Smoke and Mirrors

In a perfect world . . .

Category: Save the environment

Over There

I am busy the entire weekend but didn’t want to leave you guys with nothing.
I couldn’t post a video clip from Terrence Blanchard, so I will leave you with a link.
YouTube can be so damn fickle.
The cut is called Over There from his album called “A Tale of God’s Will, a requiem for Katrina”
This is an intensely moving instrumental so sit back, make some hot chocolate and enjoy.
Catch you guys and gals next week.
I am so far behind, blogwise, I almost hate myself.
But I am making progress on the book.
My wife and I are having an anniversary dinner at the house of some dear friends tomorrow night so I will not be around until the beginning of the week.
Later all . . .

btw ~ my deepest thanks to Moe, DownUnder, for all her help in getting this theme up and running.
We were chatting on Gmail one night when she sent me the link for this particular template.
I think it is stunning. Comments regarding the look are always appreciated.
Please direct your comments towards Moe.
She took care of 95% of it.


And no, it’s not the Canadian Football League.
Watch the video for more info.
Though he’d never make it as a stand-up comedian, I’m liking this congressman from Texas.


I got on the train one morning several weeks ago and settled myself in for the train ride into Boston.
I was on a double decker train in a seat for one, perfect for writing or sleeping, the latter of which I do in the mornings I leave early.
A woman (I think she was a woman) with incredibly confusing blonde hair sat in front of me reeking to the high heavens of a cologne that almost made me gag.
Eau de Litter Box, perhaps?
All I could think of was the feeling I get when I walk in to Bath & Body Works at the mall; a total devastation of the olfactory senses to the point of nausea.
Anyway, this woman proceeds to flog the ever-loving shit out of her hair, cooties, dandruff and dead hair flying everywhere as I sat there taking it like a man, too tired to move to another seat.
That wasn’t quite enough though. She pulls out her compact and begins to violently swab her face to beat the band with the finesse one would use to scrub a dirty truck bumper.
I don’t scrub my ass that hard in the shower, for God’s sakes.
This went on for twenty or so minutes and it was disturbing, to say the very least.
The lips took at least half of the twenty minutes ending with that yucky “schmupp” sound.
I’m thinking Blondezilla must be an absolute vision when she’s finally done primping and packing her fat little face.
Sometime shortly after the “schmupp”, I fell fast asleep.
Thank God for small miracles.

Later that day, I thought about my wife, a minimalist when it comes down to makeup; less is more, period.
She’ll argue with me until JFK comes back from the dead but when she’s done up for an evening out (a rare event these days, sadly) she IS a vision.
Her face is just beautiful.
A few mornings ago I got out of the shower and dried off before opening the medicine cabinet for a Q-tip.
I saw a small innocuous looking package and I could swear it read “FaceSpackle”.
Now I looked up “spackling compound” on the web and found this: A white pre-mixed compound or powder to which water is added for use in mending cracks in plaster, holes in sheetrock walls, skimming old wallpaper seams, should be sanded smooth and flat after drying
This was disturbing.
Dear God, please not my wife.
I put my glasses on and saw that the writing didn’t say anything close to what I thought it said.
It was some kind of newfangled facial exfoliant from Origins.
As a man, I have a difficult time understanding all these exotic things women use on their face.
But my wife has taught my daughters well though; easy on the rouge, light on the eyeliner, gently shadow the lips.
Whenever one of them wears makeup they look like women, very pretty women. What happened to my little girls, I’ll never know.
If they continue to take their mother’s advice, the future years will treat them kindly.

As the train pulled into Boston that morning, Blondzilla got up and made her way to the exit.
Lord have mercy, I think she used to do makeup for Bozo the Clown . . . Ringling Brothers at the very least.
And if she happens to read this?
I’m getting my ass kicked some unsuspecting morning.
I think I’m safe . . .

Elektronic (or Elvis is Everywhere)

Back in the late 70’s and early 80’s I was gigging on a regular basis. (gigging = playing music i.e., weddings, night clubs, festivals, frat parties)
For a working musician, the times were good.
Actually, that’s wrong, they were the best.
Although things have changed dramatically and DJ’s continue to unjustly monopolize the wedding industry I still have rather fond memories of the good old days.
I read this short post at FFE’s blog and the wheels began turning.

Back in ’79 I got into a very popular cover band and was told I needed to purchase a specific wardrobe to be worn when we played various nightclubs in the area.
It didn’t seem like a big deal to me at the time until I found out exactly what I would need to purchase.
Alright, I’ll describe it.
And if you laugh, you’re freekin’ dead.
Here goes: tight, hip-hugging, white bell-bottoms (the widest bb’s I’d ever seen with a red silk insert on the outer seam), a red silk shirt with lapels that came down to my nipples, a white and tres skimpy white vest that rode somewhere near the bottom of my rib cage and a pair of (God help me) hideous ruby red platform shoes ala Elton John and the Yellow Brick Road.
You want to put me out of my misery already, don’tcha?
I would wear this ‘manly-gear’ mainly at nightclubs.
After the band finished the night (@1:45 -2:00am) I’d be hungry and would venture into Worcester to a tex-mex place called “The MidHeaven” for a few tacos or enchiladas.
The eating part doesn’t strike me as strange but the fact that I still had on my stage clothes deeply disturbs me these days.
Go ahead.
Ask me.
Michael, what in God’s name were you thinking? You’re lucky you’re alive you stupid bastard.
I must have looked like some bizarre Elvis wanna-be, incarnated and twice removed.
Dear God, please someone shoot me . . . uh-huh-huh
Maybe that’s why no one ever bothered with me.
They thought I was dead.
I’m alive to tell the tale so . . .
God damn, I looked goofy.
But I got babes.
Go figure.
Must have been the hip-huggers.
I saw the video below and thought, “This video deserves a post.”

Most memorable line from the video?
The really memorable line from the video?

” . . . my blue jeans is tight
so onto my love rocket climb . . .”

Is that frickin’ poetry or what?

Blue Man Group

I’ve worked in Boston for over three years and have yet to go see these guys.
Actually, one of them is a customer of mine.
And yeah, he’s bald too.
Cool, short video.
Have a great weekend, peoples . . .



Cabbage Ass

Something short and sweet, so to speak . . .

Someone floated an air biscuit on the train this morning, a silent sulfur scream (SSS) so deadly in intent that my eyes literally crossed.
Dude, if you’re sick, go to the hospital.
It was odd the way people picked their heads up one by one and started looking around for the gravy pants responsible for the great brown cloud.
There were only 12 or so people in the car I was riding in so it was a bit uncomfortable.
I heard one guy groan and say, “Oh, man.”
Oh, man is right.
The odor of the unholy airlock was almost indescribable.
Oh, alright, I’ll try. I’m already grossed out anyway (as you will soon be, as well).
It was somewhere between ripe, warm and hairy egg salad and way-past-the-due-date hamburger. My olfactory senses are somewhat dulled at this time of the morning but I definitely detected a hint of burnt string bean casserole.
It was right after that when people started getting up one by one in search of a fresher car to ride in. Not wanting to be seen as the person that “drew the mud”, I too got up and left the fragrant car.
It was painfully clear that this demanding piece of colon-speak wasn’t going anywhere.
I overheard a woman say to someone, “Well, I’m certainly awake now!”
She sounded almost pleased.
As soon as I stopped my eyes from watering, I found a new seat.


Running the numbers

Found an amazing site run by Chris Jordan.
It’s a bit hard to explain but if you look at the picture above you’re actually looking at
125,000 one-hundred dollar bills ($12.5 million), the amount our government spends every hour on the war in Iraq.
Click on Benjamin above and see some incredible sights.
As stated, the artwork on the site was intended to be seen in person to have the impact with which it was intended.
Either way, it blew me away.
I’m curious about you.


Organic Skywalker

When produce goes bad and technology documents it.
Hysterical Star Wars spoof.
You gotta love talking vegetables.

ps. watch for Maniac (II) in the next day or two…  😉


Veggie Idea


A while back I posted this about the Veggie car.
Recently, my friend Colin sent me a link to the video above.
The video, which was entered into a “Convienient Truths” contest, features his son Caric.
I’m blown away not only by the awesome planet friendly idea but by the fact that the last time I saw Caric he was wearing diapers.
Tough to get old. Caric sounds almost as smart as his old man. {grin}
Anyway, the contest is all about heightening awareness regarding the global warming issues we currently face.
A kid, a car and an idea. . .
I think I like it.


Sorry I’ve been absent from commenting on my favorite blogs.
Didn’t want to get phlegm all over your dashboards.
See all of you next week. 

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