I remember the day vividly; there were crystal blue skies, warm and ample sunshine, comfortable temperatures, a picture perfect fall day in New England.

The date was September 11, 2001 and I was just getting into work (selling pianos at the time) when the phone rang.
It was my friend Colin, a piano technician from the store where I worked calling to tell me he’d heard on the radio that a plane had just flew into the World Trade Center in NYC.
It must have been a terrible accident we both agreed, a freakish malfunction of an old turbine perhaps, a minor incident but nevertheless a tragic loss of life of strangers neither of us would probably ever know.
At the time, it seemed safer thinking of it that way.
It was a small plane, Colin said and that made me feel better.
Fewer people meant fewer casualties in a city the size of New York.

After I hung up the phone, it occurred to me that something didn’t seem quite right about the conversation. Couldn’t put my finger on it but something was wrong.
I knew it and Colin knew it, we just didn’t want to say it.

I mean, planes just don’t fly into buildings, do they?

My question was promptly answered when the phone rang 15 minutes later.
It was Colin again sounding a bit nervous.

Another plane? Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on? I asked.

He went on to tell me that both of the towers were hit and that it looked like we were at war.

War? I thought, With who?

I went outside and looked up into the sky for a sign that the world was still alright and all I saw was the endless crystal blue of the atmosphere but I noticed something else; there was an eerie stillness and silence hanging in the balance.

Word got around quickly that the US had been attacked as we began adding words to our daily lexicon: WTC, 9-11, Atta, Al Qaida, Al-Jazeera . . .

The dark truths would begin to bleed through the seemingly impenetrable fabric of our lives virtually changing all of us, forever.

The phones started ringing at the store . . . but not from customers.
The calls were from wives to husbands, sons to mothers, sisters to brothers – with one simple question; are you okay?
By noontime the phones stopped ringing and business ceased as the United States was brought to its very knees.

I can’t help but think of the same three words I thought on that horrible day: God Help Us

I still pray for all that we lost that day; the brilliant lives, our {unjustifiable} innocence and our shattered sense of {false} security.
We were too blind for far too long.

My words describing that day are still woefully inadequate but my thoughts and feelings of incomprehensibility are still so incredibly tender and raw.

I want badly to forgive but I still can’t.

God Bless all those we lost.

As Annie said, turn those headlights on . . .

~m

A good friend of mine mentioned this video today and I just had to find it and post it.
Nature can be quite amazing sometimes. Maybe even fair.
This video ends like a Disney Movie.
Kind of cool and totally unexpected.
Check it out.

~m

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=LU8DDYz68kM]

Vick.
Isn’t it ironic that his last name rhymes with dick?
Here’s to hoping someone throws the whole God damned book at this smug bastard . . .

~m

ps. a shout out to my bud Will for sending the awesome pic 

Simply amazing

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=ed9F4G5d8Qw]

A tip of my hat to Beuks for the heads up on this one

~m

I received a care package the other day compliments of my dear friend Maureen from Australia. What began as a comment or two regarding the mystery and intrigue surrounding the Aussie staple, “Vegemite” turned into a package of many wonderfully Australian things.

It’s quite difficult for one to describe vegemite. Maureen says it looks like axle grease and I have to say she’s right. But the taste, ahh, the taste is unforgettable.
Malt, yeast and salt dominate this black paste and for some odd reason it reminds me of beer.
Then again, many things remind me of beer.

I was forewarned: don’t use very much.
God, I’m glad I read that little nugget of information.
Honestly, I think I could grow to like this stuff. Aside from using it as a spread on crackers or toast what the hell else can you use it for?

• Breakfast
• Lunch
• Dinner
• Party and snack food

I’ll report back on how well the axle grease works out.

I was also sent an authentic boomerang. From the looks of it, if I had to feed my family using this thing as a hunting weapon, they all would have perished weeks ago.
I am, however, quite good at throwing it in such a way that it comes back and hits me.

Maybe I deserve it.

I also now own (and wear) a very cool red baseball cap from a golf course called
The Willows (courtesy of Mark, Moe’s better half.. Thanks, Mark!)
And I love the Australian flag on the back of the cap.

But the most unusual gift I received was a pouch.
This isn’t your average everyday pouch—this one is special.
It’s made out of genuine kangaroo scrotum (is there any other kind?)
Maureen says that downunder they use the entire Joey.
I guess she’s not kidding.
We’ve joked about what to put in it (my nuts?).
Those disappeared the minute I saw the actual lettering on the bag.
(genuine kangaroo scrotum)

I have a little something for Moe and Mark that left today.
I think we will soon have a budding Red Sox fan in Australia . . . I hope.

I’m sure you noticed the {huge} picture at the top of the post of yours truly sporting my new baseball cap.
I spent a beautiful sunny day in Boston with a beautiful woman, had a wonderful lunch at the Rattlesnake on Boylston Street and wandered breathlessly through the Hopper Exhibit at the MFA.
I’m not even going to try and describe all that I saw because I’d fail miserably.
I really would.

I will tell you a few things though; “Nighthawks” is a massive piece of art and much larger than I originally thought it would be.
I stared at it for 15 minutes taking in the detailed brush strokes of one of my favorite artists.
I kept thinking ‘His hand actually did this’ . . . I was gobsmacked being that close to a work of art so creative.
And though I’m no painter, Hopper has an uncanny ability to re-create light on canvas.
I’ve no idea how he came to possess this talent but this picture gave me the chills.
Online it looks fairly blasé but standing in front of it makes one want to kneel.
I’m not kidding.
It was an all around wonderful day and I feel so blessed.
If a Hopper Exhibit comes anywhere near you, please do yourself a favor and go.

Thanks, Moe for the package.
Look for the mailman late next week.

And yes, I want pictures . . . :0)

~m

I’m finally going to the Hopper Exhibit at the MFA tomorrow.
Anyone notice my banner?
I thought someone would mention it.
btw, it’s called “NightHogs”, an obvious parody of Hopper’s “Night Hawks”
Lunch in Boston with my wife afterwards.
I gotta tell you I’m an excited little boy.
Look for a future post on the trip.

~m

I read an article in the Boston Globe yesterday about the cat above named Oscar.
Whenever I see the word “dementia” in any article it catches my eye but add “cat” to the mix and it’s all over.
Click on Oscar and read about this fascinating little guy.

~m

Heard these “a cappella” guys the other night in a quaint little church in Brewster
and I gotta tell ya, they can sing.
Damn.
10 guys.
Absolutely amazing voices.
And they sing in tune!
Click on the cover above to go to their website.
Wanted to include a link to buy one of their CD’s but nothing was available.
If you like what you hear, send them an email and maybe you can pick one up.
Their name is The Hyannis Sound.
I’ll be returning by early next week.
I think.
Once again, I sincerely thank you for all the comments.
Check out one of their vids below.

~m

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=3sthvWWkdoM]

Last week I visited the WordPress forums because I was having some difficulty with uploading my blog’s header.
My problem was resolved promptly but for reasons unknown I hung around and responded to several posts regarding the machinations of the WP software.
I’m no BlogGod by any means but I feel I know WordPress fairly well enough to offer help.

While surfing the forum I came across a post titled, “If there’s a God, remove I CAN HAS CHEEZBURGER” (ICHC)

Fascinated with the uber-long thread of comments, I left one of my own.

In a nutshell, some bloggers are a bit “cheezed off” because this bad burger has been the #1 rated Top WordPress Blog ad nauseum and people wanted to know why.
And with good reason, I should add.
It’s a somewhat lame blog.
Different strokes, different folks, I guess.

The Cheezfest was set straight by several bloggers, Raincoaster being one of the WP forum angels to weigh in on the {oh no!} controversy.

RC is a frequent poster on the forum so if you’ve been there looking for advice, chances are you’ve seen the name.
I decided to check out the blog and have to say it’s very impressive.
I blogrolled and was pleasantly surprised to find my blog linked as well.

Raincoaster mentioned a site to me in light of the ICHC brew ha-ha called LOLNIN.

Turns out LOLNIN is a parody of sorts of ICHC using Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails as the blog’s main focus versus the sickeningly adorable cats on ICHC.
And believe me, I love cats but this site . . .
In order to completely appreciate the sheer brilliance of LOLNIN
you must first sadly visit ICHC .

That’s tonight’s assignment, folks.
And please at some point visit Raincoaster.
No crap, just a really cool blog with an even more awesome name.
Tell them ‘sneaker‘ sent ya

~m

“Hey, Dave, what’s up with that healthy glow? What happened to your good old pasty, cadaver-like complexion?”

{Dave laughs}

“Oh, Bill. I had a nice and relaxing visit at the Clean as a Whistle Colonics Spa this weekend and man, I feel grrrrreat!”

In the not too distant future this could conceivably be a normal conversation at the office water cooler . . . or not.
I know, you’re wondering where the hell I’m going with this right?

Now and then I see an article in the paper that sends my “Pinch me, I must be dreaming” meter into orbit.
Yesterday, an article in the Metro on colonics sent me to Pluto.
Now I’m back to give you a report.

Colonics; the infusion of water into the rectum by a colon therapist to cleanse and flush out the colon

They better damn well use the Evian with me. {sniff, sniff}
In fact, make it a double.

It’s essentially an expensive enema for folks with nothing better to do with their money than, well, shove it up their bum.
I’m sure it has substantial health benefits and all that stuff but come on.
How far can something like this really go?
I get my prostate checked once a year and I still feel dirty 6 months later so from a psychological standpoint what in God’s name would one of these treatments do to me?
I’d have to sign up for rectal therapy.
Sheesh.

Anyway, it just struck me as an interesting service but how the hell could you promote it without laughing?

Maybe I’m ahead of the curve here but I’ve come up with a few choice names for establishments offering this procedure.
In a span of 20 minutes I came up with over twenty names (which was half the fun).
Here are a few names I really liked:

• Roto-Colon, Inc.
• Gee, my ass smells terrific
• Coffee, Tea or Champagne enema?
• Colon Blow Ranch {courtesy of SNL}
• The Lush Flush Salon
• G.I. Tract Joe’s
• Colon Bowlin’ Cleaning Service
• Tush Pushers Day Spa
• Backdoor Genie
• Tiny Bubbles
• Hose Monster {free tattoo with 3 irrigation sessions!}

Feel free to leave me a name or two.
Once you get started, the names just kinda flow . . . like water

~m

ps.
For those wondering why I’m posting less frequently, I spend most warm summer nights out on the deck with a cigar and my favorite brew taking me away from the computer.
I truly live for this time of the year.