Grandma Daisy's: "We don't dial 911"

I see Renegade Evolution's existential question... and I raise her one! At left, photo reads: Grandma Daisy's: "We don't dial 911" and is punctuated with a nice old-school firearm. (This is an antique store in Fredericksburg, Texas, and of course, I could not resist taking the photo for my blog!)

Not coincidentally, various folks over the years have joked to your humble narrator, that I probably didn't need 911, and they are probably right about that. ;)

Speaking of which: Suitably adorable Grandma photos of my trip, for anyone interested. I loved seeing my grandbabies! (I worried that photos of me and Barbie would ruin my feminist cred, but hey, I think that was already compromised a long time ago!)

~*~

A sort of all-purpose post, as I create links for the Daisy Deadhead show tomorrow. (Commercial: LIKE US ON FACEBOOK!) I suppose I could bring my laptop to the radio station (WFIS, tomorrow, 9-10am), but trying to fiddle with the keyboard and talk, at the same time? Sounds risky to me. I am NOT Wolfman Jack. Maybe when I get a little more proficient at this stuff.

First up, will be the illuminating story in the Austin Statesman, Personal ties key to Rick Perry's wealth:

Gov. Rick Perry might like for people to believe he made more than $1 million while holding elective office in Texas through shrewd business decisions, but in almost every case he was steered to his investments.

From his father-in-law renting space in a building Perry owned back home in Haskell to a high school buddy from Future Farmers of America helping him make a million in a Horseshoe Bay land deal, Perry has been more than just lucky or shrewd. He has been a man with friends.

The question of whether Perry's real estate windfalls have been a result of friends helping friends or are evidence of some sort of corruption has been fodder for some of his past campaign opponents.

"From abusing his power over appointments to getting sweetheart real estate deals from supporters, he's a regular get-rich-quick icon," U.S. Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison's campaign manager said of Perry before last year's gubernatorial primary.

During the general election campaign last year, Democratic opponent Bill White said of one deal, "Perry's investment was enhanced by a series of professional courtesies and personal favors."

Over the course of about 18 years , Perry and his wife, Anita, grew from struggling to make ends meet in Haskell County to having a comfortable retirement nest egg built primarily from real estate deals Perry made while he was a statewide elected official.

And rest assured, there is plenty more dirt where THAT came from. Tune in for my personal assessment of Rick Perry's business acumen! NOTE: I DO have my all-purpose, FCC-approved, NO CUSSING sign, as I mentioned HERE, so I am required to keep my anti-Perry commentary squeaky clean. (It's a challenge, but I am up to it.)

On the local front, we will be peeling and digesting State Senator David Thomas (R-of course), who opposes "government spending"--except when the spending is on David Thomas. Another faker, like Governor Haley.

He carefully voted himself a cushy pension for working only A SCANT FEW YEARS:

At age 55, South Carolina state Sen. David Thomas began collecting a pension for his legislative service without leaving office.

Most workers must retire from their jobs before getting retirement benefits. But Thomas used a one-sentence law that he and his colleagues passed in 2002 to let legislators receive a taxpayer-funded pension instead of a salary after serving for 30 years.

Thomas' $32,390 annual retirement benefit — paid for the rest of his life — is more than triple the $10,400 salary he gave up. His pension exceeds the salary because of another perk: Lawmakers voted to count their expenses in the salary used to calculate their pensions.

No other South Carolina state workers get those perks.

Since January 2005, Thomas, a Republican, has made $148,435 more than a legislative salary would have paid, his financial-disclosure records show. At least four other South Carolina lawmakers are getting pensions instead of salaries, netting an extra $292,000 since 2005, records show.

And finally, I will try to include Anna's comments at Mills River Progressive, which came courtesy of Onyx Lynx. (THANK YOU!)

It just seems so obvious, but sometimes, people have to spell out the obvious:

All the Politicos Yapping About "Creating Jobs" Avoid the REAL Solution

Which is to stop sending the jobs overseas. Duh. That would be the logical course of action, if the U.S. Congress actually worked on behalf of the citizenry. Obviously they don't, and therefore none of them will propose the only lasting solutions to our massive unemployment. End our destructive trade policies, restore fair trade policies and practices, invest in new sustainable industries on the domestic front (other than weapons), and sweet pygmy Jeebus STOP REWARDING CORPORATIONS THAT SEND JOBS OVERSEAS!

There. That's not too difficult, is it? It's not rocket science. And it's well within the realm of the possible. But *they* won't do it. They won't discuss it. Almost no one will mention it on the floor of Congress. Why? Why won't the people who supposedly represent our interests do the things that will lead to a reversal of our crumbling fortunes and dismal futures? Because their handlers - their actual bosses, the financial elite, the investor class, the 1% - don't want that.

The reality is that our lives are of no importance to them. In fact, we're obsolete. They make enormous amounts of money by sending our industries, our (former) work to the third world. They're profiting like never before; why on earth would they want to return to the bad old days, when profits were hampered by trade policy, by benefit packages, by paying a middle-class wage?

I will try to quote the whole thing, if there is time. We hope to be hearing directly via telephone from Green Party members who are currently occupying Wall Street. YEAH!

I will also slip in a mention of Duke Energy's intention to raise our utility-rates, and the necessary information about the local public hearings. The print on the teeny-tiny postcard recently mailed out by Duke Energy is nearly microscopic, and very difficult to read.

I'm sure that's only a coincidence. They wouldn't try to dissuade people from coming to the hearings, now would they?

If Disney did a horror movie, might look like this

Left: Victoria's birthday party; she is the one in yellow who looks just like me.







My granddaughter turned six on September 11. I certainly DO wish her birthday was NOT a national day of mourning. To my daughter's credit (that's her in the photo), she has always tried to make her birthdays happy. I don't think Victoria will become self-conscious about the date until she is older, and maybe not even then.

As one commenter on a blog recently said to me: If we let them take our happiness, they have indeed been successful in totally destroying the day. I agree.

Meanwhile, my granddaughter is SIX whole years old! I will be seeing them next week for the first time in over a year, and I am very excited.

And don't these partiers look a little scary? ;)

Let's swim to the moon

At left: Ben Hall, at Bohemian Cafe on Saturday.



One of those things about age that makes me profoundly uncomfortable: I get sentimental very quickly.

Like, really sentimental.

It overtakes me suddenly, and there I am, shedding tears over seemingly peculiar, unrelated or odd events. Such as Ben Hall and his guitar playing. Which was just like my late stepfather's. (Note: although the outdated link claims Ben is 18, he has now reached the ripe old age of 22.)

Until I was sitting there listening to Ben, whom I hadn't heard before, I didn't realize I had unconsciously avoided the music of Chet Atkins for a reason... I was suddenly aware that the "thumb-picking" guitar-style of Ben's, was the same as my stepfather's. I have avoided it for many years, flipped radio channels and such, because it made me so emotional. And as Ben described his style of playing, I thought, oh no... because I probably would have avoided his fabulous guitar playing if I had known.

I listened, and promptly got all teary-eyed and emotional. It is so embarrassing, reminding me of a line from Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now: "I cried like some grandmother." Yeah, I guess he means me. I have arrived!

Does any music do that to you?

Here is Ben's playing, the signature thumb-pickin style.

Cannonball Rag - Ben Hall



~*~

This song is as old as I am, seriously... careful, its about death, and way before the Doors made drowning at night sound sexy and existential.

I can hardly believe its taken me this long to post it!

Endless Sleep - Jody Reynolds



~*~

And speaking of the Doors, here is the 60s version of drowning for fun:

Moonlight Drive - The Doors



Let's swim to the moon
Let's climb through the tide
Penetrate the evening that the
City sleeps to hide
Let's swim out tonight, love
It's our turn to try
Parked beside the ocean
On our moonlight drive

Let's swim to the moon
Let's climb through the tide
Surrender to the waiting worlds
That lap against our side

Nothing left open
And no time to decide
We've stepped into a river
On our moonlight drive

~*~

Sorry so morbid, but its been a rather morbid week in America, yes? ;)

Places I've lived - a Google street view tour

At left: I am born. (First place I lived, according to my birth certificate. There were 5-7 other people living there too, but not certain of the exact number. It's the house in the middle.)



I have finally learned how to make photos of screen shots. Unfortunately, I have not figured out how to crop the picture in Microsoft Paint. If you goof up, makes a big HOLE on the screen! Aiyee!

To celebrate my newfound, hard-won knowledge (took all day!) -- here are some screen shots of places I've lived, lifted wholesale from the redoubtable Google Street View. You could DIE from all the excitement.

I initially did these as a test, and then when I saw the finished result, decided to post them here. I apologize in advance for the rather blah nature of these locales; I'm sorry my life hasn't been lived in particularly picturesque spots. Instead, you get the complete working class tour of OHIO. All of these locations are in Columbus, except for the paper mill. (I guess Massillon, Ohio, is not big enough to get the full Google Street View treatment yet?) I lived in all of these places before the age of 25... my family didn't like to stay in one place. In pre-digital days, it was much harder (if not impossible) for bill collectors to find you if you moved around all the time.

I admit the houses and apartments look rather boring, but my family livened up the block, let me assure you.

I did not attempt to put these in chronological order, since I am not even 100% sure what the order IS, and I know I'd get it messed up. But I did manage to put the schools last, which is saying something!

PS: You can click to enlarge, I just discovered.

Below:

1) This apartment building is currently being torn down or already has been; HERE is a relatively current Facebook photo mid-demolition. (I am not sure if that link will show up or not, some Facebook photos link acceptably and some don't; not sure of the rhyme or reason for that.)

There wasn't any message from God on the building while I lived there, though.

2) I think we were 3rd flat from the end on the right. This is the first place my baby ever lived!

3) This is where I had my first drug overdose as a teenager. Ah, memories. We lived in the apartment furthest from the road, Apt. D.

I really liked it here, despite some accidental mucking around with mama's pills. (Hey, nobody's perfect.)

4) The layout of the apartment in #3, reminded me of this one, where I lived when I started kindergarten. (See, this is why I told you it could never be chronological. Are you kidding?)

5) Ogden Avenue on the Hilltop, the last place I lived before moving south. I loved this old house, which my grandmother was buying on "land contract"--which I never understood. They foreclosed on it anyway.

It did not have that awful white screen on the porch--but I will admit that the ugly green color is the same... mercifully it has faded a bit over time.

6) My mother's house (also on the Hilltop), which was not blue and would never be blue if my mother was still alive. :( She will haunt those poor people for painting it that color!

Although it's 10 rooms, with full attic, garage and basement, the age and location of the house made it a hard-sell... I did not try to stop the foreclosure, but it broke my heart. My mother owned this house since the mid-70s.

7) Duplex with red doors, we lived on the right side. This is where my child was conceived! (more than you really wanted to know)

8) This used to be the Rustic Tavern on West Broad Street, owned by my aunt Ruth. It looked very different then. My mother sang in the country-and-western house-band there, and we lived upstairs.

This is where I first heard Last Date, since I could hear it through the ceiling, and knew this meant they were closing up for the night. I could be sound asleep and still wake up on the first notes of Last Date. (note: evillll YouTube yanked the song in that link, so try this one.)

9) When my mother and stepfather broke up, my mother left me here (age 9) with relatives and promptly disappeared for months. Thus, I didn't like the house.

I do remember that this was where I discovered the Monkees. :)

10) We lived on the right side of this duplex; the tan house on the far left was the home of Mickey Mantle's cousin, also surnamed Mantle, who used to drink (in earnest) with my grandfather. I don't remember his first name since of course, in those days, we called adults "Mr"--thus I recall his name was "Mr Mantle"...

11) Left side of duplex this time! I think the couch on the curb really makes the photo.

12) Isn't that chain-link fence awful?! My grandmother would have totally flipped out. Needless to say, it wasn't there when we lived there.

13) This was a drug store when I lived above it. One of the businesses on the ground floor was the first place I ever smoked weed--an R & B/funk record store called Jim's House of Soul.

It sure was!

14) This old building was the paper mill my stepfather worked in, located in Massillon Ohio. The sidewalk in front is where he walked the picket line during the strike.

There was a huge, musty old room of discarded books, magazines and comics, ready to be recycled into pulp... my stepfather brought me paper bags full of great stuff to read almost every day. THIS is where I learned to LOVE to read, and began reading for pleasure and enjoyment. They were old and sometimes (maddeningly!) had pages missing, but I loved them all. This was where I first learned to love comics, especially. Also, ancient movie magazines... where I first saw my beloved ELIZABETH!

The recycle-room of the paper mill was a magical place to me.

15) Lindbergh Elementary School, where we had to learn to spell CHARLES LINDBERGH correctly on spelling tests. I'll bet you never had to do that.

The iconic "Charlie Brown Christmas" piano music always makes me think of this school; candy canes and cutting out paper snowflakes.

16) Deshler Elementary School, where we were dismissed early after the assasination of JFK.

17) Hilltonia Middle School, which was called JUNIOR HIGH when I attended. I still think JUNIOR HIGH sounds better; who decided to name them all MIDDLE? Yech.

It was NOT a two-toned building when I attended... yech to that too.

18) West High School, my um, alma mater. ((((screams))))

Looks exactly the same.

~*~

Hope you enjoyed your tour!

Stone

This has been a week for the record books. Been down so long, looks like up to me. Born under a bad sign. Hellhound on my trail. Etc. When blues songs define your life, well, that pretty much says it all.

I saw some movies yesterday, and that helped. Yay, escapism!

~*~

Even if it is rather slow and ponderous, I highly recommend STONE, if you want a deeply spiritual character study, highlighting the immediate problems with Christianity. If you already know what the problems are, you'll get it. If you don't, this will put it in stark relief for you, but in a non-confrontational manner. I identified heavily with the protagonist, a convict played by Edward Norton.

Norton is a marvel, possibly the greatest actor of our era. He is psychoanalyzed, sorta kinda, by Robert DeNiro, the greatest actor of HIS era. Watching these two play off each other is the great strength of the movie. It becomes real, right before your eyes, and you totally forget you are watching two well-known movie stars.

I loved it, but certainly, the film is not for everybody. A rather tepid ending, when the dramatic tension between the two leads causes you to expect fireworks. Then you realize, there WERE fireworks, but they were all interior.

Check it out, for something different.

~*~

I also saw BLACK SWAN at last. Natalie Portman says she was inspired by Repulsion, and you can tell. Great inspiration, and the scene in which the nail-clippers jab her is right out of the original.

I was astounded by her thinness (realistic for ballerinas; I'm not criticizing) and hope she's gained some weight for her pregnancy.

Mr Daisy was disappointed by the ending. He wanted her to turn into a giant black swan and fly out into the audience and eat people.

You shouldn't let fan-boys watch this stuff.

~*~

If you pray, pray for me. Whatever you do, please do it. It is not pleasant to lose a parent and a job in one week. The first loss, however, has eclipsed the second one easily. I am pretty numb; I simply didn't know how to write about it until now.

But it's soooo quiet here. I can smell the honeysuckle outside, as the southern spring air drifts in from the woods. And I like not having to dash out the door for a change. (Translation: I think this might be one of those blessings in disguise, but right now, sure doesn't feel that way.)

I love you, my blogger buddies. If you have never commented here (or rarely comment anywhere), how about you leave one and let me know you're out there? It really would help.

More to come. Always.

Gone, when you find that there's no one sleeping

Yesterday was the anniversary of the Columbine shootings, and I meant to link my old post titled Me and Columbine. Sorry about that... posting one day late (and a dollar short). As I wrote in the post, it is also something of a spiritual anniversary of mine.

My thoughts and prayers are with you, Wayne Harris, Katherine Ann Poole, Thomas Klebold, Susan Yassenoff... as so many pray for the victims, I know they often forget to pray for you too, but I don't.

I wish you had your boys back, and I am so sorry.

(The song below is also in the original post.)

~*~

Gone, when you wake in the morning
Gone, when you find that there's no one sleeping
Gone, pretty Penny was her name
She was loved and we all will miss her

Pretty Penny - Stone Temple Pilots

SC dog is smartest in the world!

At left: Chaser the wonder dog, photo by Ken Osburn of The Greenville News.


Mr Daisy's late Uncle Cecil had the ability to train dogs to do all kinds of tricks. He liked to hunt, so he preferred hounds, especially beagles. One beagle had been his favorite, the smartest dog in the world, he said. There was a large painted portrait of the late beagle on his wall. "I loved that dog," he would say wistfully, showing the picture to visitors.

The best trick the dog did (I regret I can't remember the pooch's name) was pick up lettered blocks BY LETTER. Uncle Cecil would keep the blocks in a little bag, and then spread them out on the floor as the dog sat obediently and waited. He would scatter and arrange the lettered wooden blocks, and then, tell the dog to pick up the letter....B!

And the dog did.

Everyone was amazed.

Uncle Cecil would gather up the blocks in the bag and do it over and over, spilling the blocks onto the floor as the dog watched. He would spread the blocks out carefully again, then...F! (He changed the letter each time, which was the really incredible thing.)

And the dog picked up F.

There was never any rhyme or reason to the letters chosen; it was never the same letter every time. People couldn't believe a dog was so smart. They came from miles around to see Uncle Cecil's ultra-smart dog.

Can you guess the trick?

I thought of Uncle Cecil's dog when I heard about Chaser, the smartest dog in upstate South Carolina, maybe the world. He will be profiled on the PBS show NOVA (on February 9th), since he has learned 1000+ words, more than any dog on record. He has over 1000 toys, all with different names, and when he is asked to fetch them by name, he does.

Okay, Uncle Cecil made me skeptical, so I will have to watch NOVA and see if this is for real.

From the GREENVILLE NEWS:

It’s a scientific record.

Chaser is top dog in the current issue of the scientific journal “Behavioural Processes,” as noted in the Christmas Day edition of “The New Scientist,” and will be featured in a Feb. 9 NOVA documentary on PBS television.

Soon after [retired Wofford College psychology professor John] Pilley brought Chaser home as an 8-week-old puppy, he read an article by German researchers about a border collie that could understand 200 words. Pilley took that as a challenge.

“Border collies, because of their history of listening to the master and keeping their eyes simultaneously on the herd, may be especially prepared to learn language,” Pilley said.

Pilley and Alliston Reid, a Wofford psychology professor, with the help of some students, began three years of research to gain new insight into the intellect of border collies.

“These dogs can understand,” Reid said. “If you own a dog, you know the dog has emotions and is an intelligent being.”

In controlled experiments, Chaser demonstrated that she could remember each of her 1,022 toys by name. With that number, the two psychologists — who had to write the name on each toy to remember them all — decided there probably was no upper limit to what Chaser could learn.

~*~

Here is the trick:

Uncle Cecil had no reason to put the blocks in a bag. Also, he would do the trick over and over, but only after putting the blocks in a bag and repeating the whole ritual. He never asked the dog to pick up two lettered blocks IN A ROW. Even so, no one ever guessed his secret.

He would carefully spread the blocks on the floor... and it was always the last block he touched.

Sometimes, Uncle Cecil would touch one just at the last second, almost as an "afterthought" to try and fool him, but the dog always did the trick correctly. He always knew which block he was supposed to pick up, but waited to be "told". Uncle Cecil would tell him to pick up the last one he touched (A! P! M!)--and only then, would he pick up the correct wooden block. The dog greatly enjoyed all the laughter, applause and attention, wagging his tail enthusiastically; he loved doing the blocks trick!

Nobody ever figured it out. Uncle Cecil did not tell the secret until after his beloved canine friend had passed on.

He said he could not bear to teach the trick to another dog.

Merry Christmas from the Family

I've been so profoundly exhausted from another holiday retail season, I almost neglected the fourth year in a row of our Dead Air holiday tradition. I hereby present Robert Earl Keen's MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE FAMILY!

As always, non-rednecks and/or yankees are certainly free to sit this one out.

Have a great Christmas everyone! Feliz Navidad!

~*~

Merry Christmas from the Family - Robert Earl Keen