Thought and Opinion

Friday

It’s here! It’s here! The greatest day of the week is finally here! That’s right boys and girls, it’s Friday again!

Wikipedia says Friday is the day between Thursday and Saturday. How dare they put Friday in the same classification as the other days of the week?

As IF Friday is on equal footing as, let’s say, a TUESDAY. Ask anyone to choose what day of the week they look forward to the most and see what their answer is. You’ll see, it’s all about the Friday.

I mean, really, what’s not to love about Friday?

  • It’s the last day of the typical work week.
  • It’s the day the official “weekend” begins.
  • It’s PAYDAY!
  • It means we do things in a more casual way
  • It’s the day new movies are released in theaters
  • It’s usually the precursor to the day you leave for vacation
  • It’s the night you can get sloshed and have two days to recover before going back to work.
  • It’s the day you can say “TGIF” and people agree. You surely couldn’t say “TGIW” and get the same response.
  • People have written hit songs paying homage to Friday. Katy Perry’s “Last Friday Night” is a good example. Another one comes to mind but I can’t think of the title of it right now.

About the only “negative” thing you can say about Friday is that a certain “13th” day of the month might possibly fall on it. Big whoop-tee doo. A Friday the 13th twice a year is still better than 52 weeks of Mondays.

The only thing better than a Friday is my birthday, October 5th. But in two years from now the stars will align and even that too will once again fall on a Friday.

I like to take my Fridays with a big plate of bacon and coffee. The day is fresh like clean linen hanging out on the clothes line on a warm spring day. The possibilities are endless.

Friday is a blank canvas and you’ve got all the paints to create a masterpiece.

Make it a good one!

Thought and Opinion

Have You Ever Had The Feeling….

I’m not saying everything I’m about to post here is true. I’m just saying there are certain things in society that strike me as peculiar. Since this is my blog I’ve decided to post a few. So, with that in mind:

Have you ever had the feeling…

Sporting milestones are fixed?: 

I’m not talking about actual outcomes of games (although I’m sure there are cases where that may be possible). But what I mean is a more individualized situation.

Consider this: Derek Jeter of the New York Yankees had his historic 3,000th hit at home in Yankee Stadium and a home run no less. This coming from a guy who’s had a so-so season, hit only two other home runs and been on the disabled list with a messed up calf. Yankee fans in the midst of an awkward season, where their team didn’t get their ace pitcher Cliff Lee, get to wave the banner again.

Now I’m not saying Jeter didn’t deserve his milestone 3,000 hit. He obviously does.  All I’m saying is could the opportunity for an opposing pitcher to throw a meatball right down the middle and also get into the record book be any more tempting?

Have you ever had the feeling…

Politicians Don’t Have Our Best Interests at Heart?:

So the United States is on the verge of default and our elected representatives don’t seem to be able to get it together and figure it out. In fact, some would much rather see us default and have interest rates go through the roof just so they can see which party actually takes the blame for it at the ballot box next year. After all, there is a presidential election in 2012. The most important one we’ve ever had, since the last one.  The future of our country depends on it… yadda, yadda, yadda.

I’m so tired of seeing this dog and pony show going on from people who only care about being re-elected. Want a real simple solution to all of the problems facing this country? I can sum it up in two words: TERM LIMITS


Finally, Have you ever had the feeling…

You were being watched?

All this hacking scandal stuff with News of the World and News Corp makes it easy to see how quickly our privacy can be invaded without our knowledge; regardless of whether “Big Brother” is the government or a billion dollar news organization.

Oh why couldn’t that guy have connected with the shaving cream pie on Rupert Murdoch?

But seriously, don’t you occasionally feel like the eyes of strange things are upon you? I mean, if they can hack into the royal family and the Prime Minister they could easily get you or me. It’s possible.

Look, out there in the audience…

Art, Movies and TV, NY Ink, Thought and Opinion

New York Ink: The Best Show You’re Not Watching

I’m not a big fan of reality television. It gets old quick when the biggest shows are singing competitions and celebrity dance offs.

I’ve also grown tired of watching single bachelors choosing a soul mate from dozens of women only to read about their break up in People magazine six weeks after the show ends as they try to come to grips with what went wrong.

And please, don’t even get me started on the show about the beach.

Sadly, I began to accept the fate of having to spend the end of every night mindlessly dialing 1-800 numbers. That is of course, until I stumbled upon New York Ink.

New York Ink is a new “reality-based” show on TLC that follows the events of famed tattoo artist Ami James as he opens a tattoo studio, The Wooster Street Social Club, in the SOHO district of New York City.

The show also includes a plethora of incredible tattoo artists: Megan Massacre, Tim Hendricks, Tommy Montoya and Chris Torres. Also on board are Billy DeCola (the intern), the lovable Jessica Gahring (shop manager) and Robear (floor manager and big cuddly guy).

Being a tattoo virgin, I initially just tuned in to see what the whole tattooing process was about. What I discovered was a refreshing change from the otherwise mundane variety of shows that currently dominate the TV dial.

Most of New York Ink deals with the day to day struggle of Ami trying to make a go of it in New York. Of course, there are the clashes with staff members and all the drama that goes with it (very typical in reality shows). But what sets this show apart from all the other standards is the real “human” element. That ace in the hole being the clientele that come into the studio to get tattooed.

For in between shouting matches among staff and Ami’s frustration with the business being slow are scenes of customers coming in, getting their tattoo and telling their story. This is where the show really shines.

First, each client gives the artist an idea or sketch of what they have in mind for a tattoo. After it’s drawn up and the tattooing process begins we are treated to the back story of why the person chose the particular piece.

I’ve heard wonderful tales of people getting tattoos to commemorate the loss of loved ones, their experiences from 9/11 and even how they’ve overcome other impossible odds.

Afterwards, when the final piece in unveiled, there is a flood of emotion that both the client and artist share. Many times, at least for me, it’s very moving.

This show made me rethink my original negative feelings about tattoos. I never fully understood the real reason why some people would get one. It’s wonderful when a show can change the way you feel and New York Ink does just that.

The season finale of the show airs this week and there’s drama that an artist is leaving and Ami may also lose the shop. But none of that concerns me. In “reality”, I know Ami, Megan and the rest will all be ok.

I’m tuning in because I want to hear more stories about the art of being human.

Article first published as New York Ink: The Best Show You’re Not Watching on Technorati.

Childhood Memories, Life, Motorcycle

The Five Senses of Motorcycle

It’s a beautiful summer day in mid July. The kind where the temperature is just perfect. By that I mean not overbearingly hot or humid which is typically the norm for this time of year.

I think I’m going to take my motorcycle for a ride. In fact, a day like this pretty much requires it. Riding a bike on a day like this is spiritual catharsis.

I’m not one of those people who has to ride the bike everywhere I go. To me, motorcycle riding is sacred. I’ll never ride my bike on the highway on long trips. Not just because of the danger factor but also because it’s pointless.

I’ve come to the conclusion that any thing that requires using a “from here to there” means of transportation is what a car is for.

In fact, other than two wheels, there is another huge difference between cars and bikes. Cars are meant for “driving” while bikes are meant for “riding”.

People often ask me what makes riding one so special. It’s easy to explain.

Have you ever driven in a convertible? Do you remember that feeling you had of the top being down? The wind in your hair? Well, imagine that times ten. That’s what it’s like on a bike. 

Also, when you ride you immediately become a member of an exclusive club with full benefits. For you see, there’s a special camaraderie among motorcyclists too.

It’s the only means of transportation where, no matter what kind of bike you have, when you pass someone coming in the opposite direction of you also riding a motorcycle expect a head nod or to be waved to. It took me a few times to figure out what that salute was all about. 

It’s actually a means of communication between two motorcyclists. A language only we can understand. We’re both members in a special club. Essentially, it’s saying we are one in the same.

Motorcycling to me is all about the experience. It fuels the senses. Every last one of them. Even if it’s a simple trip through the back roads to clear your head. There is nothing in the world that can compare to the feeling of being in control of a motorcycle.

Let me explain what I mean by fueling the senses:

Seeing: When you’re out on the road you have a better visual of the world. From the green pastures to the asphalt. The beautiful sky, the animals of the forest and the old structures you pass near farm lands is simply breathtaking. You can take in as little or as much as you want. There are no limits.

Riding without the constraints of a car surrounding you puts you more in tune with nature.

Hearing: The sound of the bike as you shift gears is exhilarating. Listening to the water fall as you drive past the creek or the birds chirping makes you one with it.

Smelling: I still remember the first time I smelled honeysuckle while riding my bike past a field. It was a smell I hadn’t sensed since I was a child. It’s always there but, like many other things, I was always too busy to immerse myself in it.

Then there’s the smell of fresh bread as you drive past Maiers bakery. Can there be anything better? Only perhaps the smell of someone cooking out on the grill. It gives you the feeling that there’s a picnic somewhere you need to get to.

Touching: One hand on the gas and the other one on the clutch. The feeling of power and control. Sounds corny I know, but it’s true.

There’s also the temperature change element. You really feel the coolness on your skin as you wind your way into “cool spots” along your journey.

Finally, the touch of a beautiful woman holding on to your waist as you drive her through the back roads is a feeling that words just can not express.

In summation, riding a motorcycle is freedom. Do it safely and it’s almost like flying. There’s no need to be in a hurry. You can clear your head, relive your childhood, stop and smell the roses, be with someone special. In a nutshell, it’s the best of everything. So, yeah, I think I’m going to indulge.

Oops, I almost forgot the most important sense when riding a motorcycle.

Easily summed up: When you ride a motorcycle, you taste life.

So, who wants to ride with me?

Music, Thought and Opinion

Is Anyone Listening to “New” Music?

Have you heard? The new Night Ranger CD, Somewhere in California, was released a few weeks ago. It’s probably their best studio album since Midnight Madness when Sister Christian peaked at #5 on the Billboard charts.

Oooh, has anyone given a listen to the new Whitesnake CD, Forevermore? The single, “Love Will Set You Free” is simply infectious. As for the new Journey CD, Eclipse? Eh, I can take it or leave it. I mean, I’m really not as big a fan since Steve Perry left a few years ago.

I am still looking forward to the new Van Halen record this fall though. There’s sure been a lot of buzz about it on their Facebook fan page since David Lee Roth came back. I can’t wait to see if Eddie still has those guitar skills. If only this were 1987, it sure would be a great time to be a music fan. For me anyway.

But alas, here we are in the middle of 2011, and although everything I’ve said about those bands above is true (they all have already or will have new studio albums and tours this year) I bet 75% of the fans they had back in their hey day do not even know it.

To them, as to everyone else who are fans of the synthesized robotic voiced artists, the bands they once loved and adored a quarter century ago broke up years ago and the members are now active AARP recipients.

And if you really want to get that old album you wore out on the turntable signed, well you might just find them at a convention signing autographs and taking pictures. The ones former childhood stars and “B” movie actors also attend. The same artists, whom you couldn’t get near when their music ruled the air, will now even have lunch with you (if you’re buying of course).

Truth is, by the way today’s music business works, that’s probably the way it should be. These bands, who once dominated the charts, are still releasing quality product but no one is listening. Sadly, some of the songs on these albums, which would have been sure-fire chart toppers twenty-five years ago, won’t even get airplay.

I already know what you’re thinking: Get over it. Times have changed and so has music. And you may be right. I just might be turning into something I always said my parents were when it came to music, an old fuddy duddy. I really miss seeing my music on store shelves and being talked about.

But I think Mom and Dad would agree with me on something else: a lot of the songs that are popular on radio right now sound exactly the same. Today’s pop/rock music is driven primarily by the same old beat and tired cliché’ lyrics.

Meanwhile, bands like the ones I’ve mentioned are finding no outlet for their new music and are relegated to signing exclusive deals with Walmart or foreign record companies to peddle them while they embark on tours (most times in groups of two or three together) playing their hits just to stay relevant.

One of these record companies, Frontiers Records, seems to have landed the motherload of these now “classic” rock bands. If you look at their artist catalogue, it reads like something you’d see on the program from Live Aid in 1985.

Although I am saddened to no longer see their records on the shelves, it only reinforces the fact that these artists are still in it for the music. There’s really no need for them to try and put out new material that will sell nowhere near what their old records did back in the day.

I’m just glad they continue to do it for fans like me who appreciate everything they’ve accomplished.

Article first published as Is Anyone Listening To “New” Music? on Technorati.

Childhood Memories, Life, Pets

For The Love of A Pet

It was just your typical blistering hot Sunday afternoon in July. I had just completed mowing half of my lawn and cultivating the care packages my dogs had deposited on it. Now I needed to take a break lest I die of heat exhaustion

As I sought refuge from the heat of the summer sun and with nothing else to do, I found myself in my office looking at old books and magazines I had accumulated.

After going through quite a bit of the outdated stuff I never look at and pledging to eventually get around to throwing a bunch of it out, I noticed an odd volume I hadn’t seen in quite a while. Much to my surprise, amidst the guitar song books and fitness magazines was an old photo album.

As far as I’m concerned, family photo albums are useless most of the time. They just sort of lie around and take up space. Oh sure, there’s plenty of memories in every Kodak moment. But the unfortunate thing is, the only time most people look at photo albums is right after a loved one goes off to college, gets married or passes away.

Even then, the manual of memories is only useful for short-term therapy. Once the grief of the separation has been accepted the book, much like the family bible, goes back to collecting dust. But on this afternoon for no apparent reason, marriage or death included, I decided to have a look-see.

I began by taking a trip down memory lane through my old baby pictures. Ones I’ve looked at hundreds of times. Nothing really “new” to see there. I quickly passed through photos of long ago Christmases and summer days at the pool but all that did was remind me I still needed to finish mowing the other half of my lawn. I was beginning to understand just why this book is only useful for therapy.

As I turned the page again I came to section of pictures from my youth that made me forget about the lawn. For there in front of me were photographs of the pets I had growing up. And one photo in particular caught my eye immediately: Me and Susie.

Susie was the name of my first cat. A white cat with one green eye and one blue eye. A color combination that’s not at all uncommon in white cats but back then it was the coolest thing to tell your friends that your cat had two different colored eyes.

I recalled how, thirty some odd years ago, if I would hold my hand out above her with my palm facing down, she would jump up and rub her head across it. I bet not many cats could do what Susie could do. To a seven-year old boy, she was something special.

As I remembered all the good times with Susie, I soon came across another picture. This one taken a few years later of me and another cat, Fuzzy. Ironically enough, Fuzzy was the offspring of Susie and pretty much adopted me as his own. Where ever I went, Fuzzy went. He was my home boy and we were tight for years.

Of course, seeing those two cats now opened the floodgates of the pets I’ve owned over the years. I began seeking out pictures in the album of all of the critters that have gone through life with me.

There was Sheba: the Siberian Husky, Scruffy: the mutt, Mitzi: the black kitten I found under a car and wound up keeping. And the list goes on.

More recently, there’s been Timmy: the Shih-Tzu, Baci: the Pekingese and Stanley:the fat, orange tabby cat. I even had another white cat a few years ago named, wait for it, Snowy. She didn’t have Susie’s eye combination though. Her’s were both green. All of these pets have long since gone off to the Rainbow Bridge but hold a special place in my heart.

The funny thing is, looking at all these pictures didn’t make me sad to realize that they were all gone. It was different kind of therapy. Looking at their faces and remembering all the good times we shared together was encouraging. It only helped reinforce what I already knew: I’m a huge pet lover.

Today, my pets include two Boston Terriers (Sparky and Bruno) and two cats (Samantha and Marigold) in addition to Pokey my 25-year-old cockatiel, which I discussed in a previous blog.

I enjoyed getting to spend some time with the pets I’ve had over the years. It’s hard to imagine what life would have been like for me without them growing up. Sometimes you need that little reminder that you’re human and have compassion. I suddenly couldn’t wait to get outside later and play fetch with my dogs.

As I closed the photo album and started to head back outside to the lawn it occurred to me that maybe what they say about animal companions is true:

Pets aren’t our whole life, they just make our lives whole.

Feel free to share your pet stories in the comments section.

 

Art, Life, NY Ink

NY Ink-ed

I’ve been surrounded by tattoos pretty much my entire life. I’ve seen the tramp stamps and the Dallas Cowboys logos. Met the “Keep on Truckin” man up close. I’ve seen cartoon characters and witnessed wizards and their crystal balls casting spells along shoulder blades and caricatures of marijuana plants on forearms. Yep, if it’s a generic type of tattoo, I’ve probably been exposed to it.

About the only types of tats I’ve never seen up close are the Popeye anchor and the original old school “Mother” one sailors used to obtain after long voyages at sea. Although I’m sure I could still find a few if I searched hard enough on some nursing home tenant’s upper arms.

My uncle even ran a small tattoo business out of his house when I was growing up so it’s safe to say that pretty much everyone on my side of the family, with the exception of me and my mother, has at least one tat on some location of their body. Well, that is of course unless Mom’s been keeping hers a secret. Then it’s just me.

I’ve never gotten a tattoo in my life and haven’t even been in a studio for that matter. I’ve passed by quite a few of them in my travels but never had the urge to go in. Kind of strange since I also consider myself an artist.

Drawing, painting, songwriting – I’ve pretty much run the gambit of art but I’ve never gotten into the whole tattoo thing. Even when my own relatives were lining up at “Uncle Sam’s Southlands Tattoo Shop” up the block I never went. Not even to sit there and chuckle as they writhed in pain. No, I had no interest in even seeing how it was done.

So with all of this skin art surrounding me you may be wondering why I didn’t also partake in the merriment. Perhaps it was all the bad tattoos I’d see or the muddy green color that initially turned me off to them. But the truth is the biggest reason is that I don’t think there’s any type of script or picture that could be tattooed on me that I wouldn’t get tired of seeing on my body at some point.

That cute little Tazmanian Devil tat isn’t something you can just wash off if you grow tired of it. And what I think may be cool at the moment may not be as cool a week, month or year from now. I’m also not about to put something forever on my body by just looking through a book and seeing what strikes my fancy at that particular moment.

It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that everything changed for me and the real possibility of eventually getting a tattoo entered into my head. I was stumbling through the high-end cable channels and came across a marathon of NY Ink episodes.

NY Ink is a show on TLC which follows the events of a famous tattoo artist, Ami James, as he opens a tattoo studio in New York City. After watching the first few minutes of it I almost immediately became hooked.

The built up drama and confrontations among the staff was over the top at times but I realized they needed that for good television. But I found myself more interested in seeing how the whole tattoo process worked and one of the artists in particular, Megan Massacre.

Here’s how the whole process would play out: A client would come into the studio for an appointment with Megan. After showing her a picture of what kind of tattoo they had in mind Megan would go draw up an incredible rendition of the idea on a stencil, place the template on the selected portion of the body and, after approval, would tattoo it.

I found myself fascinated not only with the whole needle, art and ink concept but also the conversations between Megan and her client. I began to understand that getting a tattoo can have a much deeper meaning then just being cool or wanting a picture of some dude smoking a blunt.

As Megan tattooed her client she would ask the person to tell her why they selected the tattoo. Usually, the person would tell her an interesting story as to why that particular piece was decided upon.

I would listen to stories of heartbreak and redemption as Megan applied color and wiped off excess ink. Some tattoos were of symbols or script gotten in remembrance of a lost relative while others were of dream catchers to symbolize family unity. The stories behind the tattoos were what really hooked me in and Megan’s artwork was incredible.

After watching several episodes and seeing all of the artists do their work I decided that if I ever were to get a tattoo, I would want Megan to do the job. First of all, she’s an incredible artist but she’s also in an occupation that is almost exclusively dominated by men and I’m all about the underdog.

But what tattoo would I get and what would my “story” be?

I like to think that it might be something musical since that’s been my passion. Something with a lot of color it. Blues and reds would be a good starting point. I suppose my story would involve something about my life as a crazy musician.

As I pondered the question as to what I’d consider, the following ideas were quickly rejected:

A photograph: Some people get their children, parents or grandparents faces tattooed on them. No matter how life-like it turns out I don’t think I’d want someone’s face on my chest.

A sports team logo or band name: What if I change teams? What if that team moves and changes their logo? What if the band breaks up? And besides, I’d look awful silly with a Seattle Seahawks or REO Speedwagon tat on my arm. No, what ever it would wind up being would have to have a deeper meaning.

So even after years of having no desire or ever visiting my uncle’s tattoo shop, after seeing Megan’s work I went from a definite “NO” to a “Maybe” as to whether or not I’ll ever get a tattoo.

In the end though, whether or not I do get one, it’s really not what type you get or how many tattoos you have.

It’s how comfortable you are in your own skin.

Books, Music, Thought and Opinion

Off The Rails – A Review

It was 1990 and I was in the middle of writing a term paper for my college English class. The theme was biography and I decided to do mine on one of my favorite guitarists of all time, Randy Rhoads, who died in a plane crash in 1982.

Randy was a genius on his instrument. Much like Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix and Eddie Van Halen were in their prime, these gentlemen all took the instrument to an entirely new level. Randy Rhoads’ unfortunate passing took away the opportunity for music lovers to see what would have happened if a gifted guitarist crossed heavy metal with classical music. From the music he left behind the possibilities were endless.

Needless to say, trying to compose a term paper on a heavy metal guitarist was not easy at that time. Especially when there were no books on the subject and no Internet readily available. I was forced to use guitar magazines which, let’s be honest, are not the best material to gain any real insight on the subject.

Most of those magazines are nothing more than hero-worship anyway and are more interested in teaching you how to play guitar solos rather than what kind of person Randy was like. Where was Rudy Sarzo’s book “Off The Rails” when I needed it?

For those of you who don’t know, Rudy Sarzo is a bassist who performed with Randy Rhoads during his heyday with Ozzy Osbourne. Ozzy, who had recently parted ways with his long time band Black Sabbath, had just put together a new band to support his solo career and albums Blizzard of Ozzand Diary of a Madman.

In his book, Rudy discusses every detail of his life from the moment he was asked to join Ozzy Osbourne’s band along side Randy, right up until the plane crash that killed one of the greatest guitar players ever on March 19, 1982. The book not only gives you an insight on what it was like to be in the band with Randy, but also some of the most funny, outrageous and at times, depressing stories about life on the road you’ll ever read.

I originally contemplated using the term “Mr. Sarzo” when addressing the author in this review of his book but decided against it. The use of “Mr” is too formal and much better suited for addressing music business executives and for ASCAP royalty statements. After reading this brilliant book and learning so much about him (and Randy for that matter), I’m much more comfortable referring to him simply as “Rudy”.

Those who know me can attest to the fact that I definitely am not a literary connoisseur. Far from it if you really must know, but I took this book with me on vacation to Ocean City, Maryland and could not put it down.

Reading about Rudy’s laid back lifestyle, the wild stories of Ozzy and his beloved wife Sharon (who can now be seen as a judge on the show America’s Got Talent) and how Randy was ready to give it all up to get back to his love of teaching classical guitar was the perfect complement to my own personal ME time. Rudy’s writing style made me feel like I was actually sitting on the tour bus with him bearing witness to all the debauchery myself.

I found myself cursing fate when I discovered that Rudy and Randy had performed within 10 miles of my home but I was a mere eleven years old at the time and wasn’t even aware of the greatness that had come to my town. Oh, why couldn’t my parents have been listening to Blizzard of Ozz instead of ABBA’s Dancing Queen? I could have been one to bear witness to music genius.

Rudy spares no punches at all in this great read. He discusses the stories of drugs and alcohol abuse, how he met the love of his life, posts in-depth reviews from many of the shows during the tour and is even at times very critical of his own playing.

Most rock star books and biographies usually follow the same format: I have nothing, I got famous, I got drunk, I got high, I got into a fight, I got cleaned up. Although some of that is also included in this work, there’s so much more here to set it apart from the pack. The stories of Rudy’s encounters with bands like Motorhead, Def Leppard, Night Ranger and countless other groups well before their initial success makes this a must read for any 80’s music fan.

Rudy has a very casual, humble way of story telling and I could really only find one fault with it. On page two of the book, referring to his initial passing of a chance to audition with Ozzy and then getting another opportunity, Rudy mentions how lightning is not supposed to be able to strike twice. But in my view, lightning has struck at least a half-dozen times for Rudy Sarzo.

You see, in addition to finding his beloved wife and being in one of the greatest arsenals ever put together in heavy metal history, Rudy has also been a part of the following in his career as a bass player:

  • Quiet Riot: Their debut album, Metal Health, became the first American heavy metal record  to reach #1 on the Billboard charts selling millions of copies. On a personal note, when I heard “Cum on Feel the Noize” for the very first time back in 1983, I knew at that very moment I wanted to be a musician and play that song.
  • Whitesnake: Rudy Sarzo joined the rhythm section of this band just as their 1987 album began to take hold. Although Rudy did not play on the record he was part of the band at its highest point including the infamous Jaquar video “Here I Go Again”.
  • Dio: Rudy was able to perform with one of the greatest heavy metal vocalists of all time, Ronnie James Dio. Ironically enough, until Ronnie’s untimely death in 2010, Rudy performed alongside the man who had replaced Ozzy Osbourne in Black Sabbath.
  • Blue Oyster Cult: Rudy is currently part of the band whose hits include “Burnin’ For You”, “Godzilla” and “Don’t Fear The Reaper”.

Ok, I’m through ranting. If you are a fan of Randy Rhoads, Rudy or any of the bands mentioned in this review then this is a book you definitely need to own. I can not say enough good things about it. Kudos to you Rudy for one of the best rock biographies ever.

I only wish you would have written this book 20 years ago. I’m confident that if you had, the “B” I wound up getting on my term paper would have been an “A” instead.

Life, Summer

OCMD 2011

It’s been years since I’ve been down to Ocean City, Maryland for vacation but on the drive down I quickly remembered how thankful I was that they opened that new stretch of Route 1 that runs adjacent to Route 13 past Philadelphia. It literally saves you an hour in drive time through Delaware by not having to stop at all those pesky traffic lights every damn block.

This time around for vacation my wife and I allowed our daughter Jillian to take a friend along which was another thing to be thankful for. She’s at that age now where she needs to be moving or doing something constantly and only another human being of her age, sex and stature will keep her parents from going insane.

We made exceptional time for a Sunday. In fact, I think we hit Route 50 (the main hub into Ocean City) in a little over three hours and coming from Easton that’s quite an achievement. However; my driving, and parenting skills would be put to the test just three miles from our resort. Traffic came to a crawl as we approached and at some points even a complete stop for several minutes.  As the heat of the early July summer pounded the car the air conditioning did little to bring down the rising temperature of my rage as I was forced to listen to Jillian and her friend make up all kinds of scenarios on how they could get to the resort faster if I would only just let them out and walk.  After sixty minutes of bumper to bumper traffic and listening to how they could jog, ride a scooter or hitchhike there quicker, we finally arrived at our destination.

Spending the Fourth of July holiday in Ocean City, or any vacation destination for that matter, can definitely wear you down. Sometimes it doesn’t even seem like a vacation. Aside from the traffic and lack of parking there’s the hustle and bustle of the crowd and the long lines at nearly everything you want to do or see but we made the best of it.

I have to say that the fireworks display on the Fourth of July in Ocean City rival those in Philadelphia and other big cities. They definitely did it right. There’s nothing quite like celebrating America under a brilliant display of color coming off the boardwalk while simultaneously keeping vanilla soft serve from running down your arm. A hot summer challenge I think every one should take at some point in their lives.

The next day was “Beach Day” and was spent with Jillian and her friend braving the waves of the Eastern shore as we watched the wild ponies mingle with guests. It’s certainly one of the strangest sites you’ll ever see. Big, brown horses that just roam wild along the beaches of Assateague Island.

The way they majestically stand on the beach always reminds me of the covers of those Harlequin romance novels my Mom used to read. All that was missing was Fabio and some beautiful blond female in need of rescuing. I was more than happy to just sit there and read my own novel near them, provided of course, that they had the courtesy to not relieve themselves in my vicinity.

Perhaps the best day of the entire trip was the following one: “Boardwalk Day”. This is the day most parents dread because it depletes the bank account quicker then a stock market plunge. Jillian was quite adamant about playing those so-called games of skill. You know the ones, where you spend a million dollars to win a paper airplane.

As I gazed high above the booth at the humongous stuffed creatures you would “win” if you could only sink just one over-sized basketball into a tiny basket I wondered how many people have actually accomplished this feat. My guess was zero and it dawned on me that the way children mindlessly spend money playing these near impossible to win games on boardwalk piers and carnivals only preps them for the years they will mindlessly spend money in casino slot machines during their adult lives.

Turns out though, Jillian was actually quite good at a few of the games. Not enough to sink a basket or popping a balloon with a dull dart (games we thankfully avoided) but enough to win a few stuffed animals that will no doubt collect dust back at home with no recollection of where she got them from.

After spending her college tuition the day finally came to close and we walked passed the dreaded water gun game. This is the game where you shoot a continuous (monotonous) stream of water at a target and see whose LED light status board gets to the top the quickest.

As we approached the booth I noticed a little girl, who could be no more than 4, getting ready to play the game with her Mom and Dad standing by. No one else was around as Dad helped prop her up onto a seat and tried to show her how to operate the water pistol.

It was at that moment, over the smell of funnel cake and french fries, that I heard the catcalls from the vendor: “One more person to win any prize…I need one more person to win ANY prize”.

Well that was all that Jillian needed to hear. As she quickly sat down and assumed the shooting position I noticed Dad suddenly taking a reluctant interest in the game himself. I noted that his motive was now to help ensure victory for his little girl. He ponied up additional funds and took his place next to his daughter.

Ready. Set. GO!

The streams of water hit their intended targets and I watched the LED lights go up neck and neck between my daughter and Dad. Obviously, there would be no challenge coming from his little girl. This was a “two-man” contest. I could feel my heart race watching my little girl take on a challenger at least three times her age. It was a battle of David and Goliath proportions. Ok, maybe not that extreme but it was exciting none-the-less.

The alarm sounded ending the game and the flashing light above Jillian’s head indicated she had vanquished her foe.  As Jillian chose a big stuffed purple dog as her prize I noticed that Dad, now a bit dejected, was packing up his little girl and with Mom in tow began the slow walk of shame. Jillian noticed too. She looked at me and with a quick smile turned and walked towards the little girl.

I watched her ask the little girls’ Mom and Dad if she could give her the prize she had just won. “Hailey, look what this little girl wants to give you”, her Mom said. Hailey took the purple dog from Jillian and gave it the biggest hug I’ve ever seen. Had Hailey “won” the water pistol game, her prize would not be anywhere near as huge as the one she had just been given. As the family walked away I knew that Jillian had just made that little girl’s day just from that one little act of kindness.

It was then that I recalled a memory of my own from our last trip to Ocean City. Ironically enough, just a few blocks down the boardwalk from where we were standing the exact same situation happened with a then four year old Jillian.

As I tried to win a prize for her with our last bit of money we were both bested by another water gun expert. The winner then offered up her prize to Jillian, a stuffed Elmo doll that she still has to this day.

Strangely enough, with all the time we spent that year at the beach, walking the boardwalk and seeing the wild ponies, that stuffed Elmo was the most memorable thing about our trip to Ocean City. So I’m pretty sure that what Jillian did today for Hailey will also be a memory that family will treasure for years to come.

Life, Music, Thought and Opinion

Crazy Musician Syndrome (CMS)

CMSToday I would like to discuss with you a disease that afflicts countless musicians everywhere. One that can strike without warning and one that you may not even know you are carrying.

No, it’s not ebola.

This is a disease that does not discriminate on the basis or race, sex or religion. It was powerful enough to cause the breakup of such bands as The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Guns N Roses and countless local bands from across this great country. Some of the people suffering may even be friends and loved ones you know. People are living in pain and it’s time to put a face to the name.

I’m talking about Crazy Musician Syndrome, or CMS.

The origin of CMS is unknown. Some say the disease began in the jungles of the deep Amazon where natives played make shift drums and wooden flutes. Fights would often ensue amongst tribesman for unknown reasons, resulting in huge losses of life. The modern day version of the disease is just as unforgiving and can strike without warning and at any time.

I’m here to tell you the warning signs for this disease. Please.. Please.. pass this information along to all of your friends who currently play in bands. Tell them to be on guard for an outbreak because as of today, there is no cure.

What is Crazy Musician Syndrome (CMS)?

CMS is a disease which can afflict musicians of any age-level who currently play an instrument in an ensemble. It is mostly prevalent in musicians who are in bands that performs on the local music scene, but has ruined the lives of some of the greatest bands of all time. It is characterized by the sudden and immediate insane actions of one or more of the afflicted person in the band situation. Typically, this occurs completely out of the blue and even when band member relationships are going well.

Signs and symptoms of Crazy Musician Syndrome may be due to things like an insatiable need for power and money, but sometimes it goes much deeper than that. Here are a few examples….

Who wouldn't want to be in a band with this cool dude?
Who wouldn’t want to be in a band with this cool dude?

Wives/Girlfriends:

Probably the biggest culprit of CMS. Most married male musicians will suffer in silence with this issue. It originates with a wife or girlfriend’s disdain for other members of the band or about the music being performed. This results in female’s verbal abuse of CMS sufferer and eventually results in sufferer suddenly quitting the band in order to keep the peace at home. The termination of the band member typically occurs the night before a paying gig.

Example – Subject in band was experiencing symptoms of getting slack from his wife on a constant basis. Wife would tell him things like “I don’t like you being in a band”.

What’s even more puzzling is the fact that wife had met the subject while he was in a band, when she came to one of their shows.  Eventually, with a week to go before a paying show, subject abruptly tells band he is quitting music.

Example #2 – I’ve heard rumors from another band who was on the verge of getting a recording contract. The guy told me the band’s guitar player abruptly left them in the lurch before a showcase, telling the rest of the band the reason was because he had found his soul mate.

 

***Click Here for Rolling Stones List of Ten Messiest Band Breakups.

 

Going To Visit Relative and Not Coming Back:

Without warning, a member of band will inform the rest of group that he/she needs to immediately go visit a relative in a far off location. Even if shows have already been booked the need to leave will be too great for the CMS sufferer to manage. Again, this typically happens on the eve of a paying performance.

Personal Example – I was in a band once that was doing well. We were practicing in the drummer’s basement and getting ready to finally start gigging. One night, I received a call from the drummer who informs me that – in casual conversation, he is going to visit his brother in Texas on Friday. I tell him “Cool, have fun, I’ll give you a call next week about practice.” To which he replies, “No dude, I’m leaving and won’t be back for at least  six months.” Without rhyme or reason, after months of practice and finally getting ready to get paid, we had to come get our equipment out of the basement and go somewhere else. There was no death or other family crisis to warrant his leaving and he admitted as much. He just had to leave and visit his bro in Texas.

Tattoos have nothing to do with CMS. I just thought it would be cool to post this one.
Tattoos have nothing to do with CMS. I just thought it would be cool to post this one.

Disappearing Act:

This is the oddest indicator of the disease. One where the afflicted person will immediately lose communication with the existing world. Phone calls and emails will not be returned and there is no indication of foul play. Even if everyone in the band had been getting along great for months, the afflicted person has suddenly chosen to exit the band and not tell anyone.

Personal example — And this one takes the cake. I was in a band once that needed a PA system. I wound up purchasing the equipment with my own money with the promise that the other guys would pay me for their share. Although I did receive the first payments for their share, suddenly one of the band members disappeared and we could no longer get a hold of him. Endless calls and even driving to his home several times were unsuccessful. He was just no where to be found and we never heard from him again.

There are many other indicators that the disease is present. All of which happen suddenly.  So please tell your friends who are in a band to watch for warning signs. Check karaoke bars for victims and try to get them help.

The future of music may be at stake.