home town throw down part deux

i told you about saturday night's roof-raising celebration of all sonic things boston with the mighty mighty bosstones at the house of blues, but this morning i can go you one better--i made it to last night's (regular monday night) jen kearney and the lost onion's gig at toad in cambridge, and it was [insert understatement that others will read as hyperbole here].

monday nights are a regular night for jen, carl, claire and pete and sometimes mark and yahuba and insert-name-of-other-lucky-musician-here. however, it's not a regular night out night for most folks, there usually being work on tuesday, but they pull 'em in to pack the place anyway, and the music is GOO-ooo-OOD. so when i headed down last night i was already expecting something fine and with limited elbow-room, but what i encountered was way off that chart.

my first clue was being greeted at the closed (!?) door by the door guy with the bad news that there IS such a thing as fire codes and fire capacity in this world, (see references to tex-mas eve at the worthen for background on that), and toad had reached theirs, so i was going to have to take in the first part of the first set through the window and on the sidewalk. on a MONDAY NIGHT. with a whole bunch of my new friends only some of which had heard the band before. yeah, yeah, it's a "vacation week" and a lot of people don't have to work on tuesday, just like me, but "vacation week" also means tons of students and other music hounds are coincidentally out of town, so this whole thing couldn't be just any old coincidence. (for my part, i'm blaming this guy j. who i met at a jen kearney and the lost onion summer concert at tyler park in the highlands a couple of years ago, who is getting to be a regular friend of mine for how often i see him at these sorts of things, for bringing not only his wife, but his two beautiful daughters, who, of course, were accompanied by two beautiful boyfriends who were also blown away by how good the whole thing was, and so it went...) where was i?

oh! so,

the place is packed. (i needed that).

oh, wrong night.

but, yeah, the place is packed. and it's rockin'. how one bartender can fuel that sort of group euphoria can only be explained by the fact that alcohol isn't the only thing that intoxicates--the band was at (one of) its (many) finest(s). the first set was packed with "the year of the ox", and you all (right?) know how fine those songs sound. one particularly appreciative patron (who was gushing all over jen about it at the break) turns out to be my new and second best friend from ponce puerto rico (yes, i told him about yahuba, and how to keep tabs on the tour dates for when he'll be in next) who had a great laugh when i told him how us 'merricans can't resist the "do you know" game with people who aren't from here, and "ricardo santiago". the best part of the joke is that "ricardo santiago" is essentially puerto rican for "richard smith", and, besides, ricardo would have been a better bet to be his dad's friend than his, but there i go digressing again.

the other most appreciative fan of the night award has to go with the redhead at the bar and her top-hatted companion and the SECOND set, which was burn-the-bar-to-the-ground HOT HOT HOT in ways that no man or woman has words to describe. first of all, claire finley was at her band-making best on the bass last night, to a point where she had turned pete maclean into a six year old kid back there on his drums, playing around on and with every groove with her. (that doesn't even mention how she leaned over carl's shoulders on the solos and just about fell in love with every one, fighting the crowd for who it might be that could possibly love them all most, and it certainly doesn't explain how she kept meeting jen's voice with her own on the harmonies so that they both melted you like butter all over the floor and also lifted you up to the rafters at the same time, but, as usual, i digress). yes, the redhead at the bar was a woman possessed to the point where you could read it all over her face and see it written all across her body as she breathed it all in and moved so that she was at once part of the music. (it was a treat just to see it happen). at the break she had tossed jen a twenty for the cd, and in the instant that it took jen to explain that she was going to have to fish in a pocket for the ten-spot for change, she was already waving and insisting that there wasn't going to be any change for what she knew first-hand was going to be twenty-dollars-worth of music in each and every song. and then her top-hatted companion bought another one, too.

the room was in love.

and well they chose their moment.

what is and what should never be. year of the ox. let love rule. back to back to back. a three-song tour-de-force that some bands work their entire careers to find, and these kids had it right there and right now. carl was on eleven (fender blues jr!) and suh-MOK-in. i mean call the fire marshall suh-MOK-in. every person in the arms-length radius around me stopped everything when he hit the solos, (i couldn't see or hear anything beyond that, i was entranced), and then exploded into a cataclysm of applause after each one. and jen--you had to be there, but she had the keyboard turned up!!! i mean, so even the "throw-away" fills that aren't ever really ever throw-away, but she's too modest to make more of them, even though you wish like you were wishing to santa on christmas eve that he would only grant you that one very special wish, could be heard clearly and cleanly and perfectly in the mix, and you could get lost in how sweet they are and have always been. awesome. and, of course, at the back and the bottom but the front and the center at the same time, pete and claire (who are soon going to need to become referred to as one entity because they're getting to the point where they'll no longer be able to be considered as separate parts they're so tight) were setting down the grooves and the breaks so that even old yankees with bad knees had to move their entire bodies with the waves of music...

no, i'm not still drunk. in fact, i had two beers all of last night and its worth noting that i never even got to be. i was just glad to be in a place where music happened last night like it happened last night.

the sum total of the moment was during "let love rule". jen had the telecaster groovin' and carl had the stratocaster soaring, and clairepete was, well, clairepeting in the highest, and the whole bar was singing: "it's time to take a stand / brothers and sisters join hands". and there were all the moments--the bass break--the euphoric guitar--the organ fill--the BEAT--and you find me another bar that's standing room on the sidewalk on a monday night and i'll try to get there too, because this was a night that makes you glad you're alive.

let love rule!

countdown to new year's day

much like the nba for me these days, where choreography and judges' opinions about style points surpass whatever passes for sport left in the sorry game, i only watch the nfl when i've got nothing better to do. yesterday afternoon, recuperating from the previous evening's home town throw down, (now THERE's entertainment), i had occasion to watch two supposed "playoff contenders" produce one of the dullest games of any sport that i've seen in a long, long time. (35-7 pats, and you know it was never even that close, though the good news is that i was able to clean up the apartment and get caught up on my laundry at the same time, so it wasn't a total waste of time).

insult to injury, yesterday's jets-colts game was even worse--ending with all the indy starters on the bench because they've already clinched everything worth clinching and then some, and the supremely un-deserving jets being allowed to come from behind and ostensibly eliminate from playoff contention a slew of other teams who quite clearly deserve better, but there you have the current state of the nfl. now, mind you, i shouldn't be complaining so much since i never even bothered to watch it, so at least they don't owe me any time back, but i have to say it's getting supremely ridiculous when teams' fortunes are decided not even by the zebras on their own field, (giving fans at least an opportunity to watch the laundry thrown that determines whether their teams win or lose), but, rather, by the scheduling algorithm back at the league offices almost a full year prior. (in case you find this kind of thing entertaining, you're quite in luck, since the jets play the fully-clinched bengals next week, and you'll very likely be able to enjoy the killing of the playoff hopes of yet more cities by the end of things by watching the right team at the right place at the right time all over again, though don't tune in if you're actually hoping to watch actual football, because, you know, they don't really bother to play that any more, because it's a big collection of 300 pound moot points, but, there i go, digressing again...)

by way of contrast, yesterday evening's bruins-panthers game produced a quite satisfyingly and entertaining come-from-behind 2-1 result, while the almost-last-place maple leafs put a 4-3 capital L on the stanley-cup-defending, almost-first-place pittsburgh penguins over at the igloo, by withstanding three game-tying goals along the way to do it. ahhhhhhh.

we've seen professional football coaches instruct their teams to let the other team score in order to somehow try to make the game "better" for them, and we've seen professional football players kneel down at the 2 yard line rather than score in a bookend counterpoint for the same reason. i have to ask you--what kind of a sport is it when "competition" leads to nonsense like that? it's almost as bad as 500 time-outs turning basketball into an interminable tableau of much the same thing. foul? not foul? are you serious? is that somehow supposed to be sport???

give me hockey, any time, any day of the week, and especially on new year's day at fenway park. i truly cannot wait.

house of exploitation

i know when i go into the house of blues that i'm in for an expensive evening. (for example, last night's PBR tall boys were six bucks a can). it's not that i enjoy the prospect at all, but they know they have me over whatever irresistible barrel happens to be headlining, (for example, rancid awhile back, or the mighty mighty bosstones last night), and there's nothing else a guy can do about it but empty his wallet so that he can fill his ears. (bastids).

but last night, i think the house of blues finally went and did the full nine yards beyond all reason, and i am surely going to think twice, long and hard, and again, before ever going back to that place. (as in, i don't think you'll see me there again).

boston is a blustery place in the wintertime, and getting to a show that's going to be way up on the sweat-meter with whatever might be necessary to protect onesself on the way over is always an interesting adventure. the compromise, of course, is the economic carnival attraction otherwise know as the "coat check", and you always come prepared to dip into your wallet and haul out more than you might prefer, but whatever might be necessary, to check your coat.

so we get to the front of the line and find out last night that they're collecting FIVE BUCKS PER COAT (and no double-hanging--it's against the rules) for the privilege. (and that's not even including any tip to the folks actually checking the coats).

FIVE BUCKS.

ten bucks for two. to check coats. to see a show in which you're going to be dropping no less than $20 a round (see mention of $6 PBR's above, and reference your date's preference for top-shelf liquor, who must be excused for having been generous enough to buy the tickets) throughout the evening.

unbelievable.

for what was spent to check coats and get the first round, me and a bunch of friends would be drinkin ALL NIGHT at the hynes or the worthen or just about anywhere else in downtown lowell. we'd have even done ok with that much over at lelacheur when we went to see the bosstones with the dropkicks a couple of summers ago. (ah, now THAT was a show...)

unbelievable.

methinks some places just don't get what rock and roll is all about.

home town throw down

the mighty mighty bosstones have done this a dozen times now, and it keeps getting better and better. the band is tighter than ever, and the songs are still so good, (the new ones, too), and seeing them in front of their home town crowd is amazing.

for example, being of a certain age and physical condition (knee surgery has a way of doing that to a guy) i know i can't be an in-the-pit and up-front kinda headbanger anymore. so i found myself a perfect sideline spot on the railing about halfway back, with perfect sight lines towards both the bands and the mayhem (which is half the fun) and a very reasonable trip over to the bar for backup PBR's. oh, it was the perfect spot, and a spot where you expect to be able to see in front of you all the real rabid fanatics who know all the words and will collectively shout down dicky to dicky's great delight. and then comes the first chorus...

they opened with a new one--grafitti worth reading--and when they hit the break, and you were expecting to hear it, you surely did.

"repent (REPENT) obey (OBEY) the end is near"

but it blows you away most because the sound is ALL AROUND YOU. not just in front near the stage. not just at the back of the pit where the kids were still pressing forward to try to get into the mix. not just behind you from the guys who knew every word to every song. but from the rafters. the balconies. the back. the sides. EVERYWHERE. everybody singing along. and you marvel that it's a 3000-seat joint, and you can probably count on one hands the number of shows you've ever been to where the WHOLE CROWD both knew the words, AND was so much in the moment to be compelled to shout along. no, not sing. SHOUT. all night long. from "where did you go" to "the impression that i get" ("ever have to KNOCK ON WOOD") to one of my personal favorite paeans to sonic anarchy, "doctor d". ("he let's us practice in his place IN HIS PLACE he's got a wife with a pretty face PRETTY FACE"). the whole place was alive. how many bands can own their home town like that?

among the many other pleasures of the evening, it was proven beyond the proverbial shadow that a guitarist named lawrence, (katz), who coincidentally bears an amusing resemblance to eliot spitzer (on one of his randiest days, of course) can quite competently carry the mantle woven originally by nate albert, who (i looked it up) is now an a&r man of all things. (for universal republic records). and, on trombone, which was an amazing and unexpected treat, was chris rhodes, he of all the best ska punk outfits from new haven to providence to boston, including the estimable bim skala bim, which is, by coincidence, fronting for the bosstones later in this year's throw down, though not last night. *sigh*. but chris was ROCKIN! (last night's opener, the pilfers, featured bim skala bim's other trombonist, vinnie nobile, so that was cool enough, too). joe gittleman was there on bass, joe sirois on the drums, and the night's ninth bosstone wasn't jimmy kimmel, but a great keyboard player whose name now escapes me... (yes, i will burn in doctor d's basement for that one, i'm sure) who was sweet sweet sweet all over the place.

GREAT SHOW

tex-mas eve

this past wednesday night, the stars once again came out for the merrimack valley food bank, and a very merry time was had by all. the place was packed--the fire code in lowell must be "as many as can fit", because it was japanese subway packed all night long, and very happily so--and the joint was jumpin from the get-go.

highlights included jen kearney, carl johnson and pete maclean (with corey b on trombone) covering donny hathaway's "this christmas", but the biggest ovation of the night was hands-down for speakermute's ripping cover of the waitresses' "christmas wrapping", and hats off to the horn section for being japanese subway packed tight on each and every break. awesome!

there were too many other fantastic covers (and originals!) to mention but special props have to go out to bob nash for not only co-sponsoring the event through wonka sound, (how many other cities have recording studios like wonka right in town?), but playing skins on what seemed to be every other set. comparing the event to live aid, you'd have to say phil collins would be the bob nash of world music, if only he were as cool in a red and white striped santa hat.

there was even a global satellite feed (ok, maybe just a live web stream, but that's even better) and friends of mine from as far away as oregon and arizona tuned in and had raves for the whole thing, and expressed resolution to get there in person next year.

which, of course, begs the question of whether or not the worthen can hold the roof on this thing any longer. (did i mention japanese subway packed?) there is no question that the worthen house is the right place for this thing to have been born and nurtured. but we're talking people three deep on the stairway railings, not to mention outside the windows looking in, and it would seem that some sort of compromise that keeps the music and the people in the same place but still lets more in can be reached.

this isn't an event that wants a stage, or anything more formal than a christmas-wrapped box in which to funnel the flood of food bank donations. this is an event that is pure lowell, and pure in both its heart and its delivery. if you missed it, you missed it, but you can bet on there being an even bigger and better one in 2010, and you should mark your calendar RIGHT NOW for the 23rd of december, so you can tell everybody you were there the night that, every year, lowell shows the world how its done.

thanks, tex, for making it all happen. thanks, everyone, for knowing a good thing when you have a chance to be part of it. and thanks to the spirit of the season that we all remember to give what we can, and share a great night with all our friends.

rock on, lowell!

over 50 years later, and it's STILL fun

guys (and gals--we can't forget folks like rosetta tharpe, et al.) have been plugging in and rocking out for well over half a century. i found a lot of different stories out there regarding who might have been the first to stick a pickup on a guitar and electrify it, but i have to believe, whoever he or she may have been, the maximum drive from their amplifier was the very next place they went after discovering they could make electric music.

it is with the same sort of satisfaction that i can report to you that when you stick a dean markley transducer pickup on a kala uke, plug the patch cord into a fender blues jr amp, (properly cabinetted in a carl's custom guitars hand-made, dovetailed solid pine cabinet, of course), and then send the pre-amp volume up past eleven, (fender thoughtfully lets you go to twelve), you can get a razor-sharp rip out of it like falling off a log.

bending nyl-gut strings is an experience all its own, too.

suh-WEEEEEEET

tex-mas eve you can hear it for yourself

"the military has known about the vulnerability for more than a decade, but assumed adversaries would not be able to exploit it"

yep: "assumed adversaries would not be able to exploit it"

that's the golden nugget buried within an ap story about pentagon acknowledgments that our our nifty-difty high-tech weaponry in afghanistan and iraq isn't quite as far ahead of its targets than arrogance and complacency would have it.

i've always been extremely uncomfortable with the cowboy attitude that initiated and seems to pervade our escapades in iraq and afghanistan. we have the finest fighting force the world has ever seen, doing yeoman's work against some of the foulest and most evil characters this world has ever known, and, yet, in charge of the whole CF is a bunch of yahoos that don't seem to know the first thing about what they're trying to do, or why they're trying to do it.

not underestimating an enemy is sun tzu 101. taking out its means of support and supply are, too. (e.g. don't declare war in the first place if the act of declaring war gives your enemies the backing with which to fight back, as has been commented recently in the right side of lowell blog). folks have been writing and demonstrating the importance of this stuff in conflicts since recorded history, and, i'm sure they were talking about it long before that.

"pentagon spokesman bryan whitman said the military continually evaluates the technologies it uses and quickly corrects any vulnerabilities found." yet, just above, earlier in the story, "one defense official noted that upgrading the encryption in the drones is a lengthy process because there are at least 600 unmanned vehicles along with thousands of ground stations to address". gee, 10 years, and a "lengthy process"... seems somebody should have been able to put those two and two together before now, eh?

IED's are the perfect strategy--they cost those who use them very, very little, and then cost anyone who is beset by them billions upon billions to try to defend against them. methinks we ought to find some military strategists who understand that kind of math, and can figure out ahead of time that a few laptops and off-the-shelf communications software packages can possibly mitigate the effectiveness of our big-ticket explosive preferences, like predator drones and smart bombs.

*sigh*

edited to add: today's headline from seoul is that somebody hacked in an got ahold of joint us/south korea defense plans which were apparently left where some anonymous bad guys (quite probably north korea) could get at them. (the story has it that a south korean military officer connected his military computer to the internet without dismounting an unprotected usb drive, but who ever knows the truth about such things).

anybody who doesn't believe his enemy is at least as smart as he/she is will always learn the truth sooner or later.

the steak stick

driving back from nashua today via university ave, and with a few extra minutes to spare to the cause, i decided it was high time that i had my steak stick cherry popped. it's been awhile now since i got the word on suppa's deep fried steak and cheese "sandwich" (calling this a sandwich is like calling carl's custom guitars just another place to shop for amp cabinets) and it's been one of those things too long burning on my shangri-lowell to-do list.

oh, and what they say about this thing doesn't even begin to do it justice.

googling "steak stick", the very first thing at the top of your list is the video highlights from the phantom gourmet on just this exact wonder of sub shop nature. they shave the steak, grill it, with mushrooms if you ask for them, (which i, of course, did, because it's not steak and cheese without steak and cheese and mushrooms), shred it some more just for good measure, and then mix in a healthy dose of mozarella while preparing for preparation phase 2. then, over a sheet of the most perfectly stretched, delectably thin yet resilient homemade pizza dough, they spread the fixin's and then roll it up snug as my grandmother would say a bug in a rug. and then roll it some more so that everything is a perfect torpedo shaped nuclear warhead of steak and cheese goodness. (see comments above on the mushrooms).

and then...

it literally fills an entire one of those fry-o-lator french fry baskets, and then requires a second fry-o-lator french fry basket to be pressed down over the top of it so things don't get out of hand. once ensconced on all sides by a sufficient quantity of wire mesh, the whole thing is then submerged for the better part of 15 minutes, until the thing is so absolutely perfectly done that you almost drown in your own saliva just looking at it--and then you taste it.

i'll admit right here and now that i cut the monster in half when i got home, and refrigerated the second portion. this was not, however, an admission of gustatory weakness of will--i could have polished that thing off in one sitting any day of the week, and then twice (PLEASE) on sunday. but i want this sensation to last, and i can already tell that it'll toast up so crispy good in the toast-r-oven that it'll be just like falling in love, all over again.

two very delicately and happily greasy (though a very moderate amount, especially considering how long it spent in the fry-o-lator) thumbs up, with a smile the size of pawtucketville.

good eatin!!!

OH!!!

edited to add that they serve it with a big fat packet of ken's ranch dressing on the side, but, seriously, see "gilding the lily" and "so very not necessary" in the dictionary. this is something that needs nothing beside it, except, maybe, a beer. or two. mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

carl's custom guitars

lowell rocks. it's been one of the most rewarding discoveries about my adopted home city, and something that has also inspired me to ignore other people's so-called better sense and touch music as eagerly as i would savor it with my ears. (i love my gretsch and my kala, even if i can't play them nearly well enough to keep from wanting to cry whenever i hear someone who really can). so longtime readers may recall the new guitars and new ukuleles from birthday's past, (divorced guys happily have to get and do things for themselves), but they and you ain't heard nothin' yet. merry christmas to me!

yesterday i picked up my new/old fender blues jr amp from carl's custom guitars, where it had undergone a lightning-fast transmogrification into something truly remarkable. those of you who may have heard a fender blues jr may know from which i speak, but those of you who have not heard a fender blues jr singing from amidst one of carl's custom, hand-built, fully dove-tailed, pine wood cabinets have more to which to look forward--very much more.

from its stock fender press-board cabinet, this amp sounded sweet. the tubes create a sound that is both warm and strong, as well as full and fully remarkable. but nestled within this snug and solid, hand-built wooden cabinet, the tubes literally take flight and sing--the tone is nothing short of incredible. the whole box itself becomes part and parcel of the speaker and the sound, and from anywhere in the room it puts a bear hug on you like your very own kick-ass rock and roll mother. or, mic your uke, and it embraces you like the warmest, softest woman you have ever wanted to know.

if you like making your own music, you're going to love making it through this baby. and, even if you don't, it's going to look great in your living room, even if all it does is sit there. but, you know, if anyone who knows ever comes over and sees it, they're not going to be able to resist plugging in. like joy in a box this is.

the darwin awards, lowell edition

it's 11:10am on a sunday morning. you're 22 years old. life is good. you're also doing 50 on a residential street, driving without your seatbelt, and, and here's the kicker, texting your buds on your cell phone. can you spell D-A-R-W-I-N ?

it's a profound tragedy for the kid, (who was from tewksbury, and not lowell, btw), his family, and his friends. (can you imagine being the guy or girl on the other end of that text correspondence?) but it's such a profoundly preventable thing, that it's hard to muster complete sympathy, either. he's dead, and now the rest of us are going to have to decide what to do with that information.

maybe i'm old, but i both buckle up and try to keep my car under control at all times. (spin-outs in the convertible notwithstanding). i also try to keep my cell phone in my pocket, and will do so ever that much more vigilantly from here on in. (though i have never texted from a moving car that i was driving, so there's that much going for me despite the bad habit of talking on the thing from time to time).

seems pretty reasonable--while driving, you keep your undivided attention on the road. (and your ears on your jen kearney and the lost onion recording from halloween's zep set that's playing on your ipod through your car stereo, but now i'm just braggin').

i'm just glad he didn't hit another car and drag some innocents into the carnage.

"capricious" and "without merit"

susan corcoran, massachusetts ABCC commissioner, wrote an opinion recently, overruling the town of billerica's board of selectmen's revocation of a liquor license to a liquor store with a repeated recent history of selling alcohol to minors (caught 3 times in 18 months), citing said revocation as being both "capricious" and "without merit". her semantic beef is that the selectmen have no written guidelines for penalties, but it sure seems to me that the liquor lobby here in massachusetts has it just as cushy as the airlines have it with the FAA--the ABCC isn't a watchdog group, it's an advocacy group for liquor distributors.

i'm willing, even, to take the semantic leap of faith that "no written rules" might be able to equal "capricious" at times, and, who knows, maybe this is one of them. but to add the specious phrase "without merit" to the charges is a giant step beyond where i'd ever be willing to go. suzie cited a case of another establishment in town that's been caught five times in ten years as the reason there's no merit, but 5 in 10, as opposed to 3 in 1 and 1/2, does seem to be apples and oranges, or at least it does to me.

there's a law here in this state that prohibits the sale of alcohol to minors under the age of 21. second to cigarettes, perhaps, there isn't a habit more deadly than alcoholism, so this isn't entirely ridiculous. (i'm not personally in favor of outlawing use--just misuse--of such things, but that's another story).

so, for a business in a town to regularly flaunt the law and slide six-packs across the counter to underage drinkers, it's very hard to consider cracking down on the enforcement of that law to be "without merit". the merit, on its face, is abiding by the law, and the law's honorable intent to restrict the purchase of alcohol to those deemed old enough to be responsible for making a personal choice to drink it. (again, i'm not against drinking, just too much drinking, and you know who you are).

the chairman of the billerica board of selectmen, marc lombardo, however, has it completely wrong when he argues against written guidelines by worrying that it might "tie the town's hands". actually, marc, that's the whole point of laws in the first place--to tie society's collective hands in a fair and impartial enforcement of that which is publically deemed to be in need of enforcement. if you can't trust that "3 in 18 months" isn't fair for everybody, then, unfortunately, i'd have to say that suzie six-pack has it right.

so--suggestion to the wise: write it down, and stick to it. it's pretty easy, if you let it be.

you do the math, short version

because folks sometime complain that i go on too long, here's the readers digest version:

$2.69 -- one gallon of store-brand whole milk (including high-heat pasteurization, growth hormones and prophylactic antibiotics at no extra charge) at demoula's market basket supermarkets.

$1.55 -- one quart of shaw farm whole milk (including low-heat pasteurization and absolutely no growth hormones or prophylactic antibiotics) at shaw farm in dracut.

$2.00 -- one quart of the same shaw farm whole milk at c'est on merrimack street in downtown lowell. (the real deal for health and flavor-conscious downtown residents who prefer not to drive over the river to dracut for their fix)

$2.69 -- one quart of the same shaw farm whole milk at market street market on market street in downtown lowell, (coincidentally the same price of a GALLON of demoula's), and that's not even counting the no-charge and patronizing song and dance about how it's supposedly only a dime more than at c'est, and the same price as over at shaw farm in dracut... even though you know it all to be BS.

like the mastercard people like to say--priceless.

you do the math

in my experience and experienced opinion, shaw farm sells the hands-down BEST quart of milk available for 100 miles. (i'd wager further, but i haven't had enough experience beyond that distance to unequivocally say, but lets just use 100 miles for starters, and then also say that i'd be willing to put that quart of shaw farm's up against anybody's anywhere anytime beyond that radius and be very happy to learn the difference). i also say experienced, because my grandparents ran just one of the family dairies, (my great aunt and second cousin ran another), and i was raised on the real stuff, straight from the cow, and i know just a little bit about that which i speak. (you remember those clips of the farmers hand-milking cows and squirting the milk straight into the impossibly cute kittens' faces there in the barn? that's my childhood right there, only barn cats are quite a bit nastier than they are cute if you try to get up close to them and give them a cuddle, so don't say you weren't warned). which is all a long way of saying that i can tell you, that when i wrote here a year or two back to say that c'est right here in downtown lowell purveying the sweet pureness of shaw farm milk is one of the greatest things there is about shangri-lowell, that i wasn't just kidding around, or committing some offense of hyperbole--this stuff is the gold standard against which all other local milk can and should be judged.

so, first of all, we don't really need to talk about demoula's retailing their generic hormone and antibiotic-infused whole milk gallons at $2.69, because it's the kind of stuff that's not even really the same thing, and that's all that needs to be said about that, thank you very much. (but keep that $2.69 in your head for a bit, because there's a quiz later).

which brings us, second of all, to shaw farm's website, upon which one can place an order for a full quart of the pure, unadulterated, low-temperature pasteurized, (ask me about pasteurization temperature sometime, and what it means to the taste of a quart of milk), nectar of the gods for $1.55, plus deposit for the great clear quart glass bottle in which is comes.

which takes us, third of all, to my hands-down favorite downtown milk dealer, c'est, where convenience takes that very same quart and drops it off walking distance from the apartment for a flat, clean and even $2.00, plus deposit for the great clear quart glass bottle in which it comes, and, i have to say, that is fair enough indeed, and i am never so happy to pay for quality as i am each and every week that i drop into c'est for my fix.

HOWEVER

today, owing, clearly, to the irresistible popularity of the sweet, white gold, and my having been busy yesterday getting things taken care of in advance of heading into the gahden to catch the bruins so i neglected to get there before the weekly allotment ran out, i was faced with the horns of a terrible dilemma. to skim, or not to skim... (the whole was sold out...)

trust me, if that skim shaw farm stuff was all there was downtown to be had, i'd have snatched up the blue-capped quart (almost) as eagerly as the red. if you've ever disliked skim milk for how watery and blu-ish it seems to you to be, try a quart of shaw farm's and be amazed. you'd think you were drinking 2% at least. however, being aware of all these things, as any junkie would be, i recalled also that the market street market has also now taken to stocking the proverbial white honey, and, given my neighbors' recent exhortations to continue to support the local grocer out of "buy local" principle as much as anything else, i decided to head down the block to get my fix there instead.

oh, i try always so diligently to remain positive when it comes to the local establishments...

strike one--the red-topped bottles ring into the register there at a whopping $2.69 per quart, net of the returned great and clear glass bottle in which these things come. yes, that's right, for the same $2.69 price that you can get a GALLON of "milk" (i guess the hormones and antibiotic additives can be considered "free") at demoula's, you can cop a quart of the good stuff from the MSM'ers. yeah, yeah, it's worth the difference, but, then, see, here's my old swamp yankee dairy farmer point: c'est will give you that exact same beauty for $2.00, and, if you don't mind crossing the river to dracut, you could even get it for $1.55 at the source itself.

strike two is the extremely patronizing, presumptuous and condescending explanation i was given at the register by one of the proprietors when i asked to confirm that the price there was, indeed, $2.69, and observing that this seemed quite a lot for a quart of milk. "that's just 10 cents more than at c'est, and the same price as at shaw farm".

oh, yes, you can bet i wasted no time after refrigerating the goods to head on out to the web when i got home, to establish that the shaw farm price is really $1.55, and, it should go without saying, because i already knew the "10 cents" line about c'est was an outright lie, that strike three is that this guy looked right into my eyes and didn't respect me enough to even bother to tell the truth.

you know, if it's $2.69 for some relevant reason, like, say, you like to make over a buck on each bottle you sell, well, it's up to me to decide whether or not i'm going to stand for it and we have a fair situation either way. but to denigrate and lie about a competitor who has done nothing but right by me since i moved here is to take that proverbial step beyond the pale.

my grandparents not only taught me dairy farming, but they also taught me the importance of doing business with honest people. now i'm not saying that the "10 cents" crack was premeditated or indicative of a larger problem, but i am saying that my grandparents didn't raise me to let something like that go without making an important personal decision.

my decision today is that i don't need to be buying my milk, or much of anything else for that matter, from the market street market until some sort of honest and better sense might some day prevail.

until then, and likely for a very long time after, because i love c'est for all that they do here downtown, in addition to $2.00 shaw farm whole milk quarts, and serving as a drop-off point for the world peas csa vegetable shares, and displaying and selling linda mccluskey paintings, and gratis consulting on the decoration of my building atrium with my building decorating committee, and for all that i know they will continue to do as honest, involved local merchants.

you can't ask for more than that, and, the good news is today, you don't have to.

thanks, c'est!

the party that never stops

b's/flyers down at the gahden tonight. (taking the 5:10 out of lowell and hitting the beer works for a burger before if you've also got your tickets). soccer and beers with the favorite tuesday night barmaid on tuesday night. (who may or may not be ready for us all to "drop by" later this winter when she's moved to london and we're over there crawling pubs and hitting the big soccer venues for the weekend, but more on that later). rehearsal this wednesday night for tex-mas eve on the following wednesday night. (i may be positively mediocre, but i'm partnered up with someone who's both wonderful and specialized in arranging around mediocrity, or so he says, so stay tuned for that, too--should be entertaining enough, even if only in a gong show sorta way). company holiday party and then melvern taylor and his fabulous meltones down at toad in cambridge for their usual thursday night gig on thursday. (there is not a better way to spend your thursday nights than to start yourself out with a little melvern, and you can quote me on that). i'm sure there's something going on this coming friday and saturday night too, but who can keep things straight so far into the future? (you know, the way i spend my weeks, that i sure can't).

wednesday night, december 23rd, it's tex-mas eve!

thumbs up

thumbs up to:

the old court for updating their upstairs space--the walls are warmer, the side-seating more integrated with the room, (not to mention comfortable), and the tap guinness is still the perfect go-with for the music.

jenny riddle and her band--what a great set--speakermute, los wundertwins del rap, the farewells, and the cold pilgrims (and to whomever may have been on before speakermute and i got there--not a better multiple bill to be had anywhere in the city, except possibly the 119 gallery and the lowell & behold gig, but a man can only be in so many places at once, and ya gotta give a bump when its a benefit for the food bank).

the hynes tavern for putting on so many great bands these days, like red devil lye this past friday, and you absolutely cannot beat an $8 pitcher of PBR as a go-with for all that, either.

jen kearney and the lost onion and their recording of their christmas video for cometolowell.com (it's due to go up on wednesday, so try the link again in a couple days)--the cometolowell website may need also to be excused for lacking links to melvern taylor (and his fabulous meltones, of course) frank morey, evan goodreau, and about a thousand others, (see those listed above for starters), but starting with jen does buy a certain amount of latitude.

the village smokehouse for remodeling their bar space to put in a stage where there always ought to be one--i was delayed from catching the reverend jj's birthday sets this past friday (see $8 PRB pitcher, the hynes tavern and red devil lye above if you need background, and i did get there for the load out and the last call for the birthday boy and his gang over at the worthen house, so i'm taking a mulligan on that one) but given that jen kearney and the lost onion will be there in january, there will be plenty of upcoming and great opportunity to give it a good listen.

everybody for making it a very merry christmas and hanukkah and name-your-holiday season this year--i won't name names in order to protect the innocent, but i've been invited to share the season with so many near and dear people to me, and i can't possibly convey thanks enough to them all.

have a merry!

almost!

started off the evening yesterday down the road apiece, having beers with my soccer buddies, and recounting and retelling the story of our extremely enjoyable and productive season. i knew better than to expect it would wrap up early, but i also knew that there's only so late a collection of a dozen married guys, despite the one single one, is going to (be able to) stay out, so i figured 4 hours was a reasonable approximation...

well, the berkshire ale was especially tasty, and one thing leading to another, so it was the better part of 11 and five hours afore i got back up the road toward shangri-lowell and a stop in at the hynes tavern to catch a couple sets by red devil lye. arte kenyon (their usual bassist, and a great one indeed) was out recovering from his recent appointment with the orthopedist, but his replacement, that i feel absolutely remiss in not retaining his name, but, believe me, i'm going to find out in a way that we all can remember, was extraordinary, and the blues from him and the rest of the boys--justin, carl, steve and james--was COOKIN'. Crankin'. Suh-WEEEEET.

so now it's that proverbial past midnight, and it's high time to stash the wheels downtown so the rest of the evening won't end up in any inconvenient way, (you'll be pleased to know and i'm proud to say that i kept things moderate and circumspect around the tap right through then), and a quick dash over to the smokehouse to see what the new PA and stage setup is like, and...

of course i was too late to catch the end of the right reverend jj's birthday bash sets because time, tide and rock and roll wait for no man, but i WAS able to fulfill my little personal pleasure to play roadie for the band, so i did get to help break down and carry out the amps so that we'd all have time to get over to the worthen for last call...

so watch this space and your calendar for music at the smokehouse. the stage is proper and properly set up at the back, away from the windows, (where the banquettes uselessly used to be), so as to really make the room--all possibilities. the PA looks good (yes, i do regret not getting there in time to hear it) and i fully expect it'll be a new regular spot for me. (jen kearney and the lost onion will be there in january, for one thing).

so, we rejoin the sojourn over at the worthen house... and the place was PACKED. i have no idea what caused the stars to align on this one, but it was a great crowd and a great vibe in which to enjoy the last retail beer of the evening, before heading out for some after-hours music with the right reverend. somebody even brought a ukulele (i was not traveling with mine, which is probably a very good thing for it) so i got to have a lil fun for myself, too.

cannot wait 'til Tex-Mas Eve!!!

the designated hittee

apparently, in addition to an under-achieving and over-paid shortstop, the red sox front office also feels compelled each year now to feature a surgically repaired designated hittee among their pitching staff. as classically as john smoltz and brad penny and paul byrd tried to define the position in 2009, you have to like our chances to build on their past example and achieve new heights of hittability in 2010--the boston red sox are now the proud owners of the professional baseball contract of one boof (nee john paul, though boof had his first names legally changed, and you know i wouldn't make this stuff up) bonser, for the expense of the proverbial player to be named later.

for those of you who don't regularly play fantasy baseball and hence don't honestly come by these useless knowings in the course of their daily lives, let me share with you the great (great as in large) news that boof literally embodies the full corpulent spirit of brad penny at his corpulent brad penny-est, combined with the perennial pitching futility of paul byrd--boof followed up his rookie season era of 5.10 with a sophomore effort of 6.16.

of course, i could be wrong, and maybe boof stuck with that austerity diet the twins had him on while he was throwing apart his pitching shoulder, but i'm thinking now that both curt schilling and brad penny are off the roster, and since its been so many years since rich "el guapo" garces has graced the clubhouse, that there also needed to be somebody to fill those oversized shoes, to go with the oversized opponents' batting average.

i'm thinking, in vegas somewhere, somebody already has the line on how many leadoff homers curtis granderson is going to hit at fenway this year...

dumb as a box of cobblestones, and, yeah, i mean you, dan phelps

in the past couple of weeks, FOUR horrific traffic accidents have sent four involved pedestrians to various local hospitals with various extremes of critical, life-threatening injury. interestingly enough, for all the dire warnings conveyed in today's column on the sourge of cobblestones by our earnest danny-boy phelps, it's worth observing that in none of the incidents were the automobiles involved motoring across the apparently nefarious cobblestones that we are now being admonished to do without. in some of the cases, perhaps, the pedestrians were where and doing what they shouldn't, in addition to the autos. however, in all of the cases, the speed of the automobile involved was a critical element of the extent of the resulting injuries.

i live downtown. i watch all manner of vehicular and pedestrian chaos each and every day. at it's most dangerous, there are thousands of school students hitting the streets all at once while hundreds of cars are breaking every traffic rule in the book, from running red lights to illegal turns to constant failure to yield. at it's best, it's still a wild west of will-they-or-won't-they, and heaven forbid anyone guesses wrong on the directional intent of another. the police have consistently raised warning of the danger, and the need for better pedestrian behavior, but, to my mind, the safest step that could be taken would be to reduce the speed of the automobiles. to that end, it's very clear to me from living down here and seeing the contrasts, that the safest surface that there is downtown or anywhere else on which to drive, walk or simply sit on a park bench to enjoy, are our cobblestones.

beyond the safety issue, and on to that of cost and convenience, i would also add that, properly maintained, cobblestones are not the expensive boondoggle that danny-boy suggests and fears. anyone who has ever put in their own front walk, and chosen asphalt, has very soon regretted their decision. asphalt heaves. asphalt cracks. asphalt requires constant maintenance. and, it looks like crap. anyone who has ever chosen pavers as an alternative has very soon and for a long time after enjoyed their better judgment. pavers (like cobblestones) move with the frost, and nestle back into their interlocking spaces. pavers (unlike asphalt) do not degrade over time, and crumble or need replacement. yes, cobblestones will require extra effort while plowing in the winter, but, the good news is that a very simple crew of one or two men can re-seat any stones that may become dislodged if they are diligent and get to them in a timely fashion. and the results look GREAT.

i think danny boy needs to get a clue. i think danny boy ought to consider what it is that makes an anonymous, private donor come up with the big money (that wouldn't have been so big had the city properly maintained the stones over time, instead of screwing them up with asphalt patches and the like) to put things back to right. it's because cobblestones are safer. it's because cobblestones are beautiful. it's because, properly maintained, cobblestones can be cheaper, too. (ours haven't needed to be replaced in going on 200 years, and that's not a bad record).

if i were king, i'd have the asphalt removed from over the top of the cobblestones on both market and merrimack street, to go along with middle. i'd uncover them at the lower part of dutton, and over onto worthen. i'd have this entire heart of this beautiful and wonderful city restored to the original quality, appearance and rock-solid value of its past, and i'd ensure that artisans qualified to take care of them were always on the city payroll. and i'd suggest folks like danny boy who don't like it move to beautiful and scenic downtown chelmsford and see how they like that for an alternative.

lowell rocks!

devil vs the deep blue sea

today's paper of record (nods as usual to the mr mill city guys) headlines their front page with the patently offensive "coke vs pepsi" summary of what we're likely to have for choices to drink (aka sit in our vacant senate seat) in a few weeks. this headline may satisfy the statisticians regarding probability of outcome, but it nags at me for how presumptuous and offensive such a thing is just one layer beneath its surface.

first of all, i didn't ask for either of them to be on my ballot in a few weeks. in fact, an astounding majority of registered voters didn't ask for them to be on the ballot in a few weeks. in further point of irrefutable fact, even an overwhelming majority of party-registered registered voters did not ask for them to be on the ballot in a few weeks.

what we have here is a triumph of party over the best interests of the electorate, and it borders on fraud for how brazen it is. (for example, we the taxpayers who resoundingly did not ask for either of these candidates to be on our ballots in a few weeks were forced to pay for the process by which these miscreants will wind up there).

party over country is the new allegiance sworn by almost all of our elected politicians. forget an informed and enlightened debate about important issues, like global warfare, economic policy, healthcare for citizens. what we have is a knee-jerk cacophony of braying jackasses opposing anything about which the other side might be in favor, and if you don't believe me, just look to our wars in iraq and afghanistan, and our economic stimulous and bailout packages for examples. while the republicrats were in charge, we were told that we needed to be spending tens of billions every month to ostensibly pursue a policy of genocide against civilians in iraq and afghanistan, while coincidentally pursuing the possible capture of a few miscreant violent international criminals. while the republicrats were in charge, we were told that no amount of money, even into the trillions, was too small to aid and comfort our rapacious financial services industry executives, lest their ruin extend to our own. now, while the demicans are on top, we're being sold the same two bills of damaged goods, while the republicrats are bleating that somehow both policies are all of a sudden poison. it's hypocritical. it's even, arguably, criminal. (the patriot act, for one thing, is prima facie unconstitutional, though nobody with the "D" or the "R" designation has the balls to call that spade a spade, at the risk of upsetting their party bosses).

so here we are, with one of the hundred us senators to be decided by a coffee klatch of self-interested and profoundly selfish party hacks, who are pursuing the "D" or the "R" designation for the position with such rabid determination that it makes the head swim. (mike "i swallow" capistrano was liberally dosing his campaign ads with all the things, from karl rove to previous administration policies, that he was hoping to go to washington to oppose, and all the rest of them seemed just as eager to beg comparison to the bloated alcoholic who precedes them).

i don't care for any of them. good ole mumble-mouth was extremely happy to play politics with our local umass dormitory situation, and i have no reason to believe she'll be any less eager to do that sort of thing on a national scale. as for mr. gail huff, (nice tumble down the route 3 embankment the other day trying to cover that highway fatal, by the way, gail), who used to appear in cosmo magazine centerfolds, i have absolutely no idea how he's figured he's any more qualified.

is this the best we've got? of course not. but it's the best that our party political system will generate for us, and that, more than anything else, is the indictment that i think should stand and convict on all counts.

i'm still voting for khazei, even though he carries the scarlet "D" into office with him if he goes. at least he's done something with his life worthy and deserving of the office.

until then, color me disgusted.

uplifting voter turnout in massachusetts today

i'm having a good chuckle reading all the party faithful gnashing their teeth over their "get out and vote" plea today. the turnout is dismal, and i, for one, couldn't be more encouraged. after all, this is NOT an election--it's a party primary--a private function for the people who are screwing our nation, and screwing it very, very badly. worst of all, it's a soiree that's being paid for by *all* of us, to complete the travesty.

face it, people--we don't have a two party system here in this country--we just have one very big two-headed monster of a one party system, and it's taking us all down with it. think about it. deficit spending--demicans and republicrats are both so in favor of it that our debt burden is likely already too crushing to ever escape without dire, dire penury. foreign policy cock-ups of gargantuan and horrible proportions--our two last administrations have killed more civilians in afghanistan and iraq than any other regime, force or ideology, and there's no end in sight. assault on our constitution and civil liberties--between the patriot act, and it's unconscionable abuse of executive power against the people of the united states, and social-fabric-tearing battles over gay marriage, abortion and you name it, the only thing these "two" parties, who are really only two sides of one, are for, is anything to advance their own agendas and ideologies of graft and corruption and denial of personal liberties.

so it's no wonder to me that nobody but nobody wants to vote for adherents of either crime syndicate.

today is a GREAT day at the polls for we, the people.

let's hope we can keep it going.

it's getting surreal

barbro holmgren, mother to elin, mother-in-law to the tiger, had to be transported via ambulance to health central hospital in ocoee, florida this morning after yet another 911 call from the tiger's den. (as far as i know, no golf clubs were involved in this one, but it's early, and the news vultures have only just begun to circle again).

i absolutely do NOT need to know about this, of course, and neither do you.

HOWEVER

this news does raise one EXTREMELY disturbing question, and that is, does tiger's mother-in-law now possibly live with them in that house on the end of the cul-de-sac? can tiger really be that pitiful?

i don't know much, but i do know a few things about how (certain, not all) women can be very toxic things in a man's life. wives who beat their men with golf clubs in order to achieve their idea of proper behavior are some. their mothers are others.

if i ever get as rich as tiger, two things you can count on: one, i will not be married. two, nobody's mother, not even my own, will be living with me.

somebody's gotta get this man a life coach.

the oracle has spoken

ever have trouble making up your mind about politics? lots of people i know like to cede control of their political lives to "role models" and "spiritual advisors" and all sorts of other crap like that, but i think i've developed a MUCH more reliable system. simply put, it's always easiest to know you're backing the right horse by not being for anything that rita mercier isn't against. some recent examples:

lowell city council primary elections? they're a legally-mandated civil right, and clearly in the best interest of the city and its electorate--especially when two dozen folks show up for 9 seats. rita voted against one, of course.

assistant to the city manager under a "Plan E" form of government? andy sheehan formerly held that job, which was supposedly and coincidentally legally protected from political firings by state law. rita voted to "eliminate funding for the position", of course.

question a sitting city councillor about personal favors done by city employees while on city time? the fbi, of course, was able to figure out an investigation was/is necessary. rita voted against even considering the question.

anyway, in today's news, and to help me out with tomorrow's senatorial primary pick, rita mercier just called me personally to advocate backing *her* choice for the seat, mike "i swallow" capistrano. (or something like that). my only confusion, since the system is designed to be FOR whatever or whomever rita is against, is that i still have several other candidates to pick from. guessing that steve "the clown" pagliacci (or something like that) is right to oppose simply on the grounds that the guy with the most money is always a bad choice, i'm left deciding between alan "hamid" karzai and martha "hillary" clinton. (or something like that).

oh, wait!!!

the best news is that since i'm not a registered republicrat (or something like that) i don't have to bother vote tomorrow. (no, i just have to continue with my ulcer that we the taxpayers are left on the hook paying for them the politicos running their own little private primary election).

seriously, and just for fun, why doesn't everybody take a quick run out to alan khazei's site and familiarize themselves with what all the other commercials and special-interests and political back-scratchers aren't telling us. if you're a bushie/rightie/anti-dem, you can consider the fact that dubya senior himself picked alan out to that thousand point of light community service commission back in '91. if you're a clitonian/leftie/anti-rep, you can consider that alan's city year was the model for bill's "americorps". (and both sides can be impressed that alan was the one to step in when it was clear that the patronage hacks were destroying americorps, and he saved/fixed the thing to save us all a pile of dough). his recent service nation summit united both mccain and obama in september of last year before the big election when they couldn't be united on anything.

so who do we need in washington? a party pol for more of the same?

i don't think so, but what do i know until rita comes out against it...

el grupo de la not-quite muerte

every four years fifa does its (apparent) best to attempt fairness in the world cup group draw, though i must say "apparent" because no system that pre-ranks and groups the ping pong balls is really going to be completely free from ill-intended human bias, even if it is decided that such human bias may be even less dangerous than pure chance when dealing with the widely differing talent and skill levels arrayed among the qualifying teams.

it is in this spirit of suspicion that pundits find themselves fond of identifying a so-called group of death (or grupo de la muerte as the mexicans first called it back in the 50's) among the 8 preliminary brackets, where popular opinion (paranoia?) finds itself unable to resist declaring who, exactly, has it toughest among the toughest teams, and perhaps, if time and inclination allows, some sort of possibility of a plot behind it. (myself, i'm far more determined that its among the officiating that the REAL damage is dealt, and, yes, i mean YOU, hugh dallas--you of the no-handball-and-no-red-card-for-torsten-frings BS that saw the US out of the 2002 tournament, but i, as usual, digress). this year i've seen a few folks opine that it's brazil and portugal and the ivory coast, (we don't even have to mention north korea with those three in a group), but i'm also looking down the list at argentina, nigeria, south korea and greece with a certain amount of respect.

respondents to the fifa website's online poll have far and away supported the brazil portugal ivory coast theory, (55%), with second choice (18%) going to mexico, uruguay, france and south africa, but, see, there's where i know popular opinion can't possibly be as smart as my own (you knew my opinion would be the most important before you started reading this, right?) because agentina, nigeria, south korea and greece didn't show up in the poll until 6th out of 8, with under 4% of the votes. seriously folks, mexico isn't very good at all this time around, (we won't even suggest what that might say about the US team that barely beat them out for top of the CONCACAF qualifiers), and uruguay had to once again slog through a home-and-home playoff series, (against hard-luck CONCACAF'ers costa rica), to make it, and they couldn't even manage better than a draw in montevideo while doing it. south africa gets their spot just for being the host, so, yeah, i wouldn't mind being france this year at all. (grupo de la muerte, my burro).

but the real eye-opener to me this time isn't that there may be a one toughest group, but, rather, among seven pretty competitive collections, there's one simply wailing out for scrutiny of the opposite kind. ok, paraguay may have had their best qualifying run in their nation's history this time around, but when you're playing among the not-brazil-and-not-argentina's in the south american group, it's hardly a big deal to tie with chile for wins. argentina and brazil round methodically into form as a matter of national policy, thinking very little as i'm sure the argentinians thought very little about not bothering to try so hard in the last match in september after their ticket is already punched, regardless of whether or not it gives los albirrojas a quaint 1-0 win for which their president might see fit to announce a national holiday in celebration. i kid you not. a national holiday. for a qualifying match. i tell you that nothing says "just glad to make the tournament" than declaring a national holiday for winning a qualifying match. then there's new zealand, qualifying for the first time since '82 in the oceania joke, i mean region. (where even if you win, you still have to play-off against the fifth-ranked asian nation, which, in this case, was bahrain, who, it must also be noted, actually came within a missed penalty from besting the kiwi's anyway). and what can be said about slovakia, other than they beat slovenia this time around. and then there's the azzuri. tell me you don't think it possible that italy paid somebody off to save their stars from unnecessary diving before the round of 16.

(actually, i had to laugh with one journalist who dubbed the brazil, portugal and ivory coast group the group of divers).

i have no idea what you like to do every fourth summer, but 187 days from now, me and my 10-foot bedroom screen are going to be going three matches a day for a couple of weeks, and loving every single minute of it.

USA! USA! USA!

ten feet of tv

moved a few things around the domicile the other day, and finally got everything set for ten feet of tv in the bedroom. the inaugural launch was both a boom (there were times i actually got the inklings of a sense of actually being there on my tempur-pedic right there in the center of the bell centre ice) and a bust (1 to 5 and having to actually see ken dryden again is just about as bad as hockey gets) so i guess nothing in this world is absolutely perfect. but, as home video experiences go, this isn't such a bad one.

yeah, yeah, tv in the bedroom is an abomination. i don't disagree. and 10 feet of it certainly would seem like overkill under most circumstances. but, first of all, "because i can" isn't something i take lightly when it comes the audio-visual. second of all, it's ICE HOCKEY!!! and, third of all, i don't plan to be firing the projector up for all that much, or all that often, so the rest of you can rest easy and pipe down.

there's still the extra-luminescent and automatically retractable 10 foot screen to retrieve, (anyone who feels like a road trip down to the pre-divorce domicile and helping out with the de-installation there is welcome, though, in the meantime, the bare bedroom wall doesn't do half-badly), and a little modification to the cabling so as to make enhanced audio part of the experience, so it's not too late to become part of the fun.

(and, to answer your questions, yes, i could have put the setup in the living room, but where's the excess in that?)

hoy-hoys in the attic

hit the upstairs of the blue shamrock, aka gemstones, last night to (primarily and alphabetically) catch claire finley, carl johnson, jen kearney, mark mullins and pete maclean, otherwise known as jen kearney and the lost onion, doing so well what they do so well, and to exercise my curiosity about the continued evolution (or not) of the room, and, because enough is just never enough, even catch some opening acts while i was at it.

ashland's attic opened the evening, and gentlemen hall kept on keeping on, and it was impossible not to notice that the room itself, a high-ceiling-ed mill city attic with a great open floor plan, and some extremely funky (if waterfall wall art and a kitschy christmas light motif can be considered funky) decor, really needs a better (or a better-balanced) PA if it really wants to get to the next level as a music venue. well, it's not that the house system isn't loud enough, because it technically is, (though drowning out the house crap from the dj downstairs only gets you so far when the floor additionally vibrates from the disco crap's over-clocked bass beneath you, and i do mean beneath you), but to get the mix right the first time you play there appears to be a challenge not easily met. "muddy" is one way to put it, but by the time you get towards the back or sides of the room, you have the general sense that anything at or below a standard guitar's lower C is going to be like being inside the trunk of one of those tuner civics you hear boommp boomp booomping down merrimack street in the afternoon. seriously, for all its worth, you don't even really need to bring a bass player. (nods to the great set paul ortalano and stephen clements, aka the serial thrillers, put down awhile back, but that's beside the point).

the revelation of the evening was that, if you do bring a bass player, (and calling bringing claire finley just "bringing a bass player" is like calling bringing carl johnson just "bringing a guitar player"), the right touch and tone mixed well can usefully overcome some pretty challenging acoustics. it got so good for me last night that i actually and finally picked out a spot over on one of the couches by the windows, where the sound of claire and pete thumpin' it was more inside me than anywhere else around me, just like back in the days when i'd stand in front of the stacks, back when bands stood their stacks right out front so as not to be misunderstood. (what?). like your very best friend punching you full in the gut with every downbeat, there's nothing like being PART of the music in addition to being in the audience for it.

which is all to say that jen and her crew kicked it but good once again last night, and that was very, very good. jen's songs, her voice and her presence are so very good, (as are her keys, as has been discussed here recently), that everything else that gets layered ontop and into the mix, from mark mullins' sweet, sweet trumpet, to carl's licks to claire's licks to pete's perfect time, are at once part of something so very much better than good, and you know you're glad you came.

even if the corona's are $4.50 and you have to go downstairs for your smithwicks.

muppets + queen = yee hah!

if you were there for the 80's, or even wished you were there for the 80's, then you gotta go here.

my favorite line: "MAMA--Yoo HOO"

but the real hoot is this response, layering the muppets soundtrack over the original video.

you're welcome.

gotta love the writing and editing over there at the sun

did you all know that the bruins picked up a new winger named "sturn"?

it's right there in bold print on the top of today's page 13, and atop the web version of the story, too. (link it while it lasts).

I know this isn't funny, but...

pardon the interruption to your morning, but today's "paper of record" (nods to the mrmillcity guys) followed its masthead with a very large headline: "police: massage shop sold sex"

now i know this sort of sordid behavior ought not to be dignified with further amplification, but, see, when they observe the age of one of the perpetrators as 60, and then follow it with citation of her arrest for, in addition to maintaining a house of prostitution, "sexual conduct for money", it seems there ought to be some sort of recognition for the achievement. (the P-O-R didn't see fit to include photographs, but i, for one, and at the risk of revealing one of my many reprehensible character flaws, remain more than just a little bit curious as to what 60-and-worth-paying-for looks like).

ok, carry on...

you can't go home again

i still find myself, from time to time, with (non-hostile) feelings for my ex. i don't talk about them much--they weird me out as much as i'm sure they would others--but there's frequently a pause in our in-person conversations these days where remaining together in conversation would be the most natural subsequence, though we've conditioned ourselves through much painful history never to countenance it, let alone allow it. nope, all business, all the time, and not one minute more than necessary. even so, it really gives a guy the serious willies to be driving over to the homestead with #2's baggage in the morning, knowing that the ex will not yet have left for work, (even though all the kids will have gone), and, more than that, knows that you're coming.

it's also fascinating to see the road not taken right there in front of you. (i wonder if she's as confident in her choices looking at me as i am looking at her?) the life that's shared through children is a powerful thing, and i'm thinking, in a few hours' hindsight, that it's that, more than anything else, that takes ones breath away.

what arrived in breath's place this morning for me was a very clear emotion of dearly cherishing my own life, now that i've recovered some not small part of it, and also what has grown in into that place over the past few years. the sense of missing what you actually have is an extremely curious feeling, coincident as it may be in the face of what you (purposefully) have not.

i think that's one of those secrets of life, right there.

can't wait to share it with whom it matters.

coke vs pepsi

as offensive as i find our current two-party-which-is-really-just-one-party political system, all that is nothing compared to how i feel about our present options for telecommunications utilities, i.e. cokecast vs veripsi. if i could fire both of them and start over, you know i would, but i also know that if i want to watch the bruins on my own tv in the meantime, while using the phone and the internet to enable my enjoyment of working from home to boot, well, then, it's into the lion's den with me. (and, please, spare me your helpful suggestions of alternatives, as, for example, i can't do a dish downtown here in the historic district within my shangri-lowell condo rules, and etc.)

and so it is that i've endured billing errors, service outages, slow, rude and otherwise unhelpful "service" personnel, and the supreme insult of having to pay a ridiculously large sum of money for the "privilege". fios would be better, they say, except for yah cahn't get thayat from heeyah. the comcast bundle price looks attractive, except you can't qualify for that if you're already paying them waaaaay too much for cable already. (what the f*** is up with that--i'm a customer, so i get treated worse than any yahoo on the street???)

well, anyway, last night, before taking TWO very long and very hot showers to try to get the feeling of disgust off, i shook hands on a deal from cokecast to move my 'net and home phone to their network, which will both save me maybe $5 a month overall, as well as theoretically speed up my net connection. the cost to me is an extra set of boxes between wall and tv, which i couldn't have avoided anyway, because in their quest to "serve" me, cokecast is changing their whole system around so that it wouldn't work for me without them, and an extra layer of complexity while running my video life through a tivo box. (if they told me i couldn't use my tivo, i think i would have said "screw it" and resigned myself to watching all my bruins games from the bar(s) across the street).

veripsi, if you're wondering, your "one bill" option that isn't, and the colossal screw ups that surrounded trying to extricate myself from the marital account were strikes one and two, and your repeated insistence on wiring everywhere else but here for fios was the third. good riddance.

yet, for all that, i'm still nauseous this morning to have entrusted everything to the cokecast crew, who have previously enjoyed various pranks like dropping my cable connection for days, insisting that it couldn't possibly be their fault, until, of course, they discover and admit that it is, or sending me forests-worth of junk mail offering me sweet bundle pricing deals, until, of course, i call in to inquire and they admit that i never qualified because i already send [too much] money to them for video services. oh, and while we're on the subject: the main box, as you learn in the fine print, is complementary only for the first year, after which i'll be on the hook to them for another $4 a month in perpetuity, which isn't so much a large number, as an insulting one. (don't tell me my bundle is $115 a month when it's really more like $130 all-in, and due to be more like $134 this time next year).

*deep breath*

i get to work from home

i get to watch all the bruins games i please

soon i'll be playing gran turismo on the 10-foot screen in my bedroom. (long story involving the return of marital property now that she's "repo'd" an HD flat screen from her most recent b/f).

harpoon ipa still tastes as good as it ever has

some day, someone will figure out how to offer more for less, and i'll be the first one in line to cancel everything else i've got.