MR forwards this great lyric from David Bromberg: "Take your tongue outta my mouth, 'cause I'm kissin' you goodbye." Thought for the day. B. O.
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MR forwards this great lyric from David Bromberg: "Take your tongue outta my mouth, 'cause I'm kissin' you goodbye." Thought for the day. B. O.
Posted at 10:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
It is common knowledge that the greatest investment ever made was the GI bill for WWII veterans. By sending those who served in that great war to college we achieved an inestimable return: The transistor, the computer, the moon landings, understanding of both the cosmos and the atom, great teachers and people of learning, great works of art and literature -- in fact, practically all we now know and have.
Surely it is wise to do the same for those who served in the Gulf War, Iraq and Afghanistan. Where in hell is the thanks for these our finest Americans? The benefit will only be for all of us and future generations.
B.O.
Posted at 11:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
My friend HWW3 forwards this:
Posted at 10:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
I wouldn’t say that urinating on dead things was a tradition in my hometown in upstate New York, but, if forced to watch one more episode of “Storage Wars,” I would confess that we did it a lot. Dogs, cats, rats, hamsters, chickens, batteries and cars that wouldn’t run. It didn’t matter. If it was dead, we pissed on it -- as a farewell salute. Like the time we found our cat dead one afternoon under the porch stairs. My father dragged him out and the whole family – me, my sister, my mom and dad – all gathered round and hosed him down good. And, I must say that special “goodbye” got pretty emotional believe you me. And as a kid I remember it was common to see groups of townsfolk gathered around something dead in the street, or, having read about a death in the newspaper, appear at a funeral home and administer the Yellow Farewell.
I got interested in the origin of the Urine Eulogy after I was arrested in New York City a few years ago for saying “goodbye” to a what I thought was a dead homeless man, instead an undercover cop pretending to sleep. But, near as I can find out the custom seems to have had its origins in war among fighting men as a gesture of respect to fallen enemy soldiers.
Locals tell me that our town’s tradition began way back during the Civil War when a resident, serving with the New York Teachers’ Militia, heard someone say upon hearing the news that Lincoln was dead, “Piss on em”. Now Lincoln was, as everyone knows, a great man, and what tribute could be offered by a bunch of rag-tag soldiers without so much as a penny between them. So, the story goes that the long ago resident of our town lay down pretending to be Lincoln and was summarily pissed upon by his mates. Admittedly, this story anecdotal, but suffice it to say that, if not this young man, then someone else happily brought the ritual home from war at some point.
I read in the newspaper that some US Marines have graced the bodies of some Taliban soldiers with the Kidney Kudo, But, I for one, am not so sure the Taliban deserve this tribute. I first met them through Harry Belafonte. In his immortal hit “Dayo” he sang the line, “Hey Mr. Taliban, tally me banana.” I had reservations then about the Taliban because I had a sneaking suspicion they would short-count Harry’s bananas. And, I sure as heck don’t like them now. They lost me when they tore down that 100 foot tall Buddha.
So, my point is that I don’t like being in the position of nay-sayer, but I think our service men and women should be a little more selective in respecting their opponents on the battlefield. I guess this whole incident is the result of our current infatuation with political correctness; that everyone must be treated in the exact same way no matter what. I just don’t think these Taliban people deserved to be pissed on. They haven’t earned it in my book. B.O.
Posted at 07:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
There is a fine, fine piece by Donald Hall in The New Yorker magazine of January 23, 2012 entitled "Out the Window". I failed in erstablishing a link to the peice, (The New Yorker website didn't like the idea.) so you'll just have to get the magazine and read it. (Or subscribe to the website.) Trust me, it's worth it. B.O.
Posted at 11:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
My life is becoming more and more of a blend of the past and the present. I can sense a shift in the balance, and I suppose that, when there is no more present, I will be gone. B. O.
Posted at 12:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Posted at 04:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
We've finished another holiday season; you know, the six week “festival of consumption" beginning with Thanksgiving and ending with New Years. It has always confused me with how little regard we are held by big business. After all, we finance all the Wall Street mergers and acquisitions with our personal credit card debt. Maybe it’s because we do it so giddily. Some folks actually wait overnight in sleeping bags for a store touting a big sale to open.
But there is a spiritual element to the holidays. Walking around New York’s Central Park on New Year’s Eve, I was overcome by the twinkling miracle of the LED. Wow. Have they enhanced our lives or what? I have to tell you, when I was a kid I just didn’t see this coming at all. Flashlights. Commercial signs. Video Displays. But. the holidays and special events are where these little guys really give life a boost. As my wife and I sat on a park bench, thousands upon thousands of fellow humans paraded by covered in battery-powered Christmas lights. People wore blinking glasses heralding 2012. Shoes lit up. Hats lit up. Noise-makers flickered and changed color. Sitting near a tribute to John Lennon installed in the sidewalk of a little circle, we witnessed person after person leave a string of flashing LED’s as a token of their love and grief for John. In fact, last night it seemed the full sum of humanity was flashing and twinkling in an electronic celebration of how sweet life can be. LED’s can say so much, and these modern times are really something, no? B.O.
Posted at 11:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)