I Didn't Do It

This is the saddest tragedy in my lifetime that was actually close enough that I'm sure to know someone that is effected. Here is to hoping all of my friends and their loved ones are as safe and sound (well as sound as I'll ever be) as I am.

So, You Think It Will Sell On eBay?

Kevin McHale Sucks

McHales' WoodMutts. That is what this team shall be called forthwith. Not the Minnesota Timberwolves.

Its being rumored strongly that McHales' WoodMutts will be trading off their finest player. That would be Kevin Garnett. For KG I am grateful. He's going somewhere that he might actually win a few games and work with people that want to win. For us, dog shit. Trouble is, I never ever ever want to see the Celtics win or contend for a championship. Sorry KG. Hating those pricks in Boston comes first. You should have gone to LA or Phoenix.

The trade is being made by old pals Kevin McHale and that feared and dreaded former Celtic partner, Danny Ainge. First of all, let it be said, the Celtics are the Yankees of professional basketball. Have been, and always will be. Since Red Auerbach (bet them ci-gars are easy to light in hell, right Red?) swindled, cheated, and berated every other team into bowing at his stinkin' cheap cigars. I smell a swindle here. KM couldn't pull off a smart trade with a blind, deaf, and dumb person unacquainted with the sport basketball. Ainge, ever the cagey one was a man known throughout his career for getting under the skin of others, regardless if it was legal or not. He's a grade A jerk and a successful one. KM? No so much. He got hit with too many pucks back in Hibbing. Shoulda wore a face mask dude.

Under his fine care the team has gone no where but down hill. From decent to lousy to worse coaches. From a increasingly older and less talented group of players around KG. Can anyone name one successful thing the man did? I can't. I don't know anyone that can. The Wild (gosh I hate that team name) have been wildly successful because they have no competition. Yeah, the pun was intended. And won't for some time.

Good luck KG, you were a good guy for the team and the area. You were never a jerk, you were never in trouble, and you put you heart out on the court. Now get outta here before they change their minds.

McHale, why didn't you stick with playing hockey for cryin' out loud? Sixth man? Shit man.

Stolen!

Yeah, I stole this video from How to Avoid the Bummer Life. So what. Its too good not to share. Everybody needs a hero some days.

Too Funny Not To Pass Along

What some fans in France will do to get their photos printed. Their best side too.

It Ain't Over Until the Drug Tests Come In

If you haven't been under a rock or reading HP7 full time and follow the Le Tour at all you know what I'm talking about. Once considered a top contender for the GC leadership, Alexander Vinokouov of Kazakhstan, rider for the Astana team, won a time trial stage this past weekend. Now a few days later the blood test on his sample from that stage was determined to have blood cells that were not his own. This test will be performed on his second sample (called sample B), but the damage is done. His team fired him. His team dropped out of the tour. His team has said he is guilty until proven by Sample B to be questionable. Vino of course contends it must have been something that resulted from the treatment of his injuries.


Vino? Just how stupid are you? Vino has not had his most successful of rides this year. He crashed in the first week, losing minutes in the flat stages. Time that is often hard to make up then. He crashed again in a moderate climbing stage, losing enough time (almost 30 minutes) that he was thought to be out of contention this year. He then went and won the time trial regardless of his wounds (he required stitches on his knees, considered rather painful for a cyclist. It was the sample from that stage that Vino was tested for and found to have failed.

He'd later won a serious mountain stage, demonstrating he was capable in two areas of cycle racing. His win was overshadowed by a test of wills between two riders, one a rider of Discovery, Contador the new leader of that team and the current maliot jaune wearer Rasmussen. The Discovery rider could not drop the Dane, although there was some signs that he began his attacks too late and near the summit were the telltale signs of the Dane cracking. The idea was to get the Dane to crack, then make a jump to the next group where George Hincapie was riding as your lead out to open a real gap.

This is the third blow to the biggest event in bicycle racing. The first came when a German racer of little note was identified as failing a drug test while he rode for the T-Mobile squad. Following through on a commitment, some German television stations stopped broadcasting the tour. Germans were not always greatly interested in cycle racing until Jan Ullrich won the tour in the 90s. This surely isn't good for their interest. T-Mobile has announced they are reviewing their sponsorship of cycle racing. This generally has meant they intend to drop sponsoring teams as soon as possible to distance themselves. They aren't the first. The team Landis was on last year is no more. Others have dropped out. Even the one American team is again looking for a sponsor after first Motorola, then the USPS, and now the Discover Channel have announced the end of their sponsorship.

Soon after the first positive drug test was announced, it was leaked that the Danish national federation had dropped the current general classification (GC) leader, wearer of the yellow jersey, Michael Rasmussen from their team. The reason was that Rasmussen had not taken the required drug tests, nor advised officials of his wear abouts during the past year. This isn't a large infraction, but large enough that had the Tour officials known, he wouldn't have been riding in it. Some have been quoted as saying if he wins, it will be bad for the tour.

The French police are again raiding team vehicles. Three raids were conducted on Monday before the start of the stage. Riders conducted a protest on Monday suggesting the treatment is insulting.

Harry Potter Spoiler Alert!

Okay, campers, I'm not really talking spoiler here as I have no premature information and I'm not going to any of the "spoiler" sites on book 7. No, these are my predictions. Beware if you've not read book 6 by now. Shame on you, and get reading and I'm not talking about my blog either.

I do not believe that Snape is the evil being he's made out to be, I believe there is a hero inside of him. I think he mistreated Harry in part because of hatred of his father and the treatment he received by him and that it played so well into the need for that borderline traitor that is needed by Tom Riddle, AKA Voldemort, AKA the Dark Lord. He played a part very well and I think he was meant to.

There has never been discussion of how previous Headmaster's died. Nor of great wizards. Is it possible that if when Tom Riddle tried to kill Harry, he passed on his power at some level to Harry that maybe when Dumbledore permitted himself to be killed by Snape, that something likewise can happen. Sort of like Obie Wan in Star Wars. In death he achieved something not even Tom Riddle can match. He is the one Tom always feared.

I think Harry and Tom Riddle will die as a consequence of that last fight. They are the two characters that must die, otherwise there is a reason to continue for the author. I have a high appreciation for the author, but if she's the least bit smart its what she must do. I believe the key to their death is not Snape, who will have proved his mettle before that final confrontation. I believe that none other than Neville will be the one to rise to the occasion. Regardless of the prophecy. Since when did Sybil ever get anything right. Okay, she did predict the return of the Dark Lord. Yeah, like I didn't see that coming too. Pfft.

And what of the rest? Happily ever after? I haven't a clue. It doesn't matter. Hermoine for headmaster? Ron for chief auror? I don't know. Life goes on. Just without any new Harry Potter stories that's all. Hey, all great things must come to an end.

One thing I've really liked is they are distinctly British tales. People don't steal things, they nick them. People who annoy you are buggers or gits, not dolts or buttheads. Youth in authority positions are "pre-ficts" not officers. She didn't make them more American just to gain more readers in America. Bravo to Ms. Rowling both for the way she wrote as well as what she wrote as well as keeping her family out of the limelight. She could teach Kathy Lee Gifford a hell of a lot. Really glad that whore for publicity's career tanked after she bolted her daytime program with what's his name. And she was replaced quicker than undershorts with a skid mark.

Poof and she was gone.

Make no mistake, I'm a big fan of the books and the author. I've enjoyed them. My kids enjoy them and have read them all several times. I don't mind the least bit that she's ending on chapter in her life that brought her bajillions. I don't begrudge her the money a single bit. She's one person I'm glad is rich. She came from pretty humble beginnings and is now earned her dough by creating something I expect to have as long a lifetime as the Hobbit books. I just hope that unlike so many sports stars that can't hang the jock up when they should, I hope she writes something else. Whatever it is, I'll be in line to buy it, regardless of the reviews. She's earned my trust and me as a fan.

Does This Deserve A New Word?

A saw a new book has come out about the Shrubbery's Presidency with the title, A Tragic Legacy. For some reason this got me to thinking about some of the mangling of the English language by the Shrub. Words "the Decider" and "strategerdy" and so forth. Maybe we need a new word that encapsulates the Shrub and Mr. Grimace's legacy? I was thinking along the lines of a "Traggacy" or "Tragercy". Or maybe it should be "Legagic." The upchuck sort of sound at the end of that one has a nice ring, don't you think?

I suspect that there will be great debate over the years what to call the time of the Shrub and Mr. Grimace and their folly of leadership. Leadership heck, you can't even apply that. There should be a new word to describe the lying, revenge getting, war starting, talking point sticking, fear mongering, power abusing, emergency incompetence, junk science spreading, self righteous bible thumpin', anti-environment, pro-capitalism at any cost, tax cut makin' these "leaders" of the free world have perpetrated on the planet. I haven't come up with one yet, but I'm thinking on it. First one with the word gets to write the book defining it. But you'll owe me 10% of the gross profits for giving you the idea. And don't try to flatter me by giving me some stinkin' byline on the cover. I want the cash man, before the crummy publisher takes their cut.

On the other hand, doesn't impeach have a great ring to it?

Gosh, how ballistic are you going to go when the GOP starts trying to name some airport in Technicolor Yawn, Kentucky; Bush International Airport? Good grief, this will never be over. Nixon at least resigned in disgrace, this pair of arrogant twits getting out office scott free is a travesty of ginormous proportions.

Jesus. Would you want to send *your* child to George W. Bush Middle School? I'd homeschool the little carpet climber first myself.

The Boat Anchor or How I Came to Love Fatigue and Friends

Good grief is that a face only a mother can love? I don't know as my mother's been gone a long time so I can't ask. I personally know it to be the face of someone that foolishly rode much further in less time than in any other time in his life.

Rewind. Friday night I went on the HC night ride. Oh it was fun. Twenty two miles of great cool entertainment. So far so good.

After three hours of sleep, I got up, got on the Bleriot and rode to HC and rode with the same bunch and more. Only its 21 miles there from my house. We rode to breakfast in St. Paul. We rode back, and I bailed out early and headed toward home. I arrived home with 56 miles. This adds up to 78 miles. Nice training regime. Dodo. The day before riding 200K.

So I got lots of sleep and met these two at Bill's house at 6:30 AM.Here Jim (in red) and Bill (in green) stare at me in wonder why I'd photograph them. Realistically? They should be named; Kind and Kinder. Why, that will come, be patient.

The train loading process was confusing. We were hanging around the baggage loading area when an Amtrak gal saved us with the ominous question, "What are you doing here?" Timidly we mentioned boxing bikes and tickets and junk. Ultimately, she was a huge help, she got us the boxes, she got us the paperwork, she got us tape to close the boxes, she lent us a pen to write our names on the boxes, she loaded the boxes on the cart upright. Although gruff on the exterior, she was a very pleasant person to deal with.

Soon it was obvious the train was late and there were no spare seats in the waiting lounge. We'd pulled our Carradice bags off the bikes with our helmets and sat around yakking. It was an interesting segment of society at the train depot. While I stood in line for my ticket, I ended up speaking with a fellow out of a long stay in rehab. Four years. Meth. He was as nervous as a cat as it was the first return home since entering rehab. He made a succession of cell phone calls from the train on his way to Milwaukee. I wanted to wish him luck, but I chickened out.

The prime reason I neglected to do my boy scout best was I went to pick up my Camelback from the overhead bin only to discover it was empty. Did I not screw the top on tight enough? Gravity feed? Maybe the weight of the saddlebag was on the mouthpiece? I don't know, and I didn't know where the liquid was so what could I tell some attendant? Um, see, this here sugary blue liquid is going somewhere, maybe you'll have a clue? I hope it didn't get sucked into some poor person's baggage. It was also obvious there were not many getting off and they were in a hurry got get us off and try to make up time.Here you have the "seen better days" of the Winona depot.

And here you can see one of the finer Amtrak baggage handlers about to drop the first bike out of the train baggage car.

I do mean drop as the recipient didn't prepare and the dropper didn't care. They then proceeded to pile them onto the top of the baggage cart which was convex so that they looked rather precarious. Instead of trying to snap a photo of the impending disaster, Jim ran up and politely requested if we could take them right there and save them the trouble? Good lord, what a smart idea.


While he did that, I amused myself thus. And then I took this.


While Jim filled his water bottles and Bill made sure things were ready and soon we were off. Me on a Bleriot, Jim on a Romulus, and Bill on his Redwood.

We discussed what route to start with, and we soon went the scenic route over the bridge in Winona over to Highway 35 in Wisconsin. When we turned North it was obvious the tail wind was favorable. Bill quickly set a quick pace and I tried to hang on close enough to his slip stream. I knew I wasn't in shape to lead this trio. It took hours, but a noon start, and by the heat of the day at 5 PM we were trying to climb the hill outside of Bay City. A nice two mile ride up and a great two plus ride down. Only I sucked. I just no longer had it. I was the boat anchor. Kind and Kinder? They waited for me. I had no business riding with them, but they put up with me admirably.

Soon every peak was an excuse to wait for me.


I can explain how demoralizing it feels to be waited for at every stop. That is the way it is. I kept resolving not to blow up, not to expend needless energy on any chase or efforts to win back my ability to rise to a challenge. I kept remembering the words the commentators would make when a rider in the Tour de France would go off the front in an effort to win a stage or gain a climber points. Then later, they blow up, completely. And the commentator would always say, okay, forget it, stick to your own pace. Recover and ignore it all, the people passing, the lack of cheering, the impending red lantern and the broom behind you. No, I'm not comparing myself to anyone capable of the tour, but the method of sticking to pedaling in circles, to conservation and pushing the pain and the fatigue and the heat out of your mind and just climb at a rate you can handle. Regardless if its an overweight 50 YO climbing at 4 MPH or a racer flying up a mountain at 19 MPH while his competitors fly by at 22 or 25 MPH its all the same. Give up? Go home? Keep going to live another day?

The worst thing about Highway 35 was the fucking motorcycles. On a bicycle alone you can hear a lot. Birds, wind, crickets, cars, trucks, and the stupid harley loud pipes that in their mind save lives. I can tell you from experience its bullshit in the best redneck form. You hardly hear the stupid pipes from their approach. Their pointed backwards, how can you? Oh, Lord, when they go by? Of course you can hear them for miles. Does a horn section face the curtain when on stage? Do they point the loudspeakers at the ball park toward the parking lot? Of course not. But harley riders want you to think they work regardless of the law of physics. I could hear the radio playing and tell the music style on the quiet Honda Goldwings. Sometimes they were so constant it was enough to give them a headache. The police let those assholes get away with that shit, because the cops are surely in someone's pocket. The classic case of the money and bullshit are doing the talking and it surely isn't logic that applies. I will NEVER look upon a loud harley rider as anything but an arrogant idiot. They have NO HONOR and NO CLASS, only self centered arrogance from completly intelligence people who want to desperately be back in a group just like high school. Where everyone dresses alike, where how your bike looks more that what kind of human is and where how loud your pipes are is more important than the rest of your community. This is the very definition of the me generation and the definition of what is wrong with America.
Then there was the two vehicles that went by with the horn blarring, and the middle finger extended. They followed this by swerving off the road intentionally to throw up rocks and dust never realizing their timing was awful. The only thing they taught me was that Wisconsin drivers are bigger idiots than those in Minnesota. That was a first having riding in five or six states even in the south, I'd never seen that behavior before.

You'll note, I have no more photos except the one at the top which came from my house when I was finished for the day. Okay there is one, where the guys stopped for a break to eat stuff and rest a little.


This is a photo of Bill attempting to wash the gnats out of his eyes. Since I always wear goggles or glasses or sunglasses to protect my eyes and contacts from such thing, I didn't have any trouble. Okay, I'm sure I swallow a few and surely inhaled a few. Gnats I'll take anytime over harleys.

I was so fatigued at this point I'm not sure what town it was. Red Wing? Hastings? Gabuti?

I remember eating something. We ended up in a Perkins at 9 PM. Which meant it was really slow, as there was only a minimal crew. As in one waitstaff. One host and one cook. I had French Toast and I'm not a slow eater normally. Its probably why I tend to get food on myself, I'm in a hurry. I didn't have the energy to shovel hot sugary food in. I wasn't looking for a hotel anymore, though. I really knew I could to it, with the help of my friends.

There is no doubt I would not have made the distance without encouragement and hearing, "Hey! We're in no hurry." for the hundredth time and still gullibly believing them. Honest Bill and Jim would have been back at 10 PM or at least midnight without me. Did I make it more fun for them? God I hope so. I hope something came from the debt I owe them both. So the last photo is the Bleriot, after getting hauled out of the elephant. The saddlebag emptied into a carry bag because I couldn't make decisions on what should stay in the garage and what should go in to the house. Can you tell its dang glad it got that 200 pound engine off the saddle finally?

I'm not usually much on mileage until someone pointed out what I'd done. Take the 22 and the 56 and add the 147. Its about 225 miles. Or about 365 kilometers. Okay, I did it over four days, Friday night at 10 through Monday morning at 2:30 AM. I'm ignorant of what needs to be done in a brevet to qualify, but now I know I can do the mileage and with realistic training (not 80 miles the day before) I could manage to do one in better shape. And have more fun, and be more fun to be with. And be much better at ignoring the stupid motorcycles. I am deeply grateful to Kind and Kinder. Thanks for waitin'.

What the hell was I thinking?

It was here at breakfast this morning midway on the morning HC ride that Monty predicted he'd drop us all and hang on to a bunch of skinny tired weight wienie racer boys. Monty, I think its time to shave those legs again and order that custom Rivendell track bike.

Let us go back in time to 10 PM on June 29th. I, in the elephant arrived late for the night time HC ride. Thankfully the rest of the bunch waited for at the light (which I seemed to fail to recognize was red). I was late because I'd forgotten 35W Southbound was closed and had to map a new route. No paper map, no GPS, no TomTom on my dash baby, all brains. Which is why I was late. We looped around the city for a outstanding 22 miles. What a night to ride and many awesome scenes were observed. The hill by the Guthrie and riding the bike lane down the middle of Hennepin were two of mine. Low light, not finding any food at the end of the ride beyond, gulp, White Castle. I can attest that everyone resisted that strange urge. Gosh we're all old.

I got home and into the sack at 2.

Three hours later the alarm went off. I wasn't driving in that mess again. I got up showered, scraped my noggin, dressed up, ate a bowl of Cracklin' Oat Bran (Ray is their signature rider and personal spokesperson), and launched. Seeing the clock on the cyclometer, I thought I was late. No, I was sleep deprived. I went to the big ring and pushed a pace that was unwise. To arrive half an hour early. After getting rather bored, I was about to lie down on the bus bench across the street after taking this shot as testimony I was there in case I fell asleep and they left me. Thank God, Velocopete showed up to keep me awake.I had clocked 21 miles already by that point. Plus the breakfast ride, plus the return trip added to 56 miles.

And tomorrow someone arm twisted (they asked, "want to?" and I said "Sure") into joining them to ride the Empire builder to Winona. And then yes, Ladies and Gentlemen ride our bikes back.

My legs still feel weak. I will be toast tomorrow. And somehow regret one of these foolish maneuvers, for at least a moment or two. Wish me luck and cool weather.

Correction

The danger with writing is the possibility someone will read it. :-D

I mentioned an altercation. The altercation occurred after the ride was complete and in fact I'd spent a few sheckles in the HC headquarters. I had ridden to the ride with someone else who helped me a great deal with navigation in the south end of town. They were kind enough to accompany me back the same way. It was at the corner of 54th or just down the street and Highway 55. We only became involved when a very annoyed cager shoved a lone cyclist on the east end of the street light. We were waiting at the west end of the light and began to yell. The cager jumped in his cage and went away, the cyclist shouted his thanks to us and we rode away. I think he is okay. I don't think I knew him.

It was a situation I've put myself into many times. I yell at a cager that does me what I think a wrong. From what I could tell, the black car buzzed the cyclist. And didn't care. And was more than willing to beat the shit out of the cyclist too. We pointed out we had his license plate and a cell phone and unless he knocked it off, we'd have the police and a lot of witnesses.

As we rode away, we agreed that we've been there and done what the rider did. Attempt to educate a stupid cager by yelling. It ain't going to work. In this case it initiated more trouble that it was worth. Even polite discussion is rarely a solution. A cager finds a cyclist the last person they will take roadway behavior advice from. We don't drive a motor vehicle (at that moment) what can we know?

It upset me over the day. It could have been me. None of the other cages cared a wit. We two cyclist were the only ones involved. Yeah, we helped a little. I didn't bother (didn't have a pen) to get his license. I didn't call 911. I'm not sure it matters. The instantaneous violence shocked me.

The cyclist didn't appear to be gravely injured. He could have been.

Bleriot Redux

Here is a photo or two of my Bleriot. Kit includes a Sugino crank, MSK pedals, Soma clips, Phil rear free wheel hub, IRD freewheel, Schmidt front hub, Berthoud fenders, Brooks Saddle, Carradice saddle bag. Berthoud fenders, ToPeak frame pmp, Nitto stem and handlebars, Modolo brake levers, Dia Compe brakes with Mathhouser pads and a Brooks saddle, Silver shift pods and Shimano 600 down tube shifters, Shimano XT front derailer and Suntour rear derailer, and Nitto bottle cages.

New Bike

Today was the long awaited (by some) maiden voyage of the Bleriot. An example is above, but its not mine. I'll post photos later. I just finished assembly last night and haven't even shellacked the bar tape yet. I rode it down to work, meeting pal Bill along the way. We rode together for the Hiawatha Cyclery ride. There I'm guessing we put on about 14 miles or so. Add to that the 18 miles to the shop from home and back, I'm guessing I put on 50 miles. Maybe more, but 50 will be close enough. I didn't have the cyclometer installed yet. I need to change out the shifters got get better rear and front shifting. Tally for the day:

50 miles
1 flat tire, which made no sense (the hole was on the inside (rim side) of the tube)
Two lost bolts - I had not tightened the clips to the pedals and two fell off before I realized. I got two replacement from Jim at HC
One scratch obtained while leaning it against a light post near Al's Breakfast in Dinkytown
One fall over, where I didn't pay attention and Mark Stonich made a right and I hadn't slowed enough and panic braked without pulling my feet out of the clips and fell over.
Annoyed everyone in hearing distance from my braking, I didn't toe in the Dia Compe center pulls and they squeal outrageously
One altercation observed - maybe I'll right about this later, its begun to really bug me (my behavior or specifically lack there of)
Wonderful conversation with Bill - just one of those great riding partners

Incentive

Last night the Twins played the Mets in New York. The pitcher for the Twins was Santana. At some point in the pre-game warm up and visit by the broadcasting staff, a conversation occurred between Santana and Bert Blyleven, former Twins pitcher and now broadcaster for the Twins. Here is the gist as reported in this morning's New York Times:

Santana may be involved in a more entertaining event today. Bert Blyleven, a former Twins pitcher who is now a broadcaster, told Santana before the game that if he pitched a complete-game shutout, Blyleven would allow his head to be shaved.

“Believe me, it’s going to happen,” Santana said of Blyleven’s haircut. “I will definitely look for him. Hopefully, by game time, he’ll be bald."

Me, I'll be looking for that new hair style on Bert and it will be interesting if he can find a way to motivate the next pitcher to throw a full game shut-out.

Never Sleep on Airplanes

Happy Father's Day To All You Dad's

I heard a neat idea on Weekend Edition this morning on public radio. At the end of the program they always mention the people you don't hear and give their positions in thanks for their efforts. Somewhat like the credits at the end of the movie. This morning they listed them as Eliza Grace our sound engineer, daughter of Albert Grace. Or out sound engineer was the the daughter of Albert Grace, Eliza Grace. I'm sure its been done before and some would think it trite, but I thought it was a nice way of recognizing we all have fathers we should be thankful for. Even if they were horrible parents, left you penniless, showed no support, or whatever you wouldn't exist without them and unless you'd rather be dead, you ought to be grateful, at least a little. On the other hand, I think it is another useless made up holiday, so the greeting card industry won't go out of business.

Here's a joke for this father's day, which I'd bet is apocryphal. In theory this is supposed to have been a chart entry made by a doctor while seeing a patient.

"The patient admitted to having four children, but appears to have no other abnormalities."

Only a dad will admit to having children is an abnormality.

Database

So someone wrote and asked, database? You mention a database? What chu talking 'bout Willis?

Years ago, while injured I was playing around with databases on my computer and decided to organize my music collection onto a database on my computer. Later I started to put the things into the database as owned or want so I could print out a small "desired" list.

Then years ago, I bought my first PDA and discovered I could put a database onto it. What a concept! I'd got it so I could have my mobile schedule as I wandered work and it would remind me, be here there or whatever. This was a bonus. I could have a listing of recordings I wanted, and those I owned whenever I carried it. It took a lot of learning to translate the database I'd created in one program to convert to the Palm, but it worked.

Eventually it died. It got carried everywhere. And like my issues with getting food into my mouth instead of on my clothing, it got dropped. Not damaged, but it began to behave peculiarly. So I found someone with a used one that was color! Oh, man, and the software available was even better. But the database I'd been using wasn't available for this language. Grrr, stupid Microshaft.
So once again I set about converting. This was a little trickier as I had to translate to a third mutual language, and then back to something this little bugger could read. I used this one so much I wore out rechargeable batteries. I created a vast shopping list system, so I could create a list based on what I liked to buy in groceries, by aisle, in order of their location, so it was an easy way to shop and you didn't look for things. Having a list is good, being able to skip aisles you shouldn't be on (like cookies) is even better. I found I stuck to budget. Finally the display on this one began to go wacky. I'd just used the sucker to death. Got my money's worth you might say. Yay me. So I began to look for another. I found one that I liked, would take my database language, no conversion, and eliminated my cell phone. One thing instead of two. Yippee! Its smaller in some ways (width) and has its own keyboard so I didn't have to write using a stylus although I can if I want. Its thicker, but it fits into a shirt pocket. Now, I was really relying on the bugger. How to prevent dropping it? A lanyard around my neck? Surgically implant a hoop for my hip and connect it to that? Piercings? Nope, my solution was to buy an aluminum padded case to take the abuse.


So far so good. I've had my accidents in the six months I've owned it and it seems to have taken the punishment.
Back to this geekness database. So I have a listing of my recordings in it. As long as I update the thing every time I buy something, all is well. Sometimes I procrastinate (always!) and forget to put it in the day I discover something at a garage sale. Or a sale at the Minneapolis Library, which sometimes has great sales of eclectic music and books. So I bought a copy of "Blue" by
The Jayhawks and didn't put it in. By the looks of the box and disc, it was a garage sale as the disc appears completely unused. Now I bought a second copy, but a later version that has extra songs and came in the easily damaged cardboard box thing. I'll keep that although he cardboard is more beaten, but the extra songs are the big plus. The database is easily searchable, buy artist, title, year released, producer, label, if its on my Sony cheap imitation iPod, if I own it, or if I was at least at one time interested in owning it. I have written screens so that it will show me only those I want, and only those I own.

Like everything else, garbage in, garbage out. If I don't put it in, I won't know I own it. Yeah, technology saves you only when you use it consistently. You moron. And yes, Sony no longer produces my little device and in fact there hasn't been a software update since the year made. Can you say, "ass kicked by Apple, iTunes, and the iPod?" I knew you could. Even big companies don't always figure it out. Note, this is the fifth generation of a device to compete with the iPod. So its not like they failed once; they failed five times with a target to shoot at. And trust me, I'm not laying the blame on the engineers and designers. This is all about timing and management.

So I've got a copy of "Blue" to drop off at either Cheapo or Electric Fetus for sale as used. I'm a little broke now, so it will wait. I'm not quite capable of going in with less money than I come out with.

So, Sew What?

The Friday before the Richard Thompson Band show, I went to the Electric Fetus and picked up a few recordings. Like the new Richard Thompson disc and few others. Total purchase was this:

Taking Tiger Mountain by Strategy by Brain Eno
untitled by Grinderman (Nick Cave)
Blue Earth by the Jayhawks
twelve by Patti Smith
two more by Patti Smith (vinyl only!)
Sweet Warrior by Richard Thompson
Saltbreakers by Laura Veirs
Carbon Glacier by Laura Veirs
Release the Stars by Rufus Wainwright

The Eno is 20+ years old and I have it on vinyl. I've been slowly getting the disc version of Eno's best. Just have had a hankering for the last year. The Grinderman is the lastest incarnation of a Nick Cave band. Oh is it delicious on the first listens. Its raw and loud and features a guitar sound that is just like the band name, like grinding or other loud metal work in a foundry. What I wouldn't do to see him live on this tour. The Jayhawks was a fuck up. I had a copy, but neglected to put it in my database. D'Oh! I hate when that happens. Anyway it was a used copy, in better shape then the one I have, so I'll bring my first copy in for sale. The Patti Smith I like, but not as much as I hoped. I'm hoping it will grow on me. The RT is very solid. Some great songs to start itoff and more memorable after seeing them done in concert. The two Laura Veirs are solid. She is on quite the roll. She's quirky good pop fun. Rufus is a secret guilty pleasure. I love his voice and like to sing along. I'm sure my neighbors hate Rufus already. He's so funny at times too. Mojo makes it sound like he might be developing a gigantic ego besides. Lets hope not.

Richard Thompson at the Fitzgerald

I've seen Richard Thompson many times, so I'm both a little biased, but I'm also a little jaded. Every other time I saw him, he was alone. He has toured with others like Bonnie Raitt and her band, but he performed alone. Except when he joined Bonnie and her group on stage. He's a complete showman. He can make a guitar seem like more than one instrument at at time. Yet, it does lack a little. This show was in support of his recent recording Sweet Warrior. Its a good recording, better than some, not his best. It has some great stuff on it as usual.

The show at the Fitz tonight included three other band members. First was the multi-instrument playing Pete Zorn (I think) . He was awesome, playing bass flute which Richard referred to as "wicked piece of plumbing" because it is goofy looking, as well as mandolin, guitar, alto and tenor sax, and backing vocals. Then there was Danny Thompson (no relation) playing an amplified upright bass both with his fingers or a bow. Last was the percussionist a tall lanky fellow by the name of Michael Jerome. His normal playing style was a mere flick of the wrist, but was loud enough. At times he really stretched out his enormous arms (I'm guessing he's a six foot tall kind of guy) and effortlessly got gigantic sound volume. Oh, man and tight. Every song seemed to have tempo changes and prearranged frilly ends to songs. All four guys were just note for note solid. Seeing a bunch of experienced artists work so hard and make it look effortless yet be so on top of their game was just stupendous.

I'm not good at knowing song titles and such, but he played an excellent spectrum of his stuff from Fairport Convention songs, to something from his days with Linda his then wife ("Wall of Death"), to other recordings from the eighties and nineties. Some of the loudest calls of appreciation came for one of my favorites; "1952 Vincent Black Lightning" from Rumor and Sigh. He also played "A Man in Need", "Al Bowly's In Heaven", "Tear Stained Letter", and a lot of songs from the new disc. The ones I recall are:

Needle and Thread
I'll Never Give Up
Stupid Man
Dad's Gonna Kill Me ("a pro anti-war song" where "Dad" is short for Bagdad, like "Nam" was short for Vietnam)
Too Late to Come Fishing
Sunset Song

If there was more, its because I've not listened to the new disc enough. I'm there to enjoy myself not be a scribe for the folks that like set lists. Its not my thing.

There was one song I didn't recognize. One companion noted how "He's on fire" and the other noted "he shredded that sucker." It was the longest solo I've ever seen Richard do. Plus there were solo's for Danny on bass and Pete on one instrument. Michael didn't need solos, you couldn't miss his solid beat. It was always there. The song just left me in awe.

Richard I think was at his best with a band. He didn't have to carry the whole show. He can and make it look effortless without them. But this way he seemed energized, playful (see solos), and even more witty with the audience. Every time I've ever seen RT, the locals yell out their favorites (note I did not yell out "Black Vincent" or "Red Molly" as some might call it) for him to play. In one show they kept yelling out stuff from his early years or the stuff he and Linda had done. I don't think at the time that was in his fondest memory. At one point he got serious stopped tuning and diddling with the strings and inquired, "have you bought any recordings from the recent decade?" This time he was kinder. Telling them, yes, thank you, we aren't going to play them, but if you must go ahead shout titles out. He muttered at one point, I might be the only one on stage that knows that one. He had a set list, and they were sticking to it. This wasn't bad. In fact it was great. A two hour plus show, they started on time, there was no warm up, just the headliner coming out without a dramatic delay. And they got right to it. And it was one hell of a ride and I'm guessing there were few that didn't appreciate it. I know I and my companions really enjoyed RT and his band tonight. I'll see him every time he comes with a band. It was that good.

Impressive

Trust me, this kind of thing only happens when Dads are doing the changing. You now know there is a phenomenon called, projectile pooping.