Oh yeah ... I have a BLOG to air my gripes on don't I ?

Yeah ... that's the thing with these "blogs" ... you have to actually write in them every so often. Otherwise they're the digital equivalent of the "abdominator 2000" that now serves as a clothes rack for the stuff that's piling up in the corner on its way to the dry cleaner. So in keeping with the current trend of gun jumping when it comes to holidays in the current economic fustercluck we're in, I'm making a preemptive New Year's resolution. I will write a blog entry more than once every two years. Not that anybody really gives a tick's turd about what I have to say. I just like to make my wife laugh. So when I'm having a slow day at work ... I'll jot down a few musings and general observations on crap that pisses me off. Hey .. worked for Jerry Seinfeld.

Here goes.

1. I think we should pick a week some time in the fall and celebrate Hallogivingistmasyear. Then another week in the spring for St. Valenatrickseasterorial Day Weekend. I'd leave the 4th of July as is but Labor Day may be questionable next summer if the jobless rate continues to climb. This way the onslaught of holiday commercials and mail could be greatly reduced to a few weeks each year.

2. (and admittedly I stole this one) Let's all make a pact to NOT BUY whatever's next after blue ray. I'm pretty sure the Japanese already have technology that can beam sound and video imagery right into your brain from a satellite in space but they're holding out till they exhaust sales on the 58 other versions of music and video entertainment technology they've already invented since 1972. Unless they release an actual "holideck" like the one from Star Trek the next generation, I refuse to buy any more friggin' electronics.

3. Sara Palin, John & Kate, The Jonas brothers, Glen Beck, Rush, Kathie Lee, Rach, Michael Steele, Jerry Springer, Ann Coulter and the entire cast of "I'm a celebrity get me outta here" must all be "put down" before year's end. It's really the only decent and humane thing to do to alleviate the agony that is inflicted upon the nation on a daily basis by this band of miscreants. Great word ... miscreants. Thanks J.

4. Stop putting fiber in my everything! I don't want fiber added to my toothpaste. Sometimes I want to intentionally eat something that I know full well is bad for me and will make me constipated and/or cause hemorrhoids. Call me a sadist but if I'm at an age now where a cheese steak with extra provolone has a "price" attached that will be collected a day or two later... so be it. It's kind of like the pain of childbirth. Let's face it, if women vividly remembered how horrible labor pain truly is, the world would be a much less crowded place. Let me enjoy the crap I choose to eat once in a while and deal with the consequent, self-inflicted discomfort "on the other end." Cheese steaks... Twigs no. Delicious yes. Constipating maybe.

5. How many gigabytes does it take to shingle a doghouse? Please refer to item #2.
The fact that I can now place every piece of music I own (including the Chipmunks recording of "I wanna hold your hand" that was on the back of a box of Frankenberry from 1974) onto an MP3 player that's the size of a Cheezit is a little ridiculous. Even if I could spend the 40-50 hours needed to archive my extensive music library onto my computer and then transfer it all to my MPCheezit, I'd probably lose the f---ing thing shortly after doing so and then I'd be really pissed at Steve Jobs.

6. "Cause of death, stoopidity!" Anyone who comes to an untimely passing due to the following should get their own billboard with the aforementioned headline above their name and photo.
- Texting while driving.
- Hiking in any country that ends in stan.
- Extreme sports that involve things like setting yourself on fire and kite surfing
in a tsunami.
- Applying eye liner while driving.
- NASCAR
- Getting drunk and jumping into a wild animal enclosure at a zoo.
- Smoking after 1972.
- Hunting for any reason but survival.
- Still driving if you were old enough to have voted for Franklin D. Roosevelt.
- Oh yeah and TEXTING WHILE DRIVING!!!

7. Waitress... check please. Why do high profile celebrities and athletes who are married, ALWAYS seem to cheat with total mindless ho bags? My god gentlemen have you learned nothing from Bill Clinton. Here's an idea ... DON'T BOTHER GETTING MARRIED MORONS! Unless your prenup specifically outlines and enforces the "500 mile rule" why bother?! Really. Just date till you're 65 or no longer a high profile celeb and THEN (if you can find someone who's willing) marry a woman who's happy to let you tag an occasional sad groupie who recognizes you at The Olive Garden bar in the mall. As for the young ladies who are apt to lend themselves to this lifestyle... NEWS FLASH, "I'm really unhappy at home" is man speak for I'm drunk, you're here right now and I have a penis. Leave Tiger's Wood alone and have enough self respect so as not to allow yourself to become a piece of Tiger's tail.

8. Do new cars still come with turn signals? From the number of assholes who are either too busy texting or dialing or are simply too lazy to flip a friggin' switch, I'd be inclined to believe that all new cars offer turn signals as an added option.
I know YOU know where you're going dumbass but the rest of us aren't mind readers.
And another thing ... if I extend you the courtesy of letting you out in heavy traffic, please return the favor with the customary "thank you wave." What the hell are people teaching their kids these days about common courtesy and more importantly common sense when driving?!

9. My new favorite reality TV show is READ A BOOK! 'Nuff said.

10. I can't help myself I'm addicted to hating everyone. Years ago I worked with a young African American woman named Tammy Spalding who used an expression that has stuck with me for 25 years. "Peoples is a trip." To this very day I use that expression almost daily. Maybe I'm just getting old and inevitably becoming more and more cranky but IS EVERYBODY A JERK OFF NOW?! Is it me or has general rudeness increased and expanded at a faster rate than Oprah's waistline during the holidays? People just mostly suck now. I'd like to paint these words across the back of my car for every tailgating d-bag in the world to see. SLOW DOWN! THEY WON'T START THE IDIOT CONVENTION WITHOUT THEIR PRESIDENT! Unless you're in the presidential motorcade OR transporting donor organs for emergency transplant, you need to slow the F down. I've been driving for 30 years now and luckily, have only ever had one accident. I was 18 when it happened and it didn't involve another vehicle. I'll admit I've had a few close calls over the years but mostly ... I just drive safely and take my time. Here's a tip... either leave 15 minutes earlier than you think you should or just accept the fact that you might be 5-10 minutes late. No appointment in the world is worth risking your life over. Unless of course that appointment is lunch with the Salahi's. Those folks are on the fast track to super stardom and given the opportunity I'd do anything to hitch my wagon to that star.

Ahhhh that's better. I guess this BLOG crap can work like electronic metamucil for your brain. Yeah I know there's been a lot of proctological references in this post. I went to a gastroenterologist this morning because of some recent "developments" that have been causing discomfort. I'll sign off here as the TMI ALERT BUZZER is now sounding on my computer.

Happy, Healthy Holidays Everyone!

A rose by any other name calling ... STILL STINKS!

This utter nonsense over Barack Obama's middle name, Hussein is simply mind boggling to me! The mere fact that people are using his middle name to incite anger and outrage in the Republican base is nothing short of hilarious. It illustrates beyond a shadow of a doubt that the party's base is generally ignorant. If they are so easily enraged by a candidate's middle name because they instantly equate it with Saddam Hussein.

The logic is this. Obama's middle = Hussein, Saddam Hussein = evil Islamic dictator, so by default Obama = muslim terrorist who hates America. However if you asked them about John McCain's middle name which is Sidney, they would have no adverse reaction whatsoever. So in an attempt to educate those of you Republicans who would hold Barack Obama's middle name against him as being indicative of his religious affiliation and political aspirations ... I offer the following.

In 1944, as the Republicans were running a futile campaign behind hotshot New York Gov. Thomas Dewey, attempting to deprive the Democrats of 16 consecutive years of White House control, they did whatever they they could to gain traction against the incumbent party. The most famous misguided line of attack was aimed at FDR’s little Scottie dog Fala; the most reprehensible, though, was an allusion to labor leader Sidney Hillman.

A founder of the Congress of Industrial Organizations, which is still a major force today as the second half of the AFL-CIO, Sidney Hillman had amassed considerable power by 1944 and was often consulted by the federal government on domestic policy concerns. So great was Hillman’s percieved influence that in the run-up to the 1944 Democratic National Convention the New York Times reported that Roosevelt had instructed party leaders, before making their choice for the vice presidential preference known, to “clear it with Sidney.”

Unstated, but obvious to all, was the reason why the line “clear it with Sidney” gained such traction. In the 1940s, the name Sidney was as much an identifier of ethnicity and religion as Hussein appears to be today. Quite simply, a man named Sidney was an outsider on Main Street, since he was most likely a Jew.

As longtime presidential speechwriter Sam Rosenman wrote, this campaign tactic “was clearly an unabashed, unvarnished appeal to anti-Jewish prejudices.” And these prejudices were certainly prevalent at the time the 1944 campaign was fought.

So by the Republicans own logic

McCain's middle name=Sidney, Sidney Hillman = evil Jew who helped organize AFL-CIO, so by default John McCain is really an evil Jew who hates America.

BTW -

The boy's name "Hussein" is pronounced hoo-SAYN. It is of Arabic origin, and its meaning is "good; small handsome one".

The boy's and girl's name Sidney is pronounced SID-nee. It is of Old English origin, and its meaning is "wide meadow".

So there! Nanny Nanny Boo Boo!

"We're puttin' the band back together man."

Whoever said "You can never go back" couldn't have been a musician. I say this because last Friday, April 25th, I was able to do just that. I was long past hope that I'd ever step on a stage again when through a connection at work, an opportunity to make that happen presented itself. I work with a woman (Kathie Touni) who is involved in the Susan G. Komen, 3-Day Walk for the Cure every October. Her team, The Power of Pink Girls, participate in the walk and have a Beef N' Beer fund raising event in the Spring. I noticed a flyer taped up outside of Kathie's office and asked about the fundraiser. Kathie explained that each girl on her team has to raise $2,000 in order to be able to register for the 3-Day Walk. She said that the party was a big success the previous year and that they had a DJ for entertainment. Immediately my wheels started turning. I said to her, "Ya know Kath ... I've been looking for a good reason to get in touch with some of my old band mates and see if they'd be willing to do a reunion gig. THIS is perfect!" Immediately her eyes lit up at the prospect. Now I'm not one to toot my own bass, but in our day Rhythm & Bluefish was one of the best party bands on the Philly and surrounding suburban circuit including the Jersey shore. For a bunch of guys who started out as a high school friends playing house parties, we did pretty well for ourselves over the years. At any rate I said to Kathie "Let me send out a few emails and see what kind of response I get." I emailed 9 of the former members and all but one said they'd love to be a part of a reunion gig. AND the one guy who couldn't commit because of work schedule, came to the event and got up and played anyway.

So after the initial response from the guys who said they'd participate my first thought was ... "JESUS! I haven't been on a stage in almost 3 YEARS!!!" I'll admit it made me a little nervous. Now I told Kathie that we'd volunteer our time for one set and maybe a 2-3 song encore. I figured this way it wouldn't be too much of an imposition and the guys could have some time to hang out and have fun with friends and family too. The truth is I was worried that I'd only be able to remember enough music for one friggin' set. So after a bunch of emails back and forth trying to get everyone's schedules coordinated, we finally agreed on two (count 'em two) rehearsal dates. The first night of rehearsal was hilarious. We stumbled through about 7-8 songs and I realized just how long it had been since I last played with a band. More over, just how long since I had sung with a band. Half way through Soul Man (a song that I have sung probably 5,000 time) I realized I had completely forgotten the middle section. Just COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN IT! Up to the A in Altzheimer's I tell ya. Anyway we got through most of the songs quickly. Jeff and Mark (still full-time musicians) were gracious enough to suffer through while the rest of us desperately tried to jump start our memory centers. The second rehearsal wasn't quite as bad. I did actually review some of the songs we'd be rehearsing this time in the two weeks between rehearsals. We played though "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant" first shot. Jeff said to me, "Oh sure ... THAT SONG you know flawlessly but ya can't remember Soul Man!" We did have a preview audience at the second rehearsal. George's daughter Corrine and my daughter Sammy were front and center watching their Daddies pretend to be rock stars. Ahhh the adoring gaze of a three year old girl. I rue the day when that adoring gaze will turn into a disgusted, eye roll with an exasperated "Ghaaaaa you're so weird Dad!"

OK ... Nine or ten more times through Hot, Hot, Hot and we're all set for the gig. Ready guys ... and a one and a two ... OLAY, OhhhLAY, OLAY, OLAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!


The second rehearsal was the Monday before the gig. I spent the rest of that week reviewing and noticing the ever growing knot in my stomach. I'm not kiddin' ya, I was REALLY nervous. I played in a working band for nearly 25 years and was a little nervous before every gig. Friday came and it was "THE BIG DAY!" I woke up thinking "I'm actually going to be on stage tonight." It was surreal. Went to work reviewing lines from the songs I'd be singing in the car. Left that day early to take care of some last minute details. Namely picking up the Hot Pink and Black bowling shirts I had ordered as a surprise thank you gift for the guys in the band. They looked great! Hot pink and black with the Bluefish mascot "Lester" embroidered on one side and appropriate bowling team style nicknames on the other. "Uncle Jer", " Big Smooth","Robbio", "Horhay", "The Segue King", "Clutchy", "Pete Jamz", "Sean Diego" and me ... "Mr. Magic." (Don you can still get yours embroidered if you want to) Then I was on my way home to pack up "my gear." That's what made it real. Packing my car for the gig. Amps, my bass and a drum kit for Jeff. The first and last part of every gig. Packing the car. So I'm packed up and ready to go. One last thing. I go into my kitchen, get out a bottle of Patrone tequila, pour two shots. One for me and one for Bill. We drink our shots and I'm off.

In the car on the way I'm reviewing. Singing through some songs and trying to remember keys of others. Friday night traffic only serves to make me even more nervous... although I'm easily 2 hours early. I get to the Ballrooms at Boothwyn, park the car and get out. The first thing I hear is Mark warming up on his guitar and suddenly it's real. It's REALLY, REALLY real. I'm going to play again! I'm so damned excited I can hardly wait. An 8 year old expecting a new bike at 7:00 AM on Christmas morning had nothin' on me and my level of excitement. I walk in with my bass on my back and the place is buzzing. Banquet staff frantically setting up tables with flatware. Women in Power of Pink t-shirts everywhere taking care of everything for a HUGE cake to gift baskets to last minute requests for will call tickets. I prop the door and unload the car. In and out, in and out, out and in, in and out. Got everything? ... YEP!

So I set up and nervously play through a few things. Do a quick mic check. Check one two ... check Chyeeeeeeeeeck! Why do musicians do that? I've never heard anyone do a mic check by saying something like, "I know a man named Peter Finnegan. He had whiskers on his chinnigan. He pulled 'em out but they grew in again. Poor old Peter Finnegan ... begin again." I guess that's not as cool as check one, two, check, check. Anyway I'm all set up and now nothing to do but wait till show time. Grab a beer, chit chat with friends and family. Tell everyone over and over the story of how we came to play this gig and how it's been 3 years since I've been on a stage. Slowly but surely the room starts filling up and I'm fit to be tied. 8:35 PM and I'm just standing on stage fiddlin' with my bass and my lyric sheets, desperately trying not to pee my pants. OKAY... 8:45 PM LET'S DO IT!!!!!

ONE, TWO, Dah, dat, dat dah daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, DAH!!!! "Hey well I'm a friendly stranger in a black sedan won'tchya hop inside my car?" HOLY CRAP! ... it's real... I'm on stage playing Vehicle with the band again. A quick check to see if I'm wearing pants and not having the "on stage in my underwear dream" and sure enough ... IT'S REAL! I'm playing music for an audience with my old band. JESUS I MISSED THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

By about the 3rd or 4th song the nervousness was gone and I was just plain having a ball. Like having sex on a bike I tell ya. Comes right back to ya. Three songs in the dance floor was full and we were just lovin' it. Some songs sounded better than others but I really don't think that mattered at all. To anyone. It was so damned obvious to everyone in that room that we were just REALLY having funl, that we could've played the full 13 minute version of In-A-Gadda-Davida by Iron Butterfly and they would've loved it! Well maybe not the drum solo but still. We played all the old songs that I came to despise over the years when I'd hear them on the radio. Mostly from singing them more than the original artists did, but I didn't mind a bit. I was playing music again. Just a few rough spots that we all laughed about and helped each other through but all in all we sounded pretty good. What made the night even more special for me was the fact that (after some coaxing) my son Sean came up and sang a song with the band. Man that was COOL! Having one of my son's on stage with the band singing. Really cool.
Jerry Crompton's son Big Smooth was also on stage that night playing with the horn section. Barry sax player. Good kid and a very good musician. I love the sound of a Barry sax in a horn section. It just makes the section sound really full and rich. So we finished the set and had a 3-4 song encore planned. Took a 15-20 break and back for more. We ended up playing more than we planned. Brought up some other former members of the Bluefish who were at the party and just had an incredible amount of fun. Did I mention how fun it was?

Finished the night with the anthem of the breast cancer survivor, "I will survive" and then, finally ... exhaled. Hung out and chatted with many people. Old Bluefish fans, new bluefish fans. One older gentlemen hired us for his daughter's wedding. She's currently single. Many old high school buddies were there. Some old high school girls, one of which I had a HUGE crush on. Ahhh well sliding doors I guess. My parents were there and my older sister Gail. I was so glad that my father (the guy who thought up the name way back in 1984) was able to see us play again. He has been without a doubt our biggest supporter over the years. Every receptionist, nurse and doctor in every office he's ever been in has heard about Rhythm & Bluefish because of my old man. Not to mention barbers, dentists, people in line at CVS, postman, appliance guys and anybody else who's ever had to go into my parent's home. I think he was really happy to see us play again and with many of the old guys from back in the day.

So that's it I guess. I've spent the last week quietly smiling as I remember the night on stage with my old band mates, playing music and just having fun. That's exactly how it all started. Just good friends playing music together. I really hope we can do it again before I forget everything I jut relearned but if for whatever reason we never get around to it, I'll still be a happy guy. Content with the knowledge that when it comes to music, you CAN go back. You CAN recapture your youth if even for a few precious hours.

Thanks boys. You are all good friends, great musicians and brothers who gave me a evening of memories that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

The Love Bus

OK, I know the name sounds kind of like an S&M or bondage blog, but the title came to me as I was working on my 1978 VW Westfalia Camper Bus. As I was duct taping down a flap of rubber that was hanging from one of the seats, I thought, this old girl is going to need a lot of "love and duct tape." You see, I bought the bus from the father of our very dear friend Jilline Ringle who passed away 2 years ago from breast cancer. It had been parked under a tree and was sitting unloved and undriven for appx. 5 years. After quite a bit of coaxing and with some help from my good friend Woody (who happens to be a mechanic) it was nursed back to life. As you can see we've dressed the old girl up with some apropo flower power magnets and authentic 60s, peace and love bumper stickers purchased on eBay for $9.99. But my favorite doodad was recently added and believe it or not helps me identify "the man" without fail. It's a hanging, rear view mirror air-freshener. How, you may ask, could an air-freshener possibly aid in identifying "the enemy"? Well sir I'll tell you. You see, the air freshener is a picture of good 'ol Gee Dubbya's head with the now very famous, monkey expression on his regal face. The inscription below reads, quite appropriately "George Bush's Dumbass Head on a String." Thank you Kristen Lamendola for sending that gem our way.









As you might guess, and in light of recent polls, our current commander and "chef" has polarized this nation more than (I believe) any other president in history. Sooooooooo as I sit (on my lunch break) outside on the bench in front of the pub next door to where I work, I watch in anticipation as passers-by gleefully oogle the old girl and instantly are transported back to younger and happier days. Anyone over the age of 30 has some memory, at some time of either owning a VW or having "a close friend who had one" in the 60s or 70s. They peer in and notice the trademark Westfalia tartan plaid seat covers, the gas pedal shaped like a footprint, the 4-on-the-floor shifter, the 2-burner stove-top and sink, and the (can't believe no one else ever used them in any other vehicle) aero-dynamic, JALOUSIE WINDOWS on either side. Comments like "Oh man, my buddy had one of these and we went all the way to Canada and back in that thing." Or "Oh my god one night in 1976 after a Springsteen concert ..." It's funny really but the VW in particular seems to have a special place in many people's young lives. There's just something about the brand that so many people connect younger, happier, crazier days with. Then inevitably they make their way to the front and see GW staring back at them. A squint through the glare on the windshield and they either chuckle or scowl. OUTTED!

I also have a 1966 VW beetle. I've told the story a hundred times about how it was "the find of a lifetime" and how I got it from the original owner. How it was garage kept and barely ever driven ... except to church on Sundays of course. Funny thing is, that's almost true. The old guy I bought it from, bought it brand new in 1966 for $1800 and sold it to me for $1500 in 1989. Not bad for a car he drove for 33 years. He had no children and took public transportation to work every day. His wife didn't drive so really it was only driven for weekend errands and on their yearly vacation to Pennsylvania Dutch country. You see they were originally from Norway ... or Sweden ... or Belgium ... anyway Mrs. Kopperudd passed and old John was selling everything and moving back to the "old country." Unfortunately when he got back in 1989, things had changed far too much and he moved back to America about a year later.

He called me to try and buy the Beetle back for more than twice what I had paid for it. I was this close (hold index finger and thumb appx. the size of George Bush's brain apart) to selling it back to him. I felt sorry for the old guy. It held so many fond memories for him. Those drives out to Lancaster with his wife. But I just couldn't do it. I couldn't part with "the find of a lifetime." It now resides, brandishing Antique license plates, in the garage where I park the Westy. They make a nice couple. A mature German gentleman with rounded shoulders and a pot belly and his younger ROBUST (even if slighty tattered) wild 70s flower child. The LOVE BUS.

I now envision my daughter Samantha driving it up to Harvard, her freshman year in the fall of 2022. Pulling up to her dorm in the completely refurbished and ultra-hip, love bus. Complete with GPS (Galactic Positioning System) and of course converted to bio-deisel. Which by the way, if Al Gore's evil plan to over throw the world's major oil companies ... er uh I mean U.S. Government is successful, will be the standard by then. She'll hop out, golden blond curls gleaming in the early autumn sunshine, slide open the side door and begin to unload her things. As she struggles with a heavy box or two a handsome young college lad may offer some assistance. He'll comment on how cool her bus is and as she explains "not only is it like totally cool, it also has a refrigerator AND a bed." That's when I'll realize, WHAT AM I AN IDIOT?!!! I gave my daughter a bedroom on wheels!

Which brings me back to two things. The title of this blog. Love and duct tape. There isn't much in this old world that one or both of those things can't fix. If from time to time something or someone you know gets broken or maybe just a little tattered. Try love first. If that don't work ... there's always duct tape.