Thursday, November 11, 2010

Quick down and dirty estimate of Joe Walsh's winning margin

At present, with all ballots (absentee, military, contested) having been tabulated from Cook County, awaiting only 700-800 still to be counted from Lake and McHenry counties, Joe Walsh has a 335 vote lead over outhousing incumbent Melissa Bean.

Let's call it 750 votes outstanding.  Joe will get 80% of those, or 600 - 150.  Margin = 450.

Final result, Joe Walsh by 785 over Beano (who really should take her $1.97 million and retire - go do some good in the world; go consult for ACORN).

Just my opinion.

Remembering a saint: Neil Steve Bonne

Born October 28, 1929 in Rockford, IL, son of Cornelius S. Bonne and Elizabeth B. Robertson, died peacefully July 28, 2006 at his home in Crystal Lake, IL, with the people he loved and who loved him.  An MBA Graduate of Northwestern University, Steve served in both the Navy and Marines and he was an executive in the food and coffee industries for 46 years.  His hobbies were golf, flying, boating, scuba diving, reading, crossword puzzles and cooking. He is survived by his wife of 53 years, Virginia; daughter Marti; son Matt; grandchildren, Joey, Brittany and Stephen. A celebration of his life is being arranged. Memorial donations to the National Temporal Bone Registry, boston, MA; Anatomical Gift Association of Illinois, Chicago or McHenry Co.  PADS would be appreciated.

I watched the video of the memorial service (I was even permitted to say a few words).  It was a joyous thing, so many stories, so much love, so much respect.

We miss you Steve. And think often of you.

Joe Walsh goes to Washington

Heading down to the Barrington Rump Hind Quarters known as Republican Central, otherwise called the Hometown Barber Shop, I say Joe Walsh outside the clothing store on South Cook Street, looking to get a new suit.

I leaped out the car, smiled at Joe, gave him the high five and the hug. "Congratulations Joe!  We've missed you at the barbershop.  Hope you can get in to see us soon again.  And BY the way, congratulations, AND, by the way, I called that race for you on 26 October, 2010.  In my blog: I'm voting for Joe Walsh, when I said, WHEN (not if) Joe wins.

And all those idiot CBS political analysts getting their knickers all tied up, "well, no one could have seen this. This race was not even in the top 100."

Well, NO SHIT. Then I told him about how Dirk, posting anonomously, tossed a whole lot of innuendo out there, like shit into the fan, seeing what will stick.  Without going into any detail, I just said, "But the GREATEST part was when he asks 'Who has supported Joe?""

As if he could have possibly gotten a stronger endorsement than a total non-endorsement from the Chicago (sucks) Tribune, the Chicago (not sucks so much) Sun Times, the (really quite good) Daily Herald, and the most expensive collection of real estate adds you'll ever pay anybody to darken you mail box with, the Barrington-Courier Review.

Hey Joe - you da MAN (hot damn)

Then I explained how within 4 months he can become the best known elected politician in Washington D.C.

It's like this, man, I explained

Da da da da dum dum dum
Da da da da dum dum dum
Da da da da dum dum dum
Da da da da dum dum dum
Da da da da dum dum dum
[1st verse [Oo-backing vocals on each line]]
Hey Joe, where you goin' with that gun in your hand?
Hey Joe, I said where you goin' with that gun in your hand?
Alright. I'm goin down to shoot my old lady,
you know I caught her messin' 'round with another man.
Yeah,! I'm goin' down to shoot my old lady,
you know I caught her messin' 'round with another man.
Huh! And that ain't too cool.

[2nd verse [Ah. -backing vocal on each line]]
Uh, hey Joe, I heard you shot your woman down,
you shot her down.
Uh, hey Joe, I heard you shot you old lady down,
you shot her down to the ground. Yeah!

Yes, I did, I shot her,
you know I caught her messin' 'round,
messin' 'round town.
Uh, yes I did, I shot her
you know I caught my old lady messin' 'round town.
And I gave her the gun and I shot her!

(Ah! Hey Joe)
Shoot her one more time again, baby!
(Hey Joe!)
Ah, dig it!
Ah! Ah!
(Joe where you gonna go?)
Oh, alright.

[3rd verse]
Hey Joe, said now,
uh, where you gonna run to now, where you gonna run to?
(where you gonna go?)
Hey Joe, I said,
where you goin' to run
to now, where you, where you gonna go?
Well, dig it!
I'm goin' way down south, way down south,
way down south to Mexico way! Alright!
I'm goin' way down south,
(Hey, Joe)
way down where I can be free!
(where you gonna...)
Ain't no one gonna find me babe!
Ain't no hangman gonna,
(Hey, Joe)
he ain't gonna put a rope around me!
(Joe where you gonna..)
You better belive it right now!
I gotta go now!
Hey, hey, hey Joe,
(Hey Joe)
you better run on down!
(where you gonna...)
Goodbye everybody. Ow!
Hey, hey Joe, what'd I say,
run on down.
(where you gonna go?)

As Joe Walsh walks on stage, carrying his shotgun, pointed to the ground and the local high school orchestras and jazz bands, and the local rock and blues bands, are PRIMING the audience, so that we just KNOW what it's a gonna be that's comin' on down.

Da da da da Da dum dum
Da da da da Da dum dum
Da da da da Da dum dum
Da da da da Da dum dum
Da da da da Da dum dum

Check out the video:

JIMI HENDRIX EXPERIENCE Hey Joe/Sunshine of your Love

birdy974 153 videos
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Forgetting why he walked into the room

AP reports this sad story.  As professional football sports fans, we should be very happy the league wants to keep their quarterbacks as safe as possible.  This would always be the humane thing to do, although, the more likely motivation is the broken quarterbacks reduce the quality of play and the fan excitement.  It is enough though, to do the right thing, even if for not the best of reasons.

McMahon to raise money for brain research

CHICAGO (AP)—Former Chicago Bears quarterback Jim McMahon frequently walks into a room and forgets why he’s there. His memory is “pretty much gone,” he says.
McMahon's boisterous lifestyle and reckless choices may well have contributed to his memory loss.

It stems from his 15 seasons in the NFL during a time when quarterbacks did not receive as much protection as they do in the league today.
I caddied a couple of Mondays at Sunset Ridge Country Club in a foursome in which Jimmy Mac played. My wicked Uncle Kunkle would usually take Jimmy Mac plus a pro and I'd get a pro plus a golf equipment salesman.  The big "caddie bet" revolved around Jimmy Mac's "completion percentage:"  The number of holes he would complete before he walked off the course in disgust, not paying is golf gambling debts, and not paying his caddie. One could say his memory was not so hot in those days, either, back in 2000.

One could also speculate, however, and guess that for much of Jimmy Mac's life somebody else picked up after him, took care of all the obligations (short term, fairly trivial) so that he could hone his talents at throwing a football, develop his daredevil side, and ride the tsunami of fame, celebrity and fortune, much to the delight of us all watching a boy trapped in a man's body, playing a gladiator's game, for the purpose of pushing product on an obese, diabetic population who chose to do little more than worship its celebrities and spend hours a day viewing into the boob tube.

“I’m going through some studies right now, and I am going to do a brain scan,” McMahon told the Chicago Tribune. “It’s unfortunate what the game does to you.

“I’ve worked with some neurosurgeons and it’s a very serious thing, man.”

McMahon, who helped the Bears win the Super Bowl in 1986, has decided to help raise awareness of brain trauma by hosting a fundraiser in Chicago, with the proceeds going to educational programs and clinics for area youth coaches.

The 51-year-old McMahon is working with the Sports Legacy Institute, which promotes the study, treatment and prevention of the effects of brain trauma in athletes.
This is a very thoughtful, mature, giving thing to do. Jimmy Mac, you'll always be my quarterback.

“He’s going to become very active and try to get as many former players involved as he can,” Laurie Navon, McMahon’s girlfriend, told on Wednesday.
So, how does it feel, again, to be a 51-year old with a girlfriend (rather than romantic companion or love-support)?
“He feels it’s important to get more information out there. He and others took the blows for the young kids today, and now the rules are changing after they took all the hits.”
No. I call bull shit. They took the blows because they LIKED getting hit, and getting up, and beating the guys doing the hitting. They'd have played the game for a college scholarship and nothing more. They simply love / loved it.  After all, players of this dedication (15 years) love their chosen trade.  But for them, it never had anything about doing something for the kids, until much after the fact.

Navon said the physical toll from McMahon’s playing career has affected his well-being.
 The life choices McMahon made during his football career have had the greater affect on his well being. That's just not so easy to see.

“He definitely gets depressed, because he can’t do what he used to do and wants to do,” she said.
Welcome to "old-timers club," Peter Pan / Jimmy Mac / Boy wonder / Superman.

Better idea:  focus on what you can do now (that you enjoy) and focus on how to do those things better, with more intention.  Focus on the great joy in small things - the smell of the dew on the grass at dawn, the smell of leaves burning on a late autumn afternoon - the smile in your girl friends' eye when you do that one just right thing that tells her just how much you love her; just how much you appreciate her.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

First Barrington Park District Invitational Shoot Out Pride & Bragging Rights

Name                          145      120     220     195      140     910
M. Ganzer  In
M. Ganzer  Out

Local Rules

#1: play wooded barrier as water hazard

#2: OB – left of the fence: stroke & dist

#3: OB – left of fence / long of fence  stroked & distance
water hazard: drop no nearer hole  one stroke

#4: OB – anything in parking lots - stroke & distance

#5: OB – anything beyond fence - stroke & distance

LIFT CLEAN & PLACE everywhere

FOOT WEDGE – move ball up to 3' no nearer the hole anywhere:
                                you may  improve both lie & shot

Where The Money Will Go

50% awarded to top three  low gross scores(5/3/2)

25% team competition
2 best balls (3-somes get automatic par)  [split 3-2]

25% team compeition
low putts (3-somes get atomatic 2 putt)   [split 3-2]

Keeping it interesting:  Internal group betting options

Foursomes: 9 point Scoth

Low ball: 2
Low total: 2
Prox: 1 (2 for double prx)
Birdie: 2
Keep Tee: 1
Take away tee: 2

Recommend: no presses, no roll/re-rolls

Threesomes: 9 points

All 3 tie: 3-3-3
One win, 2 tie: 5-2-2
Two tie, one lose: 4-4-1
Three different: 5-3-1

Foursomes: Nassau

1 point each for: low ball, low total
one partnership winner for first 5
one partnership winner for second 5
one partnership winner overall

Denominate to you comfort levels

Play well & enjoy!

Special thanks to Pedro (Peter Donahue), Ralphie-Boy (Ralph Ganzer, father), Pastor Don Wink,
Dr. Jim Pride,  Jim Michael and all the rest of y'all who have come out (specially hope to see you Rob Arnold)

Mucho Pride and Bragging Rights are Riding on this!

We'll catch up to you next time Carmen Molinaro, Larry Utley, and Mr. Chris Marzelek

Apologies to any of you I didn't get around to calling.

It'd be wonderful to see Roy Dombeck and Larry & Cheryl Grelle

How many club championships have these all won?  We'll have to count 'em.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

In Havre, Montana (August, 1967)

This was the year my great Uncle Harold took my brother John and me on a the Great Empire Builder from Chicago to Seattle, Washington.  We stopped for a few days to visit our relatives in Havre Montana.  These kin then were not entirely like us, as with the eyes of a poor white country kid from Central Illinois transplanted to the 7th highest mean household income zip code in the country (with populations over 20,000) and went transplanted from not thinking much about wealth and status into a strange new (and not always so friendly environment) where money, wealth, power, and the pursuit of material goods and services ranked quite a bit higher up on the values charts than Church, Faith, Hope, or Charity.


Riding the Great Empire Builder sitting above the bare brown earth
Perched as high as the telephone lines and telephone poles
It was summer, 1967, when first I saw Montana.
This my brother John and I saw: First a cow drinking from a brook
and then sagebrush only for a hundred miles until in the distance
appeared what turned into a large grove of trees growing along
the Missouri River where the train soon would stop in Havre, Montana.

Havre people are friendly, lots of kin. They smile and say “hello”
their faces tired and dry because even though you sweat
it's so hot and dry that the sweat dries up before fully forming your face.
Only at night will the sweat beads cling to and rolls down your nose.
Morning brings biting mosquitoes and it hasn't rained
for sixty long dry days in Havre, Montana.

You see a farmer trying to scratch something
from the land, but he can't do it because
Nature's already sucked the life from it.
The family talks around the TV about how the Indians are movin' in,
from off the reservation to town, not that they are prejudiced,
but why would those Indians want to leave the hills and Beaver Creek
to come and live here, in Havre Montana.

It's so hot but you know that winter will bring twenty feet of snow
at twenty below all the time. It never never rains, it just snows and burns
here, in Havre Montana.

You can cross the Milk River and be in the badlands, a happy place if you watch out
for rattlers and like to hear the eternal silence of the sun beating down so
hard on Havre, Montana.

The hunting's good – bear, wildcat and fishing up North.
There's gold that way too. Every man and boy owns a gun
and you can still be hung right here, right in Havre, Montana.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Butt, Mr. Resident President - did you even THINK to ask what the cost in $ would be to the U.S. public?

Apparently, the Bland One is searching for a friendlier venue than the Daily Show.  Shames himself by appearing on soixante minuets

Obama tells '60 Minutes' that health care overhaul cost more politically than he'd expected

By Associated Press
11:04 PM CST, November 7, 2010

WASHINGTON (AP) — President Barack Obama says the political cost of overhauling the health care system turned out to be higher than he had expected. And he admits that he gets discouraged at times when dealing with the economy.

Enquiring minds doth wish to know: just how the f@ck much extra will be the financial cost to the taxpayers?  Didja even ask, Barck-O, Mr. One & Done?

In an interview airing Sunday night on CBS' "60 Minutes," Obama said the health care system itself is huge and complicated and that changing it eluded previous presidents because it was so difficult.
Revisionist history.  It's such a political issue, that a bi-partisan concensus could never be achieved.

"I made the decision to go ahead and do it, and it proved as costly politically as we expected — probably actually a little more costly than we expected, politically," he said.

Has there been any decision you've made, any legislation you've supported that you did not triangulate to estimate what the political "cost" would be?  Why in the Name of Good God Almighty don't you just do something that is right for the people: for all the people?

Obama said he thought that he would find common ground with Republicans by advancing health care proposals that had been introduced by Republican administrations as well as potential presidential candidate Mitt Romney when he was governor of Massachusetts.
Surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise. They never intended to work with you Barck-o boy.
"I couldn't get the kind of cooperation from Republicans that I had hoped for," he said. "And that was costly, partly because it created the kind of partisanship and bickering that really turn people off."
Wrong. THAT kind of partisanship and bickering turns the Republicans on.  It's what they like best.  Stall, stall, stall the boat as it careeneth down the stream.  Warily, narrowly, airily, warily, life is one wet dream.
Obama said the danger of a second major recession is "much reduced" and a great depression is not on the horizon. Still a danger, he said, is the nation being "stuck in a new normal where unemployment rates stay high."
Of course dumbo, it's not on the horizon: it is dragging people down in the present.  Just keep looking forward sir.  That way permits you to never look backward (where you might learn something) or inward (where you might find something).
"I do get discouraged. I mean, there are times where I thought the economy would had gotten better by now," he said. "One of the things I think you understand as president is you're held responsible for everything. But you don't always have control of everything, especially an economy this big."

Not even the control to influence in some way?  Not even a little?  Poor little 'ole whippin' boy.

However, Obama sounded optimistic about the nation's economic future.
Shell oil, Halliburton, Pepsico, Humana Health Services, and a few others I can name are also optimistic about THEIR economic future.  As for the nation's economic future - frahnkly mah dear, they just don't give no damn.
"I am constantly reminded that we have been through worse times than these, and we've always come out on top," he said. "And I'm positive that the same thing is going to happen this time."
Come out on top and bombing.

Obama said his two years as president haven't changed his ideals.
Because he didn't have any when he came to office, so, what exactly did he think?

"But I think that in terms of how I operated on a day-to-day basis, when you've got a series of choices to make — I think that there are times where we said let's just get it done instead of worrying about how we're getting it done," he said. "And I think that's a problem. I'm paying a political price for that."
Sounds like a whinin' Governor George W. Bush.

The "60 Minutes" interview was taped at the White House on Thursday, before Obama left for a four-nation tour of Asia.
Typical, more usually of lame ducks (which, of course, Obama is) to go and fiddle fart around the international community rather than to stay at home and try to fix some difficult situations.  Typical, typical, typical, typical.


Well, it's about time

The Chicago Tribune has outdone itself by printing the following article:

Climate scientists plan campaign against global warming skeptics

The American Geophysical Union plans to announce that 700 researchers have agreed to speak out on the issue. The effort is a pushback against congressional conservatives who have vowed to kill regulations on greenhouse gas emissions.

By Neela Banerjee, Tribune Washington Bureau
November 8, 2010
Reporting from Washington

Faced with rising political attacks, hundreds of climate scientists are joining a broad campaign to push back against congressional conservatives who have threatened prominent researchers with investigations and vowed to kill regulations to rein in man-made greenhouse gas emissions.

The still-evolving efforts reveal a shift among climate scientists, many of whom have traditionally stayed out of politics and avoided the news media. Many now say they are willing to go toe-to-toe with their critics, some of whom gained new power after the Republicans won control of the House in Tuesday's election.

On Monday, the American Geophysical Union, the country's largest association of climate scientists, plans to announce that 700 climate scientists have agreed to speak out as experts on questions about global warming and the role of man-made air pollution.

John Abraham of St. Thomas University in Minnesota, who last May wrote a widely disseminated response to climate change skeptics, is also pulling together a "climate rapid response team," which includes scientists prepared to go before what they consider potentially hostile audiences on conservative talk radio and television shows.

"This group feels strongly that science and politics can't be divorced and that we need to take bold measures to not only communicate science but also to aggressively engage the denialists and politicians who attack climate science and its scientists," said Scott Mandia, professor of physical sciences at Suffolk County Community College in New York.

"We are taking the fight to them because we are … tired of taking the hits. The notion that truth will prevail is not working. The truth has been out there for the past two decades, and nothing has changed."

During the recent campaigns, skepticism about climate change became a rallying cry for many Republican candidates. Of the more than 100 new GOP members of Congress, 50% are climate change skeptics, according to an analysis of campaign statements by the Center for American Progress, a liberal think tank.

Prominent Republican congressmen such as Darrell Issa of Vista, Joe L. Barton of Texas and F. James Sensenbrenner Jr. of Wisconsin have pledged to investigate the Environmental Protection Agency's regulation of greenhouse gas emissions. They say they also intend to investigate the so-called Climategate scandal, in which thousands of e-mails of leading climate scientists were hacked and released to the public last year.

Climate change skeptics argued that the sniping in some e-mails showed that scientists suppressed research by skeptics and manipulated data. Five independent panels subsequently cleared the researchers involved and validated the science.

"People who ask for and accept taxpayer dollars shouldn't get bent out of shape when asked to account for the money," said James M. Taylor, a senior fellow and a specialist in global warming at the conservative Heartland Institute in Chicago. "The budget is spiraling out of control while government is handing out billions of dollars in grants to climate scientists, many of whom are unabashed activists."

Ongoing public interest in Climategate has prompted the scientists to act.

The American Geophysical Union plan has attracted a large number of scientists in a short time because they are eager to address what they see as climate misinformation, said Jeffrey Taylor, research fellow at the National Center for Atmospheric Research in Colorado and manager of the project.

Still, the scope of the group's work is limited, reflecting the ongoing reluctance among many scientists to venture into politics.

A rapid-response team, however, is willing to delve into politics. In the week that Abraham and others have been marshaling the team, 39 scientists agreed to participate, including Richard Feely, senior scientist with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration; Kevin Trenberth, head of the Climate Analysis Section at the National Center for Atmospheric Research; and Michael Oppenheimer, professor of geosciences and international affairs at Princeton University.

"People who've already dug their heels in, we're not going to change their opinions," Mandia said. "We're trying to reach people who may not have an opinion or opinion based on limited information."

 The real pity of all this is that with anything resembling a functioning press (fourth estate) the time and effort these scientists are going to invest in presenting their case could have been allocated more to doing something about climate change rather than to just get the reality of climate change acknowledged.  But, we live in a dumbed-down society, and our media, TV, print, radio have all contributed mightily to our national willingness to stick our heads under the sand while climate change proceeds to either blow, boil,  freeze, or drown our dumb asses away.


Another in an ongoing and continuing examples of willful ignorance.


This story was deemed important enough to be emplaced on page 12 of the Tribune print edition, losing out to such page 1 hotties as:

1.  Bears bounce back - sports; football

2. Hopefuls are out of the blocks for sprint - sports; elections; horse race; keeping the money raised stats

3. 41% of drivers say they've fallen asleep at the wheel (and I bet this does not even include the ones who fell asleep and died in a vehicular accident)

Such page 2 matters of most pressing urgence as:

Cold comfort; Helping new Chicagoans brace for winter (which ought to tell you about how much respect the tribune has for the "new Chicagoans" - insult cha'all right in your faces [didn't read the article, but I'll hazard a guess: wear multiple layers of clothing; always wear something on your head; wear good socks; wear good boots; wear good gloves; keep candy bars and other snacks in your car; keep plenty of bottle water in it too; that way, when the homeless people who refuse the shelters curl up in your vehicle, they will not have to be frozen to death when you go and start your car]

CRAP - I just passed out at the puter and deleted my comments on the articles on pages 2-11; a kind of gut check to see just what the tribune wants us to believe is most important.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

I met a girl who sang the blues

So I asked her from some kinds of news, and then I overstepped a line - and thus - in a flicker of an imaginative moment, these, Cindy, I dedicate to you, holding out hope that all will resonate, and that more than one, you will have never before heard or seen:

You brought back a blessed memory of this – 'tis your raven-coloured hair:

The Highwayman
   ------Loreena McKennitt

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon the cloudy seas
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
And the highwayman came riding, riding, riding,
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark innyard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by the moonlight, watch for me by the moonlight,
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell shall bar the way.

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand
But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of the perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet waves in the moonlight!)
He tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

He did not come at the dawning; he did not come at noon,
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching, marching, marching
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at the casement, with muskets at their side!
there was death at every window, hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement,
The road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"now keep good watch!" And they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say
"Look for me by the moonlight, watch for me by the moonlight
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell shall bar the way!"

She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness and the hours crawled by like years!
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight, cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

Tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horses hoofs ring clear
Tlot-tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding, riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming!
She stood up straight and still!

Tlot in the frosty silence! Tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment! She drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight, her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death.

He turned; he spurred to the west; he did not know she stood
bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it; his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter, the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

And back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were the spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
when they shot him down on the highway, down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

Still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding, riding, riding,
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
- - -

But, that was a heavy-hearted song of a love that lasted forever and beyond, and was paid for in blood. There are other loves, that last forever and beyond, and are earned by earnest and endearing folk, taking life as it floats by the way; floats by the way:

And what more love than this of childhood, of slow movement along the days winding ways, winding on riverulets, and etc, and etc, and thus, this retelling of that most beloved and lyrical and poetic of all the children's tales, as retold by the Scotsman, Van Morrison:

Piper At The Gates Of Dawn
   ------Van Morrison

The coolness of the riverbank, and the whispering of the reeds
Daybreak is not so very far away

Enchanted and spellbound, in the silence they lingered
And rowed the boat as the light grew steadily strong
And the birds were silent, as they listened for the heavenly music
And the river played the song

The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn

The song dream happened and the cloven hoofed piper
Played in that holy ground where they felt the awe and wonder
And they all were unafraid of the great god Pan

And the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn

When the vision vanished they heard a choir of birds singing
In the heavenly silence between the trance and the reeds
And they stood upon the lawn and listened to the silence

Of the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn

It's the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
- - -

And, because I swear I heard it this way, the ulalean pipes, when they enter into to the song (last verse, of course) play the same theme as was played by that goldest, warmest, delriously delicious love song sung by Sting, that when once heard (time the first) is not only never forgotten, but too is the then love rememered, and with the elements aligned, relieved, relived, relished and begotten (and forever):

Sting Fields Of Gold Lyrics

You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold

So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold

See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in the fields of gold
We'll walk in the fields of gold

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold

But mostly because you remain now even, and perhaps for all your days, a hopefuly romantic, that this one 'tis the one, I must assume, that your father loved you, and you he loved, and that your father loved your mother even more than he loves life itself (sung by father to daughter)

And finally, because I'd be doing you (and me) a disservice by ending so positively, take this one to heart and remember, not all loves are meant to last foever; some of them merely hurt that long.

Trisha Yearwood, Lying To The Moon Lyrics

I watch the sun going down
While I stand on sacred ground
Where once the night found us
In the twilight of our love

You said you'd meet me here
And I'm all alone
You sounded so sincere
Did you lead me on

I told the starry sky to wait for you
I told the wind to sigh like lovers do
I even told the night you were true
And you would be here soon
And now I'm lying to the moon

And so the night takes me in
Like a sympathetic friend
And sends the wind through the trees
So the willow weeps for me

The shadows fool my eyes
And I think I see you
Then they start to cry
Don't you know they believed you

I told the starry sky to wait for you
I told the wind to sigh like lovers do
I even told the night you were true
And you would be here soon
And now I'm lying to the moon

I told the starry sky to wait for you
I told the wind to sigh like lovers do
I even told the night you were true
And you would be here soon
And now I'm lying to the moon

- - - - -

And, because finally and ultimately, this was hands down and far away my favorite Mama's & the Papa's song – and there is an element of ambiguity here that makes me scratch my skill and chin.

- - - - -

Mamas & The Papas Lyrics

I used to live in new york city
Every thing there was dark and dirty
Outside my window was a steeple
With a clock that always said 12:30

Young girls are coming to the canyon
And in the morning I can see them walking
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn
And I can’t keep myself from talking.

At first so strange to feel so friendly
To say good morning and really mean it
To feel these changes happening in me
But not to notice till I feel it.

Young girls are coming to the canyon
And in the morning I can see them walking
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn
And I can’t keep myself from talking.

Cloudy waters cast no reflection
Images of beauty lie there stagnant
Vibrations bounce in no direction
And lie there shattered into fragments.

Young girls are coming to the canyon
And in the morning I can see them walking
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn
And I can’t keep myself from talking.

- - - - -

So, Cindy, if any of these touched your heart even just a little, then I did a good today. If any of these brought tears of relief to your eyes; forgive me; I did not intend to make you cry (except that I know that all actions have consequences).

It was nice meeting you.

Good Night, and

Good Luck
Enjoy and find delight


OOPs, almost forgot: this is your totem

The Raven

by Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
                                       Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!

Six degrees of seperation

Just how far away are we from being introduced to anyone one earth?

The movie Six Degrees of Seperation suggests that there are only six people between us and the one we would like to know.  Here, let's play that game:

Between me and Harry Truman?  Too easy.  Tom Sucher - Richard J. Daley - Harry S. Truman

Between me and Barack Obama?  Way too simple.  Natalie Jean C- - - - -   :  Natalie's Cousin : Natalie's Cousin's Husband = Obama's brother-in-law

Me and Jack Nicholson:   Me - Harry Dean Stanton - Jack, or
Me - my cousin Jimmie Ganzer - Jack Nicholson (Jack bought an artist loft that Jimmy had converted from a ware house)

Me and Michael Jordan?  Me - Greg Kunkel (my uncle Kunkel) - Golf Operations Director, Sunset Ridge Country Club - Northbrook, Illinois - MJ

Me and Dan Rostankowski?  Me - Will Burgess, the actuary who hired me at Bankers' Life & Casualty on that fateful day in May, 1073 - Dan Rostankowski.

You can see how quickly this exercise devolves into trivia.

Wonder how far removed from each other we really ever are?

But all politicians are corrupt anyway, so even after we elect this new batch, nothing's gonna change

"But all politicians are corrupt anyway, so even after we elect this new batch, nothing's gonna change."

Loser. Disgusting loser. Putrid loser. All that's needed is a lead with the will to set an uncorruptable bulldog down upon the throats of the cheaters, the liars, the stealers. all those incompetent cronies who only know how to make a living by suckling from the public's teat.

Oh, Mark (you think), you're just a damn 60's hippie thinkin' it's all about gettin' high, and rollin' your lady around in the mud?

Nope. No way, I say, because of my buddy Tom Sucher's story.

Tom was interviewed by Old Mayor J. Richard to take over the running and computerizing of the Department of Motor Vehicles for Chicago.  The newspapers were brimming with reports of the Graylord corruption scandals whereby numerous Chicago Judges and Bailiffs were caught afflicting the outcomes of DMV cases based on bribes split between the Bailiffs (who called when each case would be adjudicated) and the Judges.

During their interview, Hizzoner learned that Tom had been in computers with the Air Force for 6 years since 1954, and then subsequnetly with Blue Cross / Blue Shield of Illinois.  Tom fully disclosed that he was terminated from BC / BS by its President who wistfully noted: "Tom, you have too much imagination to be an insurance industry executive."

"How soon can you start?" the Mayor asked.

"Tomorrow, you honor, however, before I accept this position, we need to clarify that my family and I are currently residents of the Arlington Heights, Illinois community. My children go to school there, their friends live there, and that is where we will continue to make our life.  For me to take this job, I require that the Chicago residency requirement of all Chicago City Employees be waived.  For I cannot begin my job to root out corruption with a lie; a cheap apartment with a city address for the sake of mere appearance. That would be tantamount to fighting corruption with corruption.  And that fight will always fail."

"You can start tomorrow then, Tom?"

"Yes sir!"

"Be at your desk by 8 a.m. I'll see you then."

Upon arriving at his desk, a DMV employee walked into Tom's office to ask, "Will it be business as usual, Boss?"

"I'm not sure what business as usual means," replied Tom.

The employee then put on the desk a paper sack full of money.

Tom looked into the sack, gently pushed it away, and said, "No. It will not be business as usual today, or ever again here.  Take this away."

And that is how you uproot institutional corruption. Have the overall leader take the lead, appoint the new broom to sweep clean; have the overall leader make clear his unequivocal support of the new broom, and watch as the changes happen.

It just takes two men of strong will and unimpeachable character. Just two.

Do we have these two men anywhere in the U.S. House of Representatives?

How about - Joe Walsh and Dennis Kucinich?

Now, what a coalition that would be.

post script:  Tom's second born son, Scott Sucher, would blow up the family basement a half dozen times while engaging in chemical science experiments.  Scott has grown up to be the world's leading authority on historic gems, and is the unrivaled best diamond counterfitter who has ever lived.

Working for Mayor Daley also permitted Tom the honor of meeting one of his personal political heroes, Harry S. Truman who was in Chicago for a visit with the mayor.  One of those typical left coast stories, that happens even here, here in the heartland of the midwest, in the Great State of Illinois, in its Great Windy City, Chicago.

I may make you feel, but I can't make you think

Initial reactions to my "What kind of a whore" post lead me to follow up with my "I write for two entirely different audiences and for several different purposes, therefore" article.

Initial reaction to WKOAWhore piece was swift and filled with revulsion.  My mother was concerned about my mood and attitude, and my barber told me if I ever crossed that line again he would toss my plump fat white ass out the door never again to return any more, and then further insinuated that I must have gone off my meds (well, I DID wean myself off the worthless anti-depressants;  can't quit the mood stabalizers ever.)

What shocked both Anne and Warren was not what I had to say, but how I went about saying it, using violent, graphic language to make a pornagraphic between Obama's quid sweet blow job to the the health care and pharmacueticals corporation and their pro quo response, which permits them to their raping and pillaging of the health care resources from ALL Americans, young and old, rich and poor, black and white.

So, it was WHAT I said they found so disturbing, NOT the existence of an unlimited blank check for the sole purpose of fucking over the American Taxpayers by condemning them to ever accept fee for services doctors to allegedly treat them.

As time goes on, it will be interesting to see how this debate plays ou