

OK then...

Men's Size 4DD:
Go to http ://www.myspace.com/harveyinthehall and please listen to a sweet (Thanks Bruce & Rob) mix of "In a Very Good Place."

... and finally... Joe Torre ROCKS!!

I am filled with remorse and will NOT publish a pic of him in a Dodger uniform.

Epilogue #5:

Let's GET OUR HALLOWEEN ON PEOPLE!!!

And Now for Something Completely Different

2008-09-22T23:41:00.020-04:00

The above title comes, of course, from our pals in Monty Python via Dolli as she gets a big assist in this post. A little welcome comic relief as we all just need a breath here. The economy is as frightening as anything I've known in my lifetime, particularly with less than a decade's worth of retirement window to see a recovery in... the Great Depression started in '29, bottomed in '32 and didn't get back to the starting line until we'd moved into the 1950's ... and while both candidates routinely stretch the truth (which I find profoundly disappointing), one of them is just lying more and more every day, and I'm afraid with MSNBC and The Daily Show (and the Emmies) calling him on it, most of the American people are actually elsewhere. 60 Minutes? Even then, I'm not so sure.

So Dolli and I, in need of an All American throwback, wholesome, ice cream eating, show your age, 'let's go for a ride' Sunday, took off in our convertable Beetle with the Obama sticker and here's where we ended up ...
The guy on the bottom is me doing my impression of a middle aged white guy who managed to digest a hip-hop artist, or one of the members of 'Entourage' while fighting to victory in a Bratwurst eating contest. Scale note: I'm 6' tall.

Anyway, this is, in fact, not the world's largest Virgin Mary statue -- but it's the biggest damned one I've ever seen. We and a few of our closest friends, most of us still alive, have a shared admiration of Our Lady of Guadalupe. I'm assuming most in the same secular fashion as I-- though secretly hoping that it will be she and only she to greet us on the other side, take us to her bosom, carrying us through the turquoise and orange gates up to the great fiesta in the sky, all our loved ones , in colorful dress, waiting to share the sweetbreads from the celestial pinata with us.

This remarkable statue, surrounded by vast fields, a pond, some beautiful horses, and a stand of trees that tempts us sorely to return in about 3 weeks as the foliage continues to turn colors, was built by Ed and Pat Heinz, on whose farm, in Windsor, Ohio, it stands, "a testament," as written in Roadside America, " to faith and to liberal building laws."

Ed collected -as evidenced by the purchased memory plaques attached to every ball on the below described rosary, as well as every bench, chair, and a few items near or at the permanent Nativity Scene that sits in a chapel slightly larger than a premium sized shed from Home Depot -the $50,000 it would take to build Mary. Then Richard Hyslin, head of the art department at some small Texas college, agreed to donate his services for free. Until then, Hyslin's largest sculpture had apparently been a 15-foot tall King Kong for a miniature golf course, so this was his version of Bernstein's Mass... I guess.

The statue was dedicated on August 5, 1995. Our Lady is 33-feet tall, standing atop an angel and cement cloud, bringing her to 50 feet.

From Roadside America:

"Attached to the figure's back is something resembling the World's Largest Toaster Coil -- her holy radiance. It's made of metal, and during a violent thunderstorm in flat, northeastern Ohio, one requires unfaltering faith to linger for long.

"Mary faces east -- a shutterbug challenge in the late afternoon, even without the lightning strikes creeping towards her. The statue surface is decorated with thousands of tiny mosaic tiles, richly colored, reminding us of the happy Krishna giants in West Virginia," something Dolli and I have yet to see, but between this and our European Holiday tradition of hunting for relics (defined as Holy body parts and uncorrupted corpses... we do have fun between meals, no??), will probably add to our list of day trips.

In front of Our Lady is a pond, surrounded by a giant strand of white rosary beads (disguised as electric beach balls) and a full size carved Jesus reclining on what I thought was a lucite, but Dolli tells me she thinks it's a clear quartz cross.

The coolest thing is that she's there just because that's where Heinz was/is (gotta check into that). Truly a pilgrim's dream. We followed the directions and even then had to sort take a flier on a turn here and there. We pulled into the parking lot to find it populated by perhaps 30 of our Hispanic friends hanging around a pick up truck, a bus, and a cooler. This thing is set back so very far from the road, we had to park, and walk around a building before we could

a) see the wonders of the Porta Potty and

b) say "Oh... My... God!!"

This trip was rejuvenating. It gives us all hope that no matter what comes down the pipe, we, as a race (Ohioans) are so incredibly weird, twisted, and brilliantly capable of the craziest shit, that we're probably too impaired to even notice the implications when we all turn red and ruin the country... again (still). Thank goodness SHE's here.

We waved Adios with a smile to our Amigos as they did us. Ice cream on the way home. Yay!!!

Now what could be next for the intrepid travelers, hmmm?

PS. If you're here looking for some political pontificating, or even if you're not but are willing to do me the honor, please read the post below.

Thanks.

Obama v. McCain? Spy v. Spy? A view from my perch...

2008-09-17T16:03:00.009-04:00

This is the pretty much untruncated version of a "Letter to the Editor" I've been sending out to a number of papers. The short version will be printed in the next two weeks by the Mansfield (Ohio) News Journal. Mansfield sits in Ohio "Red" country.

To the Editor:

In a season where credentials, in one form or another, make a difference, let me first say that I am the son of Ike Gold, who retired as Secretary and Treasurer of The United Rubber, Cork, Linoleum, and Plastic Workers of America.

I grew up in Akron Ohio, lower-middle class, rising to what we just called “middle class”. My dad emigrated as a child from the Ukraine. Because of the Great Depression, he dropped out of West High weeks before graduation and worked with his dad in a scrap yard. He
later worked at The Akron Times Press, then finally landed a job in the rubber shops. He learned to weld, read blueprints, and became a skilled trades journeyman before becoming President of Firestone Local 7. In 1960, when I was 8, dad was elected to his job with the URW, offices in the old Buckeye Building at Mill and High streets.

I was raised going to meetings at the Local 7 Hall, around strikes and picket lines, learning about laws that had been passed to protect the rights of workers to form unions, how unions protected the worker from abuses, overwork, underpay, and safety issues in the workplace.

It was in this environment I learned that The Democratic Party is the party of the working man and woman. Now the Republicans are working so very hard to convince everyone THEY are the party of the working class. They would like us to believe that it’s not the REPUBLICANS who are most likely to raise the taxes of those who can afford it the least.

It’s not shocking that they’ve attempted to do this, but astonishing that it appears to be getting swallowed hook-line-and-sinker by many of our working brothers and sisters.

For a moment, forget the individual candidates. Forget your prejudices, your thoughts about their health, gender, age, race, appearances. Assume for a moment, probably correctly, that none of them are idiots.

I beg you, instead, to consider the platforms the candidates will carry forward when elected. The differences between the Democrats and Republicans are not tiny this time around.

The Democrats pledge to raise taxes on those earning $227,000 and above. As for the “middle class?” Our tax bills will be reduced- with the biggest benefits going to those with the lowest incomes.

Conversely, the Republican plan is to cut corporate taxes, the theory that it will stimulate big business and thus the overall economy, providing more jobs, more money, and more benefits for the majority. This is “trickle down” economics introduced in the Reagan administration by David Stockman, who resigned when it became clear that corporate America wasn’t going to do its part to make the deal work.

Today’s example: This is the worst economy we’ve had in decades, fueled on many levels by gas prices, while the oil companies show the biggest profits, by far, in their history. These profits aren’t providing us with more jobs or lowering out transportation bills.

Further, the next administration is facing the crippling debt we’ve acquired in the last 8 years. If the GOP is pledging to not raise taxes AND offer tax breaks to the rich, where is the money going to come from to pay down this enormous debt? Where’s the lie?

There are many issues to consider, but this one has been going on long enough. The lie that the Republicans represent the Working Joe needs to be done with. That’s what they’ve been saying for years, yet the only time the economy has truly thrived in the last 28 years was during the last 6 years of the Clinton administration when it not only dug us out of the Reagan/Bush Savings and Loan Bail Out crisis, but left the country, Social Security, and Medicare with a SURPLUS!

This Bush administration leaves us with the Freddie Mac, Fannie May, $200 billion dollar bailout. There was a bill in Congress to set up safeguards against this eventuality. Bush declared he’d veto it if passed. McCain voted against it. His Congressional record, btw, has consistently been to vote for de-regulation, exactly what brought us to where we are today (another 400+ drop in the market).

Wall Street is falling apart, and we have the largest National Debt in history, by far! Lehman Brothers , Merrill Lynch, AIG ($85 bill.) - all this on the Republican's watch.

Leave it to the big corporate bosses to take care of us? No! This is exactly why the broken and busted labor unions were formed in the first place!!

And let me make it clear that I’m aware that there have been times the unions have actually been more of a hindrance to their own members than a help. And yes, I know it was a Democratic president that supported NAFTA which, to be fair, was not a good idea, even in the best of times. Now things aren’t good, times have changed, there’s little to spread around… coming under the Republican's watch.

Please, I beg of everyone, don’t base your judgment on personality and thin rhetoric. Look past the War Hero; the African American; the woman as candidate. Vote based on whether you want to see the great majority- those of us who actually make up the engine that runs America, and our children- have a chance again for the first time in almost a decade.

Yes, this means voting, in this election, for Obama.

I Won't Blink

2008-09-14T00:30:00.003-04:00

Why I Married Dolli: Reason # 4,378

2008-09-04T19:15:00.005-04:00

dolli

In reference to VP candidate, Sarah Palin's speech last night:

"she's still scary...i'm scared of her...pageant queens are like dragons with fake eyelashes (as opposed to pit bulls with lipstick).
i don't know what i mean by that...i don't know where these things come from..."

Must See!

2008-09-02T14:26:00.018-04:00

So some of you, perhaps better identified as the one or two who have been checking in, may have noticed a trend on my part as of late, here and in my last two blog entries.

First, to those of you who are tuning in to read my blowhard jive, I thank you. Don’t get me wrong, Dolli is a great audience, but my only consistent one and, as she already tells me how incredibly smart, insightful and clever I am as part of a regular, therapeutic regimen, I still find myself needing just the tiniest bit more. With the constituency this blog maintains, I believe, “tiny” will be the operative word here.

While there is, to be sure, more to my life, some things are difficult to write about at length, in short, or in any way whatsoever that would, with my limited narrative skills, prove interesting… to me first and foremost, explaining my inability to entertain yet someone else with the claptrap of my day-to-day.

So over the last couple days I’ve found it fun to either share my joy over reading something great or viewing a film with some attributes, or doing you, dear reader point 5, a self serving service by warning you away from some perceived (I won’t say ‘crap’ as if you’ve already partaken and liked, my comment, implying you are a moron, whether right or wrong would be less than useful, friendship wise) less than perfect offering out there.

Sacrificing myself for the greater good, if you will.

So now: “My Man Godfrey” Holy crap! What a wonderful, mannered film with the coolest guy S. by S.E. of Cary Grant and the hottest broads (timely colloquial reference) on any block, at any time. This, of course, the 1936 version starring our hero, William Powell- which could start us raving about him and Myrna Loy as the incredibly cool, charming acerbic with a bourbon glass and a smoke in hand at all times, stars of "The Thin Man" - any man’s fantasy, even in black and white, Carol Lombard, and a pretty hot, though lesser known, Gail Patrick as Irene’s (Miss Lombard’s) big sis.

I don’t really need to go into the plot here. It’s a wonderful bit of pre-war Universal Studios whimsy, quality enough to be nominated for 6 Oscars, winning one for Alice Brady, playing the roll of family matriarch, Angelica Bullock.

I know some old 1937 B&W studio pic is as likely a Netflix destination for you as is, say, Toledo Ohio a vacation spot for a well deserved burn-out holiday in January, but if you see it running on AMC or TMC or just want to pick up a movie for a great escape, I couldn’t recommend it more. I have, personally, btw, seen it probably 6 times now.

Next up… or at least soon to come: ‘Life With Father.’ I’m on a roll!!

Yet another Brutal Yay

2008-09-01T10:05:00.011-04:00

'The Savages" as in the name, like ' The Tennenbaums.' Philip Seymour Hoffman, his worst always better than pretty much everyone else, and Laura Linney, a remarkably versatile actress, are touchingly lovely in this film about a brother and sister dealing with an estranged and dying father. This may not be an easy film if you've lost a parent or are at least middle aged yourself, thus advancing your very own march to the borders of oblivion.

If you're young and sensitive and intelligent, you'll appreciate this film, but perhaps it won't batter you as much . Let me be clear, this is not a great film. It's weak enough that you might not find yourself caring about the characters as much as you might, though they all will make you chuckle pretty regularly, and you will most definitley like them. The REAL story here, however, along with the wonderful acting of Hoffman and Linney, is Phillip Bosco as the dad. I worked with him on several occasions when he hosted film series' for Bravo back in the late 80's. A great guy, husband, father, Jersey feller who was and still is a totally accomplished stage actor.

In this low budget film, shot so that you feel cold throughout ... which is good (though weather continuity is a little dicey) as most of it takes place in Buffalo, his is a truly fine performance, period. Worth the amortized Netflix price to be sure.

Yays and Nays

2008-08-31T10:53:00.012-04:00

Yay:
"Feast of the Goat" by Mario Vargas Llosa. A pretty wonderful writer, a pretty savage book, not for the weak of heart or those looking for appropriately intellectual warm fuzzies... but one that has inspired me to do some reading up on Rafael Trujillo, dictator of The Dominican Republic.

Nay:
"Norbit" After working in the yard and doing some other assorted things, as Dolli and I were about to do yet something else, this appeared on my TV. Dolli (a Buchtel High Grad so something of a sista to start), I think, fascinated by Eddie Murphy as a fat bitch, me finding it interesting to watch Thandi Newton clearly follow her Director's orders, "Be cute and give me a ton of energy. Nothing but!," plus Eddie wearing pretty much the exact same make up he wore as an old Jew in 'Coming to America, ' this time being a Chinese character, along with my co-dependent approach to leisure time of "I'm With Her," we gave in to gravity and actually watched it. I'm sorry. Just wasn't myself. Truly a Godawful movie.

In the middle, but leaning heavily towards Nay:
"Semi Pro." OK, since "Ladies' Man" I'm always happy to see Tim Meadows. Will Farrell is a really funny guy with great timing. "Anchor Man" is a Top Ten, his role in "Old School" genius. In a slightly less stellar film, his character in "Zoolander" made me wonder if he's safe to be around in real life and his turn in an even lesser film, "Night at the Roxbury" was also pretty damned funny, creating something where there was mostly nothing. "Emilio!!!"

This one is sort of like "Blades of Glory," a really interesting character but not really good enough to make you want to cringe through the movie more than once. Not exactly the nominee for the AFI 10-worst-pieces-of -shit-you-were-stupid-enough-to-watch-thinking-it-was-one-of-those- so-bad- it's-good- and-how-bad-a-car-wreck-can-it-be-if-Chris-Walken-is-the-guy-wrecking-the car...list, like"Balls of Fury" here, but moving down that path...and the fact that they're kind of , sort of, stealing the deal from my favorite sports movie and Paul Newman's greatest role EVER : "SLAP SHOT"... pisses me off and now, that Ive thought about it, gets a resounding NAY!

My Summer Vacation

2008-08-19T00:03:00.007-04:00

OK, so I had this experience in Maine over July 4th weekend where this woman behind the counter in a store during a really busy period reacted to my asking if I’d done something wrong when she completely ignored my engaging “Hi!” and then, responding to the sign on the register asking for singles with “I think we’ll be able to pay you in all singles” with a mean spirited diatribe so filled with anti-tourista vitriol that all potentially clever and biting retorts from yours truly were jammed up my fat Ohio with a skunk stripe of Yankee fan ass as I fled, very sad and hurt and angry.

I had planned a really clever blog about it with catchphrases and pix and a likely out-of-blog experience to tell about, writing the store to complain. I mean, I worked retail in Woodstock NY, so I know what it’s like and blah, blah, blah… but I’d never blah, blah, blah…

But I had so much fun eating lobster and crab rolls, wild blueberry everything, playing mini-golf, petting a little shark, the annual Boothbay Rock Skipping Championships (likely seen on ‘The Ocho’)and hanging out with Dolli, Debbie and Eddie, an ex- wife I really like, her mom and a healthy dose of ‘Two and a Half Men,’ that the inspiration left me.
So no blog. Too bad. So much opportunity.

I might have gone on about how between June 21st and July 9th I drove 4000 miles in a car that I was assured very likely had no heat shield over the gas line recall problem, then upon my return I opened the mail to see the recall had actually come while we were gone. Ahhhh!! An angry rant about how Volkswagon put my family in danger!!! Lawsuits, high powered rifles, dusters , and the evening news, folks!!

But I became loggy from all that driving (and slotting in a mere 1000 miles in air travel over a 40 hr. period in the middle of all this), and we didn’t, after all, blow up or catch fire, the fix was done, the car really is a good, good car and VW does pay attention and fix things as they seem to present themselves and… being loggy and all, I didn’t blog about this either.

There was the Orthodox Bar Mitzvah in Detroit (and more driving) where my Shiksah wife and I had a great, great time! The saga of my recovering my long lost family, my brother and sister-in-law, their 5 kids and 13 (so far, many more to go) grandchildren. Such a tender, tragic, moving and hilarious saga… but so incredibly important to me and SUCH a story with so little time to write it.

Would I mention on the drive home that Dolli and I went back to our childhoods in the 50s. driving on country roads with no A/C, windows open, stopping at a flea market, a nature preserve, a photo op at a nuclear power plant, lunching on BBQ beef and malts from a custard stand near Cedar Point? Well yeah, if I were to blog it, I’d write it, of course!!!

Is there more, involving raccoons, ex-spouses, failed software loads, crazy assed negotiations with clients, new patios, non-gigs featuring electric bass trios, and spectacular weather?

Of course, but none of that is really writeworthy.

Here’s what’s writeworthy for any gentle reader who hasn’t seen or heard about this:

THE MARK PRICE FUND

Greetings,

Many of you know that Tin Huey bass player and lifelong friend Mark Price was diagnosed with Stage 4 colon cancer that moved into his liver a few years ago. We held a wonderful benefit for him (as well as Huey Michael Aylward who had to have a heart valve repair done around that time), called the "Nicked-up Hueys Benefit."

Everyone turned out, manned- and womaned-up, played some extraordinary music and did really good work thanks to the organizing efforts of Bob Ethington. EVERYONE came, paid admission and contributed a lot to help Mark and Michael, in both money AND SPIRIT!!

Mark has survived this longer than his oncologist predicted, but has now gone through all 5 accepted protocols for the treatment of colon cancer, has been in and out of a study group for a new treatment that initially looked incredibly promising until his body said "no"...and now there's been new tumor growth as his tumor tracking numbers have gone on the rise.

Mark has embarked on an alternative protocol and we hope, of course, that he'll be one of those about whom we can tell the stories. Actually, the way HE can rant and roll, it will be a story HE'LL be telling us all about.

However, with all that said, Mark is in serious need of financial assistance. His will to work is there but he isn't in shape to sustain a 40 hour week. Previously, he had been receiving some financial assistance from his mother who, sadly, passed on a few months ago. And now, Mark is about to sell a bunch of gear he had acquired in the hopes of starting a new recording studio, but these are tough times and we know not what this will yield.

Some of Mark's friends in northern California are throwing a benefit for him in September. While another benefit in our small town would be great, the last one was coordinated weeks in advance and benefited from a Harmonic Convergence of sorts (The Black Keys were in town and at least 3 historic Akron bands were able to reunite) but time is of the essence! So, after talking with a few of you, as well as speaking with Mark, here's a plan:

THE MARK PRICE FUND

I have the number for an account Mark has here in Akron. I'm going to look into doing a Paypal link but am not sure if that's something Mark has to set up himself--which may yet happen , in which case I'll send you the info. But in the meantime, whatever you can send will greatly provide assistance to Mark: if you can send a lot, how wonderful!; if a little that can be managed every week or so, wonderful! Everything will help and be deeply appreciated.

Make your check out to Mark R. Price.
If you're local, call me, or send your donation to me at:
PO Box 13560
Fairlawn, Ohio 44334
and it will get deposited immediately;

or

send your check directly to Mark at
54 Mission Ave.
San Rafael, CA 94901

On behalf of Mark, I thank you with all my heart,
Harvey Gold
914-841-5457

What Was Lost is Found

2008-06-15T14:39:00.011-04:00

First, let's just get out of the box:

DOLLI FOUND OUR CAMERA!!!!

But First----

DOLLI LOST OUR CAMERA!!!

When you announce you've lost something, people always ask: "Where'd you lose it?" A great query. Makes me long for The Honeymooners, Ralph and Norton. I supposed sometimes it's OK if it's clear that we're early into the investigation... but of course... if we knew, we'd know, and we wouldn't in the first place have, etc. etc. (Red face/laugh track)

Also, after a lifetime of not being able to find the zipper on my own pants, in my tenure with Dolli, the walking, breathing, proof positive of the existence of the Chaos Theory of the Universe, I've become fabulous at finding things.
"Shit!"
"What?"
"I can't find my left eye, and I'm already 4 days late for work!"
At this point I put on my galoshes, playtex living gloves, wade in and immediately determine she placed her left eye under the slightly tipped baby bottle of Olay Eye Lifting serum in the "you've died and been condemned to hell" cosmetics/triage closet next to her morning launch pad/mad scientist, pass the instruments tray area formerly known as a sink.

In other words, I've gotten really, really good at this.

But this time, no luck.

We looked everywhere, we asked Liz if she had any recollection that might be useful. We asked Joe, who, typically, had a 2 word/3 syllable response that made us laugh really hard but put us in no compass direction we could detect. We asked at restaurants (even ones we hope to eat at one day) Dolli posted querries all over the known universe, even sending diplomatic pouches to Bancock and other ports far and wide.

I called the woman who provides the cleaning crew that comes once a month, thinking one of the girls might recall seeing it in what might be an odd place and putting it somewhere (other than in her cleavage) to get it out of the way in order to clean a surface, only to send everyone into a tizzy, our cleaning crew chief beside herself (I am her only client that provides doughnut holes), the owner of the company doing current criminal checks on all the girls.... pretty weird.

So we narrowed it down to only two possibilities. The first involved our two old schoolfriends, the husband and wife Methodist Minister team who have a church in Parma. No one would ever think such well modulated (well, HE is) people dedicated to the Word of God (did I mention it's in Parma, which would emphatically confirm they MUST be doing the Lord's work) would ever make any, much less the short list of reprobates that might steal this camera... but we DID show it to them and they DID really like it and they DO need this kind of instamatic quality as they ready to embark on their next CHURCH GROUP TRIP. And they have a great cover.
The second , and far more remote possibility was that Dolli dropped or left it somewhere, i.e. lost the camera.
Not having the balls to call our dear ministerial friends who shall not here be named (The Kuntz's) on the carpet for this, we chose to live the lie that it was simply and randomly lost and move on.

Part of moving on was grieving the loss of the memory card, which contained some heartwarming pix of our gravely ill Uncle Bob and others of Dolli's extended family , numbering around 947 (some of them over 9 feet tall) taken at a recent high school graduation party, so the pain wasn't the loss of the camera, but the memory card and the lost photos.

So this afternoon, Dolli was researching our next camera, and we were going to go out and get it somewhere as a means to get me out of the house on Father's Day. But first, we needed to call Dolli's dad and wish him happy returns of the day. As we spoke on speaker phone, my biz phone rang, my partner in NEW YORK calling me on a Sunday afternoon, suggesting I call our client for Monday IN NEW YORK, to find out if it would be OK to bring one of our NEW YORK based interns to a shoot at the NEW YORK City Ballet! Did I mention that may partner has our client's NEW YORK phone number... and I'm in Ohio, which isn't NEW YORK?

Anyway, as I was finishing up I hear the back screen door slam (I replaced a number of the pistons on the outer doors in the house with old fashioned, from my childhood, springs so that I could, in my own house, slam the door if I wanna), and a remarkably animated Dolli came bounding onto the living room with... you guessed it.

There's no punch line here. One of the activities we didn't place in our timeline investigation was going out with our 84 year old friend Goldie Eagle (yup... bet you wish YOUR name was...), a wonderful and fine woman. As an aside, I'm convinced that if you were to accuse HER of such an act, you'd be instantly transported to old Salem and find yourself at once on fire, pelted by stones and serving as a canvas for Burton the retarded guy next door and his really cool wood burning pen.

Well, we DID go out with her. When we do, upon reboarding the car to drive to dinner, Dolli moves into the back seat and Goldie the front. So while Dolli was on the phone with her folks, she had a vision. It was of her hand pulling open the pouch attached to the back of the passenger's seat, while the other hand dropped the camera in. Had it been lit properly, done in slo -mo and accompanied by some sort of Tangerine Dream type of electronica and involving a mysterious viscuous material, it could have qualified for a Michael Mannesque CSI Miami flashback moment.

But as it didn't include all those wondrous cinematic qualities, it was just Dolli remembering where she left the camera.

Thanks everyone, for staying in the room and/or on the phone as we repeatedly described exactly how we minute, by minute, did not find our camera over the last couple weeks.

Now smile real pretty.... and....!!!

so maybe I'm back

2008-05-25T14:03:00.009-04:00

Howdy Ether,

Since they changed this thing to Google, I've been a little weirded out. I had started to use MySpace more, thinking it a great tool for spreading my music, but am wondering more and more if it is. Still... I got too busy, could only focus on so much internet involvement and opted out of this blog for a time. Of course it didn't help that I really couldn't figure out how to log in and keep it going under the new regime.

Well, Dolli just helped me and here we are.

The interesting thing I found, that inspired me to write was this: On MySpace I made a new friend, a really talented young guy in Seattle named Shane Curry (yes just like the murdered Cincinnati Bengal). He is a wonderfully talented and unique musician, reminding me of Harry Nilsson. A young version, hopefully destined to grow older, wiser, better, and not as soaked in alcohol, but yes, wonderful.

We'd write, he'd allege something or other, I'd be a big brother advocating for the devil and then , interestingly, started to realize more and more that I AM, in fact, older, and some of he 'wisdom' and knowledge I carry, while great comfort to me at this stage, is ABSOLUTELY AND WITHOUT QUESTION NOT MEANT FOR ANY APPLICATION BY THE YOUNG... nor would they likely do so even if they wanted to. But that's probably another blog, or book, or song cycle... or something.

Anyway, I really like this kid and his music. Then one day, he posted a bulletin on MySpace that said something to the effect of "Goodbye MySpace. It was grand!" And that was that.

This sparked some interesting revelations here. As I said, I've been busy, but I decided today, for some reason to see if I could detect Shane's presence anywhere else, and as I Googled him, I found a blog. Now he hasn't made an entry since December, and perhaps if he's gone on to Facebook or some such other networking group it might not be listed when Googling.

That said, I decided to write him a comment (he has no other comments on the blog, perhaps a reason he's seemingly abandoned it) in the event he might see it:

A little curious as to your whereabouts, Miss Lonelyhearts. I was convinced that the internet provided us with a renaissance of literacy and intimacy. Letter writing was reborn. Without the discomfort of being in the same room with air, furnishings and dust being distractingly moved about, we could avert all gazes and speak what we're thinking. Dangerous and often misused? Of course, but still... an opportunity for something that never occured to me was as impermanent as a best friend moving to another town in 4th grade, never to be seen, maybe never to be thought about again after a remarkably short period of mourning (or not). Interesting.
And here I see an effort to communicate and connect, yet abandoned thus far this year. Well, maybe you check in occasionally, or this post will trigger a note to you. in any event, listening to Dumb Angel as I hope and trust you're doing well, little brother,
Harvey
barkyboy@aol.com

OK so this post is simply speaking to how relationships on the internet may be unique in their genesis and dynamic, but are still written by people with their personalities and changes in their lives and all the verities and fickleness that will occur as a result.

I'm truly not hurt, but I do find this incredibly interesting.
OK, maybe I'll be back again, now that I know how. We'll see.

But look occasionaly for Shane Curry. He's really something, folks.

All the best,

Big Baby

Cultural Outrage Continued

2007-03-27T18:04:00.000-04:00

A Question and a Comment:

“Hello, Jello Customer Service. How can I help you?”
“HI! It says on the wrapper here for Jello Puddin’ Pops to call this number with any questions or comments. I have one of each. Is that OK?”
“Why it sure is, sir! Shoot!”
“OK, first I have a comment: Mmmmmmmmm Chocolaty!!!!!!
And my question: Is it OK for me to call them Pud-nnnn Pops?”

I wish my question and comment were so benign, but, I dunno, it’s that kind of a day!

While driving back from our gigs in NY this past weekend, Bob Ethington who, in addition to being a terrific drummer and really great guy, also serves as head of Pop Culture for the Summit County (of Ohio) Public Library System, was telling us about an event held in the theater at the main branch in Akron.

Eve Ensler, the author of The Vagina Monologues made an appearance during which, she coached all the women in the audience to yell out, in unison, the word ‘Cunt.’ The idea was to ‘take back’ ownership of that word.

Now I have a problem here. The entomology of this word points to the Middle English word ‘cunte,’ and the Lower German, ‘kunte.’ Both pretty much referring to the female genitals. My problem with this word, is that I have encountered women, foul acting, foul speaking women, women of incredible intelligence and sensitivity, and women who wouldn’t blink at watching a kitten knifed in front of them, and there seems to be an almost across the board consensus here:

“Call me anything. Do anything you want to me. Just DON’T EVER DARE USE THAT WORD!!!!!”

Is it the fact that it comes from MIDDLE English, or LOWER German? Was every woman I’ve ever met, unbeknownst to me, violated and beaten by a dear uncle while having this word slobbered through hot rancid garlic breath into her ear?

Why is it that some women will put up with unimaginable abuse, terrible treatment, with a strength, patience, and stoicism that literally drops me to my knees in astonished admiration, and yet would just as soon slit the Pope’s throat than hear this word uttered?

I have stood in a world where I, my mother, father, grandparents, nieces, all of us have had to hear about how someone “Jewed someone down,” how someone was (and this said with a chilling leer),”A Jew Bastard,” this after having 6 million of us slaughtered for no real reason I can make clear… even THIS FACT argued by some skinhead bastards. I have friends who are 'niggers,' called THIS after years of slavery, after evolving to the societal point we’ve reached today where so many of this race have been beaten into places no human should have to sit or stand. The more charitable of the ignorant bastards generously declaring that there are black people that are ‘just as good as you or me, and then there are niggers.’
Now, outrage and incredible anger at all this I can understand, and I can understand not liking to be called anything dirty, but what, I want to know, makes this word, like what I wrote about above, worse than so many other horrible things one might refer to a woman as, if one was so inclined.

I’m not arguing it, I’m just uninformed here. What’s the issue ladies?
I mean it’s obvious that I’m sensitive to it. I used it once this whole blog, and was looking over my shoulder as I typed it. I just realized no one ever explained it to me.

And now my comment:

The conversation about the above event with Bob led me to some Zen Interstate 80 think, and I came up with the following revelation.

I think the word ‘penis’ is a silly little word, and minimizes the importance and impact of our dear little friend. None of the slang words for this organ are related to the clinical term, ‘prick’ the closest by sharing the first letter, so no real attachment in this sense.

To correct this linguistic silliness, I nominate a new word:

SCREPTACULUM

First, a far more clinical sounding word, lending far more credibility to male genitalia as a serious and important organ. It also lends itself to a far better, more masculine slang term for it,

My Tac (a very manly sounding nickname)
My Scrappy Tac! (stupid but still faithful to the root, if you will)

I don’t think more need be said. Women, take back that nasty assed ‘C’ word, and give us guys a real, juicy one to carry between our legs. Spread the word far and wide!!!

SCREPTACULUM

OK, I’m done here, probably have offended some, again assuming anyone ever reads this. But gee whiz kids, on both these counts , someone help me out here. It doesn’t have to be in the comments section. It can be a separate e-mail. On the other hand, never mind. I never use that word anyway, and no one’s gonna buy into my exceptionally improved term for the male genitalia.

I might as well give up and screw myself in the… oops.

Peeve Deluxe

2007-03-19T17:31:00.000-04:00

"The 19th Century belief that unemployment was a matter of individual bad luck or bad character was deeply ingrained in Wisconsin and American culture, and the realization that in fact it was an unavoidable feature of the modern industrial economy came only slowly."
- from a plaque in Milwaukee's Wisconsin Workers Memorial Park

*********

A few months ago I received what has been a popular forward suggesting all welfare recipients should have to pass a urine test to collect their checks.

Most of the time, when I get stuff like this, rather than engage the ignorant, I let it go. Besides, more often than not this kind of shit comes to me from a relative, so I really see no reason to hurt people’s feelings, and start a … thing.

But when I got it, having lived in NY for 20 years, having known homeless folks, having actually BEEN homeless, if even for less than a month, having known people with drug, alcohol, and mental issues… and I AM A LIBERAL DEMOCRAT… I couldn’t help myself and had to respond.

I was relatively kind, suggesting that while it might seem like a good idea it was a far more complex sociological issue and it was a bad idea, and maybe, possibly, perhaps, not so charitable to send it around to everyone this person knew.

Then a couple days ago I got it from an old high school chum, who has managed to live much of his adult life in the south. Now keep in mind, of the relatives that send me this kind of crap, one lives down south, and allowing for the malleable personalities involved as well as the general human ability to adapt to a fault, I sort of understand. The other family source also talks with something of a southern drawl, but lives in northern Ohio and just… well… I can’t say anything nice in this respect, so I’ll stop there.

But my pal came through the 60s and 70s with me and knows better, and catching me on the same day we contributed to Obama’s campaign, I lost it and wrote the following:

I received this from my ******* a few months ago and felt compelled to respond then, as I do now. First, people with serious drinking and drug problems also need shelter, also need to eat. Most of the people affected by this live in a country where opportunity is NOT as apparent and available as everyone wants to preach it is. Either the actual physical facilities and systems are not there and available, or more likely you're dealing with a culture that straps people in for a ride along a three block radius of nothing, and the drugs and drinking are it.

If you think that just by threatening to take away their welfare checks, they'll stop drinking and/or doping, clean up, and fly right, you're the most naive gal at the dance. It also has you looking at these people as infants... and even infants don’t readily respond to this kind of tactic. I lived in NY for 20 years, and in my last couple became friendly with a husband and wife who were panhandlers, living under the FDR overpass a couple blocks away. White, from Jersey, with a kid. Partiers and blue collar folks. He had suffered a back injury, got hooked on Percodans while he couldn't work and over it was. The point though, is that these were people, who could have conversations, who could acknowledge what had happened, who had to struggle mightily to get out of it. Others aren't so lucky, but they are people, with stories and histories and feelings. Some are good folks, some are scum, but most are there based on circumstance. These aren't cartoon characters. These are people, for God's sake, and if you look around closely enough you might be forced to utter "There but for the grace of God walk I."

You implement this kind of thing and other than spending millions upon millions for urine tests, money that could be earmarked for schools, neighborhood programs, things that might help some on a grassroots level... people will die, including children.

I know, seemed kind of clever on the surface, but, and I'm sorry to go on a rant here ******, I love ya and know you care about folks... it's creepy and stupid and really pisses me off.

Xoxoxo

To his credit, he responded:

I totally respect your perspective on this. I really didn't mean to cause you to expound yourself and your thoughts! (which I admire!).
peace,

*******
xoxo

OK, so I only wrote this blog because I found myself fed up with people doing this perverted skin head Will Rogers thing, half the time crediting this Nazi Bullshit to Poor George Carlin and thinking because most of the time a flag is draped over it, it’s OK to invade MY GODDAMNED HOUSE WHERE MY COMPUTER SITS with this racist, mean spirited, ignorant shit!!!!

Well I don’t care for that, if they can invade my space and insult my sensibilities, well I guess I can respond… and my tap got opened.

In a message dated 3/16/07 2:38:22 AM, markrprice@earthlink.net writes:

2007-03-16T10:36:00.000-04:00

i need barberton chicken bad

Maybe you do Mark, and maybe you don't. One pretty summer day, Dolli and I hi-jacked our new neighbor, Chris Butler. We went up to Rosatti's for the best soft ice cream anywhere, ever. I mean 'Higbee's Chocolate Malt!!!' Y'know?

Fueled by this grand infusion of sugar and high concentration of butter fat, we hit some yard sales in West Akron. Building up a whole new kind of appetite, we then headed off to Belgrade (or was it Hopokan?) Gardens. I honestly have to say that just as some people eat mashed potatoes for the gravy, some of us chosen peeps eat (or suffer) gefilte fish for the horseradish, Barberton Chicken seems to exist solely as a disguise for the ingestion of vast amounts of lard... and salt, if you want it to taste like anything whatsoever. Not unlike eating three bags of Thacker Burgers, or chewing up and swallowing all the red peppers in a Sechuan dish, it's less a meal than a gastric challenge. One invariably finds oneself driving on the highway, somewhere between 8 and 27 minutes later, when suddenly, you HAVE TO CRAP NOW! And if you hold it in long enough to consider whether you want to take the next exit hoping to find a toilet in time, it all stops, congeals like instant post hole cement, and you don't have a bowell movement for 3 or 4 days. So now, that being said... yeah, next time you're in town, let's do it.

How bout Michael B, Harvey & I open Lou & Hy's II..

Upon getting together wth my dear, dear wife, we considered "Harvey and Dolli's" or "Dolli and Harvey's" to be such the combo, that if we didn't open a Deli with that name, no further Deli's should be opened anywhere, ever. Apologies to everyone, everywhere. You KNOW with a name like that, the corned beef would have:

'... just the right amount of fat.'
-Gert

On the other hand, could be a whole new Jetson's style quasi Kosher carhop jernt with Mark generated ideas like:

offering free epitaphs and non-magnetic soda flange steak with grind piled fingers and humorless food refunds if you can still walk And the first (in America) cuisinery to offer free Customer Stacking Services in the waiting area (still waiting to hear from the Guiness people as to whether we'll get the first in Galaxy rating - there's rumor of a little place on Io - but they're quibbling over the definition of "stacking" - just cause they can stack sideways cause of the low gravity doesn't impress me.

OK, we're good to go, I think. The visual image of M . Baker and Pastrami is a good one.

It’s a Little Gray Today

2007-03-12T11:49:00.000-04:00

But just a little…

If you actually have read this blog for a time, you’ll know I have a penchant for dragging these creaky bones up to the peaked roof of my wonderful, charming, unique, and warm house filled with love and affection, and shouting out for all to hear how happy I am and how lucky and blessed my life is… to a sickening degree for some of you, most likely.

All true… in spades.

But the operative words, this gray morning, from the above paragraph (once again, a run-on sentence disguised as a paragraph) are “creaky,” and “life.”

Richard Jeni, a not very nice guy, a chauvinist pig from the old school, and very, very funny (lower common denominator, but still…) comedian, was the last host of a series I line and co-produced for A&E, ‘Caroline’s Comedy Hour.’ He was probably about 50 years old when he shot himself to death last night. Oh there’ll be an investigation. It was his girlfriend who called it in. Maybe it’s really a homicide. Nonetheless, dead.

Two days ago, the lead singer of Boston, apparently a really nice man, dropped dead at age 55. There had been a presence, a life force, a history, relationships, all the active tentacles. Now there is a shared vacuum.

It’s been said that men of my generation like to think we’re 19 well into our thirties. So, based on this math, as I stare at 55 this year, I’m representing the “New 30’s” here as I watch a bunch of fellow “30 somethings” drop. I’d be celebrating the milestone with Joe Strummer this year had he not checked out at 50.

As much as we celebrate our joy at finding each other and renewing our lives at age 47, Dolli and I also feel the brevity of time left to us. Absolutely, I’m grateful to be spending the rest of my life a living, breathing, happy man, with the true love of my life (there I go again), three stepdaughters I love dearly, a precious faery of a granddaughter, likely more tykes to come, some dear friends… a great life it is.

But to not recognize the fact that, while yes, it was a process and history that HAD to take place to get me to the precise spot I’m writing from today, I also may have precious little time with all the above, would just be the omissions of a blind man.

Someone wrote that sorrow is the cost of joy.

I get it.

Then again, the sun’s just now starting to come out. I’m gonna get another cup of coffee and get to work.

Pretty pleased very few read this. But I just had to write this. It’s hard to be just barely out of one’s teens and find yourself staring into the abyss, y’know?

Henry the Human Fly

2007-02-26T23:32:00.000-05:00

Rick - RIP

I had a dear old friend, Rick, who, back in the day, faced with “Clapton is God” plastered everywhere, coined a simple stalwart phrase:

”No one can cut Jeff Beck.”

Any long winded, drug fueled, battle of the axe wielders taking place in any of your garden variety black light lit, incense filled basements, would always end in great frustration for some stoned afficianado or another as Rick, always wearing a smile, would cheerfully wait for his moment, and declare:

”No one can cut Jeff Beck.”

I think there were more than a few compelling arguments in favor of Rick’s postulate, though at the time it seemed that Jimi Hendrix had been eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner on that Strat and while Mr. Beck truly was the ultimate prototype shredder, no one moved around an electric guitar with greater ease and intuition than Mr. Bold as Love.

Anyway, this isn’t intended to be one of my long winded entries. We went to the Kent Stage Sunday night in Kent Ohio, and saw a guy play an acoustic guitar and sing for an entire evening. I’ve seen this fellow three times now. The first, a little over 25 years ago in Poughkeepsie, NY at a club that burned down a few years later. He was playing his last tour with his wife, having broken up just as they were hitting the road. Stunning and stunningly sad.

I then saw him about 3 years ago at a club in Cleveland that also, I believe, ceased to exist. This was with a band, playing mostly electric.

Three times now, and I can only write - and of course, you know how predictable I am:

Richard Thompson is very possibly the best guitarist in the world. You can argue in favor of someone else, but I really, truly, believe, chances are you'd be wrong here.

And back in high school, the first time Rick took me over to his house, he had a Fender stack in his room, a Gibson SG, and he stood there windmilling. No Les Paul? No black tee?
Hmmmmm. No one can cut....?

Take it from me:

"No one can cut Richard Thompson."

He's baaaaack! - sorta -

2007-02-21T11:05:00.000-05:00

I just took a hit from Princess Mombi as a ‘non-participant’ in Blogvalia.

It’s certainly true, and while she knows there are numerous reasons, about 98.5% of them valid, even by her definition, the simple fact remains that coming to this page has been leading to disappointment, if not despair, since the beginning of December.

Prologue:

When I was living in New York years ago, I was an owner in one of the early New York Rotisserie Baseball leagues. We had such luminaries as Bob Raissman who still writes for the Daily News, Kevin Monahan, current VP of Sports at NBC, Harry Spiro, brother of Cleveland’s DJ Dave Spiro, the guy responsible for all those INSANE Crazy Eddie commercials in the NY area, and a few other losers who have gone on to become people like… me. This was where I came to know and love the likes of Carlos Baerga, Jack Morris, Kirby Puckett, and a whole bunch of other non-Yankees for the first time in my life. It made Major League Baseball come to life as a league for me, and I loved it, but alas… as I became busier and busier in TV production, with not enough time to know if a trade was good or bad, struggling to find an available semi warm body to put on the roster when we (The Rubber City Rebels was the team name, btw) had a guy go on the disabled list, I soon came to a realization, and acted on it.

I resigned from the league for the betterment of the game.

So now:

Acting equally responsibly to the denizens of Greater Blogville, I felt I had to do the same these past few months. Now catch-up is just too daunting if I’m going to go into detail on all that’s been happening, knowing the WHY I haven’t been around hardly real blog material in and of itself, but I’ll give a quick review anyway:

The series I’ve been working on , “Leader of the Pack," now tentatively scheduled to start airing on HGTV mid April, tied me up both in Akron and NY, providing a creamy filling of 16 straight days in NY for production with a few quick trips, leading to Christmas, then between Christmas and New Years, and then for a couple weekends following, forming the crispy chocolaty wafers on either side. I’ll give details, pix and stories about this adventure when that’s ready to air.

Bloomberg’s Culture Wire ‘Muse’ has been ravenous for material, material that’s interesting, shot in interesting places and provides us with countless opportunities to work on stuff that isn’t cretinous. So there have been tons of shoots going on at the same time as the above series, continuing into the New Year, along with other shoots for other loyal and wonderful clients.

So in short, the TV biz has been taking up most of my time… along with the laundry.

Then compatriots Chris Butler, Debbie Smith and Rich Roberts joined Dolli, Deb’s sister Cindi, Blueskid Pat Sweeney, some lovely English blokes,The Riotous Brothers, a bunch o’ other delightfully diverse folks, and me, in Orlando, to celebrate Producr Deluxe and Engineer- to- the- Stars, Bruce Hensal’s 23rd berfday by partying, saluting, roasting, honoring and playing at ‘Brucapalooza.’Mister Palooza

Also joined by the the uber-interesting Joe Lala, fabulous percussionist and … look him up on imdb.com, the 4 of us (Deb, Chris, Rich and me, that is) formed the band ‘Half Pig/Chi Cleveland,’ or... something like that. This was much fun, and a more detailed report may yet show up at www.tinhuey.com when we get our next chance for updating.

Returning from sunny Florida found us in the middle of about 14” of snow, with much shoveling to be done, the return of the prodigal daughter as Gayle, husband Kris, and JUST OLD ENOUGH TO BE A COUPLE INCHES BEYOND 'SUPERBABY'GRANDAUGHTER ELLIOTT ROSE CARTER
returned to Akron after a few years in LA and a shorter period in Chicago. Much more on that will be seen on the Princess Mombi, No No Bad Dao and The Dolli Mama’s respective blogs, so I’ll not dig too deeply here at the moment.

So busy, busy, busy. I’m only doing this entry as it is because I can’t finish the taxes until a couple brokerage firms get their late assed remarkably disorganized documents to me, and I’m a little winded from all the above, thus finding myself having done payroll, sent off production sheets to my crew for tomorrow, turned down one shoot, have one load in the drier and another washing, thawing chicken for dinner (not a real kinetic job, but still…)

listening for 2 1/2 year old noise as I’m also babysitting, about to renew the company’s production insurance policy, begin to pay bills, and work up a tentative set list for our two upcoming gigs in New York (March 23,24. More on THAT later as well)… I thought I’d indulge myself for a minute.

So in that spirit… This just sat for a full day while I learned that there was an emergency 2 camera shoot that needed to be put together incredibly last minute. I guess I’ll post this while I await 3-7 important calls. Be back in a while. What “while” will turn out to be, I know not.

End o' the Year

2006-12-04T09:40:00.000-05:00

OK so presuming FOR SOME GODFORSAKEN REASON you, once in a while, are so bereft of a life that you come visit this site to see what’s up, I thank you, probably like you a lot, and offer up, as Chris would never write, “a quick one.”

Thanksgiving was great. We went to Okeechobee (Indian for ‘nothing but a Wal-Mart here, Gert’) Florida to spend Turkey Day and a couple more with the in-laws. I loved it. I love them, so it works just fine. Turkey, the works, lots of double dipped chocolate peanuts, a couple really intense flea markets (one with homemade Black Walnut ice cream), and… adventure.

My father-in-law recently had very serious wrist surgery, so Dolli and I wanted a list of things to do around the house, things that he would otherwise likely do himself, wreck his wrist, and have to have yet another surgery, making everyone, himself first, and my mom-in-law a most unreasonably close second, miserable.

The primary job was the removal of the hurricane shutters on their single story home. No problem. He has a bit for his drill that grabs thumb screw nuts and whips ‘em right off. Great toy. The shutters themselves were corrugated sheet metal of some sort. No big deal, but to be safe, after some urging (from a man who has lost most of three fingers to an accident with tools), I wore gloves. They came off in no time, notwithstanding the 3 or 4 wasp nests erected behind a couple of them. Big Bad Johnny’s (what we sometimes call him) wrist was just fine when it came to squirting Wal-Mart’s Best Ultimate Wasp Death In a Can, so there were no real incidents outside of my jumping, when a few came calling, off the third wrung of a ladder and doing a pretty damned good tuck and roll.

We put most of the shutters in the shed, carrying them over on a garden cart pulled by a golf cart. I like the golf cart part when we visit, too. He lets me drive it whenever I want, and I can pretend to be 11 years old and getting to drive SOMETHING WITH A MOTOR. Then we did a second pass to haul over the much longer ones that covered the doors and here’s where the adventure part comes in. I placed the shutters that covered the back patio doors crosswise on the cart then climbed in and sat dead center with my back to Q’s (the other name we call him… like ‘M’ in the 007 novels, but not) as he drove.

Having arranged the shutters like wings to a plane, I held them steady with a manly, tight, work gloved grip. As we started off to circle to the front of the house, I figured by virtue of this placement, he’d have to take slow, safe, wide circles around to the front, so it would be fine, and at the very same time, as we crawled along, mused how, while my older brother, Larry was the athletic son, playing 6’ tall white boy basketball at Buchtel High for a bit back in ’58 and’59, and maybe a little track, I, the fat, lazy, mama’s boy, oddly turned out to be the son that, like my pop:
was willing to get my hands dirty, work up a sweat, and get a job done.

As I thought these thoughts in a baked beans/campfire and whiskey kind of testosterone glow, Bigbad Johnny Q (his given Christened name) turned the corner to the front of the house, onto the slightest of inclines, and suddenly … the garden cart rolled, throwing out all of us, the organic and inorganic contents of it. I reacted by contorting my supple 54 year old frame to at least come down on my tailbone as I held my legs out to ward off the tumbling giant corrugated guillotines should they be headed (cute, huh?) my way. This trajectory, as I rolled back, sent my knees up into my chest hard enough that they actually bent the glasses hanging from my shirt collar, blew most of the breath out of me and inspired the thought (this always happens in slo-mo… really, so there was plenty of time for all this) “This, what is happening to me at this very moment, just might be the real thing,” as in, I might have to be hospitalized when all is said and done.

My father-in-law jumped out of the cart making noises of surprise and chagrin as I lay there. The metal missed me. It, of course, would have anyway, I, as described above, having used my soon to be recognized super powers to position myself properly in order to avoid a certain grizzly demise. Mom-in-law and Dolli both eventually came to the front door to see what the ruckus was about. I gathered myself, claiming I was OK, rose, then ‘walked it off’ around the corner of the house and had to drop down to the ground again, the shock, I think making me a bit faint. My anus (as a result of the tailbone thingy) freaking out. Otherwise, very dramatic. Only a little alarming.

I got back up without crapping myself and we finished the job. I took a hot shower and three Ibuprofens, and then did the previously mentioned flea marketing, only able to eat about a third scoop of the wonderful black walnut ice cream. Upon arriving back at home I slept for about an hour. Today, you find me sporting, other than some ‘raspberry’ scab remnants, the tiniest bit of bruising in my chest, only to manifest as a mild soreness when I stop and lift runaway cars with endangered families (or villains, of course) off the ground, or when I stretch. I may NOT be a Golden God, but I am a super-hero!

Glad I got that story out. Maybe the nightmares will stop now.

On the Sunday-after-Thanksgiving, we drove our rental Lincoln Town Car (don’t ask) to Orlando, staying with friends Rich and Linda, as I joined forces at the wonderful Audio Recording Technology Institute with the Floridian chapter of ‘Team Harv.’ We transferred tracks, laid down a vocal, and mixed three songs done back in August by ‘Harvey in the Hall,’ made up of bassist Debbie Smith, drummer Bob Ethington and me, with sit –ins by Black Key, Dan Auerbach and, via long distance, former Byrd and Flying Burrito Brother, Chris Hillman gracing this BIG FAN with a bit o’ mandolin on one.

‘Team Harv’ Orlando :

-Rich and Linda, of course, with their friendship, encouragement. and grace, hosting us at the Circle K Ranch.

-My pal, my brother, engineer, producer and person extraordinaire, Mister Bruce Hensal, a man with great old stories and a great young brain.

-A.R.T.I owner, the talented, plucky, and beautiful Steve Pietrofesa the owner of the jernt, and with Bruce, the first people I ever heard to want to put a ‘smile’ on the drums.

-A.R.T.I Headmaster Keef (Fifi) LaBeau who sat at that ‘board’ (or whatever they call Protools controllers) regardless of what nonsense was coming across the speakers at him… or from my yap behind him. Talented guy.

- The young Russian A.R.T.I student who ran for water, extra headphones, coughed with regularity and wanted to hear princess like b/u vocals on “I’ve Just Seen a Face.” She didn’t get to hear said vocals… and won’t. Sorry, kid.

-Dolli. Always.

Honorable mentions to Tammy and Carol, respectively Steve and Bruce’s lovely forces of nature.

So then, blah, blah, blah, sounds great, needs a little tweaking, more songs to come, got a little lost on the way to the airport (saw the Epcot parking lot toll booths, though), had a smooth trip home on the Wednesday–After-Thanksgiving to;

Up at night with pup (NOT bassist) Debbie and her diarrhea. Like being a new daddy again at 54!! She’s better now but her brother Eddie, as of this writing… in fact I’m only writing this because I’ve been effectively up and down and up since 4AM with poor Eddie, has contracted his sister’s malady.

In the middle of the Debbie saga, eldest daughter Gayle came flying in this past Thursday evening to do a guerilla attack on the West Akron (more specifically, fashionable Highland Square) real estate market and may very well have found the house of the future for her, Kris, granddaughter Elliot Rose, and dogstuffs Lilah!!! That was a fair chunk of our weekend.

Finally, I’m packed and have been, since Friday, waiting for a call back from our friends and creators of a reality TV series for HGTV that we at Gold Teleproductions (www.goldtele.com) are about to shoot. As soon as we begin, I’ll be off to NY , back for Christmas, then probably in NY until New Years. This is the longest I’ll have been away at one time since I moved home to Akron, and do not relish it… but it is, at least, the city, where I lived for 14 years (along with 3 years in NY State in Woodstock, and another 3 years in Westchester County near Connecticut), and maybe, if the dogs are OK, Dolli will be able to come visit at least one weekend.

Since I’ll be off and busy, it’s unlikely that there will be another post before I get back so:

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE.

PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES AND EACH OTHER. HEALTH HAPPINESS, PEACE AND LESS GEORGE BUSH AND HIS ILK IN THE COMING YEAR TO US ONE AND ALL.

PS So now it looks like I'll be able to do a week or so, come home for X-Mas, do a week, come home for New years Eve, then do 10 days to a week, so a bit of a reprieve, i.e. we don't have to go get a Christmas tree tonight!! Still, unlikely I'll have time for another post so again, BEST TO ONE AND ALL TILL THEN.

LOOK OUT BABY! THERE'S A BIG WEEKEND COMIN!!

2006-11-16T10:49:00.000-05:00

Update to this posting from last week to reflect:

OHIO STATE 147- MICHIGAN 139

THE REST OF DIVISION 1 SUCKS EGGS!!!!

From My Space Friend

Cowboy Roy:

You: Goats?
Me: Yes.
You: Why goats??
Me: I have no idea!!

So yeah, we've decided to throw a small BBQ for the heck of it, but at the moment, we're still trying to rent a goat. So if you know anyone that is willing to rent us their goat for a couple of hours, lemme know!!

**luv and lemonade**
-cowboy roy :)

Ed Note: Roy, a young feller of the Philipino persuasion, used to work with us in NY a lot, until his head popped, he became a walking, talking embodiment of Spring Break, and has been now, for several years, while keeping a place in the city, living mostly in Hawaii, sound mixing (he's small enough to hide in the back of an SUV) on 'Dog: The Bounty Hunter' for A&E

Dearest Boy,

Dolli and I would love to come but, in case you weren't conscious of it over there on your little atoll... but then again, perhaps the subconscious motivation behind the goat theme... Saturday is going to be the biggest day EVER, period. OSU v. Michigan. Number 1 agin' Number 2. Undefeated meets undefeated. Mac and Cheese v. liquid pork in a pitcher.

In honor of this day, we traveled to Sam's Wines in Chicago and picked up 2) bottles of Laphroag 15, 2) bottles of Bowmore 'The Darkest,' and 1) bottle of Mortlach 15 (they only had 1 left). This will be consumed starting at 3:30PM EST along with 14 pizzas, 14 wings, and 14 Milwaukee's Best by my pal Scott (who has been a successful recovering alcoholic for like 7 years, so I guess he'll just drink coffee) and me while Dolli and the puppies, no doubt, will be crafting to Buzzy Linhart tunes in the kitchen.

This will, sadly, make it unlikely that we'll be able to attend your Porcupine and Pork roast 4500+ miles away on Sunday, as we'll be turning our house over to the authorities here in Ohio as a post game field triage unit.

But then again, one never knows. We've been known to be spontaneous in the past. You should have been here the day we just grabbed up our buddy Chris, with no notice, went yard saling, rocked into Barberton, Ohio (THE Magic City) for some real, lard dipped "Barberton Fried Chicken" and then drove like bats out of hell in our Beetle convertible ALL THE WAY to another hamlet for some Rosatti's frozen custard, then back to my place for Cokes and lines of crushed up Lipitor. Woo Hoo!!! It... was... wild dude!! I'll tell ya, Roy, after freeing up from 20 constricting years in New York, life in Akron is constantly operating right on the tightrope. Hell, pretty soon, you'll be doing a travel episode with your A&E guy 'Hump' or whatever his name is, tracking old Harv through the still dangerous and teaming with Redskins trails along the Ohio and Erie Canals. Wouldn't that be somethin'? Best bring chocolate and nylons along with your jerky and other provisions. Yes!!

So yeah, maybe you oughta send us those directions. Dolli's been hankerin' to come back to Hawaii ever since she won that MTV- Win- a- Week- in- Hawaii- with- DEVO contest back in the 80's. It was fabulous for her to travel those thousands of miles to hang with these guys that lived 4 blocks away back home.

If we do come, I'll just jump over to central PA. before our flight so we can bring a big bucket of Scrapple to fry up in that exotic pit you people cook everything over while playing drums and doing female pelvic exercises and shit all the time, like we seen in the 007 films down at Harry's Movie and Corn Emporium.

If we don't make it, you brown skinned kids have a great time, suck up some Poi and drink about 5 dozen Strohs' in our honor and always remember:

BUCKEYES ARE SOMETHING LARGELY INEDIBLE!!! GO!!!

xoxoxo

Harv

Peeve de la semaine

2006-11-01T15:27:00.000-05:00

This is one of the times where being incredibly happy with so much bounty in my life is making me feel weirdly pressurized, like my head might pop a leak:

Heather RIP

Last Thursday, my ex put to sleep my sweet li’l girl of a puppy, my Welsh Corgi, Heather. It was time and she mercifully arranged to have the Vet do it as a house call. I had always said that it would be the actual visit to the Vet’s office that would kill Heather, her heart raced so whenever we even pulled into the parking lot. So I thank Lauren for that. I’ll forever be grateful.

I loved Heather a lot. She was a wonderful little prize and I continue to miss her.

Karin Berg RIP

On the same day we lost Heather, Karin Berg, the woman who made all my dreams come true by signing Tin Huey, bringing us to the Ultimate Bunny Hutch, Warner Brothers…. died. She’d been sick for a long, long time. I stayed in touch, as did many, I think. I wish I had done a bit more. Chris had the idea, last time Half Cleveland played in NY, that we might go to her place (she was a shut in) and play a little set for her, bring some bagels, make it a NOT-JAZZ Brunch. We dropped the ball on that, and now can’t get a re-do.

She and I wrote about shut-in stuff: Netflix movies, and our favorite TV shows. She turned me onto “Everything I’m Cracked Up to be” a book by Jen Trynin, another Warner Brothers ne’er-do-well who I’ve been in touch with as we couldn’t be more kindred spirits… at least in the sense of shared experience. Karin is in the book under the pseudo of “Lola.”

Karin was known for some incredible signings to Elektra and Warner Brothers, as well as being heralded for her smarts in NOT signing bands. You can do a search and read tons about all this. Signing us? Not so smart. But between doing so and being my friend for many years, she’ll always be in my heart, and I’m sad about this passing.

I’m so sorry, Mark

My old school chum since Kindergarten, Mark Goldstein just lost his wife. Younger than us. I didn’t know her well, but it’s very close, has happened along with all the rest in a really condensed period of time.

I see how, in getting older, these kinds of weeks will be more frequent, as long as I manage not to become part of one. I’m getting more used to it, more resolved to these goings on and by no means surprised by much of any of it, so far. After losing my daughter in a way that surprised beyond surprise, I’m both jaded when it comes to seeing people go, and frustrated by the fact that it’s just not gonna stop… ever.

On the good side, and it's an enormous one, I adore my wife, a great and singular woman, my unique home that feels so like a home, my dear, dear family and friends- don’t get me wrong, I’m also grateful and appreciative of every minute Mark is with us- and my pups, Eddie and Debbie. I am finding a minute here and there to play a little music, embarking on a new project this past August unlike anything I’ve ever done before. Very exciting. This time is wedged between my active enjoyment of all the above bounties in my life, and the fact that my business in NY, Gold Teleproductions celebrated an October, the first October in our 20th year in biz, with an unprecedented number of shoots, so I’ve been very, very busy. My Doc gave me an excellent report on my health, and while I will have to probably get a new tooth bonded in, as I write this, they’re still all mine.

But I walk through this Shangri-La for a minute, with a head feeling the pressure of the sadness this kind of loss brings. It’s a barometric sadness, breathing is different, different muscles are tensed against the winds of despair. Need a little Ibuprofen and it makes me a little tired too.

I’m a lucky and grateful man.

The New Fall Season Update

2006-10-25T14:24:00.000-04:00

Ok, we know it's been killing you, we being the closet arbiters of good taste, so hearkening back to my post of 10/8 The New Fall Season, here's where we stand as of today:

Everybody Hates Chris: Still love it, it's not, as reported, on Sundays, which of course, makes sense, and we're not sure yet when it IS on. Stumbled upon it sometime this week and laughed and loved it, so this gets a pink hoping for red designation.

Desperate Housewives: As predicted, we found it, and are still addicted.

Brothers and Sisters: Nope and Nope.

NEW ENTRY: Lizzie and Joe suggested the absurdities to be found in FX's entry It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. We've watched 4 episodes in two weeks and ALMOST like it. Can't speak for Dolli, but I'm out.

Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip: OK. It's weird. That same Sorkintalk. Quick, clever characters always talking while walking. Self conscious? Sure. Great? Dunno. Do I love it? Yupster!!

Standoff: Nope

The Knights of Prosperity: Never heard of it.

Boston Legal: Yes, yes, Yes, yes!!!! And now the guy who played the Great Max Baer in Cinderella Man is a regular!! Yay!!

America's Next Top Model: Look, we've talked about this. Big assed (only on Tyra, folks) guilty pleasure. And that's that!!!

Justice: Ummmm.... huh?

My Name is Earl: Of course.

The Office: Some have argued that they are now becoming caricatures of their characters, which were caricatures to start with. Probably true, but I'm still chuckling and squirming, so it's all good to me.

Ugly Betty: "America's Best New Comedy!! A Smash Hit!!" Also probably true, and I probably screwed up by not taping it, but... we don't watch it.

Grey's Anatomy: We love this show. There has been a long line, from St. Elsewhere and Hill Street Blues, through L.A Law and E.R's better days... this one nails it, period. Wonderful stuff.

E.R: Not a preseason pick, but it's been pretty OK in that 10PM Thursday slot, and by then we're glued to the couch, so... there.

Shark: I had asked "Who doesn't love Jimmy Woods?" Apparently most of America, at least in this show. We no watch- you no watch-they no watch.

Men in Trees: A passing thought of the past. Maybe 10 frames. No more.

The Wire: Still a big yes, still the best show on TV, still doesn't count cause we have HBO on Demand.

So, we're actually getting some reading, some geetar picking, and some blogging done this season... not to mention Netflix!!!!

Five Things

2006-10-20T09:14:00.000-04:00

I’d love to write more, and more often, but once again, I meet the bipolar specs to qualify as an official H. Harvey Gold.

The way Gold Teleproductions works, and this is a milder microcosm of my entire 20+ years in TV, is in a very non linear way. Love comes in spurts, they say. So, as I work from my home most of the time, I’ve had neighbors observe me riding my bike, walking my dog, turning up at the gourmet grocer, all at some ungodly hour like 1:30 on a Tuesday afternoon, giving me that amusing and confusing image of a man who comes from old money. Amusing to me, because we know that many who come from old money wear it well and often look like normal slobs like me. Yes their chinos come from Nieman –Marcus while mine from Caldor, but still…

Then there are the long periods when it appears I have abandoned the planet, not changed out of my pajamas in three days (two, I can say has happened, often, but three? Gimme SOME credit), have been quietly moved by cover of darkness into a sanitarium, or have simply left the neighborhood with, apparently only the clothes on my back.

This period of time leans towards the latter. I say only leans, because when it gets THAT busy, I start vibrating like a coke fiend roughly 27 minutes past the last line of the night, and would not be found to have either the time or the disposition to be writing an entry like this.

Still, it’s been busy and there’s enough surplus to what’s on my plate that even this is being written with the patina of guilt coating every keystroke.

Ok then, all this is to lead into mentioning a couple things:

1) The movie (available on DVD), “The Devil and Daniel Johnston” is a 5 star recommendation (unless you can only handle comedies and warm/fuzzy Jennifer Aniston vehicles).

2) It appears Richard Thompson has a new CD out. This is always a good thing, even if there are at least 15 out there I haven’t spent any quality time with.

3) Primus is gigging again. My sources (Dolli) say that this in support of a new “Greatest Hits’ comp. but still… Pork Soda for EVERYONE!!! PRIMUS SUCKS!

4) Califone has a new CD out. This is a band led by Tim, former head butcher at ‘Red Red Meat.’ Acolyte Michael Aylward says it kills. We’re seeing them live November 3rd, we hope, and will report on the CD as it suits us.

5) New Stooges Album album in the making with the Ashton brothers.

I recently observed (coming up with a new line for a song) that getting old can come fast and furious. ‘Five minutes ago’ hits without much warning. But with these events comes the whole conversation (which won’t happen here) about what transpires once ‘old’ has arrived, the issue come and gone, and business gets attended to.

Finis

It's My Party, and I'll Cry if....

2006-10-12T10:18:00.000-04:00

10/12/1952: Gertie Gold Gives birth to the sweetest little guy. The nurses, already sensing that he can tell the diff between boys and girls nickname him 'Butch'... a name that will not stick past this anecdote.

10/12/2006: IT'S ME BERFDAY!!! LET'S GET STARTED:

9:20 AM
I have three vehicles on my property, changing the face, in fact, of said property as I write this, putting in a new septic system. The tanker truck is just now beginning to get to the point where my office is starting to smell like the plant in the valley where we get our oven roasted poop. Only ours isn't oven roasted. Dolli prepares to flee. The Bobcat has dug a trench where the path between the garage and house used to be, only to come up to a point where apparently a rather BIG tree used to live, it's stump and root system a cheerful reminder of the good old days. The main drain from the house, set to be replaced with a nice new PVC one... um... at least until the camera does it's work, can't quite be tracked properly. BULLETIN 9:38AM No new main will be put in. It appears that in order to do so, well... our kids will one day, God willing, get to tear down the garage to get to it.

Gifties so far: 10:55 AM Birthday wishes via a few cards, a call from Selma, a call from Debbie, one e-mail and several welcome MySpace postings. Got a Gift Card to West Point Market. $50 worth of French Mustard, here we come!!! My partner sent me a box o' chocolate which I received yesterday. Super. Got the newest European Film and Video production guide. More to come, I suspect (nod, nod, wink, wink) Grateful for all. Just glad to be here.

From My Dear Friend Paul, who REALLY cares about me:

Dear Harv,

Today is your birthday. How nice that you are still alive. May you
continue to live and thrive as long as you see fit. And if you decide
to shoot yourself in the mouth, may all your detractors who will say
things about you being too cowardly to continue living contract such
horrible diseases that they themselves are forced to kill themselves,
their last thoughts of shame being that they were such hypocrites to
have questioned your motives for taking your own life.

Love,
Paul

10/13/2006: THE REST IN REVIEW

I had planned on yet another ambitious pictorial, and detailed birthday diary, but:

"You load 16 tons, and whadaya get?
Another day older and deeper in debt
St. Peter don't call me cause i can't go
I owe my soul to the company store"

So I received an enormous number of loving and thoughtful phone calls with birthday wishes. Between those, my usual air traffic controlling hours on the phone, developing my newest show idea, Landscaping Solutions for the Septically Impaired (firsthand research for said project, i.e. the creation by my art department of all that clay based mud of the future in my yard costing several thousand dollars), and the overall non-stop nature of my day, I was led to do something totally uncharacteristic:

At 8:05 PM I told my dear friend and neighbor, Faith, who had thoughtfully stopped in to drop off something she had promised Dolli, bringing her wonderful 'light up a room' smile AND a cute birthday card... to go home. She was actually into one last, probable 15 second 'and by the way...' segment of her goodbye outside when it happened, but still... I hit the wall and caved in.
I am ashamed.

I didn't have any high expectations for this day, truly.

But the ONE THING, the simple idea of peacefully getting take out in time to be settled in on the couch with Dolli, our beloved pooches at our feet, relaxing and chuckling to 'My Name is Earl'and propelling through the only night of Mindless Prime Time (MPT) where we actually have programs we like to watch all the way from 8-11, was NOT going to happen as hoped. So we turned on the VCR to tape Earl while we scrambled eggs to eat with the WONDERFUL SOURDOUGH BREAD (always a silver lining, no?) Maynan had, along with an issue of The Ring, something that has become sort of a 'Periodical Gold' in this era of pugilistic apathy, brought me earlier.

The eggs were good, the bread and butter excellent, the Carrot Cake fabulous, and all good wishes and intentions were simply wonderful... Dolli tried and asked and was sweet as that delicious cake she brought home, but I was toast, plain and simple.

So I don't want to seem ungrateful. I was absolutely fine and good and happy and... apparently running on fumes, cause I was fabulous right up until I wasn't... and then I wasn't. Doesn't happen often, and I must say I told Dolli not to worry, that there was absolutely nothing she could do that would be right. I had to get though my snit to the other side, which I did. But I was, and am hungover from it.

I am another year older and on the day to mark it I became a cranky old man!

... and THAT (along with a client-pissed-me-off-driving-me-to-the-ragged-edge- of-irrational-but-justifiable-professional-suicide story that blog-prudence, once again, dictates I'll not tell here) is the REAL story of the day.

Thanks to everyone. I really DO love you all, too!!!!

The New Fall Season !!

2006-10-08T00:20:00.000-04:00

Forwarded to us by Culture Czar, B. Ethington:

From an interview with comedian Demetri Martin:

"I don't watch television, unless I'm maybe on the
road and need to fall asleep or something. I try not
to read newspapers, which is kind of irresponsible, I
guess. But I've found that for my head, I'm a lot
happier and more productive if I don't fill it with
that kind of stuff. It seems to me that most of our
culture is based on missing out on something, like the
fear of missing out on something is a great commodity

that's plied to get people to watch things, do things,

Dimitri on 'The Daily Show'

an buy things. Once you actually start missing out
and realize that you're fine, and even better off,

Dimitri, also on 'The Daily Show'

it's so liberating. Like the Super Bowl. I don't care
about the Super Bowl. I want to miss the Super Bowl.
It's like "Season Finale", and I'm like "Well, fuck
the season. Just leave me alone. I want to read a book
or draw."

This has stuck in my head.... but of course, if I take
it seriously, I may have to get another job!

bb

PS ... of course, Demetri Martin would want us to buy HIS
new cd!

Well Bob,

At least Demitri's got perspective. I mean, why watch TV? The Daily Show isn't a REAL TV show, right Mister Well Read? I mean, Geez, does he also smoke a pipe like the guy in Porky's? That'll make him look older.

OK then:

Dolli and I have our favorite programs. While in the past, we've been really religious about watching and/or recording, getting pretty disturbed when that gets screwed up, we managed to hit most of the first (and some second) episodes for this Fall season while in Europe, which may have set a strange new standard for us. Our planned schedule for the new Fall season and how it's come together so far:

Sunday
7-7:30 CW Everybody Hates Chris A GREAT show, a fabulous traditional family sitcom. Why it was moved to this complete shithole of a slot, I know not, but we've seen none of them, and it doesn't bother us a bit and I wouldn't be shocked if we fell off this one altogether.
9-10P ABC Desperate Housewives Really fun. A terrific guilty pleasure. We've also seen none of these and it's not killing us, but I suspect an effort will be made to catch up. This will be one of those DVD collections many people end up with.
10-11 ABC Brothers and Sisters A new show with a cast I find interesting, but again, haven't seen it, and only if we get into some Desperate Housewives groove might we give it a chance.

Anything HBO throws at us. So far, this season it's just The Wire. And I don't mean that it's 'just' The Wire. This is the best show on TV, period. We watch this religiously, BUT aren't hemmed in on Sunday night, because we have free HBO on demand, so we have the luxury of watching it when we can watch it. Coolio. Look into the blue blue future!!!

Monday
10-11 NBC Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip OK!! Aaron Sorkin and Tommy Schlamme!!! Real stuff, real writing, real dialogue. Maybe a real show. We've seen two, I think, and like it... I think. And 'Josh' is in it! Whether it will addict us like 'Sports Night' did me, and 'The West Wing' (after ignoring a couple seasons) did both of us, remains to be seen, but we're up for it.

Tuesday
8-9 Fox Standoff Looked like something worth checking out. Won't happen.
9-9:30 ABC The Knights of Prosperity. See Standoff
10-11 ABC Boston Legal We have loved this show as if it were our own child. The self conscious references to 'this episode' 'this season' even talking about the night they're on creeps me out. Been done so much... after once, ever, anywhere, done way too much. Gimme my walls, I say. Still, these are the roles of a lifetime for both James Spader and William Shatner. We missed last week, and THAT bothers us. Thank you, David E. How's Michelle looking this week?

Wednesday
8-9 CW America's Next Top Model What can I say? Not that you care, but I'm tiring a little of Tyra's screaming and assumed wisdom of the ages. That aside, screw it, we love this show, missed it last week and are very, very not happy about that, hoping to catch up on a replay this week. So there!
9-10 Fox Justice Yet another one that looked like it deserved a try, but isn't likely to get one.

But wait... 30 Rock, with my favorite comic Stanley Kowalski of all time, Mister Former Kim Bassinger is coming soon. We'll likely be there... or will we, Tina Fey?

Thursday MUST SEE NIGHT!! STILL!!
8-8:30 NBC My Name is Earl A consistently great show. Jamie Presley is just the best cartoon character, as are, now that I think about it, pretty much all our regulars... except the Hispanic maid. She's just both hot and adorable at the same time. We missed much of a season of it making a non Tivo (there, we're facing our demons) decision, but are on the case, absolutely this season.
8:30-9 NBC The Office We had too many 'uncomfortable' shows going on the first season this aired: Larry David, Lisa Kudrow, and probably more, along with some sort of competition on another network, which also had an effect on 'Earl,'... Chris Rock? No matter. We've grown to love this thing and it's cast without it being ruined by having seen the brilliant and wonderful (will HBO bring back 'Extras'?) Ricky Gervais with his original version... one thing that also gives us a DVD wonderland to look forward to, as long as we can put subtitles on it "What did he sayyyyyyy!!!"

Alt:
8-9 ABC Ugly Betty Great reviews continue. This looks kinda like a success, but... unless I decide I want to add yet another one to our roster by taping it, I think it's probably not happening... at least this year.

9-10 ABC Grey's Anatomy OK then. ANTM might be more addictive (our only Reality Bite) as a sick guilty pleasure, and The Wire may be simply the best thing on the tube, but THIS my friends, is our favorite, period, so don't even bother us about it. It rocks. We laugh, we cry, we... a lot like ER used to be, and sometimes (though very seldom) still is.
10-11 CBS Shark. I mean, who DOESN'T love Jimmy Woods?
I mean c'mon.... but we haven't watched it and probably won't.
Dark Horse: Had no intention of watching ER for another tired season. That Mambo Mouth experiment was pretty stunning last season, no? So now, Mr. Full House, Mr. Former Rebecca Blue X-Babe is the latest... and I kinda like it. So, sorry Mr. Terrorist Identifier, we're back with the gang. But if we miss one, it'll be OK.

Friday
9-10 ABC Men in Trees This still may get us. Hasn't shown up yet. But really, Friday's Friday, and there are so many dates to be had!!

There was a time when I was pretty much, with the exception of maybe a total of 2 hours, booked for the entirety of Prime Time. So now, out of the serious 15 hours between Sunday (a newcomer to the Prime Time Big Time, but a valid one) through Thursday (Friday is date night and always a load of crap), I had planned on 11 of them and 90 minutes to 2 hours of taping. What have we got? 7, and much of that isn't gonna kill me if I miss it. Maybe I'm getting old. Or maybe I've developed a taste for staring blankly while watching really attractive people say things in French. Can't tell. Too much TV blunts the mind.

So how does this relate to that first note? Well the note is silly. Books are for kooks. I'm loving 'The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay' btw. Movies? Gimme a break... but go see 'This Film is Not Yet Rated,' not because it's a great film, but for me and the rest of my Huey brothers, K?

And the Yanks lost 3-1. I take some blame. I only watched or listened to maybe 14 innings. Then again, a pitching staff made up of one killer, one OK guy who pretty much never shows up for the playoffs, one fella older than me, who had a bad back 10 years ago, and a guy who's only real claim to fame was the fact that he beat the Yanks a few times. Great! Seeya Joe. It's been fab, truly.

NOUS REVENONS!!!!!!

2006-09-19T17:53:00.000-04:00

Well… we returned Saturday night at about 11:30 PM (5:30AM in our own selfish physical universe) from our whirlwind tour of ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING (not really) to be seen in Paris, the Loire valley, Mont St. Michel, Chartre, and, of course, the entirety (still exaggerating a little) of London.

For Dolli, it was her first time and operated to a complex theme:

1) Dolli Gold Must See the Crown Jewels.
Anyone who knows Dolli, knows this simply had to happen, and it did. She loved them, particularly the tiny Queen Victoria sparkly crown over that other one with a center stone that started out as a BILLION and a third carat diamond that 40,000 slaves died over… or some such untrue drama.

2) The Intrepid Dolli Gold Search for Catholic Relics.
This all started when we stumbled into a small remote church in Chianti country a few years ago, unwittingly finding a complete uncorrupted corpse in a glass case. Game over. It’s been going on ever since, from St. Sebastion’s collar bone, to St. Vincent DePaul’s heart in a box in one part of Paris, to the rest of his bones in a case with a wax head and hands across town, to… oh well, she can detail all of it (with photos) when she’s ready. Grizzly? Nope. Well, maybe a little weird, but our travel companions, Joe and Emi (particularly Joe) have signed on to this Grail search. Speaking of which…

3) Dolli’s tour of ‘The DaVinci Code’ Paris.
So we learned at Sainte Sulpice that there’s a 10eur ‘booklet’ (sold out) telling us why the Rose Line has nothing to do with anything and refutes everything put forth in this fascinating (though poorly written) NOVEL O’ THE DECADE. Methinks my Catholic friends protesteth too much.

4) See ‘Wicked.’
We did this on our last night. We cried, we laughed, we were awed. We watched technical difficulties kind of unravel a fair amount post intermission. Then we laughed, we cried, bought a tee, a pin, and a hat. ‘Wicked’ wins the day!!! Hit a pub after for a pint and chatted with a couple who live out towards Gatwick, in to do some variation of Jive Dancing at the Swedish church down the street. A good last night in old London Town.

5) Do everything else that there is to do, including the following (and there was a bunch of stuff I’m not mentioning):

- The Tower of London (Crown Jewels)

- Buckingham Palace All the Queen’s gowns and some previously unseen jewels were on display. Nice house.

- The Wallace Collection Fabulous private collection of art, ceramics, and the BEST grouping of ancient weaponry, meticulously catalogued and numbered in massive volumes available to the public for reference.

- The Eiffel Tower Very tall and lacey, but you knew that.

- A boat ride down the Seine- it was cool. Rode it all afternoon like a bus. We got off and back on and it got us where we were going. Fun.

- The Arc de Triumph We did NOT go to the top of it… and never will.

- Big News! The wonderful department store in Paris, Samaritan, was closed for a huge refurbishing, so no roof view of Paris (which rocks) and no viewing of the Tiffany ceiling on the top floor, but
‘… always leave something for the next time,' says the Dolli Mama.

- The Two Maggots – We ate BRILLIANTLY throughout the trip, be it at one of my old faves ‘Restaurant Paul’ or a mom & pop truck stop with wonderful roasted veal somewhere between Blois and Paris, but this, Paris’s version of The Algonquin, is the cafe where all the writers who ever lived (not really) hung out. Hemingway was kicked out of there… as he was several other places, as we understand it. I used to go to The Bear Café in Bearsville, NY where Paul Butterfield (RIP) was kicked out of on more than one occasion… as he was several other places, as we understand it. But I digress.

-Notre Dame, Sainte Germaine, Sainte Sulpice- (as we noted), La Sainte Chapelle and a few other churches with great glass, high ceilings, and/or body parts under glass.

- Montmartre, the Greenwich Village/Brooklyn/scary angry African area of Paris, where Toulouse Lautrec lived and drank, one of the many Dali exhibits dwells, and Sacre Coeur, a far nicer church than given credit for, just because it’s ‘new,’ being built in 1870.

- The Moulon Rouge Seedy little neighborhood. Like parts of midtown Manhattan before Guiliani ruined it all for us.

- Les Folies Bergere This was part of a search I was doing, for a) a middle eastern restaraunt recommended by a friend and b) a notable bra shop around the corner ( a must see on any sightseeing tour) recommended by the same wholesome pal. Got there at the wrong time to eat and couldn't find the shop in question, though we did see some nice stuff in all the Jewish bakeries and butchers in the hood.

- The Louvre – Venus de Milo and The Mona Lisa to be sure. The most wonderful of exteriors ever for any building ever (this is NOT an exaggeration), and lots of other stuff, but given that each length of the horseshoe that makes up the Louvre is FIVE CITY BLOCKS LONG, not to mention the stuff downstairs, the two block section that connects the 5 block ones, and things like single exterior columns that should be viewed as a stone mason’s single life work… we did the nickel tour and visited a very few exhibits. Now… the Louvre has so much stuff, almost the entire collection of Impressionists had been moved to L’Orangerie, where Emi and Dolli went while…

I had few ambitions myself, though they be modest. This was my third time in Paris, I think. I wanted :

- A chocolate and almond paste croissant from my favorite Patisserie across from the Louvre. They had beautiful almond ones (I ate the only two in the shop when we got there) but I managed a few chocolate/almond paste varieties while in Europe… happily.

-Havana cigars while lounging in the courtyard of Palais Royale. Did it twice, once with my shoes off with feet up on the edge of the fountain when the goils went to L’Orangerie. Another, my last day in Paris. The fountain had been drained, but the bench in the shade, the cigar, and the conversation with travel companion, and member of my new country duo “Remy and Remy,” Joe (Remy) were ideal.

-Soup de Poisson : Fish Soup. A delectable cuisinarted fish and tomato based soup (a couple with nice chunks of fish in it, but not required) eaten with sliced baguette croutons heaped with garlic mayo and grated cheese, thrown in the bowl. The best food in the world (this may not be an exaggeration, but was certainly rivaled by the amazing duck with garlic sautéed potatoes in a restaurant in Blois).

-Salad with Lardons: their idea of bacon. Thick, fatty, chewy, greasy and wonderful. I managed that a couple times. Thank God for Lipitor and red wine.

- Salad with Chicken Livers. Didn’t happen. It’s more a southern thing. But that’s OK. I had some great Liver Venezia my last night in London.

-Hanging outside the Louvre. We didn’t do it much and, btw, I’ve decided I no longer loathe the I.M Pei pyramid as I thought I did, for a variety of reasons, which I’m available to discuss if you’re nuts enough to ever ask. Still, I saw that old piece of art they call a building many, many times this trip and am in utter and wondrous awe of it.

Most important for me was to share these things with the love of my life. She adored the experience with wonder, energy and joy. So I did just fine.

OK, there’s more: Our three days in Blois were great. We walked around a huge Saturday market while eating curried BBQ’d chicken wing drumettes out of a paper sack, and this is the place we got the duck mentioned above. We went to a couple wonderful chateaus which explain, once again, what kind of shit pissed off the rabble enough to start cutting heads off on that July 14th lo those many years ago.

Mont St. Michel is one of the most amazing things one can ever see, period. We watched the tide bring both the English Channel and a beautiful fog in at 9:30 PM, surrounding the Island… in fact MAKING it an island, and once again watched this happen the following morning at high tide. They’re initiating a project to remove much of the silt which will result in it becoming what it was a couple centuries ago, a full time island, so we were privileged to have seen this amazing tidal effect before it no longer exists.

The Cathedral at Charte is a world famous and brilliant piece of architecture. Throughout this trip I think, even being a horn and tail baring Jew, I felt a great spirituality in these edifices, knowing that in order to conceive of and then make real these places, a true transcendence of the human spirit had to take place. This means there’s more than what we normally see as limits, and if that’s the case, well… as I’ve said before, under very different circumstances, ‘All bets are off.”

Along that same theme…

We went to eat at a little news stand/ lunch joint. Up on the wall with the magazines, in this little quaint neighborhood that existed in this moderately sized town, almost exclusively for the traffic at the Cathedral in Chartre, I spied it. I had a moral failure and refused to purchase it, or allow any of my fellow travelers to do so for me. My dad would have been proud, but I am shamed. I will always regret that decision. It was a magazine sealed in plastic with an accompanying DVD. The title?

“ANAL BLACK MAN”

It was a really good trip.

Special Thanks:

We’re also thankful for the participation, comradeship, love, and ability to make their way through the language, of our friends and travel companions, Joe and Emiko, the architects of this holiday. Researching, reserving, plotting, planning, they insured that everything we did, other than the fact that almost EVERYTHING we did involved an endless number of steps to climb, was truly effortless. Thank you, my friends. My hips may feel differently, but Dolli and I adore you.

Finis

What?? Worldview Blather?!!

2006-08-26T14:49:00.000-04:00

I've been delighting over Steven Colbert's White House Press Corps monologue, just a totally balls on presentation, less than 15 feet away from President Bush, with great admiration.

http://tinyurl.com/fodxn

I also saw Ann Coulter get her smarmy 'beguiling' ass handed to her by ANOTHER attractive blonde who decided that Coulter had said something so incredibly stupid, it bordered enough on depraved to ignore her for the rest of a televised interview segment.

http://www.crooksandliars.com/2006/08/24/ann-coulter-gets-her-freak-on

Now I've received the following short piece sent to me by my boy, Ralph Carney, and it appears, having been stimulated above and beyond the sports section (a really shitty one in Akron anyway) I thought my response to him worthy of my inflated sense of self, now printing the note he sent, followed by my articulate, timely, and sensitive response:

The Noble Palestinian Savage?
by Acharya S

???

I've tried to stay out of the neverending mess in the Middle East, as
it just seems so futile and useless to take a stance. Historically
speaking, neither side is right or wrong, so no one has any clear claim
on the territory, which at first glance seems to be at the heart of the
struggle. The fact is that very few countries or nations can claim that
they were not founded using force, slaughtering and displacing the
previous inhabitants, who themselves often had massacred the previous
inhabitants. Hence, the argument that Israel has no right to exist
because it was founded upon violent displacement of previous
inhabitants is as ridiculous as stating that America or Australia, et
al., ad nauseam, have no right to exist because of their similar
foundings. In other words - and I do not say this lightly, because I am
no fan of "Zionism," whatever that term may mean - Israel has as much
right to exist as does any other nation, based purely on the aggressive
state of human history.

Now, I know well that it is quite fashionable in some quarters to
champion the Palestinian cause, as, surprisingly, Jewish-owned or
operated media around the world take the "bleeding heart liberal"
perspective, which finds a ready audience in aging and vocal hippies.
Don't get me wrong - I find all the violence and bloodshed to be
despicable and abhorrent, to the point where, if I really inspected it,
I would blow chow. It has always been my fervent wish that human beings
would just stop fighting - in other words, cut it out already! It is
for this reason that I continually stick my neck out and roundly
criticize and condemn diviseness of religion as so much deleterious
dementia. As far as I am concerned, no religion is "the one and only
truth," and most, in fact, border on retardation. For the purposes of
this essay, however, I will not go into great detail about my
criticisms of religion, as they can be found all over my website, my
blog, my forum, my discussion groups and in my books.

All that having been said, with what I know about the Palestinian
culture, which isn't a great deal but which is significant, I have to
scratch my head at the fervent liberal perspective that demonizes the
Israelis and angelizes the Palestians. In reality, both sides have
behaved badly, and neither should be exonerated - which means that the
Palestinian culture is not without its serious blemishes that need to
be pointed out and condemned. Nay, "blemishes" is much too gentle a
word. Horrors is more applicable, in fact. Well, what on Earth am I
talking about? And why, if I am correct, are not more people bringing
it up in the mainstream media? Why are women's groups in particular not
harshly condemning these horrors? These are good questions that can
only be answered by the fact of the basic human capacity for denial.
**

Now me -

I've never been a student of this, and have thus fostered what are pretty standard issue opinions of what's going on in the world, specifically for the sake of this diatribe, the middle east. As a pretty secular, "enlightened" Jew, I'd adopted the view that it's a totally unreasonable and ugly position for the Israelis to take that it made all the sense in the world to fight, bleed, kill and die for a homeland, and yet is unreasonable and to be resisted at all costs when The Palestineans look for same.

Now... there are arguments that 'Palestinean' does not describe a tribe of people so very bound together by religion, a region, AND culture for over 5000 years and thus are not so very, very entitled to a sliver of the sliver that is Israel.

I also know that an Israeli, while being intelligent, often quite Western, erudite and sophisticated, sadly, can have all these qualities co-exist with a worldview carved out of living in a place where every country around you and many who live in your very own country, have historically wanted to drive you into the sea and commit genocide upon you as a people, chronically setting off bombs, chopping heads, and killing your family, declaring some sort or another war upon you as a people... this all in the face of a holocaust that proved that the absolute extreme of evil CAN take place.

So, if all this can explain why the Israelis, as a people, might be aggresive and less than warm and fuzzy as they face their paranoia and occasional leanings towards psychosis, this profile of a people something we can't process, well... I looked to my friend Daria, an Israeli of priveledge, an army vet like everyone there, who's lived in NYC for years and years, one of a few trusted to use that alchemic mix of artistry and chemistry to restore priceless art works. So lets assume a bit of refinement. She tells me she thinks that what's going on in Lebanon was stupid, and simply someone in power in Israel finally just getting a little too pissed off and acting without Israel's characteristic strategic prudence and precision, a recipe for disaster. Her husband, my business partner, a New England educated American actually sees it as someone in power justifiably saying "Enough!" to a constant stream of violent and heartbreaking deaths perpetrated by... and here I'll yield to my lack of education and follow through in this area... 'people' who simply need to be stopped, or at the very least, forcibly made to pause and reflect on the consequences of these actions.

Looking at things in broad brush strokes, if dieing means nothing (or conversely, a positive 'everything') to these people, then why not just wipe them all out? Fact is, living means a lot to many of them, so this wholesale attack, the killing of all sorts of 'civilians,' a murky definition unto itself, should yield some sort of internal pressure from those who want to live out their lives peacefully placed on those who are wearing plastic explosive vests. Looking at it that way, of course, makes the 'normal' folks softies, and the suicide warriors the bullies, thus the dominant force, making the big bombings and killing perpetrated by Israel pretty much useless.

Then there was Jimmy Carter who spoke to the Muslims in the Middle East in the only way he could, or should have, as a compassionate, intelligent rational person. This was perceived by his adversaries (the people holding the hostages) as weakness.Where all this leads me, the simpleton, is in the direction of the old school of isolationism. I think we need to understand, particularly now, given the effective might of the U.S (that was written facetiously, btw), that in 2006 we are no longer capable of effectively being the world's police force, probably never having been really, as we always face the conundrum of 'enforcing laws' that are arrived at case by case, subjectively, by a random group of policy makers, with a variety of motives, and clearly, a really limited understanding of the cultures we're dealing with.

And if we DO understand the cultures we're dealing with , we should already know that what we're trying to accomplish is simply not possible. But it's hard breaking the habit of being an Imperialist.

So should we continue to support Israel who will get into skirmishes doing things we would generally consider 'reprehensable' yet in the face of other aggressors who operate even moreso with the 'gloves off?'

So easy to just say, "They're all nuts. Let 'em kill each other off and be done with it!"

But that would be wrong.

The Empire, 'tis crumbling.

Aging Out

2006-08-21T11:02:00.000-04:00

Just got an e-mail from a rock writer pal who was responding to birthday wishes. Along with everything else he wrote:

Thanks man. Yeah, I guess I'm older -- I used to love the Dead Boys, now I can barely listen to 'em (blasphemy, I know) unless I'm in the right mood. Just not that pissed off anymore.

I then went on a ‘deep thoughts’ exposition, and, just in case it’s actually entertaining to some of you, I’ll share:

When I play a punk (or any really, really aggressive) tune, I still get carried off, intense, and flooded with (often smug-flavored) testosterone.

Notwithstanding my ability to froth, sneer and revel at my advanced vintage, I really believe that there are types of music that along with everything else they do, appeal to, or trigger something in people of an age where hormones are still raging, or at least flowing down the rapids in plentiful supply... which biologicaly links with another theory, one generational, that may have been explored by bigger thinkers, and better writers than I, but since they didn't do so on THIS blog:

When you're flat out unhappy with yourself about something, you are most likely to be in your worst mood, and meanest to those who care about you, aka those with whom you can GET AWAY WITH NASTY SHIT most easily. Point here, is that many to most young people while certainly formed enough to be aware of it, are still not yet certain of the security of their present or future. Frustrated by not already knowing they want to be doctors or lawyers, or worse, WANTING to be something that they are, at this point, uncertain they'll be able to accomplish becoming, trading almost exclusively in futures, which are, by definition very uncertain, these younguns dwell in extremely unsettling territory on pretty much a 24/7 basis.

Angry, aggressive music provides a very real way to channel a lot of frustration and anger, a profound need filler for people who are at a time of their life where those emotions are inherently going to be in abundance. This then, would also help to explain the incendiary appeal of Gangsta and the popularity of thrashing along to Metal.
So while we always hate to experience the passing of our youth, this is one where I think it not only a cultural passing, but also a physiological one, an actual flow of the chronological fabric of our lives... one, of course, that takes a while to define itself. After all, it's been suggested my generation of males rejects the idea of aging past 19 well into our 30s. I suspect I carried some of that notion past 40, and am currently thinking about how I've managed to come to this point where I feel like a much less flexible but really spry 50 something.

But 50 is NOT the new 30, unless you're a 30 year old chronically experiencing the morning after spending the day carrying around your car on your back. But otherwise... Kick Out the Jams, Motherfuckers!!

Speaking of Dead Boys: I have a friend who went back to his school as a guest Prof., probably going bacj 15 years or so, who decided to be edgy and cool and impress his students by referencing one Jello Biafra. He was met with dead stares causing his hair to come out in clumps and a serious craving for an Early Bird Special Liver and Onions with applesauce. The interesting thing is that this anecdote is probably being met by the blog-reading equivalent of a dead stare by many of you right now. Well you’re on the internet, right? Google ‘Dead Kennedys’ K?

No time! No time! No time!

2006-08-14T14:15:00.000-04:00

Let’s see… last post over a month ago. What happened?? Or should I ask “Wuz been happenin’??” Let’s see:

Well, first there was nothing to really write about, then we (Half Cleveland) were rehearsing and playing these gigs in NY and NJ(report on these shows published now at www.tinhuey.com).

I stayed in NY for a couple more days to help out Comrade Chris with his shoulder surgery.

Came home, for one day, then headed out for a long weekend to Chicago to celebrate my granddaughter Ellie’s 2nd Berfday.

Came home and prepped for turning our house into a recording studio as friend, engineer/producer Bruce Hensel came up from Florida and along with fellow Half Cleveland… um… ers Bob Ethington and Debbie Smith, with an assist from Black Key Dan Auerbach, recorded most of three new tracks.

Major thanks to equipment contributors Chris Butler, Michael Aylward, David Stevenson, and Roxanne from Audio Technica!!!

Major thanks to Bruce for his truly gifted ears and sensibility, and giving me the opportunity to record in the most comfortable of places.

Major thanks to my Premium rhythm section and smart folk Debbie and Bob for their wonderful playing, encouragement, clearing their calendars for me, and being talented and smart enough that I could trust looking to them for thumbs up and thumbs down.

Oh, and again, major thanks to Dolli for exhuming me from my musical burial ground lo those many years ago, and then Ralph Carney for exhuming Tin Huey.

Which brings us to this weekend… Happy Birthday Dolli!!

All the above while paying bills, and doing stuff for Gold Teleproductions in NY, aka the day job aka my allowance.

So while a profound thought here and there may have come and gone, there’s been no time to really deal.

FRIDAY MORNING I THOUGHT I MIGHT BE DIEING

I kept saying that I needed to record my song Lazy Boy, as I think it’s pretty good and didn’t want to keel over (which happens to men my age with a sort of bothersome frequency) without having something close to a definitive version of it recorded.

So with the exception of ‘keeper’ vocals, maybe a redone loop track more in tune, and a mix, it seems we did so between Wednesday evening and Thursday morning,

So Friday, of course, I wake up at 4-4:30 AM, go pee (a good pee), take a sip of water and roll back into a sweet sleep. Just before 5AM I am pulled out of my slumber by a horrible gripping pain that blooms right where my left kidney is supposed to dwell. This is a bad pain, an absolutely unrelenting pain, something I’ve not experienced in years, and NEVER without a reasonable explanation or warning of any nature.

I hang in like the mensch I am for about 5 minutes, then wake Dolli up to tell her I may be in trouble. I sit on the toilet, I get on my knees, I try to lay down, I stand up and lean. While I go through this, Dolli is looking up my symptoms on Web MD. She tells me I might have cold sweats (which I do, but assume it’s because I’m panicking). She tells me I might throw up (which I do, but assume it’s because I’m panicking). The symptoms apparently are for a kidney stone, something they can’t really do much about, but then again, it’s only a web site.

I try to wait it out and watch it pass, but it doesn’t. It feels like I have a rotting kidney, an impacted bowel and a urinary tract infection all at once. I take a couple little brown pills (that turn your pee orange) for urinary tract stuff and we both begin to dress because, as almost an hour has passed and there’s been no relief, it seems like I should go to the hospital now.

As Dolli gets ready, I take the pups out to do their thing as we know not how long Dolli might be at the hospital with me. As they romp and do their biz, I think two things:

1) So this is it. My time has come and this is the painful ass form it’s taking. How about that?

1a) I look up and, oddly, DON’T pray for help, but simply offer up a thanks for everything, and think...
1b) ... never should have recorded that goddamned song, and

2) There will now be holes and tubes in me, holes that were never before in my body. How depressing is that?

Walking back to the house with the dogs hurt more than I had thus far this fine morning. We wrote a note to producer Bruce, who was staying at the house, took all the phone numbers we’d need, as Dolli crated the pups I removed the house key from my ring to leave for Bruce, then, deciding which car to take (mine), we closed up and left for the hospital.

As we drove I began to notice that I was a little less uncomfortable and wondered, to both Dolli’s and my amusement, if it was like a little kid in a car, the vibrating soothing my infant beast. I also wondered if physically NOT focusing on only one thing was simply helping with pain management.

We stopped and got some gas (of course) at the BP in the valley, then continued on our journey to my sad, sad ER destiny. After driving maybe a mile or so further on Merriman Road, it dawned on me that I seemed to no longer be hurting. As I have been a strong proponent of the theory that humans get themselves into trouble by adapting and assimilating to a fault, I was dubious, so I asked Dolli to pull the car over. I got out, stretched, walked, bent, moved around, and got back in the car with the profound and grateful declaration:

“Let’s go home.”

So we did.

Chapter 2: Chagrin

I alit from the car, as did Dolli, and as we approached the slumbering house it dawned… no key!! Dolli had thought the key on the counter belonged to our house sitter, Stephanie. We had only taken my keys because that was the car we drove. We were locked out. So… the guy that just minutes before was destined to go into shock and die in the waiting room at Akron City Hospital’s Emergency Room got up (euphorically, may I note) on one of those little green plastic lawn tables and, contorting himself, of course, squeezed through the smallish kitchen window, unlocked the back door and took his wife back to bed.

Epilogue:

9AM Dolli gets up and makes an appointment with the Doc for 1:45. Harv gets up, Bruce gets up, we start recording, Harvey telling his newest anecdote to anyone who will listen. My doc tells me it might have been that stone Dolli read about, but it was highly unusual for the episode to last that short a time. Debbie suggested it was the Evelyn Wood method of passing a stone. Maybe a back spasm. Urine samples were taken, things were said, promises made – maybe the stone had moved into my bladder, to be passed at a later date.

“What happens then?”
“You pass it.”
"What do I do when that happens?”
“You pass it.”
“So in other words I scream, try to not faint and pass it, right?”
“I’ll be on call this weekend.”

So I guess there’s been plenty of activity, and I have a vague recollection of profound things striking me in the gaps, but they’re ghosts at the moment. I go to NY on Tuesday, come back Wednesday and think it’s just going to keep going for a while, so it may be a while yet here before another update.

I just got a call from the Doc saying that my urinalysis came out negative. Great. Still... can't wait for 'nothing' to happen to me again, y'know?

Two Things- both based on love and whimsy

2006-07-12T15:24:00.000-04:00

Syd Barrett: RIP
One of those uncles that may have disappointed our parents, but brought us great delight. Thanks for having been who you were, doing what you did, when you did it.

Frozen Custard:
My pal, cb, has been updating us daily on what the Flavor of the Day is at Rosati's Frozen Custard up here in northern Ohio. This place, for your information, makes stuff that can't be properly described. None of that grainy Dairy Queen crap. It's soft, and filled with, as Dolli puts it, "sweet, creamy goodness." I eat the stuff and lose weight, for God's sake!!! I don't want to say we have a cure for cancer here, but I can't say I'd be surprised. Thank you, Chris!

Anyway, also courtesy of Dolli, a little tutorial on this gift from the gods:

Frozen custard is a type of cold dessert similar to ice cream, made with eggs in addition to cream and sugar. It typically contains 10% butterfat and 1.4% egg yolk. Air is blended into the mixture of ingredients until its volume increases by approximately 20%; this increase is called the overrun. By comparison, ice cream may have an overrun as large as 100%, which means that the final product is half air. This gives the ice cream a coarser texture. A custard will have a thick creamy texture compared to ice cream. Frozen custard must be served at 26 degrees Fahrenheit, which is warmer than the 10 degrees Fahrenheit at which ice cream is served. Some people feel that modern frozen custard machines whip too much air into the product, and therefore put a premium on stands that use old machines.

Frozen custard originated in Coney Island, New York, by Archie C. Kohr. He brought the first frozen custard machine there in 1919 and sold approximately 18,000 cones during his first weekend there. During the 1933 WorldÂs Fair, frozen custard was brought to Chicago. By the 1940s, frozen custard stands could be found throughout the East and Midwest of the United States.

Getting My Religion

2006-07-05T14:04:00.000-04:00

I received a great quotation from Ralph Carney this morning:

"Many orthodox people speak as though it were the business of sceptics
to disprove received dogmas rather than of dogmatists to prove them.

This is, of course, a mistake.

If I were to suggest that between the Earth and Mars there is a china
teapot revolving about the sun in an elliptical orbit, nobody would be
able to disprove my assertion provided I were careful to add that the
teapot is too small to be revealed even by our most powerful
telescopes.

But if I were to go on to say that, since my assertion cannot be
disproved, it is intolerable presumption on the part of human reason to
doubt it, I should rightly be thought to be talking nonsense.

If, however, the existence of such a teapot were affirmed in ancient
books, taught as the sacred truth every Sunday, and instilled into the
minds of children at school, hesitation to believe in its existence
would become a mark of eccentricity and entitle the doubter to the
attentions of the psychiatrist in an enlightened age or of the
Inquisitor in an earlier time."

Bertrand Russell, "Is There a God?",1952

This, about religious POV, has inspired me to respond here with a recent, rather telling experience for me:

In 2000,when I moved back to Akron after 20 years in New York, my Orthodox Jewish brother, Larry, declared I was most certainly invited to his home, but NOT with Dolli (a gentile) as it's 'influence' (a big word with these folks) would be too strong. He claimed this to NOT be Larry's law, but Jewish law.

I sadly accepted this, having neither the background, nor the inclination to dive in deep enough to be able to intelligently argue the point, if there was even an argument to be had. I also took the position that I wouldn't go anywhere Dolli would not be accepted. She is the love of my life and one of the kindest people I've ever met.

So I hadn't seen my brother who loves me as I love him, or his wife (my 'big sister') or his 5 kids or his 287,439 grandchildren since my mother passed almost three years ago.

He and I talk periodically, and he will readily reference Dolli conversationally. This estrangement has actually been more painful based on his and Sandi having met and spent time with Dolli when mom was ill. We're all from the old neighborhood (Rankin Elementary, West or Perkins Jr. Highs, and Buchtel High School) so there is much in common, and everyone got along famously. Everyone felt it and it was great, but made the situation forced by 'Jewish Law' all that much more painful.

from (appropriately) r to l: Sandra Gayle and Dr. Larry Gold , Fundamental in Kenneth Cole Harv , and Faux Sabra Dolli

Then recently we received an invitation to my niece's wedding (Dolli had been excluded from a previous invite, at which time I told Larry that I'd prefer a phone call and no invitation to a solo one. He understood and agreed). This one, however, read to "Mr. and Mrs. Harvey Gold." My, my, my.

I e-mailed my sister-in-law, as in the world of orthodoxy, there are times you don't want a hard and fast answer that could very well actually be forcing a 'pronouncement' from the elder male, to inquire if this had been an address label printed in error. Better to function with a little confusion than a spoken dictate that becomes the 'word' for the rest of your lives. Anyway, Larry called back a few days later and said it wasn't a mistake. He said that while he didn't want to go into it (see above note about the consequences of having the wrong thing uttered), and while he truly hadn't been searching until he found an opinion that met his liking or needs ... well ... he's getting older (11 years older than me), this is his last daughter to be married, I'm his brother, and he just wanted us to be there for it.

So we attended, a little nervous, given that we're about as secular as they come without being proactively anti ritual, but also quite excited. Dolli dressed appropriately (skirt covering the knees, sleeves covering the arms. Even wore a hat), as did I (black suit, white shirt, black tie and a yarmulke), and ... we had the BEST TIME IN THE WORLD!!!!

We saw all the kids and grandkids, other relatives by marriage, old acquaintances from the pre orthodox days and otherwise. I played with the grandnephews. My oldest nephew, Eric, the Rabbi, talked me through the wedding ceremony as it went, though Sandi and Larry had sent a sheet for the uninitiated, explaining the ritual and the requirements. Larry also provided a relaxing telephone tutorial by phone, the day of.

I sat at a table of men and boys I knew (nephews, Sandi's non orthodox brother and his two son-in-laws ... one of which came to the last Half Cleveland show at Musica), and when the traditional dancing started, I heartily threw in. After 45 minutes of dancing with crazy men, (at least 3 or 4 times with my brother) I was happily soaking wet. When we sat down to eat, I had to tell Larry that if the check in the card I handed him was ruined by sweat causing the ink to run, I'd issue a new one. It was exhilarating!!!

On the other side of the partition, Dolli spent a lot of time with Sandi (who could easily be HER big sister), Sandi's sister-in-law, niece, and cousin, and she too had a wonderful time. Women are allowed to peek to the other side of the room, though men aren't allowed to do same. She found the sight of all these men in black suits with beards and black hats dancing as intensely, athletically and with such fervor a surreal and remarkable thing. On her side of the wall, dancing exploded as well. She later observed that she had never been to any party of any nature that displayed such unabashed JOY... and that these guys (oh my God, I was one of them) made Krunkers look tame!

So Cool!

Dolli also spoke to Moshi, My nephew's wife, about what had happened here. Moshi suggested we speak to Sandi (not Larry) about perhaps meeting them at a Kosher restaurant for dinner, or inviting ourselves over to their house. Sandi because, as she put it, some people see shades of gray, others see things in black and white. This might have been a moment of weakness, allowing a little gray to sneak in, but while I truly wish this breakthrough meant the years in the desert for us were over, I have a feeling this was just a stop at an oasis. This is telling, as it wasn't until I was faced with actually seeing and being with my big brother and my family again that I realized how painful it is to NOT do so. I'll letcha know if things change.

The Happy Couple

So How’s it Workin’ for YOU Today?

2006-06-21T10:16:00.000-04:00

Me?

First: Please remember to vote (click as a 5 star rating) for Kirk and Josh at:

http://www.kkbbcasting.com/casting/?vidId=29596

If this instruction confuses, please read the entry directly below today’s.

********

I’m struggling with some misadventures in acquiring a new guitar amp, spoiled by playing through expensive old tube amps, gigging more and more, still without a roadie… a conundrum.

********

We (Gold Teleproductions, Soho) bought a new camera, which is tres cool. The model has been around for a while, but we just decided we should have one:
http://www.digitaljournalist.org/issue0401/smith.html

RIP

My old pal, an ex roommate, a guy who I truly don’t know how many hits of blotter I ate with back in ‘the day.’

A guy who ALWAYS had a bummer when we did so.

A guy who could get laid by walking into the E. Exchange McDonalds, order a Big Mac, and turn to some girl and say “Wanna…?”

My only friend from that cultural world of biker/hippy/artist, seemingly a bit of a Svengali.

There are those you seldom see, you almost never bump into, you don’t call, they don’t call, and it’s OK. You once upon a time shared so very much, it no longer matters. You just live your lives and know you love each other. Jimmy G. Shambo and I shared that. So I’m grateful to have awakened today, and to be writing this. Yet it’s a sad, gray, rainy, post Father’s Day day. Think I’m grieving Alison a li’l bit, too.

I’m so tempted to pour another cup of coffee, take my pooches, Eddie and Debbie, and climb back into bed to doze a bit, watch a bad HBO movie, maybe both… we’ll see.

Hope it’s workin’ well for you today.

MY SON-IN-LAW IS A BETTER ACTOR THAN HE IS A SHYSTER... AND THAT'S SAYIN' SOMETHING!

2006-06-16T23:28:00.000-04:00

WE NEED YOUR HELP, GENTLE READER. IN TAKING THE FIRST STEPS TO INSURING A COMFORTABLE, IF NOT RIDICULOUSLY LUXURIOUS RETIREMENT FOR D-MOM AND ME... PLEASE READ TO THE END -

The following is an edited reprint from my son-in-law Kirk’s blog:

This past weekend Meghan and I were supposed to make our way to Maryland to my family's old vacation spot, the Solomon Islands. Unfortunately we were unable to go due to work and other monetary related accidents. During my weekend of brooding over my absence from the family vacation, mi amigo Yoshuwa contacted me about a contest in which the first place winners would receive a trip to L.A. to meet a casting director and receive two hundred dollars spending money. All we had to do was a scene from a movie and submit it for a chance to win. The movie we would copy from was, "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang", a new movie with Val Kilmer and Robert Downey Jr.

Yoshuwa was convinced we looked close enough to the two actors that we could duplicate the scene and sweep the contest. Not only on our looks but on our unmatched acting abilities as well mind you.

Yoshuwa and I rehearsed our lines for long periods of time trying to memorize them and to sound as natural in our dialogue as possible. We ended the night confident in our abilities to deliver the scene with unbelieveable, untapped talent

The next day we had breakfast and went over our lines (ed. Presumably for the 8000th time), and then went to the downtown parking lot in Warren, Ohio… and set up the tri-pod.

Now, with most movies I believe actors get up to something like ten takes. We took at least twenty or so, a piece. I strongly believe that we would have done many, many more if my battery hadn't died. We then headed for the editorial room of the GOLD PALACE located in …ed.- somewhere secret.

Yoshuwa and I just didn't realize that it would take us six hours of editing to get one minute of video footage. Now I understand why they never let directors or actors edit movies.

We scraped together the scene, doubtful that we'll make it to Hollywood, yet hopeful that this whole contest could be the catapault that slings us into total "where the heck where you two hiding all this time" celebrity.

Whichever way the wind blows all we ask is that we are given a chance. Ed- This section had a declaration of humility, followed directly by a shout from atop the mount glorying in the incredible balls it took to step out to the top of a parking deck with a camcorder.

Then comes the paragraph with the link and an entreaty to go there and vote for the best clip, and not for him and Yoshie unless you think it's the best. Well, I'm here to ask you to ignore the "aw shucks" humility and sense of fair play from our dear midwestern boy. We love him for it, but I repeat:

Do not heed that last paragraph!! Kirk really IS good. Go look. You’ll see. My point is, I already did, and I say he’s excellent. As Dustin Hoffman so eloquently pointed out one year as he accepted his Oscar, so many things transpire against an aspiring actor. It may never happen, for so many reasons. So just vote for him, regardless of whether you have the time to watch the clip.

DON'T STOP, GO DIRECTLY TO www.kkbbcasting.com/casting/?vidId=29596 then vote.

VOTING BEGINS MONDAY, JUNE 19th
Trust me, Kirk actually IS an actor... better yet, don't trust me.

IMPORTANT NOTE -- THE BOYS FINISHED 8th IN THE VOTING AND DID NOT, IN FACT, WIN ANYTHING IN THIS CONTEST. THIS SPACE HAD THE CLIP TO WATCH, BUT IT SLOWED DOWN THE BLOG SO MUCH, I HAD TO RID MYSELF OF IT. STILL... GREAT WORK GUYS! MAZEL TOV FOR THE SHOWING YOU MADE.

Additionally, I know Yoshua, and why he hasn't already been a major/minor character killed off by Miami Steve on the Sopranos, having moved on to releasing his own brand of pasta sauce, I haven't a clue.

... also, to Val Kilmer: I know Kirk Olmstead, and you're no Kirk Olmstead.

I Just Have to Share

2006-06-06T23:07:00.000-04:00

Once in a great while, something happens... we turn a phrase, we think a thought... we get a visitation.
Today I wrote this to my son-in-law. This might become part of a song, might not. Might need an accent I can't consistently deliver. No matter. The Goddamned aliens beamed this shit into my noggin and I'm glad they did:

"We act like we got diamonds sittin' in a lobster trap and you gots antennas."

Thank you! Stop! You're Too Kind! Thank You Very Much!!!

HUGE DAY

2006-06-02T08:46:00.000-04:00

Today is the 5th Anniversary of the morning I woke up and went to the bathroom on MY WEDDING DAY to my dear D-Mom.

This is also my dear friend Sally Petersen's day to mark yet another beginning of a year gracing us.

My great friends, Chris, Debbie, Stu, and Michael will be helping me celebrate this day by joining me in one of the great joys of my life, playing music, tonight at The Lime Spider as part of a benefit to aid fellow musicians in New Orleans displaced by Hurricane Katrina. As Dolli loves to hear us play, this works just fine.

Thanks to everyone who was there 5 years ago, and to those of you who have joined or re-joined our lives in the days that have followed. I've been remrkably lucky and truly blessed.

"Gee, Harvey's blogs keep getting more and more maudlin. Ever since he had liver and onions with Dolli and Debbie at Luna, he HAS become 80 years old!"

LETS EAT!!! Or not…

With a couple notable exceptions, most Mexican restaurants in Akron pretty much serve the same stuff. The con queso is the same white goo (mmmm good), the carnitas is prepared the same, the same combination plates, the same salsa, the same, the same, the same. Now this is fine. If you like it, you can get exactly what you want in every corner of the city. Truth be told, it was the rare Mexican restaurant in NY that I’d run into that was very much different than any other either. Figure a lot of it just has to do with what Mexicans eat… or what Americans want as Mexican. Last night, though, we went to Mateo’s California Mexican Restaurant.

For you Akronites, this is in the Valley, where The Globe and many others lived before it, at the Noisy Oyster mini-mall on the right, just before you get to the BP as you reach the bottom of the hill on Portage Path. For those of you not from Akron, if you come, just call us and we’ll guide you there. Run by Guatemalan, Alberto Vega, named after his grandson, Mateo, this really feels like little fun Mexican restaurants in L.A. that I’ve been to. Now we didn’t do a Jane Snow and sample a lot of different things on the menu. We just ordered and ate.

Small place, sweet waitress, friendly welcoming owner.

The con queso was NOT white goo, but a delicious, quite spicy goo, and the salsa was pretty normal, but just a bit spicier, and a little chunkier than that found at the Poco Loco Toco grills. Dolli liked her Margarita and they gave me a chilled glass for my Negra Modelo. I was told they have not just Mexican beers, but Central American varieties, and will do beer and tequila tastings if arranged for in advance.

The cup of Tortilla Soup was unlike any I’ve had. No crispies and garnies floating on the top. Pretty dull presentation, actually, but just the best, meaty chicken soup I could ask for. Really delicious!

Dolli’s Chicken Chimichanga was enormous and unusually light, fluffy (yet crispy) and really tasty. The beans weren’t the standard Akro-Mex paste, but real refried beans, more like Three Amigos.

My 12” Mexican Pizza with chorizo was just plain indulgent. If you’re eating chorizo you have a death wish. I was tough on my friend the other day so I figured I should punish myself. I’m crying now. So it was big, plenty, cheesy, and greasy, just as it should be, served with dabs of sour cream on each sliced wedge-o-death and a nice mound of Guac on the hub.

They have music there on Fridays and Saturdays, sometimes Thursdays. Dolli and I hope to be there on June 24th to celebrate Mateo’s 3rd birthday with whatever music they have booked in.

When I lived in Manhattan, there was a corner, I think 3rd and E. 88th or 89th, where for some reason nothing could survive. It was like any eatery that opened there was a plant trying to make it in a Moroccan closet. The only place that lasted more than a biscuit was a bare bones bar serving wings called “Name This Joint.” The space Mateo’s is in seems similar by nature, and it would be a shame for this place not to thrive, so… try it, even once. If you like it, keep supporting it. I like Chipotle and used to like a couple things at Baha Fresh, but that’s completely different.

Here , you walk in, see a different menu, have a friendly waitress serve you a nicely made Margarita, and have a really nice time. Very cool. Oh , and their menu has outrageous deserts involving tres leche and pineapple ice cream burritos, and stuff… we were too full, but next time… absolutely!

Come & Get it! The Authentic American favorite! Authentic Sloppy Joes made with Authentic Meat Flavored Meat!”

Now later last night I had a conversation with someone who doesn’t like Mateo’s. The word “authentic” got used a lot, and this morning, I started thinking about how that word applies to this subject. I’ve been to Mexico and eaten pretty authentic there. I’ve eaten ’authentic’ Mexican in the tiniest mom and pop eateries, made by little round Mexican ladies for a room populated in large by multi sized, apparently Hispanic people, and frankly, to my tastes, it’s just not always that exciting. Sure, some people make it spicier, some flavor things a little better, some do more slow cooking, some dry out the meat, some let dark meat cartilage in the mix, some slop some sort of green ooze on an edge of the plate.

I mean “Authentic” American might include overcooked string beans and Del Monte asparagus cooked into mush. On the other extreme, authentic Indonesian deep fried Parrot head may be cool, but raised on Cocoa Crispies and Brisket, I think I’ll likely pass. So “authentic” doesn’t always carry the cachet we might think, when ya think about it.

This place, in fact, WAS different. As D-Mom points out, they don’t call it “Mateo’s Authentic !” They call it Mateo’s California Mexican Restaurant, and for the one time we’ve been, so far, we like it!! No matter. Just wanted to weigh in on that “AUTHENTIC” issue. Geez. I think I’ll run down to Canal Street and get me one of them authentic $2.00 Korean Digitals that’ll keep poor time until it turns my wrist green and busts completely by the time I hit Houston! There’s the ticket!

Sad Changes

While we’re on the subject of restaurants, Susan Aylward, after expending a tremendous amount of energy fashioning a really sweet tea/coffee/ fresh food joint in her image at ‘Enjoy’ has met with an abrupt change in strategy from it’s owner and has exited as manager. Given the way things were handled at this place, given the amount of free labor my brudda Michael Aylward put into it… regardless of what it becomes, we will be boycotting and urge all our pals to do so as well. We’ll miss you being there, Susan. I wanted to play there again.

OK, Food Hour is over. Thanks for reading. And remember! Tip your Waitresses.

Report from Japan

2006-05-31T08:47:00.000-04:00

Dateline: Wed. May 31st

Having beheld Sanjusangendo and Kyomizu-dera and refreshed herself at the Waterfall of Wisdom, the predestined Elizabeth Anne Markovich, the now legend "yellow head" saved the life of a child, having TRANSFORMED into the ultimate "very popular with very many people"...

Elizabitu

What next for our great and beautiful heroin from the West?
- Will she become a great Asian Art Scholar?
- Suburban Japan's Next Top Model?
- A Woman of Intrigue traveling the world with her HERO LIFE PARTNER Joe San, saving yet more unfortunates from a disastrous fate?
- The greatest of all Flight Attendants?
Or..................
ALL OF THE ABOVE?!? HER GREATNESS IS WITHOUT LIMIT!!!!

Joe San

FORGET THE DA VINCI CODE!!

2006-05-30T14:43:00.000-04:00

I don't want to get into the habit of carrying contributing bloggers, but in this case, we once again see a story better than anything I could come up with. So, without further ado, from Bob Ethington, Director of Popular Culture at the Akron (Summit County?) Public Library:

My Favorite Library Patron

Ah! And now, this afternoon - for only the second time ever: My Favorite Patron..... Whom I'd only encountered once before, about a year ago, in a similar fashion....

He's an older white fellow, and looks and speaks in what at first seems a very typical, normal manner. "I'm 70 yrs old, could you guess that?", he asks. "When you're bald like me, it's hard to tell. We all look old, hee hee."

"My wife is 68, but you'd never guess that from looking at her...."

But then:

"I died. I was dead for ten years. But then God brought me back to life."

Me: (No response).

"Ten years I was dead...."

Me: "Oh yeah? How about that."

"Ten years.... but then God brought me back. And let me tell you, Heaven is FAR better than you could ever imagine."

Me: (.......)

"Dead for ten years...."

Me: "Well, uh, wow. Jesus was only dead for three DAYS, and you did ten years. That's pretty impressive!"

"Oh, but no. Jesus, he was dead for three nights, and then resurrected. But he went NORTH. Way into outer space, to Venus. And all of the Venusians are now Christians."

Me: "Gee, I didn't know there even was anything living on Venus...."

"That's true, there isn't much life there. But there are WHALES. And the whales there, like the whales on Earth, on very intelligent. And the whales on Venus are Christians."

Really, there's no arguing with this logic! He then walked away.

I once heard Gilbert Gottfried, on Howard Stern, do an impression of Jackie Mason explaining why black folks (the 'Schwartzes') would never go to the moon (too cold) but that Jews would love it.

I've also seen Sun Ra, a documented Pharoah from Saturn.

But this... Bob... you've moved up just a buttload of notches on the "He (or she) who has the most anecdotes when he dies, wins" list, if not for quantity, for the enormity of the quality of this one.

Mazel Tov.

Haircut of the Day

2006-05-26T12:04:00.000-04:00

The fact that this guy's head looks like my pal, Paul Koestner (in his pre gray days, of course) is just icing on the cake.

Submitted by D-Mom

Field of Dreams

2006-05-21T23:41:00.000-04:00

“Is this heaven? No, it’s Iowa.”

Being a stepladder allows me to avail myself, should I choose, of the “They’re Your Daughters!!” kind of creepy comment when navigating the shit pool. I don’t think I have ever said that, not that such a non-act deserves a medal, but still...

No question, there have been minimally bumpy moments when all of us have, on one occasion or 1000, stepped in the piggy puddle. My own size 10 foot (“peeyoo” wails the giant mythic Ellie Creature ) has entered my mouth, shot down my gullet and right out my big hairy ass on more than one occasion.

But truth is, there are three remarkably special gals who I both love and admire. Recent notes to prove why I should be crowing, in random order:

Recently, Meghan unveiled her secret plan,which is to collect, then re-sell many varied items of many varied values in order to become very rich, so that she and Kirk will be able to fund the placing of Dolli and myself in an appropriate "Raisin Ranch” if necessary. She has also pledged to make it near a mall. God bless you for that detail, dear Maynan… sniff. Mombi was also recently featured in a magazine piece playing the role of the Supremely Articulate, Talented, Enthusiastic, and Capable wedding planner she is, like the real big girl she's become. Kudos... or is that Kuders?

D-Lidz just pulled 3 As and a B this last semester, becoming the Lebron’s Streaking Cavs of the Dean’s list. Additionally, fueled in part by grant/scholarship type moneys, along with having seriously wrangled, maneuvered and worked (including working hard to establish a nice sized pool for debt to flow into, just like a real big girl oughta), Lizzie is heading off on an intellectual and cultural pursuit to Japan for 11 days at this month’s end. My, my, my. Won’t even go into the fact that she actually ordered, paid for and installed new hubcaps on the Matrix. Whew! I gotta go lay down!

Last, but by no means least, Mizzuzz Dao. Having received a Bachelor’s Degree lo those many moons ago, she upped and moved all the way to The City of Angels for a few years, then state-trotted back this a way and reinstalled in coolio Chitown with hubby (a great guy, so an accomplishment there for both her and Kris in finding and latching onto each other) and… Elliot Rose Faeryelf Harveygold Carter (her REAL name, Goddamnit), what may always be her greatest production and a great one it is. But Gayle has also always been looking for the thing that she ‘does,’ and appears to have found it. Entering into a massively intense and condensed (timewise) program, she just graduated in the top echelon of her class, and has gotten a job at a tony joint as an esthetician (look it up. I’ve got work to do).

Oh, and all these young ladies have excellent, superior guys… assuming that there is such an animal. In alphabetical order, Joe, Kirk, and Kris are my manly gang of ragamuffins.

Finally, the woman who brought me these li'l buggers, known as the Dolli-Mama. A special shout out to you for all the transformations you've made this year while keeping up the most ridiculously good spirits one could ask for. Danke, baby.

OK, the grateful hour is now… finis.

The following is an unsolicited endorsement:

"Gerg likes to start his Mondays with the H-Man"

The Exploding Toy Run

2006-05-18T11:21:00.000-04:00

Moving back to Akron represented two monumental life changes. The first was the ridiculous amount of personal happiness likely to hang with me for the rest of my life.

"And if THAT isn’t enough, if you call now, Harvey Gold, we’ll throw in a handy dandy extension on your life , not by one year, not by 5 years… but BY AT LEAST 2-3 MORE DECADES THAN YOU WOULD HAVE HAD, HAD YOU STAYED IN NEW YORK!!!!"

The second was this move requiring a career decision that would result in a dramatically reduced income (DRI).

And the answer is...... Deal and done.

But regardless, what I’ve had to learn, and friends, let me tell you, it’s been hard fought lo these 6 years, was to NOT SPEND LIKE A NEW YORKER!

I’m getting a little better at it.

For example, sometimes I’ll go to ‘The Acme’ and we’ll have soup and salad at home instead of Sushi, and I’ve pretty much opted out of doing any shopping in the Nordstrom’s Men’s Shop anymore.

But periodically, I experience frightening explosions, and they seem to occur on two main fronts.

Before I go into those, yes there are other places of indulgence. For instance, there are great temptations whenever we go to Sam’s Club, based on the idea that if you buy things by the pallet, you MUST be saving so much money, your portfolio will have ACTUALLY GROWN by the time you finish at check out! Mombi understands this kind of logic.

And there will never, ever be any regrets about any generosity we show the kids, because a) we love them so, and b) we’re gonna live a long time and they’re going to have to take care of us (we hope) in our bothersome, but quirkily entertaining dotage.

But now the two most notable lapses in good fiscal judgement:

Single Malt Scotch

My pal, Chris Seivard, first turned me on to good Single Malt Scotch at a converted estate in Aberdeen, Scotland a number of years ago. Didn’t much like Scotch before then. Sure do now. Sadly, as a rule, the only cheap Single Malt (thanks dude) is a dead single malt, and there are soooo many different Single Malts to choose from. So many regions with their own noses and, and, and… I don’t go after the Billion Dollar Single Casks from McNapoleon’s Garage variety, and I’ve narrowed my favorites down somewhat, but the cheapest, at a great price, is still around $45 a fifth.

Fortunately I’m not a big drinker. Unfortunately, I’ve turned a disproportionately large part of my family (Gayle, Kirk, and Joey) into interested parties, and have also managed same with a few of my local friends (one I've managed to spill some pretty good stuff with trying to catch fish at night on my ex-pedal boat. Good times. Good times. Especially during the blind midnight docking competition) thus the occasional Big McHarvey’s Tour Of Scotland putting a nice dent in the inventory, sending me into the bittersweet re-stocking mode. Sam’s Wines in Chicago, where they have excellent prices, a dizzying selection, and... SAMPLES... is my blessing and my curse.

God Bless My Curse.

Next up and when it blows, it can really blow, is:

Musical Instruments and their Pals

Now I’m not completely nuts, but it does come in spurts, and with the Lord as my witness., it’s just not my fault.

I blame Dolli first, for giving me back my life as Harvey, which includes a need to play and sing, meaning guitars, amps, pianos, keyboards, microphones, a little recording equipment, accessories… and stuff of that ilk.

I blame my brother Larry for buying me my first Harmony arch top in 1964, officially, my having taken piano lessons since ’59, making me a multi-instrumentalist.

I blame The Beatles for the obvious.

I blame Chris Butler today for re-introducing me to Class A tube amps and … THE GIBSON SG.

Finally, I blame being in the Television and Film Production Industry, where a simple screw can cost $75, giving me a warped perspective of money, to the point that when I buy said Class A tube amp and 1968 Gibson SG (needs some work, but still…) for the LOW LOW PRICE OF … well I got both for under $1000 on e-Bay, I somehow think that my portfolio will be bigger by the time PayPal hits my account.

It way won't.

Super Sub Blame: eBay and PayPal

So clearly... it's not me who should be blamed.

Sidebar:
l) Laphroaig 15
Older is undoubtedly great as the difference between this and the 10 is astonishing, but I'm on a budget
2) Bowmore Darkest
Mother's sweet caramel!
3) Mortlach 15
I think its 15... also caramel, both interesting as they're Islays, so filled with peat

Perfectly good as well:
- Lagavulin 16
BIG peat, drink her neat!
- Talisker 10
I hear there's an older one. Could be killer
- The Glenlivet... yeah, you heard me right... 18
The 12 BLOWS, but this is really nice Highland stuff
- Glenmorangie Burgundy Wood Finish
A little heavy handed, but sweet. A nice, no work, drinking Highland

NOW THIS... IS ART!

Mark your calendars, and...

2006-05-11T15:51:00.000-04:00

Opening Info Salvo:

Half Cleveland will be performing on…
6/2 at The Displaced Musicians Benefit- The Lime Spider, Akron Ohio
6/30 w. Houseguest and The Kristoffer Carter Show - Nantucket Nights at Musika (Mocha Maiden), Akron, Ohio
7/28 at The Baggot Inn, NYC

Details to follow. More gigs to be scheduled.

Now... there are folks who write something every day, or almost every day. The blog is like a diary, or... in my pal, Chris Butler's case, a cultural entertainment on line rag. In Princess Mombi's case, it's a way to open the faucet on a really fertile mind, probably helping her to stay sane. Made me, upon noting the date of my last posting, cringe a little, so here goes:

First, in case you only read the most recent postings, please, if you haven't yet, go to:

http://www.tinhuey.com/news.htm

Tin Huey played a gig that turned out to be pretty exciting for me, and since this blog is kinda, sorta, mostly about me and mine, it's something I'd love you all to see.

Second, while Mr. Butler has bought yellow construction helmets and we're planning a Vanity Fair pictorial on his lush foliage filled property, he posed inside a hawk proof (we hope) cage with helmet and BB gun, sans anything else, we've had our own bird dramas at Casa Oro.

Harvey and Clicky stand vigil

For a recent report from D-Mom, go to:

http://dollimama.blogspot.com

Third, in response to my emotional reaction to my Grandfaery Elliott Rose's visit
(see next post), a renewed desire to live as long as possible, I chose to lose some weight and exercise more.

My mother used to react to any hint that my brother and/or I thought she would benefit from losing a few pounds with a really, really, hurt and angry "Fine! I'll just eat salad!" which she never did.

In my case, relative to what my previous intake was, both in content and volume, starting with the prep for the Tin Huey gig, I've actually been doing just that.

The result? I have now, as of this writing, lost, conservatively 5 pounds and have loosed angry, animal fat and carb craving demons, making me just a little cranky, and maybe a little crazy. No chips, no sweets, as little bread as possible... and simply, way less food than this bloated body has been accustomed to for a long, long time. Yes, I feel better physically, I think, and yes emotionally I feel better, except for the part where I want to kill off a double quarter pounder with cheese, a really large order of fries, and then go take a nap. No soda, no milkshakes. If I'm still hungry, I'll eat a couple Filet-o-Fish... and more fries (balance is important),at which point I'll no longer feel a low grade need to kill and roast my dogs.

Final thought: I do have a myspace page:

http://www.myspace.com/hharveygold

It is, for me, like setting the clock on the VCR was for my father. But I'll get it. No worries.

Three Things... Pretty Big Ones.

2006-05-06T20:00:00.000-04:00

Item #1 Something I Could Never Have Hoped For

I guess my biggest, best news in the world is that I got to spend real and meaningful time with my 20 month old grandfaery, Elliott Rose, this last week. Forget the weekends in Chicago. This was real stuff. I changed poop dypes TWICE!!

-I lifted her up to stand on our fence post to look at The Head (more on that in a minute).
-I put her down from carrying her around and she WANTED ME TO PICK HER BACK UP.
-We spun in my Aeron office chair, separately and together.
-We worked out a ‘thing’ where we stood (me on my knees) on either end of the hall, and I beat my chest and did a Tarzan, as she screamed and ran at me, and I at her while pounding the walls, our monumental collisions causing us both to repeatedly fall to earth!!! She later learned how to do the Tarzan herself.

-And then she left and I miss her terribly.
-And she took her mom with her and I miss her terribly.
-And I realized that as Grandparents we’re going to see her through
only so much, for only so long.
-And I got back on the elyptical and went on a diet, cause it made me remember that I want that to be as long as we can manage.

Item #2 The Head

Ex Roadie, current Engineering U of A guy, and always dearest of friends and most excellent artist, Greg Lewis, picked up the pace on our “wreck Bath” project. Sunday, he presented us with The Head. We have two tall, thin, barren trees in the front of our property skirting the street just behind our fence. When we had the devastation of the winter of 2004 finally dragged out of our yard, we, at Dolli’s suggestion, had these two trees cut, but leaving one at about 8 feet or so, the other about 12’, with nice flat tops. Wanting to do something with them, though they looked pretty cool as is, we suggested Greg use them as exhibition spaces. I have a feeling there will be a bit of a rotation as we go, but for the first step… The Head.

Thank you, Greg. You’ve made Dolli and me very happy, and gave Ellie and me something to share.

Item #3 The Gig

WE finally did it. I’ve seen it, I’ve smelled it, and Saturday, April 29th, 2006, I got to taste it. The T-Huey Mug-a-Sheep. Tin Huey, Half Cleveland, Ralph Carney and Friends. 28 years later THIS is what makes up the complete Tin Huey experience. Video, songs, jamming, terror, guests… our most perfect guest turned out to be a member… Mark Price, returning to guitar after all these years. Monster.

There’s a full report at:

http://www.tinhuey.com/news.htm

But let me just say here, thank you to everyone who came, who has ever come, and to the people who did some amazing things with me on that Saturday night. It was an honor. God bless.

Homer for President... again!

2006-04-20T23:21:00.000-04:00

Wednesday evening we went to the library to see what turned out to be kind of a talk... really more of an 'appearance' by one of the writers of The Simpsons, Joel Cohen. Bob Ethington, the head of pop culture at the Summit County Library, a dear friend, bandmate, and all around good person, hosted the evening. As Soledad O'Brien was speaking at the University that night, my wife thought there might be a poor turnout at the library, so in support of Bob, we attended. We were wrong. It was exactly 87 people short of a throng.

The Simpsons are certainly historic. In many respects, the most successful prime time show in history. Certainly one of the most important, as a lot of folks would argue that The Simpsons singlehandedly kept the fledgling Fox network afloat... just as Professional Rodeo from Mesquite Texas was an important staple for baby ESPN... but more.

Joel Cohen is a funny, clever, sweet, geek of a guy who simply came to tell some anecdotes, and show a couple clips. No real insights. He offered a little auto-bio, and a not quite TV 101, telling us how many writers there are, talking about how smart they are, and how long it takes to turn out episodes. The most interesting thing is that, while entertaining, and again, very likable, he wasn't scary hilarious, he didn't tell us any great state secrets, he didn't send us off with much of anything more than we came in with.

But here's the interesting thing: the evening DID give me a hint of what a Trekkie convention is like. There were Simpson dolls for sale outside the auditorium. A friend we sat with, had a doll for Joel to autograph. There weren't any real crazies manifesting themselves in the Q&A but there was that odd query here and there by a questioner who clearly had studied every episode, knew the guys who wrote, animated, and voiced shows on a first name basis. This questioner clearly 'knew' some of these folks in an intimate way far longer than Joel had.

Point is, Joel knew his audience. He knew that the actual engine was the audience and his role was to provide something the cartoon characters of this show can't, a warm body from the Simpson's household to get close to, hear, and interact with. Demystifying details would actually be a bad thing. This wasn't by any means an educational event. This was for the fans.

So when the talk ended, me still not grasping the nature of this beast, we agreed that if everyone wandered off, we'd go hang a bit with Bob and Joel during their meet and greet. No need. As a matter of fact, I don't know how long it would have taken to even get to them by the time we filed out. Lots of dolls to autograph, lots of "Whatever happened to Joe Blow, one of the colorists that was credited for four episodes of the third season only, then disappeared from the credits?" querries. Pretty interesting pop-culture experience. Nice booking, Bob.

For my part, when Joel talked of the crazy creativity of writers meetings, it brought back sweet memories for me of working with Michael Patrick King , Jon Stewart, Louis CK, Suzie Essman, and Dave Attell on a series I did for A&E. Funny recollections came back to me of pitch meetings with host Colin Quinn and his 'Goodfellows' fixation, or later host Richard Jenny who would shrug and say "I don't get it" so very many times when pitched, EVERY time Jonathon Katz opened his mouth. Jonathon was given a writing gig for the show, a nice gesture for a really sweet and incredibly smart man, but... writing for Richard Jenny, the Crown Prince of the Lowest Common Denominator? I SO endorsed releasing Jonathon from his obligations when he got the Dr. Katz offer!! But hanging in a room and set with people who came up with vignette series like "Clown Therapy," "Viking Fun," and "Elevator Fears" is a remarkable experience.

When Joel mentioned writer Dana Gould, I turned to my wife and whispered "I know him," to which she responded, "Of course you do." I adored working with comics and comedy writers, which is, in essence, spending time with supremely talented, funny 12 year olds. In fact, I was surprised that Joel, when asked how to become a writer like himself, didn't point out that being a stand-up was one way to get seen, heard, and noticed. Later she said that if we're talking comedy on TV, I appear to know, in one way or another, 95% of everybody. As I've been back in Akron for 5 years, however my percentage of is probably down to about 80% now... so the evening made me a little wistful, and I probably laughed a little more often and a little harder than the average bear, as I was reminded of a 'home' I had in a smoky comedy club or 10 in a different life, one where the talent made me constantly crazy and the order of the day, every day, was laughter... and a percocet.

The most significant information of the evening, of course, was this: Because it takes so long to produce Simpsons episodes, they are seldom, if ever, topical, which makes them pretty Evergreen. The Simpsons, therefore, in theory, can live forever. Good news for those of us who haven't been regular viewers. There are gonna be over 400 of them for me to catch up with, if I live long enough.

Cool.

Her Name was... Anna.

2006-04-20T10:07:00.000-04:00

JUST IN CASE YOU MISSED THIS AMAZING NARRATIVE GEM ON THE 'NOTES FROM CASTLE GOLD' BLOG:

There are these credit card promotions that, when one has a reasonable amount of CC debt, are worth paying attention to and using. Some offer 0% or 1% interest on a transfered balance for a limited time, some offer a somewhat higher, but still bargain APR for the life of the transfered amount.

We've had a Chase card for a while that we actually have carried no balance on since July of last year. So when their offer came, seeing our other cache of debt's promo rate expired, thus upping us to the usual crippling APR, I decided to move over money to Chase, smartly opting for the 4.99% APR for the life of the debt.

So today I pick up an envelope that arrived from Chase, and find that our first payment is 1.36 Trillion Dollars based on an APR of 387.69457%. This pretty much translates into us signing over the deed to the house this month, and selling Lizzie into white slavery while in Japan next month to buy more time to come up with a clever, life insurance proof, method of killing ourselves in order to ultimately offer our grandchildren (sadly, it's already over for our kids) a chance at running free and strong in this great nation of ours.

So I figure I somehow misplaced the first statement, and all is lost because I'm late. I do this a lot. It's not like we don't have the money. I think the novelty and joy associated with affording to, as an adult, pay bills as they come, has worn off. I'm fat and bored with the process and therefore screw shit up with regularity, based on my disgusting sloth. I panic and look for that pile of mail I think I may have let slide on the floor next to my office chair. Heart racing... nope, I was actually good this month and am, oddly, up to date with all our bill paying.

So what can it be? I look at the statement closely. It appears I'm 'OVER MY LIMIT.' The tricky thing with CC companies is that you simply can NOT be even 12 seconds late with a payment, nor can you be even 1 red cent over your limit, or they automatically (you can hear the heavy bolts, tumblers, motors all roaring into action here) rip any considerations away from you as if you are a piece of shit stealing all the baby furniture and citrus fruit from your poor Scurvy ridden neighbors, rickets be damned- upping your APR to the highest imaginable, a little extra high, known as their 'Prefered Crack Ho and Student Rate.'

So what's the deal? Well, it appears I wrote a transfer check for the full amount of our limit, not considering the ... TRANSACTION FEE.

So now we're $65 over limit, charged a $39 over-limit fee and upped to 13.74% APR.

I call - The first guy I get is interesting because he has an Hispanic name, but an unmistakable Indian accent. Like the guys at the Sushi bar who speak no English whatsoever, but are to be addressed as 'Joe' and 'Eddie.' But now, in a country with Hispanics making up a growing 24% of the population, odds are better, from a customer service vantage, for the guy from Bombay to take on the moniker of 'Pedro.' Cool.

aside :

http://www.pedroland.com

Anyway, it turns out that while it's crazy, the contract DOES speak of a transaction fee, I know there's going to be a transaction fee, and yet write the check for our limit to the penny, and am thus over the limit before I get my first statement, thus voiding the promotional rate and placing us back in with the huddled masses with no recourse, except to sell off something in our portfolio (currently earning a nice rate) in order to get rid of this balance, the whole premise (in delusional 'high finance' think) of even keeping a balance on this card at the promotional rate to... right Pedro(?), "RIGHT!"

"Can I speak to a supervisor, please?"
"Certainly."

"Hello, my name is... Anna. Is there some way I can help you, Mr. Gold."

"Hi Anna. I doubt it, but I have to try.

Breath sucks in and a pathetic 'I'm an idiot, but can you please help poor me?' tone of voice takes over. Empowerng her on the most intimate level is my only chance... and I have NO chance.

"Y'see I have a card in good standing with Chase, my business has been banking with Chase for 20 years, I just moved over $..... into this account, a clean account in excellent standing, on a promotion, to the full amount of my credit limit. Yes, I know there was a fee, but I simply didn't think of it when I wrote in the amount of the check, and now I find myself having hit this (did not use the adjectives 'scandalous', 'insidious' or 'fucked-up' intentionally) tripwire that says I'm over my limit and can no longer avail myself of this promotional rate. Now while I cede all the information was undoubtedly in print, it would seem that customer service might see a red flag, call the good and loyal customer, just as every internet driven transaction would, and say "Hey , (you're about to blow it), are you sure you want to do this?" and give me the chance to do what it was I actually WANTED to do... but didn't. This hardly seems fair and seems in opposition to the spirit of the deal. Is there any way we can correct this. Is there any way you can help me? I'll pay the overbalance, I'll pay the penalty for the overbalance. I mean this is a higher rate than I had where the money was sitting before I moved it over. I'll do anything, but is there any way we can get the APR back to the promotion this was intended to be?" Exhale.

"OK," said... Anna,"You have to pay what's on your statement, but I'll credit your over limit fee, and put in the recommendation to have your promotional fee restored."

"Thanks so very much! I so appreciate this. I'm sorry, but what's your name again."

"'Anna,' Mister Gold. I'm an Account Supervisor here."

And then I opened my eyes, rolled over and said to my wives, Halle Berry and George Clooney, "I just had the weirdest dream..."

Thank you, Anna.

re: Friday's Post

2006-04-17T13:10:00.000-04:00

I've removed the post from Friday, April 14th, as a sort of an immunity/5th Amendment kind of maneuver. Does this make me a coward, gutless, etc?

No, I tell you!!

As I'm committed to my Superhero Creed to protect the innocent and shave at least once a week, I must do this to protect those that might ultimately be victimized by my need to hear the sound of my finger(s?) hitting the keyboard.

I will, however, answer requests for a private e-mailing of it, as it has been saved for inclusion in my collection of blogsays, 'Gold'- As in The Color, Not the Metal due out as a Bantam Paperback, March of 2018.

6:46 AM Good Friday - the phone rings.

2006-04-14T09:15:00.000-04:00

SORRY, THIS POST HAS BEEN SHELVED. SEE ABOVE FOR EXPLANATION.

Come Again!!

I Have Too Many Friends Getting Divorced Who Either Made REALLY Bad Choices in the First Place or Did Some SERIOUS Shit to Create Some Nasty Mojo!

2006-04-11T11:58:00.000-04:00

Ex 34b: My Accountant (Name changed - irrationally offending languge... um... dicked with)

mrpissynumbers: YO

mrpissynumbers: HOW'S DOLLY

BARKYBOY: good thanks. how're things?

mrpissynumbers: HAPPY HOLIDAY OF CORRIGUATED CARDBOARD & CONSTIPATION
(ed. note - he's clearly a jewish Acountant)

BARKYBOY: back at ya.

mrpissynumbers: IF I EVER EXPRESS ANY FORM OF EMPATHY FOR THAT STUPID FUCKING (MYSTERIOUSLY TRANSCENDENTLY UNACCEPTABLE 'C' WORD) HIT ME PLEASE

BARKYBOY: ok. but...

BARKYBOY: I haven't had a cup of coffee yet this morning.

mrpissynumbers: KK

mrpissynumbers: CIAO

BARKYBOY: try to have a nice day, k? I gotta go to the dentist this morning.

mrpissynumbers: enjoy

BARKYBOY: thanks.

mrpissynumbers: maybe they can drill into her w/o painkillers

BARKYBOY: Now THERE y'go! Using the material in front of you.Playing the house!

BARKYBOY: So I've also got to go to the bathroom now, at which point you say...?

mrpissynumbers: hope it is an easy poop and clean wipe?
(ed. note - people I've experienced in his situation, while very colorful, language and imagery wise, seem to be largely bereft of a sense of humor on this subject.)

BARKYBOY: No foo!! Yer supposed to say: "Wait, lemme get (HER NAME) so you can take a shit on her..." or something.

BARKYBOY: But thanks. Me too.

BARKYBOY: I'm gonna run. Just don't let any governments take my life away from me because they mistakenly still think I owe them money, K?

mrpissynumbers: i'll let them take (HER NAME) first

mrpissynumbers: nah they charge you additional for pain and suffering

BARKYBOY: Now THAT's how WE roll! Cheers, dude. Have a nice Pissover.

Gene Pitney RIP

2006-04-06T16:08:00.000-04:00

The first record I ever bought was at a joint on Mill Street, between Main and High in Akron, called Record Mart. It stood across the street from another Record Store called Edfred's. Edfred's was run by a big old guy that would, for a 10 year old and his or her attendant list of cultural references, pass for a Kentucky Colonel or, as we all now know it to be, Colonel Sanders. He was only cool in that he was surrounded by vinyl, just as O'Neil's department store was only cool because it had high tech listening booths where you could table an LP and put on some HEADPHONES and listen it up a bit, aka killing time in a really space age jet pilot kind of way.

Record Mart was, on the other hand, cool in all the right ways. The balding guy with the Maynard G. Krebs style beatnick Van Dyke. The jazz that was playing all the time (as opposed to the large portion of country/western across the street), and the... yes... myopic, eyepatched, cooler than cool black guy!!! This was 1962, folks!! He even had Wayfarers!

So my big brother Larry and I go in. He buys "She Cried" by Jay and the Americans. Big Tympani, big tears. I cried every time I heard it. Me? I bought a 45 RPM single by my favorite band: Mister Gene Pitney (My fave girl band was, of course Miss Lesley Gore).

"The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance" written by... Burt Bacharach! Who knew?

When liberty valance rode to town
The women folk would hide, they'd hide.
When liberty valance walked around
The men would step aside
Cause the point of a gun was the only law
That liberty understood.
When it came to shootin' straight and fast,
He was mighty good.

From out of the east a stranger came,
A law book in his hand, a man.
The kind of a man the west would need
To tame a troubled land;
Cause the point of a gun was the only law
That liberty understood.
When it came to shootin' straight and fast,
He was mighty good.
When it came to shootin' straight and fast,
He was mighty good.

Many a man would face his gun
And many a man would fall,
The man who shot liberty valance,
He shot liberty valance,
He was the bravest of them all.

The love of a girl can make a man
Stay on when he should go, stay on.
Just tryin' to build a peaceful live
Where love is free to grow;
But the point of a fun was the only law
That liberty understood.
When the final showdown came at last
A law book was no good.

Alone and afraid she prayed that he'd
Return that fateful night, that night.
When nothing she said could keep her man
From going out to fight.
From the moment a girl gets to be full grown
The very first thing she learns
When two men go out to face each other,
Only one returns.

Everyone heard two shots ring out,
One shot made liberty fall
The man who shot liberty valance,
He shot liberty valance,
He was the bravest of them all.

This arrangement had the weirdest, most plaintive, whining string section I ever heard, or have heard since.I cried when I heard this song too. It was the harbinger of things to come:

Sitting in front of a black and white TV in front of my dad, watching Ed Sullivan as the Beatles played and I CRIED LIKE A BABY, I was so excited. But that's another thing altogether, cultural upheaval, coming of age, hormones, etc. etc.

But get THIS!!! My mom and dad took me to the movies to see "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance," what was going to be the seminal moment of my life, my favorite song of all time and forever and ever, starring Jimmy Stewart, my favorite Charles Lindbergh, Mr. Smith All American favorite actor of all time and forever and ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I got all popcorned up (with real butter, my friends), properly Raisinetted, and gloriously Goobered, only to find this Nonpareiled moment of my life stopped dead in it's tracks, cause... THE SONG BY GENE PITNEY AND BURT BACHARACH WASN'T IN THE MOVIE!!!!!

I can't talk about this anymore. He did 'Town Without Pity' and this was a big deal, along with some other stuff, but this was the watershed, this was the defining moment, and... I can't talk about it anymore.

Gene, I loved ya. R.I.P