Hard Job

Some jobs are very hard, some physically, some mentally. And not everyone is cut out to work hard one way or another. When I was in my mid- twenties I cleaned carpets in Sacramento. That is a hard job physically. It's hot, heavy, and in order to make money at it you have to be really good at it, pay extra attention to detail, and go fast, but not miss anything. I worked for a very expensive cleaner, and I made really good money, but if I screwed up something I had to fix it on my own.

I ran a two man crew and I was in charge of hiring my helper, and I used a number of people that worked out well. They didn't get paid a lot, but it was more than minimum wage by quite a bit, so it was a good job for someone with little or no work experience. One time when, for some reason, i needed to hire a helper, my boss hired a friend's kid, and told me he was kind of a dweeb, but was one guy we could mold into a perfect employee. I was skeptical. I'd seen the kid, he was maybe twenty-one or maybe twenty-two, very slight build, and just didn't seem to be very capable. But we gave it a try. And what an adventure it was.

We had a full schedule on his first day, three big jobs,and from the work orders I surmised that even if I had had a good helper it would be a long ass day, well into to the evening hours. As we were driving to the first job the kid asked me what time we got off. Bad thing to ask me right off the get, so I told him my standard, "when its all done" answer.

The first job was a whole house, four bedrooms, dining room, living room, den, study, etc, and the rooms were full of furniture. I showed the kid what to do. Luckily the customers were not home, so I didn't have to worry about decorum and teaching the kid what to do and how to do it. The helper job is not really rocket science, but it is physical. I showed him how furniture is usually set against the walls, and when we went into a room his job was to move the furniture out from the walls far enough to clean the WHOLE area under it, then when done set it back in place with either a foil pad under the legs or little blocks of wood if it sat directly on the floor. The first problem he had was, "How do I move a couch all by myself?"

"One end at a time," and I showed him on the first couch. And I had to show him on every piece of furniture all day long.

He also had to fill the water in the machine when it was getting low, add our emusifier to the water and pour it in the machine. And dump the dirty water in the toilet without getting it all over the place. I told him that if I ran out of water we would have to stop until it got filled again and that would make the job take longer. All day long, I had to tell him to get more water every time we would be getting low, and I had to retell him how much emulsifier to add. Every damned time. The first job was scheduled for a four hour slot and we didn't get done until mid afternoon.

The second job was an empty house so my helper's job was easy, just keep the water full and empty the dirty water. Still didn't get it and I kept running out of water, so that 1 hour job turned into 3. I was really getting exasperated and I'm sure I was beginning to get pissed off, so he was probably beginning to not like me very much.

We got to the last job and it was bigger than the first one with a lot of heavy furniture, a couple hutches full of china, a large desk, piano, and more. Plus it had an upstairs room that the machine would have to go up to. We got to that job about 6PM

We would have re-scheduled, but the customer had to be ready for guests the next day, so she was ecstatic when I agreed to stay until it was done, even if it took until midnite or later. My helper, I could tell, was nearly done, it had already been more work than he had ever done in his life and I'm sure he was looking at the furniture, size, and the coming hell he was going to be in for a long long time. It was mid-summer so we were soaked with sweat, hadn't really stopped since the early morning, and I'm sure he was dead on his feet. And I had to once again tell him every damned step, remind him about the water, remind him to pad the furniture and remind him to be very careful. This lady had knick knaks that were worth more than my car. It took a solid four hours to clean downstairs, it should have been an hour. I was fuming and that poor kid was dying.

The machine I used was very heavy, and there was one way to carry it up the stairs, one guy behind to hold it, and a guy in front to lift it up each stair. I was a pretty strong guy and I was capable of carrying the machine by myself but unless I had to, I didn't.

I knew on the first step we were going to have a problem. He couldn't hold up his end very well. The lady was at the bottom of the stairs worrying, and about the third step he dropped his end. I held on to it and told the lady, probably a lot louder than I meant to, to move out of the way. I saved it and wound up carrying the machine up the stairs by myself. He followed me upstairs and when he asked me what he should do next I exploded. There was nothing but plastic chairs in one big room, so I yelled at him to get the goddam chairs out of my fucking way, fill up the water, and then get out of the way. I was just fuming, he was obviously scared, and he picked up the water bucket and headed off to get water, I thought. But he never came back. I found the water bucket next to the tub in the downstairs bathroom when I ran out of water. He was no where to be found. I finished cleaning and got paid, the lady was quite happy with what I had done and she told me she thought I needed a stronger helper. She also told me my helper had gone out the front door. I wrapped all my stuff up and put it in the truck. it was probably midnight or so and I was cussing my boss under my breath with every step. I never knew what happened to the kid. He left, never knew where he went, and as far as I know he never came to get his one day pay-check which was probably around a hundred bucks, and in 1977 that was a good pay for a day.

I've thought about that kid and have wondered how his life turned out. I was probably his first boss and first work experience, and it didn't work out too well for him. Hope he turned out alright

I think it’s fairly well known by people that know me that I’m not in favor of either major political party In the United States. With that in mind, I want to inspect the latest crisis to hit our country, and though all of our problems seem to stem from an inability of our government to accomplish much of anything, this new money crisis is especially indicative of the seeming broken system we now have in America.

The IMF (International Monetary Fund) has recently criticized our lack of budgetary restraint, more than likely because of the likelihood we won’t be able to give away as much money to other nation members and entities, but we are losing all respect in money matters through the world because we can’t control our money.

Various world credit rating agencies such as Moodys Investor Services as well as Standard’s and Poor have said they expect to lower America’s credit rating due to our inability to control and balance a budget. America, once the world leader in every category conceivable, now is losing one of its last claims to world status because we spend too much more than we have. And it is not as easy as the so-called debate raging now about raising the debt ceiling. Even if the little kids in Washington come to an agreement about the debt ceiling, likely the credit rating bump is going to happen. Our budget this year is a whopping 1.3 trillion dollars in deficit. That means we are spending that much more in just this one year than we have. That figure has increased every year since Bush left office. His last budget had a 300+ billion dollar deficit. The total deficit is now over 14 trillion dollars. That can’t be fixed by tax increases of any kind. We are only paying the interest on our debt, and really we aren’t even doing that.

Raising the debt ceiling will only make it possible to put off the inevitable crash of our system and will not alleviate any of the problems that have caused us to be in that position.

And it has become nothing but a political non-fight as opposed to an actual attempt to solve a problem. Democrats and the President complain the Republicans won’t compromise, and Republicans demand that no new taxes be applied to any sector. And class warfare has become the watch word in all of this. It’s not about that y’all.

For example; if we taxed the top 20 billionaires in America of all their money that would total 643.5 billion dollars. That’s if we take every penny those twenty have right now. Additionally there are 1210 billionaires in the country so if we took an additional 1 billion dollars from each of them that would be 1210 Billion dollars to add in, (though I include the top 20 in that figure, and since we already took all their money we would really be 20 billion short there, but fuck em they were probably lying by at least a billion). Then there are7.8 million millionaires in America, so if we take one million from each of them and add to what we already ripped we have a total of about 2 trillion dollars and a bunch of broke rich people. That doesn’t pay the interest on our debt, so we still would be going backwards. So the argument that we need to tax the rich is really bullshit. We need to tax every single person…all of their money…every single penny to get it to line out.

And when the ratings agencies cause our national interest rate to go up, the scenario becomes even more bleak. Instead of accruing 2. 3 trillion in interest costs it could be as much as 5 trillion this year alone, so instead of the government’s own estimate of a 1.3 trillion dollar deficit in this year’s budget it would be more like 6.3 trillion. And that assumes we don’t raise the ceiling. That’s a mess dudes and Republicans want to cut 4 trillion in expenses over a fifteen year period, the democrats a few billion and no one wants to raise taxes, and the Democrats only want to take away some stupid loop holes for the rich. That does nothing.

At the current rate our debt next year at this time could easily be over 20 trillion, and over 30 in just one more year just because of interest, assuming we do nothing more that costs money. We have the cash to pay all of our bills now, and the debt ceiling has already been breached earlier in the year so that’s really a non-issue. The story from Washington should be how we are going to solve the problem, not get re-elected. And numerous people, Obama being the main one, have threatened that we may not be able to pay out Social Security next week. That is a crock of shit. Do you meant to tell me our government that we elected would rather pay interest to China and banks rather than take care of the people we agreed to hold their money for them? He is fucking lying through his teeth. And don’t get me wrong, the republicans are lying too.

Another scenario to consider is this. Banks are threatening to raise consumer interest rates should America’s credit rating be lowered even though that would have no effect on them at all. In fact a lot of banks would love to raise the rates on our government debt. They will make more all over. And guess what? Its lending us money we gave them. Sounds like collusion to me. We, over the last 4 years, raised 1.4 trillion dollars in bailout money for various banks and big businesses in our two major bailouts. We only gave out about 45 percent of that money to bail outs and economy building programs. Where did the rest of that money go?

I don’t have an answer, but I have recommendations. Shit can the military, and all government agencies…tomorrow. Spend the dough to blow up all our assets in all the foreign countries we have them , and bring all of our troops home, Fire every military contractor we have in every corner of the world. Do this all tomorrow. With those savings we could put that money in circulation to rebuild every highway, every hospital, every school, energy super-structure, and every real government entity we have. We could employ everyone that loses their job and still save a shitload of money. And have a better country that could once again become credit worthy and a world leader.

I think it’s fairly well known by people that know me that I’m not in favor of either major political party In the United States. With that in mind, I want to inspect the latest crisis to hit our country, and though all of our problems seem to stem from an inability of our government to accomplish much of anything, this new money crisis is especially indicative of the seeming broken system we now have in America.

The IMF (International Monetary Fund) has recently criticized our lack of budgetary restraint, more than likely because of the likelihood we won’t be able to give away as much money to other nation members and entities, but we are losing all respect in money matters through the world because we can’t control our money.

Various world credit rating agencies such as Moodys Investor Services as well as Standard’s and Poor have said they expect to lower America’s credit rating due to our inability to control and balance a budget. America, once the world leader in every category conceivable, now is losing one of its last claims to world status because we spend too much more than we have. And it is not as easy as the so-called debate raging now about raising the debt ceiling. Even if the little kids in Washington come to an agreement about the debt ceiling, likely the credit rating bump is going to happen. Our budget this year is a whopping 1.3 trillion dollars in deficit. That means we are spending that much more in just this one year than we have. That figure has increased every year since Bush left office. His last budget had a 300+ billion dollar deficit. The total deficit is now over 14 trillion dollars. That can’t be fixed by tax increases of any kind. We are only paying the interest on our debt, and really we aren’t even doing that.

Raising the debt ceiling will only make it possible to put off the inevitable crash of our system and will not alleviate any of the problems that have caused us to be in that position.

And it has become nothing but a political non-fight as opposed to an actual attempt to solve a problem. Democrats and the President complain the Republicans won’t compromise, and Republicans demand that no new taxes be applied to any sector. And class warfare has become the watch word in all of this. It’s not about that y’all.

For example; if we taxed the top 20 billionaires in America of all their money that would total 643.5 billion dollars. That’s if we take every penny those twenty have right now. Additionally there are 1210 billionaires in the country so if we took an additional 1 billion dollars from each of them that would be 1210 Billion dollars to add in, (though I include the top 20 in that figure, and since we already took all their money we would really be 20 billion short there, but fuck em they were probably lying by at least a billion). Then there are7.8 million millionaires in America, so if we take one million from each of them and add to what we already ripped we have a total of about 2 trillion dollars and a bunch of broke rich people. That doesn’t pay the interest on our debt, so we still would be going backwards. So the argument that we need to tax the rich is really bullshit. We need to tax every single person…all of their money…every single penny to get it to line out.

And when the ratings agencies cause our national interest rate to go up, the scenario becomes even more bleak. Instead of accruing 2. 3 trillion in interest costs it could be as much as 5 trillion this year alone, so instead of the government’s own estimate of a 1.3 trillion dollar deficit in this year’s budget it would be more like 6.3 trillion. And that assumes we don’t raise the ceiling. That’s a mess dudes and Republicans want to cut 4 trillion in expenses over a fifteen year period, the democrats a few billion and no one wants to raise taxes, and the Democrats only want to take away some stupid loop holes for the rich. That does nothing.

At the current rate our debt next year at this time could easily be over 20 trillion, and over 30 in just one more year just because of interest, assuming we do nothing more that costs money. We have the cash to pay all of our bills now, and the debt ceiling has already been breached earlier in the year so that’s really a non-issue. The story from Washington should be how we are going to solve the problem, not get re-elected. And numerous people, Obama being the main one, have threatened that we may not be able to pay out Social Security next week. That is a crock of shit. Do you meant to tell me our government that we elected would rather pay interest to China and banks rather than take care of the people we agreed to hold their money for them? He is fucking lying through his teeth. And don’t get me wrong, the republicans are lying too.

Another scenario to consider is this. Banks are threatening to raise consumer interest rates should America’s credit rating be lowered even though that would have no effect on them at all. In fact a lot of banks would love to raise the rates on our government debt. They will make more all over. And guess what? Its lending us money we gave them. Sounds like collusion to me. We, over the last 4 years, raised 1.4 trillion dollars in bailout money for various banks and big businesses in our two major bailouts. We only gave out about 45 percent of that money to bail outs and economy building programs. Where did the rest of that money go?

I don’t have an answer, but I have recommendations. Shit can the military, and all government agencies…tomorrow. Spend the dough to blow up all our assets in all the foreign countries we have them , and bring all of our troops home, Fire every military contractor we have in every corner of the world. Do this all tomorrow. With those savings we could put that money in circulation to rebuild every highway, every hospital, every school, energy super-structure, and every real government entity we have. We could employ everyone that loses their job and still save a shitload of money. And have a better country that could once again become credit worthy and a world leader.

He didn't stand up when they called his name,

Wasn't worth what he had.

To stand meant an hour, or maybe two

And that wasn't worth what he had.

They kept calling over the years,

Needing the numbers and the drawings.

The numbers didn't add, and pictures nearly always fall.

What he had wasn't worth what he knew.

Train depots and bus stations

In every lonely city.

From Pensacola to El Paso

To Arcata by the sea

Seen them all through hazy eyes

Smelled the phosphor in his history

A plain and empty bag

All its worth a memory.

When the circle closes, we'll strike a chord

And listen to the shimmer

Its gold and silver shinning lights.

Too small to really see.

Can't get it back, its gone on by

On a road we can't follow now.

The road that ends on Tchoupitoulas

I find a bank of colored clouds

Never will find the way out

Can't grasp the pretty baubles

But the bridge to Elysium spans the mountain

it will take me out of here.

Find my worth in the words

And send my worth to the sea.

Funny Money That's haha funny

For the first time since the middle of the 19th century California has lost more people than it has gained in the last year. More people have moved out of California than have moved here, and that is unprecedented. A lot of factors are involved I'm sure. I know many businesses have moved operations or shut down, unemployment is at unprecedented levels, and opportunities in other states have become very enticing.

Yet, yesterday our state government whipped up a budget that depends on estimated revenue increases of 4 billion dollars to make it balance. Sounds fishy to me. How will our taxes increase that much when we have less people here and we have less people here earning money? And we have scheduled tax cuts coming, (not really tax cuts, just a return from the "temporary" hikes of the past few years). And I seem to remember a few months ago hearing that tax revenues had already jumped an astonishing 6 billion dollars. That's a 10 billion dollar increase in revenues in a decidedly bad economy, if the other reports are to be believed. What is the truth? We spend less, make less, and have less, but our revenues are increasing that much. I call bullshit.

I don't know the statistics anymore, but at one time auto sales were the biggest source of sales tax revenue in the state, and I think that's probably still the case. Car sales have increased over last year, but projected sales are still way less than many years previous to our current recession. Granted cars are more expensive now, but only marginally more in the past few years. How will an increase in revenue come from that source? Retail stores like grocery stores and department stores have suffered many losses and many buildings that once generated millions in tax revenue are locked and produce nothing now, and to hear it told Mom and Pop stores that generate sales tax are going and in many cases long gone. Wal-mart is still rolling and Target and a few other big retail outfits are still busy, but their sales haven't increased or if they have, it isn't by any huge amount, so they can't be responsible for the increase in revenue. Car registrations are also down, and their cost is slated to return to 2007 levels which are nearly half what they have been, so that revenue will be considerably less.

Unemployment in the state is considerably higher than other states and the number of workers paying income tax has declined in the past few years. Unemployment is not expected to go down for a few years so income tax will not increase. And, though many say corporations don't pay taxes, (they actually do), California corporations expect lackluster sales and revenues for the foreseeable future, so they won't be collecting taxes at the usual rates. They also won't be paying the so-called rich as much money, so that income tax base, (which was the biggest percentage of income tax collected), is going to be less.

Where is the Ten billion dollars coming from? Fuzzy math maybe? I know Governor Brown said he would not sign a bull shit budget and he rejected the last one, but this one seems must be total bullshit. they haven't cut much of anything that they hadn't cut before. And last week we were in dire straights according to everyone involved.

So you tell me how this works please.

Outlaw Cellphones and Only Outlaws Will Call

Shut Up and Drive

Bernie drives 40 miles to, and then from work through bumper-to-bumper traffic five or sometimes six days a week. He is able to make up for time lost to driving by conducting business talking on his cell phone while he drives to and from work. Sometimes he spends 36 hours in a week commuting, and it is a hardship, as it is for many in this world of freeways, traffic jams, and bluegrass music jams, and has become a serious detriment to Bernie’s career advancement and overall LSQ (Life Satisfaction Quotient). The cell phone has released Bernie, he can work his normal 50 hours a week, plus another 36 getting to and from work, as it can now be productive. And Bernie is very productive. He sells cell phone systems to businesses, so he is easily able to use his experience and success when he gives his sales pitch to prospective buyers. Bernie is very successful, drives a nice new Honda Accord, and lives thirty miles outside of the city, in a development of new upper range homes called Camelot Country Acres. But that’s only thanks to the cell phone he uses to conduct his most successful sales summations, all while driving.

Two weeks ago Bernie was involved in a minor fender-bender traffic accident. Bernie was traveling along I1113 in Poshie County, following the line of cars traveling into the city, nose-to-tail snaking along at a steady 35 miles per hour. When Bernie slowed and stopped as the cars in front had done before, he was struck by a mini-van packed with eight unruly 12 and 13-year-old boys, and driven by a harried soccer mom. Bernie did not panic stop, he was fully aware of the slowing traffic. Mrs. Mini Van, though, resorted to a tried, true, and extremely effective stopping system; she hit the back of Bernie’s Honda, stopping her with no problem. When his car was struck Bernie almost swallowed his Bokia phone when his head hit the headrest. The phone did remove an eyetooth that Bernie was sure to have dental problems with later in life, so the results were not all bad, but he bit his tongue, teeth snapping with the force of a pit bull, releasing a torrent of red crimson blood, gushing into the mouthpiece of the Bokia, shorting out some tiny circuit inside, and terminating the sales call he was engaged with. He had been talking to a client in Japan that was ready to order a system of phones for his worldwide corporation. Bernie had been soliciting this gentleman for over two years and had finally been able to establish a sort of dialog, making use of Bokia’s fine, hand-held, translator phone.

The lady and the kids? They were fine, only a bit banged up, a few cuts, a bruise or three, though the van did lose some teeth in its grill much like Bernie. None of the van fares suffered, and their lives continued as always. Bernie though, lost a tooth, an account, a company phone, as well as a thirty-five hundred dollar bill directed to his insurance company for rear end damage to his Accord. He even lost ten C/Ds in the trunk mounted C/D player that was damaged and could not be opened, swallowing Bernie’s collection of classic sixties rock that he had studiously downloaded on Napster and transferred to C/D.

But Bernie got a ticket for the accident. You see, driving while wrestling with 12-year-old boys is lawful, but selling cell phones while steering is not in New York beginning this year. And Bernie freely admitted, “Yes I was.” That being an answer to the question asked by concerened State Trooper Jeeves, “Were you talking on the phone?”

You see the great state of New York, in their vast wisdom, gained after days of polls and surveys, has outlawed the use of phones while operating a motor vehicle. Brian Kolb, a dissenting Assemblyman in the New York State Assembly said when queried, “We seem to be reacting to polls more than relying on scientific evidence.” But Brian was being interviewed while on his cell phone, and he had yet to experience cell phone induced wrecks.

Another report of entirely dubious origin, tells of a man who is associated with the Friends of Liberty, a grassroots offshoot of the Earth First Gun Owners Association, saying, “If you outlaw phones, then only criminals will call.” The message is clear, but now the government is looking into cell phone records to determine if its citizens are dialing and driving, now known as DAD.

When awakened by reporters, the National Association of Governor’s Highway Safety Representatives cleared their collective throats and replied, “misguided.” The NAGHSR (naygazer) denies any involvement in rational thought, and declines to amend their collective statement.

Bernie sued Mrs. Mini Van, and evidence was procured that said she was surfing the Internet, reading the grocery ads in the newspaper, and pulling on her jeans, all while driving the boys to their soccer match.

Another Assemblyman, Patrick Mannington, said to reporters with his tongue firmly in his mouth,” It’s still legal to use a laptop, read a newspaper, and change pants while driving.” As he turned away from reporters Mr. Mannington failed to negotiate the stairs and tumbled down to the lobby, landing on a news rack at the bottom of the staircase, scattering quarters all over the tiled marble floor.

But there may indeed be good reason for alarm. “Surveys indicate 85 percent of wireless phone owners use them while driving.” And it is common knowledge that 85 percent of anything leaves 15 percent from a solid 100 percent, bringing us to my contention; Americans will answer any poll, and they will dial and drive to their destruction.

Getting to studies, as opposed to the surveys mentioned in the last paragraph, the New England Journal of Medicine says that cell phones are many times used by surviving car accident victims to report accidents, and subsequently response times are quicker in getting emergency crews to accident scenes. They do not, however report survey results for non-surviving accident victim’s calls.

It is said by technology proponents that phones are no more distracting than listening to the radio, eating food, or even gazing at your face in the vanity mirror, and the biggest problem is created when a DAD is fined for cell phone use, and can’t pay his cell phone bill.

The debate rages, aided with fuel brought to he negotiations by press and media hype, the justice system, and other various soothsayers of ill-repute, and it promises to last deep into the night until the proponents, participants, and components fall asleep, closing their collective eyes.

Hope they Do It BetterT

In my high school years between 1969 and 1972, I was known as a hippie or a freak, those being the opposite of a redneck. In Mississippi you were one or the other. Unless you were black, (now re-named African Americans as if re-naming a race could make up for terrorizing a race for centuries). Freaks had long hair, smoked pot, wrote poetry, befriended blacks, and protested the war in Vietnam. The rednecks, drank beer, played football, drove fast cars, and beat up blacks and hippies.
We hippies, being the new wave revolution, could see that life on Earth was becoming a threat to life on Earth. We were killing people in Nam, on the highways, and at the gallows so to speak, and we were tearing up the land and all of the Earth’s resources. I remember being saddened by the loss of anything in this world, a tree, a bush, or a life. And we stood to be included in the movement of the time to revolutionize America again, and revert to the wise and better ways our American forefathers had envisioned in the eighteenth century.
The freaks talked about revolution and we sided with the militant black groups, the war protesters, and any offbeat group or movement we heard about. In Mississippi we were a decided minority then, and many of us wanted to move to California where the movement was huge and the people were so much more tolerant of our views. We thought.
Mostly I remember talking about the war, and I had a reason to hate it. I would turn eighteen in 1972, and the draft was still in effect. I had known people who had been drafted, and left to fight that war, some coming home, and some not, some without legs or some gone blind. I never admitted it but my main problem with the war was not the killing of people and the destruction of that country, but the fear of my being killed in it someday, or even worse coming back a cripple.
Our revolution didn’t turn out like we envisioned it. There was no armed uprising. We all grew up. Our voices did light a fire for Americans, and the country sickened by the ever-lasting “Police Action” in Southeast Asia, finally forced America to abandon its futile effort to make those citizens of the “Nam” free like us.
We did enjoy some success. Our world began to be more concerned about the planet, the people, and our world. We closed the war in S E Asia. But seems human propensity to destroy is beyond our ability to save, and we are arguably in worse shape than ever.
When did we sell out? Was it when we got our first real jobs and started saving money, buying cars, houses, and gas and food? Were we afraid that we couldn’t continue our fight to be better people because we might have to give up some of the things we had grown accustomed to? Could we have been mistaken in our ideals in the first place? I know we all say we want to save the world, but are we willing to sacrifice so that we may? In 1972 we had been more than willing. We fought on the campuses and at the rallies, speaking our indignant minds, and railing for freedom.
Today the heroes of my generation run businesses, live in expensive homes, burn outrageous amounts of precious fuel in SUVs, and save for retirement. We don’t gather for protests, in fact most of us side on the other side today against those that protest. We don’t expand our minds with poetry, art and abstract ideas. We listen to the music that we have sold ourselves, we watch the news that we make, and we live in the comfort we have designed and marketed. We have conquered so many things, and we have begun to rest on our laurels, not half way to the ends we dreamed of.
Kids today look at us like we looked at our parents, and like our parents looked at theirs; they protest our way of running this world, and they should. We haven’t done so well in many respects.
We were aghast to learn that a president could stoop so low as to break laws and cover his tracks when Nixon resigned the Presidency in 1972, but now we don’t do more than write blogs or rants on Craigslist about the incredibly stupid things we do while we shape and run our world
Those avante garde heroes of the sixties are now Senators and Congressmen, as well as doctors, lawyers, and chiefs of industry and commerce. We run the world, and we live among our best efforts, just trying to stay afloat in a world gone crazy with possessions and comfort. And the few that still stir the muck about the injustices of our world are decidedly outcasts, called, derisively, tree-huggers by the very ones that protested excesses back when we were kids. The best we offer, as the leaders of the world, is an opportunity to vote for, (for the most part), either a so-called liberal Democrat, or a so-called, conservative Republican, neither of which is interested much in the betterment of our world, only the betterment of their personal lives. And in many cases we don’t even vote. And there might even be a strong case for not voting, what difference does it make?
We had high hopes and dreams 40 and 50 years ago, just as our children do now. Hope they do better

So, What is your name?

Its an identifier linking me or mine to the other parts of the world. At least mine is. Your's, I don't know. But it can be as complicated and as simple as that. It's a name.

I suppose you've noticed that groups have names too. Some are initials; PG & E, IBM, ARSE, and others, some are full-blown-off-the-charts long names; Mothers Against Drunk Drivers, and they are also MADD, and Women Escaping a Violent Environment, (WEAVE), and after you tack on a dot com at the end, wow, that's a lotta name.

Bands have names too, and that's what this little blog is all about. Band names. Think about this; Scorpions...that's fucked-up! Beatles, the "A" means what...seven legs? And, Beach Boys, was it just for the aliteration? But, go ahead, you come up with a band name! See, it's not easy, and what is a "spring chicken," anyway? Oops, kinda got lost, that's for another blog.
Now there's a name. Blog. See all it takes is a word or two artfully placed on paper, or these little TV screens everybody has to show names, and a band name is reality. The Blog. Now it even has some punch. Just adding a little thought at the beginning or the end can change the whole feel of the name. Blog. The Blog. See?

There's another part of the name thing. After-naming is what we will call it. At first the new name sounds strange coming off you lips; "Thank-you, we are the Trelisses." But, after a period of, say, about 66 years, it becomes easier to say aloud, without stumble or bitter shame. Don't get me wrong though, some names just work. "Men at Work." Now there's name with a very low after-naming-ridicule quotient, short, to the point, and definitely bold.

There is a specific reason for this blog. Naming the Amee Chapman Band. There are those that are aware of a mad-dash frenzy of e-mails and in person dialog in recent years to name another band I was in. The Holly Holt Band. Paul Fitzjarrald and I traded names for days!. The only one we agreed on was Holly's Tits. It never, though, became too big with the band-leader.

But, to truly do this right, the band, it's leader, all the personnel, and even type of music needs to be taken in to account for naming purposes. So we are fucked! We thought of the Historics, but we aren't all and Ancients won't work for the same reason. The Halos, now that fits... somewhere. Frequents. That might work. I mean we are overall. Frequent. But, how do you draw that on a poster?

Amee likes Big Finish, I changed that to Big Danish, which got turned into Big Donut, which ended that brain-storming session. It always ends with food. So, why not, Amee Chapman and Oatmeal?

Or, we could take a slightly locale point of view. We're from Sacramento, more or less, so...Oh I know...Amee Chapman and the Ahnulds. It's consise, but groping, pronouncable to Eastern Europeans, and when you say it you can make it sound like a sneeze, so the embarrassment factor is lessened.

Putting all the pieces of a band together is a challenge. You have to first, get a mandolin player. And it pretty much goes downhill from there. And then you have to name it. Turd is not appropriate.

I even had a contest for name for a one-time gig I did with some bluegrass picking buddies. Richard March, taking advantage of a full bullshit brain quadrant,won hands down with Bastards of Bluegrass. B.O.B. No bobdown jokes now. Actually that name lives on. Ken And B.O.B on myspace. I have a picture of Roberta and me there. So, if you were wondering, Berta, why people keep shouting Bob at you...there you have it.

But, it goes on. We can land a man on a moon, we can moon a man on land, a we can commonly catch a cold, but naming the band is just hard! Hope we can be finally finished someday.

What the hell is a Blivet!

Like I said on the title page of this here blog, a blivet is ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag, or an impossible thing, which that would be I guess. But there is more to the story, and that story would best be worked backwards from the now to the before now. Before now all the way back to the time of humankind standing up on our legs and walking. The first instance of a blivet comes from that time, maybe a million years ago or so.

I know this because Random House Dictionary, while it does define the word, did not define the actual object the word derives from. That's right! The blivet is an object, or, really it is one of three objects all the same and all called blivets. I have one of those three objects, and as far as I can determine I have the only one to be found. My dad found this one.

Because the blivet is so obscure and it's existence is widely unknown, I don't live in fear that I will be conked over the head so that someone else may possess it and learn it's vast secrets. And I have learned a lot from it already, at least enough to know I will continue to derive knowledge from it even if it should again become lost to me and even to humankind. In the million or so years of the blivet's existence on Earth only a handful of people have actually held this remarkable object, and my family has been it's keeper for the last forty years.

What I know of the blivet I have learned from the object itself. Now, the blivet is remarkably only a wood-like cylinder, that is actually two cylinders stuck together, one atop the other, one smaller in circumference and one fatter but shorter. And it looks like wood, but has a perpetual shine, is eerily translucent, and is so hard it has weathered volcanic explosions, nuclear detonations, and burial in the ocean for millenia at a time. It is not of this world.

I have first-hand information of the blivet's existence for the last forty years, and in this particular chapter of the blivet story I will tell that, the chapters that come later will be told from the insights I have learned from the blivet itself. Now as strange as it may seem, this object is truly an impossible thing as the definition describes, but the definition leaves much to the imagination, and your imagination would not comprehend it all, as mine doesn't. This object has told me a story and has imparted knowledge to me from other worlds. I have been reluctant to offer it to the world before for obvious reasons. You might question my sanity, but here in the midst of my life I have decided I can no longer keep this to myself, and I must share what I know and what I am still learning from the blivet. Suffice to say, the creatures who built the blivet were light years ahead of we humans, the technology employed with this object unknown to humans, and far beyond our capabilities even now, and the blivet has been in existence for at least one million years.

On to the first chapter.

My dad was a career NCO in the US Air Force, and as such made my childhood diverse to say the least. We moved a lot. Japan when I was four, five, and six, Denver CO for the next few years, Taiwan in my early teens, then to Mississippi to graduate High School. And we also had yearly or bi-yearly visits to uncles, aunts, and cousins in Central Valley California. The uncles were Jim, Bill, and Bob, and they and my dad, when we visited, would engage in debate on a nightly basis. Theses debates were fueled by the bottle, Jim Beam, I believe, and were and still are the talk of the family. They solved nearly every earthly problem ever identified and even some that were not of Earth.

I could never stay up late enough to listen to the whole thing, and couldn't properly assist with their work anyway, (they wouldn't let me drink). But I have heard this tale of the blivet for years told and re-told, over and over. No one seems to remember who first brought up the blivet in conversation, and only two of the participants in those Earth-shaking debates are still living, but my dad, though his views on blivets were regarded by the others as suspect, did at that time commence a search for proof of what he knew tro be true. Blivets are real, impossible, but real.

And he found it! In Taiwan. Across the sea, in a forest while he was out taking pictures of the countryside. That's where we wound up for a two year stay toward the end of my dad's Air Force career. He had not been actively searching for the blivet when he found it, but the debate had stayed in his head, and he was always on the lookout for it. What is curious, and maybe even a little bit scary is the way he found it.

He told me he was traipsing through the Central Taiwan mountains while on a three day trip he had taken to another Air Base on the island. His work took him to many places all over the world, but he said he felt drawn to the mountains just outside of CCK Air Force Base. As he was wont to do often, he took a day to go take photos of the beautiful country one day while he was on temporary duty there.

While walking along a narrow path through dense forest, (he said the hill was steep and the trail made switchbacks quite often, and he had to bend over frequently to dodge errant tree limbs), he slipped and fell. He started sliding down the path opn his butt, holding his camera in one hand with his camera bag hooked over his head and shoulder on the other arm. He reached out with his loose hand trying to get purchase of something to stop his glide, grasping and missing, and finally grabbing tree branch that held and stopped his descent. He had been moving pretty fast, and when he grabbed the tree limb it swung him around off the trail and into the dense brush alongside.

As he sat there inspecting his scrapes and taking inventory of his camera equipment, he felt a sharp edge slicing slicing into his butt. Now, he was pretty far off the beaten path, this was a small trail that surely didn't get much human traffic, more a game trail than anything, so it seemed an odd site as he looked at what was paining him, and saw an obviously unnatural object half buried in the ground that was the object of his posterior pain. The object looked like a turned piece of wood, but was polished to a very high sheen, and was so translucent he could see through it almost. And it had a glow, he called it a rose tint glow, which was not strong but very visible in the dark jungle floor where he was sitting.

He knew almost at once what the object was. This was the blivet. He had heard, like a lot of people have heard over the years, of the blivet, but my dad, unlike most people, had over the course of his life, developed a quite remarkable amount of knowledge about what most people through the ages had thought was old wives tales and legend. He said it called to him in an almost unheard whisper, "blivet."

He dug the blivet out of the ground and brought it home. It has been in my family since that time almost forty years ago. The next year we were in California on our way to Mississippi to finish out my dad's last station, and he presented the blivet at the first nightly uncle's debate of our visit. He had composed a speech that he asked for everyone's complete undivided attention. He explained what he had learned of the blivet before finding it, which over-all was not much, then imparted the hints he said came from the blivet itself. What he knew, and others couldn't really believe, was the blivet is an object sent here by an ancient other-worldly civilization from a far distant planet. It, along with two other identical objects, were programmed with all the knowledge this far-flung civilization had acquired in its vast history.

My dad was known for his glib tongue, and weird sense of humor, so the story he told was taken as a Billy Burnett Spoof. They all had a great drunken time talking of the blivet. A family tradition was born that night and it was decided that each family in our fairly sizable brood would be allowed to keep the blivet for one year at a time, the intention to glean whatever wisdom it had to impart. At the end of the year it was to be sent or given to another of our family, along with a story, or essay, or something to marks its visit with that family.

It made the rounds for many years, and some of the stories and projects form those individuals that did write with the experience of the blivet are quite remarkable. But, my father was the only one who truly believed this was actually an alien attemt to help humans survive this universe and spread the ancient knowledge it contains. He finally retired from his hoboing, world-traveling days in the early eighties, and eventually told me of all the wonders the blivet had introduced to him. When he died, the family passed the blivet to me for safekeeping until I too cross that shining ocean.

That's how the blivet came to me. How it has passed its knowledge to me, I don't really know. but I know what I am certain are facts about its existence, its long trip to earth, and the history it has recorded since it first landed in a fiery volcano in what would be roughly Northern Europe over one million years ago. Now that's a long story, but it has some parts and parcels that need to be told, and before I do get on my one-way-ship across the sea, I will do my best to relay that story.