Beat Generation, and beat-up

But naturally, I missed the latest address from his eminence! Good golly miss molly, whatabunchacrap! Do any of his constituents ever really “hear” what he has said? And has any of them attempted to parse his words into a cogent sentence? I’d say the man is parsimonious… Of need, he must be because he can’t string words together properly even when reading from a written speech!

So OK – all these ladies and gentlemen in his fan club with their various degrees from brand name colleges and universities – are listening? I cannot believe that they are because otherwise, each would have to admit that he makes NO sense! And the reason his wifey took over the podium that one evening weeks back with her crass and tasteless remarks (written naturally by the PR and marketing people in the background for the event), is that he needs to be pulled off the podium, as often as possible.

And humanized. That is what we are talking about. I have been listening to some educated folks who are now attempting to bring the issue of “framing” into the public forum and make people aware of what is being done by the neocons through the use of descriptors ...and carefully chosen wording and labeling.

What a black day it is when a plurality can listen to the endless droning on of such drivel and not realize the bank is being robbed in the background, to the beat of Love to Love You Baby…..oooo. We are living in a time where the powers that be are the most vacuous band of miscreants and thieves ever to steal the henhouse. If I had all the money of a Kenneth Lay or any of the hoards of other corporate criminals, I might feel some satisfaction knowing my thefts came about as a result of an artfully crafted act of larceny.

Nope. And nope is about as big a word as many of the people in this group can manage to pronounce. What an insult to the people in this country. Please, I will not become a vassal to this homogeneous group of vermin.

A wing and, this time, a good chance?

Comfort of the shadows

Captain Davie's 3 am Dash

Davie’s retired! Well he was before I met him. That leads one to think of a totally relaxed fella, feet hooked over the runners on a bar stool, etc. Davie, however, Captain Davie, has a boat. That pretty much removes the “re” from “retired” – leaving tired. The royal yacht this past season, did not disappoint too, needing all the usual, plus - a major engine overhaul.
Who, but a blueblooded Scotsman, would manage yearly forays into all things mechanical – and yet, maintain their humor. So wrench in one hand, checkbook in the other, Davie once again – fixed the bleepin barge!
Ah, clear sailing again. Returning to home base from their “local”, Davie and Ruth had a much earned evening with friends, closed up the pub, and retired for the night. That word, retired again! A typical Scottish wind, was working itself up for the pleasure of all concerned.
In the wee small hours of the morning, there arose the rude angry ring of the phone. Oh nuts – the boat! Gale-force winds had broken the boat, free of the dock!
Little in life matches the kindness of strangers at times. Another couple had made that phone call, and Ruth commented that even with four adults…there were moments none of them had both feet grounded! So, does this blustering break for freedom – at a rude hour – exempt Davie from more summer yacht races? His cousin here hopes so. Only smooth sailing ahead for my much loved family.

Bored in Belfast

OK! It’s a dogs’ life. Don’t tell me about it – I know it. Todd Dahlrymple here….of Edinburgh. Last September my manager told me that we were going to Belfast. Not that I knew, or really cared, where that was. My daughter Katie came along (company mostly)….Katie is AKA ‘a bird in hand, is worth two in the bush.'

Ruth was waiting for a friend to arrive from the States…she wanted to go! to the “show” in Belfast. Another – heaven help me – case of heavens knows? why! Finally after the usual hemming, hawing and my graceful entries and exits from the bleepin cage in the Benz (well a little comfort anyhow)… I am a Welshman after all

We set off. A rather uneventful trip over…good nap time, a few treats, occasional lovely remarks from admirers. And a nice temperate days weather in Belfast. However no one told me, my ‘class’ was going to be called, nearly last!!! After about 3/4 of a day ‘chillin’ in the stall area off to the side – you “do!!” start to get the idea. Walkies?? Hello – is anyone out there? Where is my manager!

OOO….there she is, finally. Lalala…she and her friend walk up – as if – Katie & I…..weren’t there….long past discussing the day at that point! Good lord woman, I could at least go for a tinkle, or something? And a snack that hasn’t been boiling under the car boot for hours? I’ve been told I have a very expressive face – hmn, apparently I ain’t getting the message through!

Well, hours and hours later, and small mentions in the show…I am without a chance to really voice my disdain…piled back into the wagon, for a return to Scotland. oooeee I am all in, and also a wee bit sleepyish…not to mention hoping for a quick return.

Nope!!!! There’s a delay at the ferry!!! Bloody hell. We sit at the dock: well it seemed like forever. Who cares if my adoring public stops by the car and taps…at my window! Toddy! Beautiful Toddy! tap tap
C R A P! Get me home!! We spent nearly double the time of the trip over – getting back.

Bored in Belfast. Harumph. I don’t care about ribbons. Even all the pattin and scratchin…
seems to blur. Turn me loose on the beach, wind in my ears. Leave a poor dug alone.

OK! Where is it? A trip to Ayr Theatre

…a Processional

Ayr, Scotland has a lovely theatre in the center of town. Ancient but well tended, I attended a concert there with friend Ruth. Balconied and with posh boxes hanging on ornate side walls, it was filled to capacity for the “Eagles” cover band concert.
It’s rudimentarily unfair, that women are the brunt of frequent jokes about the need to find the public toilet! Naturally during break time in the concert, Ruth and I needed to access the facilities. Goes without saying.
With an internal structure matching any well-executed maze, Ruth and I set out to find the toilet…following signs saying “toilet”, which seemed the thing to do. The first toilet, was “Men’s” naturally…so we backtracked and looked in another hallway – to the left.
After only one retracing of steps, we had collected another couple of women on the same quest! We completed one circuit of that level of the building under review, and decided to go “up” a level. Doing so, we collected a few more ‘lost souls’…with what could be construed, as ‘pinched expressions’.
Up this corridor, and down that….each “Toilet” doorway we did manage to find, was rudely marked “Men’s” (or with that annoying symbol…for men, affixed). When you’ve made two complete circuits unsuccessfully, you start to doubt your memory – so we circled “that” floor again.
With a giggling and chattering procession of about ten women, we eventually did reach nirvana and use the facilities. Were I to return to the Ayr theatre, I doubt I could find the toilet again: I’d certainly need to request directions to the toilet before taking my seat. I don’t remember how we found the toilet.
“You can’t get there from here…” remains the clarion call in life.

Ozone Layers

Pivotal moments in my life include hearing news of the JF Kennedy assassination piped over my HS PA system, and "living" an afternoon of teachers and students alike bumping into one another in hallways, crying. Then we come to the sunny morning I heard commentators screaming from some televised event; and as I spun on one heel and ran to a TV, reaching that screen in time to see the second tower crash on September 11.
Back in 1973, I sat over dinner with several friends in a popular Princeton night spot, when the PA system in the club (I have come to dread them)....suddenly broadcast live, Nixon's famous resignation speech. That year and into the next, recovering from near fatal surgery, I sat transfixed watching the Watergate Hearings....wondering if ethics and integrity would ever become the "standard" in life.
With world affairs in such a total state of collapse of ethical behavior, is that proverbial "light at the end of the tunnel".....a bright future for all of us - or an oncoming train. When individuals like the infamous "deep throat" of Watergate fame, reveal their identities at a moment close to their own death - are publicized as potentially having been "traitors", the question is:
Where do we go from here. How do we recover our humanity, our ethics. Why is it that the power brokers in this world do not see that war is killing, and at least equal to the "dictator's" genocide they claim justified their own, call to war. And why do those same men not see that without the middle and lower classes in their own nations, their own kingdoms cannot survive.
Not as fleet of foot at this stage of my life, I am questioning my own ability to step out of the path of that light at the end of the tunnel. If we cannot walk away from the ideologs and neocons and fantasy worlds created by carefully crafted marketing schemes, how can we recover the truth.
Without missing a step however, I am moving forward the best I can with a rattling collection of injured joints and my fractured ideals - into the ozone.