Protecting (us) by Creating Solutions to Gun Control

Protecting (us) by Creating Solutions to Gun Control

From the Jews for the Preservation of Firearm Ownership. Right away I knew I liked these guys.


And to think I started out searching for some smooth Hall & Oates on You Tube

I finally did get to the Hall and Oates: Say It Isn’t So (1982)

Smooth, yes, but a real yawner  unless you’re looking for something like that. I seldom look for something like this in music and I quickly wound up at this instead,  You

which is really more like it, although I’m not sure how I found the Jetzons on You Tube except that I must have had a flash of inspiration and just typed them into the search window because voila! I was quickly transported back to 1982 and I was blasting my rock/roll brains out at Merlin’s again on Mill and Southern in Tempe along with another die-hard community of Jetzons fans – FOREVER! (Mason Jar was big then, too) Here’s another one, for good measure, one of my faves of theirs – used to wait for it at the club: Angel (On my Doorstep). This song might have been my favorite of all of theirs.

Then, on the same playlist as ‘Angel’ I saw a real treasure: Out!Out! 

Out!Out! is basically Sergeant Carter screaming at Gomer Pyle over some synthesizer percussion stuff. It was obscure then and it’s even moreso now. Like, I thought I was the only one who remembered these guys, Tone Set. It’s not like they had a long run, but happily I found yet another cadre of fellow Tone Set fans over on You Tube. I still have a cassette dubbed from their 1983 ‘Calibrate’ LP. You can bet that’s a hell of a collector’s item. Okay, back to those pesky playlists again. This time I saw yet another obscure but highly regarded Phoenix punk band from late ’70s early ’80’s fame, Billy Clone and the Same. I only saw them once because the band broke up after their lead singer died of a heroin overdose. These guys really rock. They were really good. She’s So Primitive

Sad for their demise but it led happily to the Jetzons and I’ll post the closest thing that exists to what I used to hear at Merlin’s, a live cut from way back then, 4-3-1.

I can’t tell you how great it is to listen to this stuff again after almost thirty years. I’m so glad to be able to hear it again. It feels just like ’82 and ’83 all over again. Will never forget it. I’m so glad I had those years. They were the funnest and best years I ever lived. It was a blast. I was single, wild as sin, about 27 or 28 years old, I lived in nightclubs and if I couldn’t find anyone to go to clubs with I’d go alone because I loved the music and the scene so much. As often as not I’d hook up with people I knew when I got there anyway. I worked with a very fun group of people and we’d all hang out, party, drink, do drugs, the whole bit. And then one day it all came to an end and I got married and raised a family. That’s all, folks.

Somebody Must Have Seen This Besides Me

Last night, I saw the Orange Bowl. Stanford beat Virginia Tech. Bad. Real bad. Tyrod Taylor, Tech’s QB, who was slipping through the Cardinal’s fingers like water all through the first half, took eight sackings. Eight.

And yet, with as much class as I’ve seen any athlete muster, he used his amazing abilities to shimmy undetected through mobs of sides of beef and arrived first at the side of Jim Harbaugh to congratulate him. The only Tech uniform in a sea of Cardinal red.

Nice work, Tyrod. Back next year?

I had a Shoulder Operation, and then…

One week to the day, there was pain. Not shoulder pain. Gut pain. Right side gut pain. Prolonged, steady, middlin’ to severe, won’t move, nothing helps, not even vomiting. Three times. Appendicitis. Maybe. Not. Ambulance ride, $850.00 Yup. A grand to take an ambulance to the ER. Lucky, heh, it turned out to be real. Renal infarction. Death of kidney. In my case partial. As soon as that morphine hit all my troubles went away. Is that what Obama meant when he said, “instead of surgery, take a pill?” Hmmm. Maybe he’s on to something. The bastard.

The worst part of three days in the hospital was having to give up all that blood from veins about the size of human hairs and buried. And I gave up a lot of it. Every day, twice a day. Vials and vials of it. The next worst part was waiting for them to come get me and wheel me down to this or that room for tests. Heart tests, kidney tests, aorta, artery and stuff I can’t even pronounce tests. CTs, ultrasounds, and something called a TEE, the grand finale it was, the one I dreaded most and turned out to be, thank goodness, easy.

My doctors were brave. They wanted to cry, I think, but held back their tears when, time after time, I disappointed each and every one by testing normal and negative with everything. EVERYTHING. They tested me for every possible clot disorder known to man because they knew that somewhere in my vast circulatory system is floating some junk that lodged in a vein/artery of that kidney and choked off twenty percent of it. Even that did not affect the function of that kidney one iota. Well, take that, modern medicine.

Then, after three days of testing that never paid off and much, much head scratching, and unable to justify putting me on a lifetime of blood thinners, thank you, God, they had to, reluctantly, but could not refuse to, release me.

And that was that. And remains that. And that is all I want to say about it. For now.

What would Brahms think?

Here at Scottsdale Osborn, the PA system floats out ‘Brahms’ Lullaby’ whenever a baby is born. I’ve heard it on Nephrology (2nd floor), Orthopedics (6th floor) and even, at the beginning of my mess, in the ER. Written more than 140 years ago, before the age of mass communications and electronics, I wonder what Brahms might make of it all. I hope he would be pleased. Of course there are no royalties, but the ability to pipe the song en masse to announce the entry of new life into the world should provide enough satisfaction. And it just wouldn’t have the same effect in Morse Code. Brahm\’s Lullaby (Cradle Song)

Pin pricks

Witness the OU v UCLA 60-13 blowout on Thursday. Never, ever seen such a game, college or pro, before.

Thanks to Rush Limbaugh for your insightful words of wisdom, especially your ‘chickification’ of the NFL lament. Could not have spoke it better.

Today, we’ll watch unbeaten Auburn whup unbeaten LSU in the SEC matchup of the season.

Our prayers are closer to being answered.  Ethan is becoming a ducks fan, of sorts.  Managing to score student tickets for his first two home games.

Where, oh where

With a pair of dangerous escaped convicts loose on the highways of America, sons number one and three left Phoenix last Monday, August 9, too late in the morning, bound for Cleveland Ohio. Just days before, the badly burned bodies of an Oklahoma couple were found in a New Mexico campground near I-40, son number one’s preferred trans-USA route.

After some mighty begging and careful mapping of alternate routes, boys chose south, I-10, which took them straight through Texas, and into Arkansas just as the search for the killers moved from Yellowstone Park to, you guessed it, a beauty supply robbery in Arkansas. False alarm, but we didn’t know it until after the guys reached Cleveland. Later, I found out the police were even searching in Akron, for God’s sake. Maybe they were hoping to hop over to Canton, and catch the Hall of Fame game. Christ.

Oh, the south route also took them at least twelve hours longer. Oh, well, they should have listened to mother and taken Colorado, Nebraska, over through Illinois and into Ohio but the important thing is, they made it. Tomorrow, Monday, Greg flies back to Phoenix. Cliff stays behind in downtown Cleveland, beginning law school, year two, in another week.

Today, Ethan and girlfriend Hannah are at Disneyland. All day and into the night. Yes, they will certainly last until closing time, being the age they are.

postscript on October 21: The lost keys saga of Ethan and Hannah during the above trip. The above post was written on August 15.