The Jazz Bus: Flying with Maggots
Sounds like a great name for an album title, FLYING WITH MAGGOTS. The band is breaking up, we are on our last tour and actually despise each other. Yes, an apropos name. But no, not a joke or an album name but rather a true headline. Seems a passenger on a recent domestic flight got through security and brought spoiled meat onto a plane. He calmly stored it in an overhead compartment and took his seat. During the course of the flight passengers started to notice little white bugs landing on their clothes and persons.
Anyone who has flown in the last few years knows the extent of security at our airports. Off with your shoes, no lighters, oh, spoiled, rotten, smelly meat,” go ahead, aisle 6 seat c, and sir, May I store your package overhead for you?” Ah, but the plane has oversubscribed with extra carry-ons, so it (the spoiled meat) will not be directly over the culprit who brought it. Rather, it will be over some unsuspecting patron.
But the story got better. The moron who brought the meat onboard gets removed from the plane, placed on another airline and flown to his destination in short order, while the other passengers remained on the plane ,waited for the overhead to be cleaned and then they were flown, delayed by many hours, on the same but now cleaned plane to their destination. After arriving at their destination the plane was then taken out of service and fumigated, finally. Social justice would have been to let one of the passengers take the maggot infested meat and force feed the maggot who brought it on to the plane. John DiScala, a travel blogger known as Johnny Jet, said that the airline can't be blamed for this one. No kidding. It was stupidity.
Now a Jet Blue flight attendant, Steven Slater loses it, cursed out passengers over the PA, pulls the emergency exit chute chord, grabs a few beers, jumps out the plane and runs across the tarmac heading home. That is one of the best ways to state, “I quit”. All because some passenger got him upset by not follow instructions, grabbing his overhead luggage while the plane was still moving and hitting Stevie in the head with the bag causing a gash. Cool, way to go, Steven. I know how you feel, the airlines are the new Disneyland and I am only an occasion rider. Sitting on an overcrowded plane, next to someone’s kids with his brother directly behind you, with Mom and Dad sipping Bloody Mary’s many seats away paying no attention to their hyperactive kids next to me or kicking my upright seat. My overhead bag is stored rows away from me because this family brought their entire clothes and toy collection in their carry-ons and they were seated first because they “have little ones” as Mama requested. This poor flight attendant, Steven Slater, could face seven years for criminal charges while the passenger, scot free. Hmmm.
Jazzbus@gmail.com
Monday, August 23, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Whew, been away awhile...
Spent the last few weeks south of the Mason-Dixon line. Had plenty of time to read and play my guitar. The reading was basically research; three books on The Beatles, all technical in nature and very informative, sometimes too informative. Information I either had forgotten or tried to suppress.One book of note YOU NEVER GIVE ME YOUR MONEY...give it a shot if you are interested in the money side of The Fab Four.
Finally got around to reading The Dragon Tattoo, now I have the other two of the trilogy on my shelf.I see what all the fuss is about, finding the right actress to play The Girl.
Got a chance to see Gov't Mule, two smoking sets in a 5000 standing room only hall. Warren Haynes proves to be outstanding. More on that next time out.
Finally got around to reading The Dragon Tattoo, now I have the other two of the trilogy on my shelf.I see what all the fuss is about, finding the right actress to play The Girl.
Got a chance to see Gov't Mule, two smoking sets in a 5000 standing room only hall. Warren Haynes proves to be outstanding. More on that next time out.
RIP Abbey Lincoln
Taken from the news service:
One of jazz music's most prolific voices over the past half century, has gone silent.
Singer-songwriter Abbey Lincoln died Saturday, Aug. 14. She was 80.
While not as well-known as her contemporaries, such as Nancy Wilson and the late Nina Simone, Lincoln was revered by jazz purists and music aficionados keyed into her phrasing, emotion and signature style.
One of jazz music's most prolific voices over the past half century, has gone silent.
Singer-songwriter Abbey Lincoln died Saturday, Aug. 14. She was 80.
While not as well-known as her contemporaries, such as Nancy Wilson and the late Nina Simone, Lincoln was revered by jazz purists and music aficionados keyed into her phrasing, emotion and signature style.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Independence Day 2010
Beautiful weather in New York town, temperature hitting the low 90's and humidity nil, skies clear and blue. What a day. Tennis is over and a minor clean up is taking place from our party last night. Time to reflect on what a great place this country is....
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Winter: The Weather not the guitarist
THE JAZZ BUS: Remembering Winter
What a winter! Thinking back to this past October, I remembered watching a local television weather person quoting from Poor Richard’s Almanac with a prediction of a very cold, snowy, few months ahead. What we on Long Island would call winter weather. Whenever weather is predicted, especially a long range forecast, I am skeptical to say the least. A weatherman only needs to be right occasionally. A fifty -fifty shot each day. Hey, I can do that and when wrong he/ she returns the next day with no penalty, no foul. But looking back to October, I guess he was correct. Next year I’ll buy an early edition of the almanac, and make my plans to be out of town if weather like this is predicted again.
Three snow storms. Blizzard style snow falls, with whipping winds and plenty of white stuff. After the first I said “nice”, now hopefully we are done for the winter. But then the second one arrived. A huge dig out. Okay, enough, I had hoped. But, no, a third. “Are you kidding me?!” Most municipalities claimed their “snow” budgets were maxed out by the end of the second storm. Schools were closed and snow days used. Roads were difficult to drive on and parking non-existent. Snow plowers and local chiropractors must have loved it.
Following all that was the rainstorm of March 13, 2010 with the merry month of May type weather on March 19th. My body was confused. Snow, rain, warmth, what next? I should not have asked. More rain, sort of like penance. A record rainfall of over 12 inches in one month. It was not even time for those April showers and yet it was soggy. Please, no more, I begged. But then the high wind gusts and rain storms from mid to end of March. My roof is blown off, siding missing and water rising in the basement faster than two sump pumps could get it out. Mementoes destroyed. Huge Tupperware style boxes somehow toppled over and filled with the rising water. Carefully stored books, records, cds, soaked, and one of my prized drums filled with water like an aquarium. The heating unit and water heater’s pilot lights were drowned out. The water table would need to subside and both units need to dry out before a relighting could take place. This would take days. At least the house was somewhat warm.
I remember snow days as a kid, anticipating the early morning radio announcement that school would be closed. Waiting patiently while the announcer read from an exhausting alphabetical listing of schools. Then, the ultimate joy. Yes, school was closed. Outside we would go, as soon as practical, building snow men, shoveling the walks, and heading through the neighborhood to help dig people out. Snow was fun, rain, not so much. But this winter we had the most snow on Long Island since 1947/48. Rainfall had to be a record also. Not fun anymore. More work than fun. But now, it is June and easy to forget the unforgettable winter of 2009-2010.
jazzbus@gmail.com
What a winter! Thinking back to this past October, I remembered watching a local television weather person quoting from Poor Richard’s Almanac with a prediction of a very cold, snowy, few months ahead. What we on Long Island would call winter weather. Whenever weather is predicted, especially a long range forecast, I am skeptical to say the least. A weatherman only needs to be right occasionally. A fifty -fifty shot each day. Hey, I can do that and when wrong he/ she returns the next day with no penalty, no foul. But looking back to October, I guess he was correct. Next year I’ll buy an early edition of the almanac, and make my plans to be out of town if weather like this is predicted again.
Three snow storms. Blizzard style snow falls, with whipping winds and plenty of white stuff. After the first I said “nice”, now hopefully we are done for the winter. But then the second one arrived. A huge dig out. Okay, enough, I had hoped. But, no, a third. “Are you kidding me?!” Most municipalities claimed their “snow” budgets were maxed out by the end of the second storm. Schools were closed and snow days used. Roads were difficult to drive on and parking non-existent. Snow plowers and local chiropractors must have loved it.
Following all that was the rainstorm of March 13, 2010 with the merry month of May type weather on March 19th. My body was confused. Snow, rain, warmth, what next? I should not have asked. More rain, sort of like penance. A record rainfall of over 12 inches in one month. It was not even time for those April showers and yet it was soggy. Please, no more, I begged. But then the high wind gusts and rain storms from mid to end of March. My roof is blown off, siding missing and water rising in the basement faster than two sump pumps could get it out. Mementoes destroyed. Huge Tupperware style boxes somehow toppled over and filled with the rising water. Carefully stored books, records, cds, soaked, and one of my prized drums filled with water like an aquarium. The heating unit and water heater’s pilot lights were drowned out. The water table would need to subside and both units need to dry out before a relighting could take place. This would take days. At least the house was somewhat warm.
I remember snow days as a kid, anticipating the early morning radio announcement that school would be closed. Waiting patiently while the announcer read from an exhausting alphabetical listing of schools. Then, the ultimate joy. Yes, school was closed. Outside we would go, as soon as practical, building snow men, shoveling the walks, and heading through the neighborhood to help dig people out. Snow was fun, rain, not so much. But this winter we had the most snow on Long Island since 1947/48. Rainfall had to be a record also. Not fun anymore. More work than fun. But now, it is June and easy to forget the unforgettable winter of 2009-2010.
jazzbus@gmail.com
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Reading and Listening
Funny how a blog written back in April will find me in June still listening to a Moby Grape collection. My condition is usually labeled Musical Attention Deficit Disorder, or MADD, a few seconds of sound and if it doesn't grab me, next track, next cd, next artist.Even friends will affectionately refer to me as "the musical snob", not for my ability to play music but rather for my tastes in music.
So had did a Moby Grape collection stay on my cd player for so long? Easy. A recent flood in my basement caused me to perform many manual duties in the dark dingy space. Clean up took two weeks,then repairs, then paint, the walls, ceiling, floors, trim. One portable cd player plugged in, and five Moby Grape albums. Plenty of time. I know all the tunes by heart. I did expand my taste this week by adding Love, the Arthur Lee fronted band of the Sixties, then threw in The Dead, and a smoking 3 cd collection from The Allman Brothers Beacon run of 2003.I didn't tempt fate by bringing down any jazz records, knowing the bride might beg me to put the radio on, and a sloppy painter am I, I didn't want to spoil one Coltrane cd jacket.
Spare time reading has been SuperFreak Economics, which I will eventually finish, and of course continuing on with the Vince Flynn series.
So had did a Moby Grape collection stay on my cd player for so long? Easy. A recent flood in my basement caused me to perform many manual duties in the dark dingy space. Clean up took two weeks,then repairs, then paint, the walls, ceiling, floors, trim. One portable cd player plugged in, and five Moby Grape albums. Plenty of time. I know all the tunes by heart. I did expand my taste this week by adding Love, the Arthur Lee fronted band of the Sixties, then threw in The Dead, and a smoking 3 cd collection from The Allman Brothers Beacon run of 2003.I didn't tempt fate by bringing down any jazz records, knowing the bride might beg me to put the radio on, and a sloppy painter am I, I didn't want to spoil one Coltrane cd jacket.
Spare time reading has been SuperFreak Economics, which I will eventually finish, and of course continuing on with the Vince Flynn series.
Hockey Soccer Basketball Baseball Golf, etc...
This time of year my television is on every night, usually, oh well, always tuned into a major sporting event. The Black Hawks have regained Lord Stanley's Cup,after a long draught, defeating the despised Broad Street Bullies of old, Philadelphia Flyers. The Hawks, clearly the better team had to fight until the last seconds against a scrappy, somewhat questionable, group of guys who fought their way up the playoff ladder to game seven.
The U.S.A. soccer team played England to a one one draw on a shaky performance of the British goalkeeper. In the blink of an eye a routine stop slithers away and ties the score. While I am keeping an eye on the box scores of this the most watched sporting event in the world, I am only rooting for our home team, and that incessant noise has got to go.
Mets, Yankees, almost perfect/imperfect games, grand slams, Strasberg, give it to me. The MLB channels are on constantly, with me wearing out the batteries on the remote by moving from one event to the next, and next, and next.
Tiger, Phil,The US OPEN. Need I say more. The press harps too much on their family lives. Cut it out already. Let's just play golf. Man versus the little white ball.While I hope Tiger makes a run at the title, and Phil is his partner on Sunday,deep down I say the trophy should go to someone else, a rising star who has no known baggage the announcers can drone on for hours at a time. Just golf this week boys.
Game seven in L.A., Lakers versus the Boston Celtics. Pretty cool. Even to those who do not like N.B.A. Basketball, this event has to draw you in. Doc Rivers, Phil Jackson, Rondo, Kobe, whew, I am tired and a bit hoarse through game six coaching both teams from my comfy chair.
So honey, I'll paint the fence next week, ah but wait, isn't it N.F.L.training camp? Maybe the next week for that fence.
The U.S.A. soccer team played England to a one one draw on a shaky performance of the British goalkeeper. In the blink of an eye a routine stop slithers away and ties the score. While I am keeping an eye on the box scores of this the most watched sporting event in the world, I am only rooting for our home team, and that incessant noise has got to go.
Mets, Yankees, almost perfect/imperfect games, grand slams, Strasberg, give it to me. The MLB channels are on constantly, with me wearing out the batteries on the remote by moving from one event to the next, and next, and next.
Tiger, Phil,The US OPEN. Need I say more. The press harps too much on their family lives. Cut it out already. Let's just play golf. Man versus the little white ball.While I hope Tiger makes a run at the title, and Phil is his partner on Sunday,deep down I say the trophy should go to someone else, a rising star who has no known baggage the announcers can drone on for hours at a time. Just golf this week boys.
Game seven in L.A., Lakers versus the Boston Celtics. Pretty cool. Even to those who do not like N.B.A. Basketball, this event has to draw you in. Doc Rivers, Phil Jackson, Rondo, Kobe, whew, I am tired and a bit hoarse through game six coaching both teams from my comfy chair.
So honey, I'll paint the fence next week, ah but wait, isn't it N.F.L.training camp? Maybe the next week for that fence.
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