Music of the Day: Ten Years After, I’d Love to Change the World

Rating: F/K (Flapdoodle/Kidding)

An after-work drive around our burg out here in the hinterlands took me past our usual spot for refilling the gas tank in the Family Hummer; the place is a combination gas station, Dairy Queen, feed store, chain-saw repair center, massage parlor, video-rental shop, public library, fire station, karate dojo, urgent care clinic, yoga studio, recycling center, post office, and coffee shop. Needless to say, the place attracts a diverse and unusual clientele—over-the-road truckers, loggers, ageing hippies, caffeine junkies, cowboys (and the occasional Indian), off-duty EMTs, bookworms, Army ROTC kids from the college up the road, a one-legged Vietnam vet everyone calls Peg Leg, the offensive line from the high school’s football team, and I even saw Rick (Super Freak) James there one time filling up the tank on the travel bus.

That last part, about Rick James, isn’t true—I made that up because Super Freak just came up on my James Brown “station” on Pandora. . . .

Anyway, what caught my eye today was the $2.98 price tag on a gallon of gasoline; I know that other folks out there in our great land are still paying over three bucks for a gallon of the stuff, but we’re lucky, for a time at least, to see the price fall back a bit. We’ve been seeing gradual decreases in the price since our return to the ranch from our visit to Dear Old Mom’s neck of the woods. This is a good thing and it reduces my general sense of guilt for driving around in the Family Hummer, running half-innocent hybrid drivers off the road because of silly/stupid bumper stickers on their ugly little cars.

Apropos of absolutely nothing, I heard today that Mr. Al Gore gave an address at Harvard the other day; this was significant because, according to the report, it was the coldest day on record in the last 125 years at Harvard. Here, in Dipstick County, we’ve had spectacular weather for late October—I’m hoping that Steve and I can get out on the tennis court Sunday afternoon. We’re supposed to have near-80 degree temps with only slight breezes. Tomorrow morning MLB wants me to accompany her to a nearby lake so that she can take her new kayak out for paddling around and a morning of taking photos that she uses to make greeting cards. I’ll take one of the camp chairs with me along with a book and some fluids and a big ol’ stupid-looking sun hat to keep the back of my neck sunburn-free. Even though I don’t have to show up at the polls to vote, I don’t want anyone to think I’ve cast a ballot for Mr. McCain just because I’m a redneck from __________.

Poor John Murtha; have you seen photos of him lately? He looks as if he needs a really powerful laxative. He might feel better if he apologizes to the Marines he slandered about Haditha. That will never happen. . . .

Speaking of truly stupid stuff, how ‘bout that young lady who claimed she been attacked because she had a McCain bumper sticker on her car. Where do people come up with this kind of truly dumb stuff? Every petty thief/criminal whacked out of his skull on cheap wine and dope laced with brain-shrinking rat-poison-chemicals knows that every ATM in north America has a built-in camera, but this young woman who claimed to have a couple of years of college, makes up a sensational story that was debunked by ATM-video footage of her supposed “assault.” Yeesh.

Ad revenue for The New York Times is down 16%.

Thanks to the nice people (LAB, Curious, and Rosie) who submitted some recent comments here—every now and then an “atta boy” is good medicine.

Enjoy your weekend. Break on through to the other side. Break on through to the other side. Break on through to the other side. What does that mean? Why did people think Jim Morrison of The Doors was a great song-writer?

AJ

TO LIVE IN FREEDOM’S LIGHT IS THE RIGHT OF MANKIND.