Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Brake Dust and Stardust

One side has airplanes and ships longer than football fields. Drones that wipe out families celebrating weddings. Exploding cigars! They call the other guys "terrorists." When I was a kid they wore sandals made of tire treads. These days they trick young folks into strapping on bombs to go to concerts.

None of the hotshot "leaders" pick up a weapon. They rely on young men whose hormones develop faster than their brains.

It's always been this way. Maybe it always will.

You can pick up a gun and start your own "revolution." First thing you know, you're right in the middle of it.

Guess what- hormones are good for more than violence. Those young men can be wooed with peace and love. In fact it's an easier sell. In these days of perpetual war it doesn't take an accountant to see that our "defense" budget could feed the poor, provide universal health care and clean up the environment. We'd have enough left over for ice cream for everybody, too.

Oh, I'm not running for anything. I'm just whispering in your ear to drown out those bellowing idiots. When I think of the dreams and the songs of all those who came before me, I have no choice but to speak up.

Naive? I've been called worse. 

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

Monday, May 22, 2017

Dry Eyes and Wet Powder

You just have to want something, don't you? Life's not life, really, if all your dreams come true. Without a carrot on a stick the mule of life won't budge.

You give yourself purpose or you're merely using up oxygen on the planet.

I've spent the better part of life so far pondering my purpose and all clues lead me to love. I will admit to a lack of effort in sport, business, art, and self-promotion. I have loved the best I could.

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Crosswords and Hot Rods

Five hundred bucks was a lot of money in those days. Still is if you happen to write songs that don't rhyme.

My mom won the crossword contest sponsored by the Tampa Times. Let's put this in some perspective. She was a single mother raising a teenage boy on an information operator's salary. Now the question, of course, was how to use this windfall that probably exceeded her monthly paycheck.

Well, of course, she bought me a car. Did I mention that I was fourteen, not old enough to drive legally? Oh, I should probably tell you that it was not my first car. In fact my second car was still in the driveway.

The story is already too unbelievable to bother to add that it was a '32 Ford three window with a Corvette engine. Yeah, a little deuce coupe. Not being able to drive the thing, we had to recruit someone to come with us to drive it home. Sam Durrance was eager to help. He's an astronaut now but that's a different story.

Fortunately, I have no mechanical aptitude. For the next two years the coupe only ran about half the time. No, less. Much less. Probably kept me from killing myself. It was fast when it did run. It was really fast.

Of course I don't recommend spoiling your kid. Let me qualify that. My mom gave me unconditional love and spoiled me with unfettered approval for any endeavor. By the time I was sixteen years old I was in the rock'n'roll business. Still am.

Oh, I've strayed. I've run real estate companies and I've scooped mud from the hull of barges. I've attempted to save the world working as an environmentalist and I've put hot sauce in bottles. I've started a mortgage company and I've written automotive columns for the paper.

Maybe some folks were fooled. Probably the ties. I know I was.

I'm pretty sure my mom never was. She always made me proud of what I do.

Friday, May 19, 2017

Joy, Bliss and the Grindstone

Learning to dream in 3-D is a challenge. There are times when I seem to be able to have some degree of control over my dreams. Oh, I'm aware that it's an illusion. On most days I have little control over my day to day life.

If we're gonna save the world maybe we'd better get busy. This is the most fractured culture that I've ever seen. Don't forget that the Donald Trump phenomena occurred because of us.

As usual its love vs. hate. Yeah, I know- I love our team, too. Let's show that other side what we're made of.

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Playing With Guns

Kids play with guns. I played with guns. Toy guns. Uncles took me hunting. I never killed anything. I remember so well the sense of relief that I would feel as we would leave the deer stand or the dove field. It far outweighed any sense of shame or embarrassment that accompanied my failure as a hunter.

Now, of course, if I hear an unsettling noise outside I go to my bedside cabinet for my blank gun. One day I'm gonna end up face to face with a thug with a bigger blank gun. I got mine when I was six years old in a souvenir shop in Gatlinburg. I'm still on my original tin of blanks. Not many unsettling noises around here and I'm a good sleeper.

Guns, I have to say, is a subject that I try to avoid, aware that I will never change anyone's mind, much less anyone's life. I'll say it here, though- I don't like them. Toys, automatics, handguns, rifles, shotguns, squirt guns, machine guns, zip guns.

None of the excuses move me. Not a little. War is outdated. Insecure males can now do battle with computers. Hunting? I don't consider anything a sport where one team hasn't been informed of the game. Got that, Junior? Capiche, Eric?

Can I tell you how proud I was when I noticed that NRA hacks began following my Twitter account when I thanked my "president" and my lucky stars when he issued his executive order allowing lead back in ammunition.

Remember- when guns are outlawed, only aging hippies will have blank guns.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Slapstick Horror

Knowing that all things go exactly as they're supposed to go gives me some comfort as the world seems to crumble around me. Now I find that wisdom is merely an awareness that I don't know much. Why didn't someone just tell me that on my sixteenth birthday?

I know better than to judge. I judge.

Socially awkward, I'm unable to say most of what I have to say to most of the people around me. I make up for it by telling the dog how much I love her all day. Sometimes I have to wake her up to tell her. I don't think she minds.

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

You Do It For The Money (Or You Don't)

They say that if you stand on a corner in India and pronounce yourself a son of God that folks passing by will celebrate with you. In the USA they will have you locked up. I've never been to India. I'm a son of God.

Sometimes I wonder if I've always been aware of my nature, embarrassed to stand on that corner, or if it has taken me this long to figure it out. I've certainly always known that something was up.

Sometimes I sing for money. Mostly I sing for love.

If you're swooning at my arrogance I should tell you that you're a son of God, too. Pardon my pronoun indifference. I hope my ranting helps lead to the same conclusion.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.