political meets economic science

in case there are readers who do not tivo SNL on the off chance that something might be funny each week, (and, believe me, that's no sure thing), and in case among those there are any who do not yet follow the goings on over at mrmillcity.com, here's some required viewing.

never forget the immutable truth about so many things that make us laugh--they're funny because they're true.

addendum

apparently BOTH rear windows on the escalade were broken out before the cops arrived. (I guess it wasn't possible to save tiger from just one...)

has anyone assessed elin's swing for possible entry into the LPGA tour?

with a golf club?

ok, show of hands--how many people think they could get away with a story as flimsy as mr and mrs tiger woods', even for a minute?

the national enquirer runs a piece about a new york night club hostess (who claims she was in melbourne, florida "with clients" at the time the enquirer suggested she was with the tiger, and i'm still trying to figure out what kind of nightclub hostess travels to florida "with clients", but i digress) and then two days later both mr woods' mouth and his car window appear to have come into contact with a substantial object that may or may not have been one of his golf clubs.

ok, elin claims to have done the window (anyone remember that scene in monty python and the holy grail when the woman they were attempting to burn as a witch said that she had been dressed like that by the mob, to which eric idle, as only eric idle can, said "well, we did do the nose") in a valiant effort to save her evah luvin, whose car had nudged the tree at the end of their driveway. (though not hard enough to set off the airbag...)

yeah, that's the ticket.

he bumped his mouth during the accident, which caused him to lose consciousness in his locked vehicle, for which it was easier for mrs. woods to return to the house to retrieve a golf club rather than the spare set of keys, and then she smashed the rear window in a heroic effort to save him...

don't these things have onstar?

don't husbands leaving houses peacefully at 2:30 in the morning, who have not been drinking, by the way, have what it takes to avoid the various neighborhood fire hydrants on their way out?

oh, to be a fly on that wall...

elin, just fess up. you had enough, took a poke at him hard enough to bloody his lip and send him out of the house in a huff, and then had just enough time to get a good swing at the back window with a golf club (how deliciously ironic) on his way out of the garage, distracting him just enough to veer over the hydrant and into the tree, at which point onstar and everybody's sense of "holy shit" took over, and it was realized that it was time to call the cops before the neighbors did.

just tell 'em you were standing up for yourself. lord knows there are plenty of disaffected spouses who will back you up on it.

and, geez, tiger, you sure can pick 'em.

when it's right, do you know it?

tangential to "the life before christmas", i'm wondering this morning if, how and why, when it's right, we might know it.

a lot of people go through life, and i certainly was one of them, completely blind to what is NOT right. (lousy musicians who love to play their lousy music deserve as deservedly as the greatest maestro to be loved for it by at least one special person).

yet in search of that "one special person" how widely people can stray from the mark.

as if i didn't have all the evidence i needed right here in front of me, i once tallied up all my receipts and records from my first year divorced, (not so tough if you're O/C, as i am, and use quicken, as i do), and was presented with the profoundly simple, yet collosal truth that, after my children, my life is all about music, soccer and beer. (the beer part is tough to calculate, entwined as it is among the music and the soccer, but we'll list it third for decorum's sake). you might say, "duh", but, remember, it's always easiest to see others as they are, before yourself.

sadly for me and my children, my ex shared a passion for NONE of those three things, (though wine would have made her list, right behind low-fat food and gardening supplies, but this doesn't need to be about her), nor even the forbearance to indulge me mine. that, as we've proven in the courts, is no way to run a marriage, and i do not misunderstand any friend who wonders before the fact how to possibly make something work with someone who can't even list their "big three". (yes, kids go without saying, or at least, for civilized people, they do).

it took me a year on my own to answer the simplest possible questions about myself. i'm guessing that's pretty fast by most standards, even if it took the better part of a half century to get that point. one of those questions is that, as much as i love guitar, and have spent many more years struggling with it, there's something about the way the music finds its way out of a ukulele in my hands that makes the whole rest of it moot. now, i'm likely never to put the guitar completely down, even if for old times sake, but everything about "good enough" that comes with strings comes with four of them in my life right now (at least so far) so there's no point secound-guessing any of that. when something is right, i ought to at least know that much...

we can all go through the same exercises with everything in our lives, from things to people, and i'm hopeful at least some of us will be able to see things clearly enough to guess the beginnings of it. i know i confound most folks, not least of all the folks closest to the question, by decidedly being undecided about *who* is right. and i don't mean "undecided" in a dithering or a struggling sense. i mean it in the finest american political "unenrolled" political designation sense, where choosing itself is put completely beyond the question.

right, after all, isn't an exclusive thing. sure, the uke is right, and if you're willing to be put through it, i'd be happy to show you, anytime. the guitar, even if far more arduous for others, i'm sure, is still right, for me, too. (can't wait for my fender blues jr to come in the mail). i hope the guitars and the ukes are both cool with that, and that you can be, too.

so why it is that some people seem to live their life in the blind pursuit of THE CHOICE ahead of having the raw materials necessary to make the RIGHT choice (and not making a choice being, often, the rightest one there is) is beyond me.

are you drinkin' with me jesus does NOT sound so right on the uke. blessedly enough, it seems to sound just fine while mangled through my own particular disability with the guitar.

that's all right with me.

twas the life before christmas

this space hasn't had much to say about local musical action for the past week, and that's both a disservice to jen kearney and the lost onion, who put on a GREAT set at johnny d's this past wednesday night, as well as a reflection of an extremely curious phenomenon in the life of a middle-aged man.

when i was a boy, my mother sat me down at the piano several times each week and tried her very best to teach me how to play. between the profoundly irrelevant music that formed the basis of the lessons, (only one piece of beethoven i can remember saved it from being a total life loss), and the peevish "you can't make me" nature that either has been burned into my soul or is otherwise the very essence of it, i would sit for hours resisting every attempt to pass on something that couldn't be calculated or deduced. needless to say, i cannot to this day play piano.

years later, i was inspired by lowell george to come by a cheap acoustic guitar, and though i dragged it and charlie on the mta through the next several phases of my life, (if only i had seen rancid and the dropkick murphys ripping the roof off "skinhead on the mbta" in time!), there was ultimately an even greater power than "you can't make me" standing ready to guard the door--"you're really not very good, are you..."

...i can't excuse myself, i can only forgive myself...

for years i was told i wasn't really very good, was i. truth to be told, i wasn't, which is always going to be a pretty serious impediment for anyone who thinks too much about the implications. but worst of all--worse than having to wonder what anybody else might be thinking, and to know for SURE what i was thinking--was to always have what someone else very important to me was thinking, whispered directly into my ear by that very same someone who was otherwise supposed to love me unconditionally... and this isn't to complain or to bemoan, because the fault is squarely on anyone who mistakes the nature of the love they are also supposed to bear unconditionally in return... "you're really not very good, are you".

a profoundly generous friend, whose generosity i will always be short in repayment, shared some of the intimacies of life the other day, and rounded upon the unfortunate coincidence (my conclusion) that many (most?) people are held back from discovering what it is that they love, by either or both their own fears, as well as never having known anyone to comfort ones self from them. (ESPECIALLY if the fears are well-founded). i was lost for years in the lonely place where i'm neither good enough, nor loved well enough, to be shown how that never, ever is supposed to matter.

yesterday, for the very first time in my life, i made music that was good enough. faint self-praise, you may feel, perhaps, after all this, but in those simple two words, "good enough", there is more joy than i have words to say. i wonder if beethoven heard any of his symphonies, or that little turkish march i learned over forty years ago, and ever felt they might have been good enough--i can only hope for his sake he knew the kind of joy i felt, even if mine was only for something that was far less worthy.

but, see, that's the point i realize this morning. the worth is in the feeling. i love everyone who has ever heard me struggle to play something, and simply reflected back their happiness that it might be making me happy. full stop. i wish my wife and i could have broken through all our broken parts to have been able to do even that much for each other, but all there is ever to do in life is from each moment onward, and i'll have to find other ways to say how sorry i am for my part in that.

so a couple days late, let me just say that i'm thankful for all those who love me well enough to always see my struggles as good enough. some day, i hope to be able to see myself through those eyes, and repay all the love and kindness that is within that feeling. and, especially and in specific, a special thank you to the one whose specialty is in arranging around all the mediocre musical bits, so that what is there might possibly become good enough. i could never, ever on my own have given that gift to myself, even with all the love and support in the world.

sometimes, to be good enough, it has to start by being good enough...

with such, it's always going to be, as is so often said, the best christmas ever.

the real first term grades

marc savard still looked a bit like a peewee on his skates (his weeble wobbled and definitely fell down a LOT last night) but patrice bergeron is turning into the scoresheet monster he was always drafted to be (FOUR assists and so many hard-fought-and-won pucks in the dirty corners of the ice that you can't even count) and the rest of the team is coming together just in time for the meat of the nhl schedule. lucic was absolutely hammering the boards, wheeler and bitz where wheeling and dealing and banging 'em too, and even dennis wideman only gave away one, pinching too far up to give away an odd-man rush that never should have been. and how about that tuuka rask!

yes, it's somewhere between games 20 and 21 that a quarter of a season elapses, but after 23 games i think we can go back and put down a solid B with a A for effort to resolve that incomplete we were giving them a couple of games ago, when they had only won the first of these last three in a row. with savvie and lucic (and even for awhile tim thomas) out they went 7-4-4, and now they're getting healthy again and playing like we know they can. they're still giving up a couple games in hand, but they're also within a single point of first place in the northeast, and ottawa (most recently beaten by the B's 4-3) and buffalo (beaten 4-2 and 2-1 in the last pair) aren't going to be the ones to stop them.

as always, it's a good time to be a bruins fan.

four games this week--merry early christmas, all!

tomorrow's compost today

the paper of record (as the mrmillcity.com folks so always perfectly put it) today captions their page 3 complete-fluff color photo (so glad we subscribers can be paying for such an important investment in color ink among all their red) of a guy in wilmington clearing leaves above the phrase "blow ins".

once again, and once again for the record, everyone enamored of such phrases can kiss my not-born-here ass. (there's another phrase using the word "blow" that would seem to fit purveyors of fish wrappings and future compost, but we'll just let them try to use their imaginations).

yeah, i know it's a completely ridiculous rant, and reflecting most poorly on me for not wanting or being able to let this and all the other little slights pass, but, seriously, observing how few people who were born here actually subscribe to the paper, it's beyond me how such comes to be so supportive of their nonsense.

just sayin'

the $10 newenglander funnymoney line

coincidental that thenewenglander might posit $10 as a potential "funnymoney" line in his comment to the last post. one of those opting out of the comedy with me saturday night was curious enough to ask me a series of hypothetical questions to discover my own personal threshold of comedic penurity.

"$5?"

oh, i'd throw that down without a second thought. anything less than a plateful of mee pad at viet-thai (which is itself less than $7, and one of the best platefuls of noodles you'll ever taste at any price, meaning that it's the dictionary definition of "jackpot", and don't let vegas tell you different) is a veritable cultural bargain, even if the jokes might be lame. i wouldn't blink or hesitate.

"$10?".

ok, now you've got me thinking for a moment. on the one hand, it's $3 over the mee pad line, (with beef is my favorite, with lots of that garlic chili sauce mixed in), and fully half of an andy jackson, or as some not from around might call it, a "suburban single". and, see, such is not a lowell single, and half of that is starting to be statistically relevant, not to mention equivalent to two reserved seats to a spinners game. (which the newenglander helpfully mentions, which is, i think, more than somewhat relevant). however! it is, indeed, only a couple of fives, and, well, for a night and to give the guys trying to bring comedy back to downtown lowell, i'd be in. sure. $10. ok.

"$15?"

uh-oh... unfortunately, this is starting to tilt the other way. in fact, the helpful doorman, sensing our dilemma, offered to slip us one of the discount ducats, (remember, with dinner the comedy is only $15), but in the end it wasn't going to budge me from seeing TWO plates of mee pad, or one plate of mee pad and a side of that crispy squid that they get double credit for not pretentiously calling calamari that is hands-down the best plate of crispy seafood goodness you're ever going to taste around here or anywhere else for that matter, and you can join me there ANYTIME to split one and tell me i'm lying. because i'm not. no, $15 is not within the funnymoney threshold here. sorry.

but the most compelling case in point that i have to offer you this morning about the value of an entertainment dollar is amy speace at johnny d's last night in somerville. $10. ian hunter's opener (amy) from his most recent tour. judy collins' drummer. rich feridun who just might be the sweetest telecasterist you will ever be knocked back into the back of your seat to hit yourself in the forehead and be amaed that you've never before realized it could be like this. table service with harpoon ipa from a tap. and nobody asking you for another $5 or $10 because the artist is "worth it". hell YEAH amy is worth many times more than that, and, see, that's exactly the point.

amy loves to play. you can see it in her eyes and her smile and her joy to be up on stage with musicians like she has around her, who can bring such beautiful life to her songs. and, you have to know, she has placed her life on the side of sharing that music with as many people as can be reached out and touched by it, and that, fortunately for all the rest of us, means we can all be part of it, and still be able to afford the all-you-can-savor buffet at viet-thai today for lunch. (same $7 bargain, and you can meet me there and then try to tell me you disagree, but i'll know you're lying).

and watch this space. i'm going to do whatever it takes to move the mountains so that amy can play here in lowell next summer. and if you're asked for $20 for the privilege of seeing her play, you're going to know putting that bill into the bucket that it's one of the best $20's you've ever invested in an experience. because you know people who've seen her for half that (and more than that, as a matter of fact) and they can tell you.

as a good friend likes to tease another good friend, because they're BOTH in love:

amy is dreamy.

"if the system were working, what you'd be seeing on the screen right now would be..."

working in the software biz, i'm intimately familiar with the interesting challenges of selling intangible things. on the one hand, such can be a marketer's dream, since there's no pesky reality to contradict all the beautiful mind pictures your promotion can paint. (at least until the customers have bought it once). on the other hand, any complementary attributes must be perfectly aligned with the idea of your product, or you're never going to get any business. (imagine booking a vacation trip to somewhere they've provided you with a picture of a slum instead of a nice sandy beach, or trying to sell someone on the reliability of some software that can't even be made to work in a demo, and you'd be amazed at the number of wannabe but never will salespeople who will keep talking as if they can win on just their personality alone).

price is one of those things that can go either way, (they charge so much for prada because if they didn't, the demographic they're shooting for wouldn't buy it), and here in lowell it can be a fascinating study. last night, for example, during the inaugural show for dick doherty's little traveling comedy circus, at the old court they were asking folks to pony up $20 for the privilege of attendance. ($15 if you had dinner before the show). now i'm not saying $15 or $20 are unreasonable numbers all by themselves. as a matter of fact, i'm going to happily pay $15 to see amy speace tonight at johnny d's in somerville, and i, for one, could not be happier for that privilege. but let me put this in context:

night before last five artists of amazing talent put on multiple hours of soul-stirring experience for anyone with the inclination to simply show up. for free. the proprietors of ole, which would be an estimable restaurant for even just that, but far more so for the stories of the tapas and sangria, (i just had beer, but you know me), indulged their patrons with something that would be otherwise insulted by $15 or $20. (the prada principle, perhaps). to have been part of it was to have been a part of something wonderful--that art is to be shared, and that great art is to be shared most of all. i think, walking up to the old court, had they told me it was $5, i would have tossed them the cash without a moment's hesitation. i further thing, walking up to the old court, had they told me it was $10, i would have thought about it for a sec, and then, probably, tossed them the cash after that moment's hesitation.

but what did these comedy clowns feel they could do?

don't get me wrong, i hope they packed the room and it was a smashing success. more the merrier here in shangri-lowell, absolutely. but i can't tell you about it here in this space, because at the door i had a moment, but not a moment of "ok", but a momen of "whuh???", and made a quick decision that $60 was far better invested going to a dozen jen kearney shows ($5 per harpoon ipa) than lost to the possibility that one of those guys was going to make me laugh. (as the rest of the members of my party observed, they're funnier, anyway, and they're not lying). it's a fascinating thing to me, and it's all about whether the objective is an audience, or a payday. personally, though i never begrudge an artist their just payday, i'm far more likely to patronize those for whom sharing their art is the point. that's the art, after all, worth sharing in the first place. i've probably been part of the dropping of thousands (literally) on jen kearney shows, and i couldn't be happier for having been part of that. the set list from their zep set at the old court a few weeks back is going up on my wall, if that gives you any indication. and, tonight, at johnny d's, i'll exercise my own personal microeconomic payday engine once again and reward someone who is earning that privilege the honest way, and who deserves it more than words can describe. (really---you need to go see amy speace).

until then, dick, best of luck with your shows. but i think you may have lowell figured all wrong.

here's what i think

jen kearney and the lost onion have been around long enough that it's become possible to talk both about the genius (had yet another conversation just the other day about how the grammy folks can't possibly know everything about what they're doing) as well as its incarnations. can't say that i came upon the phenomenon anywhere near to first, but i can say it hasn't slowed me down one bit from enjoying each and every single note.

last night at ole, amidst spanish kitsch, tapas and sangria, (alphabetically) claire finley, yahuba garcia, carl johnson, jen kearney and pete maclean put something down that stands on its own and transcends the sum of its parts. first and fairly, the author of the music, jen kearney, stands in the middle of the stage for very good reason. her keys are, to me, so much like aretha's, in that they are so integral to the music that you can't separate the two at all--even while your focus has to be distracted to everything else out in front of it, and casual ears may never catch the full truth of what they're hearing. but listen more than a few times and you'll hear it like a bell, and it's a rare night indeed when jen lets herself play into one or two of the spaces so generously always left for everyone else, so that it's made to be both sublime and anything but subliminal, and last night was one of those nights.

but even indulging herself in that way, jen's music is still somehow all about the accompaniment, too. carl johnson (going from left to right, since we've already used alphabetical in the introduction) unpacked a kit that began with just a homemade (his own) cigarbox guitar, a la bo diddley perhaps, but oh so much more fluent, on top of a little hand-built fender blues junior amp (i think) that was as warm and full as it was inobtrusive and understated in the tiny space that held the ensemble. he switched later to his heritage cherry SG, but the tone was so hand-spun and home-spun that you knew you'd never heard anyone do quite that with quite those ever before. (if not during every other time you've heard him play, but that's beside the point). AND, he let loose on "let love rule", which automatically makes any show.

seated to carl's left and jen's right, and without even a microphone (which, i'm happy to say, still didn't stop him from putting those incredible harmonies and vocal interstices in behind things) yahuba garcia did what i seem to never see other conga players quite do, which is lift the music UP without ever getting out in front. hardest to do when given so much space within the music to play, as he always is within jen's incredible catalog of songs, but yahuba does it every time. and last night, (and we're giving the last-minute appearance of pete maclean not some small credit for this, too), the rhythms seemed to flow FROM the music as much as into it, and it felt like there was a soul you could reach out and touch...

before we slide all the way over to Pete, (who was far right from my side-stage vantage point, so apologies to those seated to the middle or the other side who may have seen things a bit differently down towards that end), it needs to be said that claire finley is as at home with this group as she is to it (relatively) new. i feel a certain amount of responsibility for not noticing that i could have shifted the enormous plant earlier, but i was mesmerized so often by how intrinsic to everything claire and her bass and her lines were to not just the music, but the space itself. it was as if the giant tropical leaves and the whole room were embracing her for it, and it was so beautiful... and though you nod when you hear her solos to know that this is a rare and prodigious talent, it's in every moment of harmony, where the notes together are PERFECT, that you appreciate it best. for myself, i had never noticed before how the bass in those latin phrases is so far out in FRONT (temporally--not in volume) that it almost lives as part of the preceding phrase as much as gives entire shape and life to the following. i've never in my life heard that before, but last night it was so clear to me... (so much to learn...)

which brings us around to pete maclean, and the serendipity of unexpected pleasures. the original bill for the night didn't hint that pete could be there, and as fascinating as could have been the group trying to do without him, it was remarkable how one man and such a spare setup could coax so much life into everything he and it stood behind. i recall mentioning somewhere that wherever pete was going to be last night was going to be rockin', and, well, i'm taking full credit for prescience and prediction. does he always leave his wallet on the snare? does his bass always walk like this? (sorry, jon butcher digression--the big drum tended to want to wander, as if it wanted to hug everybody else in the band, too). is there anyone who can embody the backbone of what jen and the lost onion do if not pete? ticking off the time with the butt end of his left-hand stick, there's nothing you can do but be moved into that time, and have one of the best you've ever known.

so, rolling stone, i have no idea where YOU were last night, but i was at ole to see jen kearney and the lost onion, and i'm always going to remember that i did. one for the ages.

hey there, mr. obama--like this

proving once again that it is possible, when necessary, to vacate a mountainous and desert-like region full of bad food and ill-behaved people, i prepared and executed strategic maneuvers from a precarious forward base in silicon valley back upon the san francisco airport and our national interstate transportation infrastructure, and i lived to tell about it. no word yet on whether the natives will be capable of rebuilding their shattered economy on their own, but, see, that's why it's called "their" shattered economy. (we've got enough of our own problems here at home).

amping up the degree of difficulty, the national air traffic system lost all yesterday's flight plan data, along with the means to create more, so all across the country airline personnel were submitting flight plans by hand, and stacking up boeings and airbuses on the tarmac from sea to shining sea like so many yertle the turtles. but, as is so often the case, your hardest problem sometimes also contains a very useful silver lining, and though the us airways flight into charlotte that still had an empty seat (across from the lavatory where needed to squeeze to enter was one of the largest air travelers i think i've ever seen which is something about which i'd rather not say more lest i risk losing my breakfast, but ask me sometime and i'll bet you'll laugh) was way late, so was the connecting leg back to boston, so other than getting back to my favorite 3rd world airport long after hours and having no bus to take me back to the airport T station where nearby (thankfully) sat my automobile, it was all pretty straightforward, even if it was chock full of hurry-up-and-wait. made me thankful to know that the hertz lot is right across the way from the embassy suites where an automotive barrier separates the traveling have's from the east boston happily-rather-have-nots, but not a walking one, so i was able to back-door my way to where i needed to go at just the cost of having to listen to the hertz driver's very elementary school sense of humor. "i used to be a diesel fitter--you know that building right there used to be an underwear factory--i had a job there picking up pairs of bloomers and saying "dese'll fit her". there was something else about peanuts walking the streets of east boston at night (and getting a-salted) but thankfully i was already in my zen state of "there's no place like home" so no further damage to my psyche. (or the PTSD from the airplane loo incident may have caused a sort of semi-catatonia by that time--who knows).

the best part about everything is that i'm home and in plenty of time to catch what is being billed as the "jen kearney quartet" at ole (the tapas place on merrimack in downtown lowell) tonight from 9 til midnight. jen's bringing carl and clair but not pete, (whereabouts unknown, though i'm betting the whereabouts will be rockin') and is being joined by yahuba on the manual skins instead, along with mark mullins on the horn, which, being five, i'm not sure how it adds up to "quartet", but you know musicians were never paying that much attention in math class to begin with, so it all makes a certain amount of good sense. the promise is of one-of-a-kind acoustic versions of lost onion songs, which, given the chops of the line-up here, is definitely going to be "A+"mazing without a doubt. if you've never heard the harmonies when jen and yahuba get it going, give yourself a treat and c'mon down. (you know that everyone who already has is already going to be there for sure).

my not-so-secret joy is that my very best girl is coming up for the gig, and even though i can't say it isn't the promise of being out way past usual bedtimes that prompted the "yes", it really doesn't matter. i can't even begin to say how much it means to me that she can finally (hopefully--it's a restaurant, not a bar) see two of the strongest and most beautiful and confident and supremely accomplished women i've ever had pleasure to see, playing music that they love in that way that they do that can't help but touch everyone in the room. i suppose it's a dad thing to believe so wholeheartedly in the precocious talents of ones progeny, but i swear this kid has something that she only needs to believe in to make real. can't think of any better examples, nor any better time to share with someone so very much loved.

AND!!! all this and REAL southeast asian food for dinner beforehand. not for nothing, but those californians who are all so arrogantly confident in the hash they sling out there so clearly and obviously don't know squat about what real food is all about. (wednesday night's guac was DRY--i've been told it's possible to buy it powdered, which must have been the case--and the spring rolls were so un-earthly foul that there aren't words to even begin to describe it. (yes, hyperbole, i know, but if you were there, you'd understand). i have no idea what possesses a "chef" to try to combine asian with mexican that way, (other than likely having friends named pedro nguyen and such), but until someone from mr. jalapeno marries someone from viet-thai and has little chef babies, i'm not betting on any of it.

there's no place like home!

werewolves of palo alto

there's a trader vics attached to my hotel here in sunny california, (never seemed so far away, and nods to melvern, cuz, yes, i wish you were here, or, most accurately, that i was there, but such is the professional life), and the obvious question was whether or not i would be committed to my zevon fascination to the extent necessary to drop in, (answer is yes), and what would i find there if i did.

short answer is that it isn't as odious as chowhound writers would have us believe, though it isn't nearly enough to completely satisfy, either. there were no werewolves visible at the bar, though i suppose it was early, and anything might have been possible later. the mai tai's were good, as were the sierra nevada draughts, and the food was certainly more than palatable.

so, the most fascinating part of the experience was not what it was, or even where it was, but, rather, who it was that embodied the "you" who was wished to be here. (wonder how many readers are wondering the same thing?)

i miss my kids...

why certain airlines are failing

i was incarcerated boston to san francisco on american last night, and on top of having to dodge $20 fees for checked bags, and whatever it is that they might charge for whatever it is that they hallucinate passes for a sandwich on that little pushcart of theirs, (complete with chips in a tube), i had to sit facing a row of 20 year old TV's in various stages of cathode ray decline, all simultaneously screening something i think somebody somewhere figured might pass for a "movie" once, but, WTF, i have never seen anything so insipid and pointless in my life, and those of you who know the truth know that i've even seen a screening of "twilight", so i know the true depths of which i speak.

this particular "movie" was entitled "the time travelers wife", and i've never rooted so fervently for a violent ending since john wayne shot liberty valance, and probably before, but this morning my head is so abused by having sat through that piece of "cinematic" crap that i just can't remember.

some woman somewhere (and you know it'll have to be a woman, cuz they didn't coin the phrase "chick flick" for nothing) will have to explain this all to me. old guy gets creepy attracted to a 10 year old girl, forces himself upon her innocence, and then rigs it up so she'll marry him and have his babies. (who, by the way, for the longest time, keep time traveling outside the womb and dying bloody little deaths for our voyeuristic enjoyment). where in the name of the good love of god is this sort of thing "romantic"??? is it just cuz she's hot (once she comes of age, anyway) and he's hot and folks like to watch hot people get it on and/or hold hands and stuff? later, when it becomes obvious that the guy is gonna buy it sooner rather than later, we're further supposed to think it's ok that he arranges it so that BOTH his 5 year old daughter AND his 5 year old daughter's 10 year old time traveling self will be able to watch him die of his inevitable gunshot wound, and further makes a big deal of telling the kid all about it in advance so she'll know what she'll be seeing...

i know there's something freudian and right that the agent of the guy's not-nearly-premature-enough demise is his father-in-law, but, seriously, things would have been a whole lot better if dad had just pulled the shotgun out the first time he met the guy and figured out there was something wrong with him.

file this one under "can't let yourself sleep or the subsequent jet lag'll kill ya", and "next time borrow a friend's netflix DVD and bring an extra battery for the laptop just in case, cuz you just don't want to see this stuff--you just don't".

no wonder to me nobody wants to fly with these jamokes anymore.

spoiled brat football fans

a few years back, when then-saint bill ordered up an intentional safety against denver and engineered a completely improbable win because of it, everybody lauded him as a genius. it was against all conventional wisdom, and it was successful.

the other day, now-goat bill recognized that peyton manning simply wasn't going to be stopped, so he went for it on 4th down in the shadow of his own goalposts, and came within a few inches of making it, and thus winning the game. instead, manning went the last 30 just as easily as he had gone the previous 90, (does anyone remember the previous drive???) and the pats lost.

only difference between the two outcomes, as far as i can see, is the luck of the proverbial football bounce.

what i remember from sunday were end-zone interceptions and a goal-line fumble, the absence of any of which would have made the whole game a cakewalk. so where's the accountability? with the one guy willing to do anything to win? or the 50 other guys whose best wasn't proving to be good enough?

quit your whining, pats "fans", and have another bud light.

it's here

good chinese food is generally a noticeable absentee among all the fabulous southeast asian restaurants (not to mention those from the rest of the world) gracing the great city of lowell. there are a actually couple of chinese joints in my neighborhood, but i went to each of them exactly once, and i'm not likely to bother again. serviceable, perhaps, in a pinch, but when each is a stone's throw from a plethora of noodle and larb joints that kick righteous asian ass, (yes, we mean you, viet-thai, phien's kitchen, et al.), you just don't feel the urge to put up with greasy fried rice and chicken fingers as an alternative to liven up your soy sauceable entree fetish.

so it is with great pleasure and expectations of happy returns that i commend to you the brand new china star restaurant on broadway just beyond (or before depending on from which way you're coming) the original market basket. the kitchen is open and immaculate, the menu interesting and varied, and the food makes you nod your head and know that, yes, there were definitely reasons why the english would be hesitant to sign away the deed to hong kong. they do cantonese and mandarin, and, naturally, for you pu pu platter enthusiasts in the audience, they even do polynesian, too.

today's special (posted in both english and, i'm guessing, some anglicized version of khmer, given all the phonetic punctuation over and under all the letters) was a pair of lobsters in ginger sauce with scallions for $14.95. i was sooooo tempted, but i think i'm going to leave that one for tomorrow. then, of course, there were whole crispy chickens for $20, and crispy ducks for $22, and peking versions for $36, and if you'd like to know exactly what it would be that you were getting yourself into, then have a look at the way they are right up front:

as a lowbrow sort of foodie, i always take my cue from the way a place does its house special fried rice, and there, as they say, we have our answer. light. fresh. decidedly *not* greasy. not just the usual kitchen sink ingredient suspects, either. (i believe i got some bok choy, chinese cabbage, and a few other goodies in there, and not a bland, boring bean sprout in sight). among the chef's specials are spicy salted (head on) fried jumbo shrimp, and a couple of extremely intruiguing pork chops--one "peking style", and the other "spicy, salted and dry fried". the room is seat-and-serve yourself, spotless and inviting--sit yerself right down and have at it.

OH!!! AND!!!

the roast pig belly is only $8.25 a pound, and, yes, you can get it just plain and to go.

MMMMMMMMMM

"WHY is all you mens such critturs of DEE-ceit?"

or, alternately, "why did you ask if you didn't want to know?"

miz beaver always knew just what to say, and though the rest of the world has always been distracted by miz mam'selle hepzibah, i always thought that albert was on the right track with miz beaver, and always trying to wrangle that one last free dinner. (who's gonna fault him for whatever he's going to say--just look at the PIES, man!)

i also like to believe that miz beaver was always secretly pleased to know that albert "got" the most important bits of her. i also know that porky was always miz beaver's equal in telling it like it is:

wednesday night is trivia night

local mover and shaker, dee tension, runs a weekly trivia night at major's pub over on jackson street every wednesday night at 8pm. the masseuse and i dropped in to check it out last night, and even though we didn't even have kids born late enough to get some of the questions, (like, who from the 60's knows what the hell the smurfs named their cat?!?), and all attempts to conscript a more diversified, i.e. younger, team (teams can be up to 5) went bust, the two of us still finished within a couple of points of the victory and ahead of almost all but the winners. (only missed the smurfs cat, a photo ID of the lead singer from the killers, the fact that beauty and the beast was the only animated film ever to be nominated for best picture, and please see reference to the youth factor above, and an extremely fascinating series of clues about cyndi lauper). next time we're going to call in favors from people young enough to be our children so we can vie for the title!

other noteworthy highlights to the evening include $2 bud drafts, elbow-rubbing with several members of the lowell devils, (offered as incentive for younger ladies to consider coming out with us next time, though it must be noted in the interest of full disclosure that at least one certain bilingual member of that crew, though professing supreme allegiance to the new jersey devils, which makes a certain amount of sense considering that's whence from comes his paycheck, still had to admit to possession of habs season ducats upon closer questioning of his quebecois patois, so caveat emptor), and a general ambience of bonhomie that is always characteristic of this great small city of ours. the questions were fun, the sociability factor extremely high, and the time great.

unfortunately, the heart of the "free agents" (as in both founding members) won't be able to be back there next wednesday owing to schedule conflicts and pesky little things like having to earn a living, but if you aren't motivated enough by all this just to show up on your own and start your own team next wednesday, and, instead, you want to get on board the "free agent" bandwagon for the 25th, you just say the word. we're looking for diversity, (i.e. you get extra credit for being born after the fogeys graduated from college), a willingness to drink beer, and...

i think that just about covers it.

sight, sound, and now aroma and taste

in traversing the senses this morning, i have to add mention of a note i received from my favorite chowhound (who likes to think it's always "good dog" and never "great dog", but she's just not paying attention) about the buzz that's happening about the amazing food we have all around us here in lowell.

by way of background, chowhound is a world-class and world-wide resource for people who GET food, but who don't get the ri-donk-ulous attitude and general cluelessness surrounding the worldweariness of "gourmet" and "fine dining". (which any good chowhounder already knows simply means "pretentious" and "over-priced", and, with alarming frequency, mediocre to boot). no, unlike "gourmands", chowhounders are actually all about the food, and they're going to know where to go for kick-ass grub regardless of the environment and decor of wherever it's found. (yeah, sometimes it comes with linen tablecloths, but you and i both know that the BEST food so infrequently does, though, when it does, you know you're going to hear about it on chowhound, too, and that can be an indispensible resource for saving yourself a big dollar disappointment whenever chasing that big dollar meal experience).

i like to think that bistro broad is a chowhounder at heart, even if she's may not be already in practice, (i honestly don't know), but if you do know anything about me, you know that i'm never about the big dollar meal experience. without resources like chowhound, this could possibly pose difficulties in maintaining reasonable friendships with people who know far more about food than i do, but, thanks to chowhound, my private passions are quite often ratified, even if the steak stick at suppa's still hasn't appeared in a comment on the deep fried steak and cheese discussion. (i am remiss, yes, i know). from poutine at duck fat in portland, to seafood chowder and frosty glasses of peculiar at the henry house in halifax, my life's gustatory passions are generally found in the simplest and most delicious of places.

so it is with great anticipation that i look forward to experiencing the delectables at a couple new restaurants in lowell featured in a fresh chowhound discussion thread. pho mi mi on middlesex is one, (right down the block from where i prefer to bathe the convertible, as a matter of fact), and china star on broadway where i hope to (finally) find that elusive great chinese food restaurant within walking distance of shangri-lowell.

the prior discussion thread that caught my attention on the site was this one describing the delights of pho 88, tepthida khmer, the battambang market, and phien's kitchen, the last two establishments of which i am intimately and passionately familiar, being what i would describe as semi-regular at both. (the "semi" is just a walking distance thing--you know me). nothing commensurate on viet thai, yet, but you can see the discussion of the suppa's steak sticks above, and realize that sooner or later you're going to hear about it, even if i have to do it myself. (all this music stuff and eating--who has time to blog about both?)

chowhound gets it. mtv gets it. when are you going to get it, too? (oh, yes i know, you already love lowell just as much as i do--right?)

and--one last thing: careful readers will realize that i've only covered four of the five senses above, and may be tempted to wonder about the fifth. well, i don't know about you, or where you might read about it on the web other than here, but my favorite masseuse arrives here later in the afternoon, and please let me tell you that she's a tactile sensualist's delight just as surely as going for viet thai afterwards is a taste to be savored. (double when your fascia is all set to rights at the same time). not sure if she's going to be as eager for trivia and $2 buds over at dee tension's trivia night at major's this evening, but you know all the intentions are good. melvern taylor at toad tomorrow at 7, right after diggin' to the tunes of reverend jj on wmbr at 4. gonna have to go check chowhound for some decent grub down in cambridge... i know, it's not lowell, but the people down there gotta eat too, right?

"lowell dreaming: paintings and drawings by linda mccluskey

it's not too early to be planning your new years resolutions and related social calendar, and the word is out on the very first must see show of the 2010 season--lowell dreaming: paintings and drawings by linda mccluskey, coming to the whistler museum in beautiful downtown shangri-lowell beginning on january 9th, 2010, and continuing through february 20th in the renowned parker gallery near you.

yes, james mcneill whister was born right down the street from here, and his birthplace (and his mom's old house) has been transformed into one of the hidden gems of the metropolitan boston art scene. (just cuz the mfa and the isabella stewart gardner museum are right around the corner from each other doesn't excuse art patrons from maintaining a wider locus). beginning in january, the highlight of the gallery will be linda's incredible and incredibly unique perspectives on the beautiful mill city, and among the gems at the exhibition will be the amazing cityscape you can see in its incomplete splendor above, along with dozens more of the most compelling and emotional streetscapes of this gem of a city. compare 'em to paris, (linda's home and other urban muse), and reflect on where we live. go ahead--dare ya.

best place on earth.

come see it come to life january 9th at the whistler museum.

the grand scheme of things

in the grand scheme of things, and according to "popular" convention, "headliners" are supposed to come on stage last, after their "opening act", and, if all goes according to plan, a wonderful time can still be had by all. to my mind, this order of things has as much to do with performer ego as it does anything related to art or entertainment, and i've always been most impressed by those performers for which such distinctions are meaningless because, to them, it's never about anything more than the music. maybe it's because i cut my rock and roll teeth while linda ronstadt, jacksone browne and little feat were touring together and rotating their set orders and "headlines" and having a ball while doing it. maybe it's because my life has come full circle in that way now that jen kearney, melvern taylor (and 2/3's of his fabulous meltones) and thunderpants johnson's hillbilly orchestra can re-set their set order for the "love songs for losers" benefit about half a dozen times before (i think) flipping a coin and working around each others' personal schedules to arrive at an order that was simply all about enjoying the chance to play together. (the audience, naturally, loved every single savory minute of it).

but, sometimes, there's a zen to such things that puts the emphasis where the emphasis is due, and the upcoming (december 4th--plan your holiday season now!) jen kearney and the lost onion show at gemstones is a beautiful case in point. mtv's recent video music awards show featured quasi-local (boston is somewhere around here, right?) rising stars (mtv's 2009 best breakout band) gentlemen hall, and it was, as they say in the proverbs, good. so good, in fact, that promoters are already angling to get them exposed in all the best musical circles, and anyone who has ever seen or heard jen kearney and the lost onion knows that JKLO defines the epitome of the best musical circle. (and if you don't yet have the year of the ox, your record collection, unfortunately and sad to say, sucks, and i'm here to tell you all about it, but you can hear it for yourself by pusing the little "play" buttons on the cd baby page and checking it out for yourself).

yes, i know, every single one of my blog posts these days seems to turn into a love letter to jen and carl and claire and pete, but, seriously, LISTEN TO THE MUSIC!!!

which brings us back to those that know these things, and what is rapidly becoming the ticket of the season. gentlemen hall, with ashlands attic, and...

wait for it...

jen kearney and the lost onion

live at gemstones in beautiful and historic downtown shangri-lowell. yeah, i know, i dissed the 'stones in previous posts, but, seriously now, just the same way that it's all about the music, IT'S ALL ABOUT THE MUSIC. bud in the long necked bottle will get you through just about any other indignity, (can you believe you'll need to go downtairs for your drafts? that the waitresses won't get 'em for you upstairs at the show? no? ME NEITHER!!!), and you KNOW you won't be thinking about beer when you hear the sounds coming from that monster PA they have up there.

jen kearney and the lost onion
gentlemen hall
ashlands attic
december 4th
gemstones
$10, or $5 with a student ID
the show of the season (so far, cuz they haven't announced tex-mas eve yet, and, well, NOTHING tops tex-mas eve...)

but this one is going to come as close as it comes.

be there!

a second more thing

though it's not quite the visual tableau of 24 hours ago, there's something to be said for a sixty degree dawn in the middle of november. convertible weather is a wonderful thing.

some people can't be told you know redux

i can't tell you what happened, but i can tell you that schadenfreude is a wonderful thing.

this has been a banner year for me. first, my brother bailed me out BIG TIME with my mom. and now, some guy i don't even know has squared the ex-marital accounts to such an extreme degree that i'm going to be coasting off of this one for YEARS.

drinks on me next time you see me. just ask me to tell you why. and then, please, even if just to humor me, let me tell you all the way through. it's a good one.

promise.

:-)

and one more thing

the sunrise over the hills of belvidere is THIS MINUTE, and i'm looking out my window at the pinky peachy beauty of morning over the mills, and it is incredible. if i could only paint it... there's frost on the rooftops, and a quiet stillness to everything that does a person good just to see.

best place on earth.

go riverhawks

it's monday morning, and there's umass lowell right where they belong at the top of the hockey east standings. yesterday evening's set-to was yet another example of the strength and depth of the 'hawks, wearing down unh (who were tied with them near the top of the standings before the game) and potting FOUR 3rd period goals on their way to a 6-3 victory at the good old tsongas arena.

it's good to say "good old" because the ownership transfer to the university is coming complete with a plan for $5M in renovations, which should make the surroundings in there just about as awesome as the quality of the hockey to go along with it. a few more shows like the murphys from a couple of st. patties ago would be nice, too.

where else can you live within walking distance of stuff like this? not in boston, that's for sure. (yeah, that's you, Northeastern and BU, down at the bottom of the hockey east pile--heheheheh). ok, boston is pretty cool, but, seriously, even a walking city like boston can't put all this together in a single neighborhood the way you can get it in beautiful downtown shangri-lowell.

speaking of which, the dinner we had at viet-thai this past friday night before the love songs for losers benefit show (which was awesome, btw) was awesome. we brought in some delectable wines (i like the riesling best with the fried squid which i won't call calimari because it's squid when it's not in an italian restaurant, and i say "we" though i mean the awesome one who deals in wine for a living and gets only the best stuff for her friends) and ordered up a whole panoply of tastes (the spring rolls and peanut sauce are pretty awesome in their own right, but you need to go deep into the noodles for the real paradise) to cover the table. dinner for four that kicks ass over what passes for good down in that wanna-be foodie mecca we call boston (yeah, we're calling you out pho pasteur) for $55, and that includes an almost $15 tip for the table service that included wine glassware and delivery the instant each plate was ready so everything was perfectly hot and perfectly delicious that ought to have been perfectly hot and perfectly delicious, which excludes only the kitchen sink vietnamese salad which was perfectly not hot and still naturally perfectly delicious.

did i mention walking distance? best place on earth.

MFT

somewhere amidst the celebration of everything melvern taylor last night, two guys who i happen to know from completely different circumstances happened to get into a conversation. you know how it goes... "the first time i saw melvern taylor it was..." and, well, it was a long time ago, and it was in a particular social club on the other side of this city, where the party of the first part, recalling his one and only trip (prior to last night) to the fair city of lowell to see the genius who is melvern taylor, described the second most notable character in the place, who spent the ENTIRE evening exclaiming in expositional bliss, "MELVERN FUCKING TAYLOR!!!"

to which the party of the second part simply and proudly and joyfully added...

"that was ME!!!"

only in beautiful downtown shangri-lowell!

it just doesn't get any more beautifully succinct than that.

tarsy poulios

it's not easy to do anagrams when you don't know the dictionary, but the lowell historical society website gave me the needed clues. i think i'll knock off and head down to the sac club for a beer.

AND!!!

while i have everybody's attention gum-flapping about my immigration sensitivities, let's not forget--

there's a benefit show tonight over at the old court in celebration of the music of LOCAL legend melvern taylor (and his fabulous meltones, of course, and how many other people can you go to see who will ask you as part of the audience to raise your hand if you're from lowell?) as part of a musical revue to be performed on the stage of our own LOCAL merrimack repertory theater this coming may. it's a great chance to experience LOCAL artists (you know, people who choose to live here, just like you and me) and a great chance to get your socks knocked off by some seriously awesome music at the same time.

jen kearney. (rumored to be going on solo at 8, so, yes, the lost onion must indeed be lost).

melvern taylor. (and his fabulous meltones, of course, rumored to be going on ensemble at 9 or 9:30).

thunderpants johnson's hillbilly orchestra. (going on after 11 or later, and there's not much more to be said about that other than you'll never believe it until you see it).

tickets are $10 in advance (see lovesongsforlosers.com if you can still get 'em) and $15 at the door, and i will personally guarantee that you won't find a better bargain for music in this city anywhere tonight, or most any other night for that matter. (other than tex-mas eve, but more on that as news becomes available).

SEE YOU THERE!!!

more comments that deserve their own post

a comment added to the post that was added about the comment to a previous post cited a hypothetical example of an 80-year-old resident not being impressed with someone living in the same place for the last 25 years. skipping over the factual error also present in that comment, (that said hypothetical octogenarian might have recalled a time when this part of lowell was part of tewksbury, since i think it's fair to assume that no one alive was born more than 180 years ago), i'll focus directly on the fallacy implied in said hypothetical octogenarian's hypothetical opinion that the neighborhood containing such 25 year residents would have to be somehow less stable than his own.

first of all, many of those among and abutting the 25-year-club in this building were born and raised elsewhere in the city, hardly invalidating their "lowell cred". second of all, just because one cantankerous 80 year old feels somehow special because he or she has lacked the motivation to move house over the entire course of that time, it does not change the fact that his or her neighbors most certainly have, (you can check the assessors records to prove it), and that one cantankerous barnacle on the bottom of one boat hardly serves to exemplify the maturity of the entire regatta. (i'm curious if dick howe might be at liberty to cite statistics from the registry of deeds as to the ownership turnover rates for the various neighborhoods...)

there is an offense repeatedly committed by certain members of various neighborhoods against this one in particular, ostensibly in order to reserve certain political power for themselves, and deny it to others, and i'm calling 'em on it right here and right now. (i'm also calling out candidates who ought to know better for using the distinction to make another distinction). this is a city of immigrants, and it's always been a city of immigrants--almost every single cantankerous 80 year old included. as the new englander rightfully points out, some immigrations seems to be characterized as more equal than others, and though i do not mean to disrespect your (irish or insert name of nationality here) forebear who may have wielded a shovel in digging the canal that runs past my home, i DO mean to point out that his experience as an immigrant is immediately germane to mine as well.

look, i can track my children's line 10 generations back in this country, including revolutionary war, civil war, and almost any other historical war's veterans. and i don't think that means squat to my franchise here as a voter today. i deserve my one man one vote because i am a citizen, and i live here. PERIOD. as does the person who may have just moved in from asia, africa, europe, australia, or, even, and i can't believe i'm saying this, new jersey. PERIOD. if an individual cannot embrace another as a brother or a sister with the most important of citizenship things in common--we all choose to be here in lowell and not anywhere else--then that would be the individual with the problem, not the other.

whoever is next elected mayor of OUR city, i'm hopeful that their first words to the electorate, (which, coincidentally, conveyed upon them the privilege to serve without regard to tenure), and, indeed, all their words, will always lack pejorative distinction.

comments that need their own post

i made the following assertion in a recent comment thread here:

"it would be interesting to compare turnover per residence between the neighborhoods. for example, in my building downtown, supposedly the heart of the proverbial "blow-in" phenomenon, 32 of the units remain owned by the original residential owners going on 25 years later, and another 36 of them have only been sold once over that time. (only 9 of the units have been sold more than three times in going on 25 years). i'm willing to wager that this would compare extremely favorably with any other collection of 120 contiguous houses in the city, and i'd welcome anyone to dig into the assessor's records in their neighborhood to attempt to disprove it."

anyone want to take me up on it?

"fair vote"

there is nothing fairer than one person one vote, or, in the case of lowell's nine open city council seats, one person nine votes. there just isn't. so trying to "sell" a voting change initiative using the word "fair", and implying that the present system isn't, you're already dissembling, and, for all intent and purposes, lying. it can't be about "fair".

speaking of "fair", and, for example, i still haven't learned a satisfactory answer to the question of what happens to a choice voter's second place vote once someone else's is chosen instead, or, indeed, how picking between the two can possibly be "fair" to both in the first place. (face it, "fair vote" backers, there's no good answer to that question--somebody's second place vote counts, and somebody else's doesn't).

this ballot initiative was always about plumping for non-belvidere, non-"established" candidacies. it was figured that we'd get more diversity on the council if we went to an alternate method of counting votes, and, though this isn't necessarily wrong, it's clear that the majority of voters were quite satisfied with their ability to diversify the council simply by voting their minds about it, one person, nine votes at a time. not since '93 have we turned over 3 seats, and given the way voting splits on the council have gone in the past, it's 3 vs. 3 vs. 3 newcomers, and anything is, once again, possible.

so what's unfair about that?

really, franky?

first of all, before i blame franky for anything, it's fair to point out that, since the lowell sun reporting and editing staff are functionally illiterate, (to wit, "i contribute [sic] this win to..."), the accuracy of the quote has to remain deeply in question. however, to possibly have said anything to the effect that her election can be attributed to the "collaboration between established lowellians and the 'blow-ins', the new residents of lowell..." is to commit the very same bogus mental mistake, or at least give voice to it even if she doesn't believe it, as all the people she's trying to replace.

"established" means as little as "blow-in". well, actually, "established" might mean lazy and "i got mine so the rest of you can all pound sand", a la the work ethic of sandy ames and the corruption of his patron, kaz kazanjian, but it certainly can't have any relevance to the one-person-one-vote ideals of this great american dream melting pot of a city. as for "blow-ins", WE'RE ALL HERE BECAUSE WE WANT TO BE. (except, as i mentioned, those people who are here because they were accidentally born here, and coincidentally lack the self-respect to do anything about it more than think that such a thing means anything all by itself). the sooner everyone gets behind the idea that we're all here because we choose to be, (which is the same idea behind america, which is the only country ever founded on one), the better.

change means never giving in to bud and rita's obsession to measure and report the worth of every constituent by the length of time they've lived here. (seriously--count the number of introductions they give over the next two years that omit the "has lived in lowell for..." part, and tell me why you think that is).

i live here. you live here. that ought to be enough to prove that we are on the same side.

3 out of 6 ain't bad

bronx cheers for kaz's (failed) city council reelection bid. combined with jim lenzi's quitting, and armand mercier's general disorientation, this means that fully half of the gang of six will be doing their city council meeting participation via comcast channel 8 for the next couple of years. and, given the show of hands among the challengers at the LDNA candidates forum, we hopefully won't be seeing any more politically-motivated city personnel firings at the hands of a corrupt city council anytime soon, and that's grounds to feel very good about the election for sure. (as for the ethically-motivated city personnel firings, e.g. kaz's boy, sandy ames, hopefully we'll be seeing a whole lot more of those, instead).

there was strong support for both queen rita and king consort bud at the top of the election results table, so they're not going anywhere, and props to them for that, but i thought it was worth noting that rodney elliott's support for cancelling the primary is likely the very reason he was able to hang onto his seat at the very bottom of the list, and that sucks. (one more viable challenging candidacy, and we could have achieved meat loaf's 2 out of 3 ideal). congrats, rodney, (not), for proof that cheaters do, indeed, sometimes, prosper.

on a positive note, it was entertaining to see regina "rip your tits off" faticanti kicked to the curb. it's one thing to have miscreants like rita m unapologetically confirming their lawlessness (aka threatening and firing city employees as an unwitting dupe to the corruption of a colleague) right out there in the open, but gutless late-night profanity-laced de facto extortion phone calls (and then being that much more of a pussy to deny the language afterward) are bush league, and i'm glad fattie got the axe for it.

here's to bernie lynch's continued crusade to clean up inspectional services!

here's also to the extra almost-200 people from the downtown neighborhood who voted this time around. if we keep the trend going, and more people like franky tap into the power, then things'll really start looking as they should in the heart of shangri-lowell.

audio flog

one of the reasons our local paper is dying its slow, inexorable death has to be its absolute absence of online savvy. (there are less polite ways to put it, but i'll stick to the family approach for now). for awhile, it was giving online voice to various local culture mavens who were worth the payment of attention, and we could put up with the technical glitches and other insults to injuries inflicted upon us in return for the great local flavor. today, however, after having previously learned that the gourmet gal has moved on, (and long live the bistrobroad, at bistrobroad.com), it's also clear that something is afoot among the audio floss, and, if the food blog situation is any indication, it can't be good for the sun's feeble attempts at online relevance. (on the other hand, it's two fewer blogs i need to follow in my google reader...)

which is not to fault whoever thought we needed an update about roger daltry at boston's house of blues, but, seriously, do i really need to know about a 60 year old "hope i die before i get old" musician playing 25 miles from here for the same amount of money i could take half a dozen friends to see melvern taylor, jen kearney, and thunderpants johnson's hillbilly orchestra this friday night at the old court? (and save myself the cost of big city parking and the rest of the hassle of getting down behind the bowels of fenway park, AND still catch last call at the Worthen?). i'm sure the author was a big who fan when he was a kid, (40+ years ago), and i'm sure he's sure we're all big who fans, too, but, then again, what, exactly does this have to do with me or you here, 40 years later, in beautiful downtown lowell??? (not a whole heck of a lot). the good news (you heard it here first) is that i hear peter lavender is mulling the continuation of his online efforts in a new blog to be appearing shortly in a browser window near you. the even better news is that i'm sure said blog is not going to be the absolutely unreadable formatting cock-up that currently exists over on the sun's pages. (do they even check before they screw everything up when they change it, or do they just not care if we can read it anyway?) i guess it shows you how much it's worth bothering, in any case.

of course, i don't doubt that peter has a copy of quadrophenia somewhere at the back of his music closet, too, and i'm sure, if you buy him a beer, he'd even possibly be willing to tell you what he thought about it. but i hardly expect that's what anybody would want to be reading from him or anyone else online in a music blog today, and i have every confidence based on the great stuff he brought to us via the old audio floss that it won't be what you'll be reading from him soon, either. (todd rundgren, maybe...)

i, for one, can't wait. and, if he'll take it, i'll contribute my own personal re-review of the jen kearney, carl johnson, claire finley, pete maclean led zeppelin cover event over at the old court last weekend as one of the first submissions.

seriously--lowell is home to a cornucopia of incredible musicians. on top of that, it and its surrounding areas receive an incredible array of out-of-town musical talent as well, and if you have a local insider giving you tips on who to see and where to go to see 'em, you're going to have an opportunity to have your socks knocked off each and every week. (i know it's possible, because i'm living the dream these days myself).

start simple: get yourself to the old court on friday. remember to buy your $10 tickets (which are 1/7th what you'd pay to be put to sleep by the 65 year old down at the house of blues, or 1/31st of what you'd have to pay to shake the musician's hand in person, which i guarantee you'll be able to do for free at the old court) in advance at lovesongsforlosers.com to save yourself $5 off the $15 cost at the door. prepare to be amazed. then tune your radio to 88.1 WMBR radio the following thursday afternoon for joeg's "droppin' knowledge" radio program, next week featuring local entertainment phenom the reverend jj, aka justin burns, aka front man for thunderpants johnson's hillbilly orchestra, featured prominently in a conversation on a recent WCAP radio broadcast featuring coincident fellow jug-bander, maria muldaur, who may or may not have made it to the TJ'sHO halloween show up at the hynes tavern last saturday, because who knows who was there amidst all those costumes. (i gotta figure there's a good chance justin can be talked into wandering by melvern taylor's every-other-thursday gig at toad, and i'm betting, if you ask him when you see him there, the rev. jj will be unable to resist signing an autograph for you, and, for the price of a beer, telling you exactly what he, also, thinks of quadrophenia).

then watch this space for a pointer to the new local music blog, which i'm absolutely confident will absolutely kick ass. because you know you need it.

(edited to fix the dates per joeg's gracious nudge that i really have to pay better attention to such things).

vote

a handful of thousand people run the city of lowell by voting for their candidates. if there's anything you'd like to see different, then why aren't you voting for yours?

it always strikes me as supremely ironic that a bloc of perhaps as few as 500 voters could tip most any lowell city election any way they choose. so how many voters are there in your neighborhood? i know, in mine, there are well more than 500 who like to talk about the things they would like to see different.

so, go!

vote!

be one of the movers and shakers. kick out your least-favorite incumbent. return your favorite one to another term. pick the best and the brightest of the challengers, and give them a seat at the table, and a reminder to them, and to anyone who comes after, to listen to you next time you have a suggestion for how things can be better.

the process works, if we work with it.

go!

vote!

and, on a personal note, there are some basic obligations of public office that i feel should be inviolate. an affront against which, for example, would be misuse of that office for personal gain. (yes, having one of the city's inspectional services employees on your own private payroll, and having them doing favors for you on city time is the textbook definition of misuse). another would be diminishing the rights of the electorate to be heard. (yes, canceling a legally-mandated primary election for ANY REASON is, to me, treasonous to the constitution, and indefensible). this would, i would like to believe, disqualify five of the sitting lowell city councilors from enjoying your vote this year, but i respect your right to cast yours in the same way i expect you to respect my right to cast mine.

the goal is to always do better in the future.

here's to it!

go!

vote!

the voke

my mother is one of those people who stubbornly clings to traditional (i.e. badly prejudiced) perspectives on education. her response to the news that one of my children would be attending the voke this year was more than passively/aggressively critical, and it made my skin crawl to hear "live" the voice that shaped my own formative educational years. (i will write more some day about the effect such parental attitudes, common in the bizarre w-town world in which i grew up, had on those around me, but not too soon, because the stories are extremely emotionally difficult to tell, involving, as they do, teenage suicides and other tragedies). at least i can say i value being able to hear it for what it is now, ("know thyself" are indeed words to live by), but the ire and defensiveness i feel for my child is striking to me. (guy's got issues--what can i say).

anyway, by way of background, suffice it to say that a year ago, the academic reports were dire. multiple class grades were on the verge of failure, and the student's expressions of deathly boredom and frustration were daily. don't get me wrong--i'm proud of the remarkable effort it took to salvage the year's grades to enable passing--and not least among the motivators was having a chance to apply to the voke the next year. (yeah, i played the parental passive/aggressive game--"if you don't pass, you can't qualify for the voke"). well, not only did it work, but let me tell you about the ride home from the halloween party this year and a few other things.

i don't know what you used to talk to your dad about being driven home from a saturday night party back in the day, but how excited you were about your classes in school was not something i would have expected to get into, myself. but there i was hearing about everything from the hot shit cool stuff they got into in the robotics shop, and why it was even better than the electronics and computer and engineering shops, (because you got all three and more all in one), to the earnest and eager resolve to ask the math teacher for extra projects, because it wasn't challenging enough as it is.

!!!

i know one thing about education, and that's that you only learn what you want to learn, and here's a kid who all of a sudden wants to learn it all. his academics are, right now, from his midterm progress report, all A's, and there's no reason to expect they'll ever dip from there throughout the rest of his academic career. my mom will, of course, grind her teeth and only half-swallow the bitter excuse that those courses couldn't possibly be as rigorous, and i only hope i'm not there to hear it, or hear of it, because i'm sitting on a powderkeg of love and pride for that child (who is now hardly one at all) to which not even feelings for my own mother could ever compare, and my response will hardly satisfy my god-squadding sister's constant admonitions to "honor". (where's the commandment to love all children unconditionally, and grandchildren too, for that matter, that's what i want to know).

i'm proud of being a voke parent, and my only regret is never having had the opportunity back in the day to consider it for myself. (i tried once to sign up for auto shop, which i still regret never attending to this day, and the guidance counsellor at double-you high school forbade it, arguing that such things were not for "college preparation".

WTF

a college degree is often the millstone around the neck of countless kids who are bearing the brunt of this "recovery" that comes complete without any jobs for so many of them. knowing what you love to do, and what you are good at, and then having the preparation to learn it so you can do it well, is the key to a productive and happy life--of this i am more certain today than i've ever been. i wish i were a musician. i wish i were an auto mechanic. i wish i were an electrical engineer. someday, maybe, if i'm lucky, i might become one of them, or two, or, dare i dream, three. but, until that day, i know i am going to be happy because i've seen that joy in the face of my child, and i know he is going to be OK.

enjoying your daily newspaper

a healthy schadenfreude bone always helps one enjoy reading ones local newspaper. to wit, in this weekend's, is the report of a new hampshire hunter on the first day of muzzle-loader deer season shooting himself in the hand while pulling his *loaded* rifle up into his tree stand. (couldn't find the link on the sun's site, so here's the AP story from yahoo). seems our candidate darwin award winner (too bad they don't have an honorable mention category for the non-fatals) pulled on the rope even after a stick got stuck against the trigger, and there, as they say, you have it. oh, and for those folks interested in the detail of these sorts of things, it was a 50-caliber piece, and the guy was 63. we could ask what 63 year old might have been doing climbing trees, but that would be pointless, as the real question is how a guy gets to BE 63 in the first place, if this is the way he manages his weapon.