And now it’s today

 Well fuck me … or not.

But what a great evening it’s been … Golden Earring and Cream videos that tickled me. It’s sucks when I have something to say and then I’m tongue tied … oh yeah … wait … it was indeed that Golden Earring thang I mentioned… I was stationed in Germany in the early 70’s and I could have, with some effort, caught their act live. But no … I fucked that up and didn’t … catch that show or any of their shows … all I’ve really learned since I'm old is that Joe Roachfort and I should have just shut the fuck up sometimes. 

 So yeah ... now it’s tomorrow and I have even less shame ... so I’ll write things. 

Bond ... that’s a word ... and an interesting one from the perspective of early 60’s English blues history ... The Graham Bond Organization ... and he was much more than a cracker ... he helped those Limey fucks take over music appreciation there for a decade or so ... mid 60’s to mid 70’s roughly ... more or less ... give or take ... sorta maybe. Close enough for the Crickets Buddy.     

Of course Graham wasn’t around all that time nor was Alexis Korner, Cyril Davies, Long John Baldry, The Shadows or Screaming Lord Sutch although their influence certainly was. Another ‘of course’ is that John Mayall out lasted them all ... by a margin. 

So what WAS the greatest group to come out of the early 60’s mishmash jazz/blues scene? Or person? Hmmm ... certainly an interesting ponder and I wish I actually knew someone that had a reasonably intelligent answer ... anyone? You there next to the ugly thick chick next to the stale donuts ... anything? No? ... OK well ... sorry ... you are correct ... she isn’t that ugly ... 

Dick Huckstall Smith? Jack Bruce? ... Ginger Baker? ... ha ... now you are getting ... yes yes yes it’s CREAM ...  I’m such a one trick pony ... 

We’ll chat again ... until such time 

 Today is the day alright. The day I ignore all the semi interesting shit I wrote in emails and other everyday correspondence during the past three months and instead flood my wayward horribly foreshortened Hunter blog with lame half witted blather and second rate word farts.

Oddly I only remember to write on this thing after a minimum of four boilermakers. Check ... got that done because ... well ... why not ... it is a Thursday in April after all ... nothing like a bottle with precious little content to make one want to create room in the cupboard for some new and interesting replacement.

So I did that ... I dusted Bobke’s Four Roses bourbon ... making room for who knows what from my next Total Wines and More visit. I am finding a soft spot for Jamison variations lately ... that and any other Green Isle beverages ... for me a great defining year in my musical appreciation.

On the radio today some older “made for radio face” talking head threw out some weird 1971 ... 50 years ago best album releases comment ... and it really hit me ... I wonder what fucking albums will these folks come up with ... I had my own quick knee jerk entry that I feel kinda defines their list ... at least for me ... if they fail to list ‘Future Games’ by Fleetwood Mac then I shun them ... well not really but I can’t ‘imagine’ that list without that.

And of course yes ‘Imagine’ is also on that list ... one of Johnny Winstons finest post Beatles efforts. Or at least to some folks. David Crosby, Humble Pie, Joni Mitchell and the Doors also owned that year ... OK ... I have to go now ... hopefully I can follow up on this ... both of the folks that might maybe read this blog kinda sorta insist upon edit and I feel their pain.

Hopefully the end ... of 2020 ...

Well of course it is the end of 2020 ... no matter what lies are told or what tendencies are wrangled ... it’s just math ... or calendars ... or maybe colanders if we got pasta ... I like spaghetti.

In any event one year is dying and a new is commencing. That just is and no amount of optimism changes the fact that it’s still merely just tomorrow. Oh I know, I know ... I need to be more positive and optimistic and really I am ... but ... the math is still the math.

What’s my point? What? ... I have to have a point? OK ... let’s see if I can perform under pressure ... nope ... still just writing  whatever whenever however.

I’m not even writing proper Gonzo journalism ... just drunk stream of thought ... but then perhaps it’s like having no style ... is actually a style. 

So at 2121hrs on the eve of the new I can’t help but wonder ...  

2020 ...

 ... a year that will live in infamy. 

Although the original impressive infamy usage described merely one single day, a tragic date to say the least, December 7th 1941. Which all good and educated Americans will say ... well ... everyone knows that Dude.

The problem is a vast number of our young replacement citizens do not. And that is a great problem about now. 

The sad villainy of ignorance of history cannot be overstated. Not sure that makes perfect sense but I liked it and couldn’t delete it so I’m moving on ... just like the scary New Dumbs attempts at rewriting history or simply eliminating it from any school curriculum.

I read a headline once about ‘How did we let the idiot Libs become in charge of educating our children’ ... or something of the sort ... although I may have added the idiot part for my own amusement.

That is a great question ... and to give those wannabe Communist cretins their due credit ... it is a brilliant and surprisingly long developing plan. I usually loosely associate those old hippy, LSD Stalinists with the instant gratification tendencies of today’s electronic robot youth.

In the end the dilemma remains ... how can this tidal wave of misinformation be slowed ... arrested and finally turned around? Before our great country is overwhelmed by the New Dumb and their misguided, misplaced and irrational desire to destroy America and follow morons like Bernie on an irreversible path into the River Styx?

They have had it too easy, take it all for granted and are determined to bring it all down. 

The amazing level of this ignorance is beyond my comprehension. Obviously.

The sad part of all this for me is I haven’t had a drink today ... merely relying on insomnia for motivation in throwing these words down. Wrote about this crap in August as well ... Sorry for repeating the obvious ... just my Alzheimer’s working its magic.

I should have wrote about Ava Gardner instead ... maybe next time.

Cooking shows ...

 ... or eating shows ... or food game shows ... the food channels has got them all ... and I find I’m missing the straight ahead food preparation shows and tuning out the gimmicky BS. Guy’s Grocery Games? Seriously?

Another weird observation I have from watching these so called chefs is their habit of dumping a pile of spices, herbs or other small volume items directly into the center of the bowl contents instead of beginning the even distribution process by sprinkling these ingredients throughout the container ... effectively reducing the blending portion ... which in many instances does little to enhance the dish.

But then what do I know ... perhaps I’m missing something ... after all I’m the guy that’s about to create brunch using ingredients that are nearly 100% yellow or orange.

I need a good spicy hot dish to help sustain me on my days journey ... buying bullets, beer and BBQ takes several Habanero and Manzanita peppers to pull off. And certainly at least half a grapefruit .... as I’m certain Karen and the mask police are out there ready to give me grief as well ... maybe I better throw in some Serrano’s too.

The Pressure is on

Tuesday is seemingly the new deadline of many weeks.

The unknown weekend is looming ... yet there is still time to do something about it. Tuesday.

Shall I ... or ... we ... do anything about it? ... maybe? ... maybe not ... depends upon the drinking. Planned or otherwise.

Tuesday drinking is a natural given ... you probably drank Sunday ... yet perhaps cinema and/or gluttony ate through your moments instead ... and so somehow... inexplicably ... no alcohol was consumed ... and no  abuse occurred. Hey!! It could happen Alex!!

So anyway ... Tuesday was lucky for the High Desert ... because we determined we must go there. Ha ... assuming our presence isn’t too disruptive ... we hope to visit Mom ... Lola May ... my one and only Mother. The greatest Mom of all time ... Ha ... you assume I’m biased .. and yes ... I am ... yet the fact remains. ... she is a better a mom than I ever deserved ... or you ... yah ... you don’t  deserve her either.