Back in the mid '90's I was in a band called Slavic Projection Folk Ensemble. Slavic Projection, which was a vocal and string-intensive (violin, dulcimer, guitar, bass and banjo...once) band, affectionately known to its members as SPFE, pronounced spiffy, was formed in 1980, but its heyday was the '90's, and particularly 1993 through 1998, before I ruined everything by teaching myself to play the accordion.
The summer of 1996 was particularly brutal, not because of the heat but because of our bad luck. We were scheduled to play at the Ravenswood Manor Concert Series and I had just met a guy I wanted to impress so I invited him to come hear us there. Well, apparently my Russian Gypsy cards, which I consulted about the guy, were right about him. He was bad news. And just to make sure we didn't get together we were rained out. The Ravenswood Manor Concert Series had never been rained out before. So we rescheduled and I made sneaky plans to invite Mr. Bad to our next performance several weeks later. The day started out beautifully. Sunshine, low humidity, a few puffy clouds. About a half hour before we were supposed to play, you guessed it, the rain came down like gas prices before an election. We also had an indoor performance as I recall, later that summer. 5 people attended. Mr. Bad was not one of them.
Late that summer we played an outdoor concert at Valparaiso University in Indiana. We were very nervous about the rain and it did start drizzling the moment we stepped out on stage. It was the other band, a Russian balalaika-based group, however, that inherited the Slavic Projection Curse. They ended up playing in a substantial rainfall, while we were inside, wiping off our instruments and collecting our check.
So, in remembrance of that Summer of '96, here is a rundown of my outdoor performances to date this summer:
May 28, Giddings Plaza. Chilly, but not intolerable. A pushy dude wanted to try out my accordion and play "one song" which sounded like 5 or 6 songs all run together and took about 15 minutes. I didn't share my tips with him.
June 7, Giddings Plaza. Rained out, plus had my tip jar stolen by two thugs. They got about $30. Worth risking jail for?
June 21, Evanston Farmers' Market. Rained out.
June 28, Giddings Plaza. Rained out!!! But here's the thing, I was meeting friends for dinner so I stayed in the neighborhood. As they brought the dessert for my friends, I snuck out and played until 10 p.m. in the rain-free night. Shhhhh....don't tell the powers that be.
I play indoors twice a month at Klas Restaurant, 5734 W. Cermak Road in Cicero. If and when Chicago experiences a drought, I will request to play in their beer garden. Drought over, crops saved.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Saving lives or generating revenue?
Red light cameras have been installed at dangerous intersections in Chicago. Originally this was a safety issue. Two intersections that were guinea pigs for this experiment were Western and Peterson and Western and 55th. At the time, it was a good idea. People used to cruise through those intersections at 40 mph or more, blowing off red lights, sometimes with tragic results.
Like some other originally good ideas (wait for a future diatribe on permit parking), this one has developed into a cancer. You now find red light cameras at relatively calm intersections and if anyone tells you the object is to save lives you can say “saving lives” is spelled “$aving live$”. The object, friends, is to generate revenue. Can we call a $pade a $pade, plea$e? And dispen$e with the heart$ and flower$? Becau$e the hypocri$y is so thick you need a $word to $la$h through it.
The city revealed its double standard when it installed countdown lights, which, in this blogger’s opinion, do save lives, at various intersections in some of the nicer areas on the north and northwest sides. (There may be some in the loop and on the south and southwest sides as well, but I haven't been down there in a while.) If you know exactly how many seconds you have to get through an intersection, you will time yourself accordingly. When you have a red light camera, you’re more likely to slam on the brakes when you see the light turn yellow. That yellow light lasts for a couple sections, then FLASH, you’re busted. $90 poorer. Not to mention the poor sap behind you who just smashed your rear end with his front.
If the city were really interested in saving lives, it would install countdown lights in addition to red light cameras at the most dangerous intersections. That’s not going to happen. But let’s make it appear like we’re all concerned. The object is to $ave live$.
Like some other originally good ideas (wait for a future diatribe on permit parking), this one has developed into a cancer. You now find red light cameras at relatively calm intersections and if anyone tells you the object is to save lives you can say “saving lives” is spelled “$aving live$”. The object, friends, is to generate revenue. Can we call a $pade a $pade, plea$e? And dispen$e with the heart$ and flower$? Becau$e the hypocri$y is so thick you need a $word to $la$h through it.
The city revealed its double standard when it installed countdown lights, which, in this blogger’s opinion, do save lives, at various intersections in some of the nicer areas on the north and northwest sides. (There may be some in the loop and on the south and southwest sides as well, but I haven't been down there in a while.) If you know exactly how many seconds you have to get through an intersection, you will time yourself accordingly. When you have a red light camera, you’re more likely to slam on the brakes when you see the light turn yellow. That yellow light lasts for a couple sections, then FLASH, you’re busted. $90 poorer. Not to mention the poor sap behind you who just smashed your rear end with his front.
If the city were really interested in saving lives, it would install countdown lights in addition to red light cameras at the most dangerous intersections. That’s not going to happen. But let’s make it appear like we’re all concerned. The object is to $ave live$.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
In Church, In the Store, At Home
PROVE IT!
The big news of May 29, 2008 is that the Vatican will excommunicate women priests and their supporters on the basis that Jesus only chose men to be his apostles. I agree that only men should be priests. No woman should serve the Lord in a leadership position, and as Jesus himself said in the Gospel of Saint Phonius Bogus, “Get those dames outta here!” (I think it’s somewhere toward the back). But with rights come responsibilities. The responsibility to prove that only men are serving is sacred and crucial. Therefore, it shall be decreed that prior to saying, “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit” every priest shall prove, one way or another, that he is indeed male. Use your imaginations...
Show us the truth!
DISCONTINUED!
Whenever you find a product you really like you’d best buy a lot of it. Because the next time you go to find it you’ll discover it’s been discontinued. This version of Murphy’s Law works best on cosmetics. Several shades of Clinique lipstick have gone the way of the 8-track including my faves, Golden Raisin and A Different Rose. However, the sleight-of-product doesn’t just apply to makeup. I’ve noticed that my favorite brand of toothpaste, which used to have a sharp, minty taste, and was made in the US, now tastes bland, sugary and is made in Mexico. And try finding your favorite soap, brand of paper towels or lingerie after you’ve been buying those items for a while. Buh-bye.
GIMME A BRAIN!
The companies that produce air conditioners are staffed by mathematically challenged execs, some of who may have completed third grade and the rest who got the job because of a rich uncle. How do I know this? On account of how the instructions on the use of their product and the way the product is designed don’t jibe. “Do not use an extension cord,” intones the ominous admonition. Then why don’t they make the cords on the air conditioners longer than a two-year-old’s spitting distance? What if your window (which is where even the dimmest of humans will install the air conditioner) is over here, and the outlet is over there, eight feet away, and the cord is only 24 inches long?
Now that’s stupid!
The big news of May 29, 2008 is that the Vatican will excommunicate women priests and their supporters on the basis that Jesus only chose men to be his apostles. I agree that only men should be priests. No woman should serve the Lord in a leadership position, and as Jesus himself said in the Gospel of Saint Phonius Bogus, “Get those dames outta here!” (I think it’s somewhere toward the back). But with rights come responsibilities. The responsibility to prove that only men are serving is sacred and crucial. Therefore, it shall be decreed that prior to saying, “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit” every priest shall prove, one way or another, that he is indeed male. Use your imaginations...
Show us the truth!
DISCONTINUED!
Whenever you find a product you really like you’d best buy a lot of it. Because the next time you go to find it you’ll discover it’s been discontinued. This version of Murphy’s Law works best on cosmetics. Several shades of Clinique lipstick have gone the way of the 8-track including my faves, Golden Raisin and A Different Rose. However, the sleight-of-product doesn’t just apply to makeup. I’ve noticed that my favorite brand of toothpaste, which used to have a sharp, minty taste, and was made in the US, now tastes bland, sugary and is made in Mexico. And try finding your favorite soap, brand of paper towels or lingerie after you’ve been buying those items for a while. Buh-bye.
GIMME A BRAIN!
The companies that produce air conditioners are staffed by mathematically challenged execs, some of who may have completed third grade and the rest who got the job because of a rich uncle. How do I know this? On account of how the instructions on the use of their product and the way the product is designed don’t jibe. “Do not use an extension cord,” intones the ominous admonition. Then why don’t they make the cords on the air conditioners longer than a two-year-old’s spitting distance? What if your window (which is where even the dimmest of humans will install the air conditioner) is over here, and the outlet is over there, eight feet away, and the cord is only 24 inches long?
Now that’s stupid!
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Angry Thoughts I Have Had While Maneuvering My Bike Around Potholes
I’ve noticed that people who talk to themselves usually do it when others are around. I found this out by lurking unobserved in the vicinity of a “self-talker”. Not. A. Word. When I made my presence known, she immediately began yammering to herself.
Ladies! Tired of getting hit on? Here’s a solution, cheap and nasty. Back in the days when I had a more curvaceous figure, I was hit on quite often - not by anyone interesting, only by scumbags starved for a little attention. One day I let the pig have it. I raised my voice to fortissimo and in response to "Hey baby, lookin' sexy," shouted, “No, I don’t know where you can buy cocaine.” The offender skedaddled.
Whenever possible, speak softly or mumble unintelligibly so folks have to strain to hear you. That way you can suck all the energy out of the conversation, leaving your companion drained. Enjoy yourselves, vampires.
Drivers! Do not, under any circumstances, use your turn signals. They are a useless add-on, like your appendix. We bikers can read your minds! Oh, and we can also memorize your license plate as you sit motionless at the green light spewing drivel into your cell phone.
Disclaimer: I am quite an annoying person myself and have committed sins much worse than the above.
Ladies! Tired of getting hit on? Here’s a solution, cheap and nasty. Back in the days when I had a more curvaceous figure, I was hit on quite often - not by anyone interesting, only by scumbags starved for a little attention. One day I let the pig have it. I raised my voice to fortissimo and in response to "Hey baby, lookin' sexy," shouted, “No, I don’t know where you can buy cocaine.” The offender skedaddled.
Whenever possible, speak softly or mumble unintelligibly so folks have to strain to hear you. That way you can suck all the energy out of the conversation, leaving your companion drained. Enjoy yourselves, vampires.
Drivers! Do not, under any circumstances, use your turn signals. They are a useless add-on, like your appendix. We bikers can read your minds! Oh, and we can also memorize your license plate as you sit motionless at the green light spewing drivel into your cell phone.
Disclaimer: I am quite an annoying person myself and have committed sins much worse than the above.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Mercury Retrograde Coming Up!
Next Monday, May 26 at 10:48 a.m. CDT the planet Mercury goes retrograde. A planet is said to be retrograde when it appears to be moving backwards in the sky from our perspective.
Mercury relates to the sign of Gemini and is concerned with communication and short trips. During a Mercury retrograde, you may find that you have more than the usual number of problems with computers, phones, fax machines, e-mail, everyday commuting, etc. You may also be misunderstood, so think before you speak. Mercury retrograde is a good time to sign a contract that you don’t really want to sign, because chances are it will fall apart. It is not a good time to post your favorite video on YouTube! There’s a good possibility it will backfire on you.
Mercury goes retrograde three times each year, for about three weeks at a time. During the days immediately surrounding the retrograde period the planet is slowing down to a station, or stop. You might notice things with communication or transportation already starting to enter snafu territory.
Some good things to do during a Mercury retrograde: anything with the prefix re-, re-examine, re-connect, re-fine, re-place. At the time Mercury will be retrograde in the sign of Gemini, the Sun is also in Gemini. This is kind of a double whammy as far as communication is concerned, but it should be a great time for reconnecting with old friends! You may find yourself running into people you haven't seen in years and re-establishing friendships. Mercury turns direct again at 9:31 a.m. CDT on Thursday, June 19. The effects should linger for a few days afterward, but starting about the 24th of June the worst of the snafus should be over.
Mercury relates to the sign of Gemini and is concerned with communication and short trips. During a Mercury retrograde, you may find that you have more than the usual number of problems with computers, phones, fax machines, e-mail, everyday commuting, etc. You may also be misunderstood, so think before you speak. Mercury retrograde is a good time to sign a contract that you don’t really want to sign, because chances are it will fall apart. It is not a good time to post your favorite video on YouTube! There’s a good possibility it will backfire on you.
Mercury goes retrograde three times each year, for about three weeks at a time. During the days immediately surrounding the retrograde period the planet is slowing down to a station, or stop. You might notice things with communication or transportation already starting to enter snafu territory.
Some good things to do during a Mercury retrograde: anything with the prefix re-, re-examine, re-connect, re-fine, re-place. At the time Mercury will be retrograde in the sign of Gemini, the Sun is also in Gemini. This is kind of a double whammy as far as communication is concerned, but it should be a great time for reconnecting with old friends! You may find yourself running into people you haven't seen in years and re-establishing friendships. Mercury turns direct again at 9:31 a.m. CDT on Thursday, June 19. The effects should linger for a few days afterward, but starting about the 24th of June the worst of the snafus should be over.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Life in the City
One of the drawbacks of living in the city is being forced to ‘enjoy’ obnoxious music blaring from vehicles driven by testosterone-challenged Neanderthal vulgarians. Somebody please invent a device that, when aimed at the offending loudster, either scrambles the CD, tape or 8-track or switches the radio station to classical, easy-listening or worst yet for the ego, polka!
The viaduct in Chicago at Roscoe and Kostner Aves. gets tagged with gang graffiti every few weeks or so. With all the Big Brother surveillance we have at our disposal, why not invest in a camera to snap a shot of these guys (it’s usually males who vandalize). The video of them tagging could then be posted on YouTube with the caption, “Young men get in touch with their feminine side by attempting artwork before sashaying off to see Sex and the City.” To bring these delicate flowers down, go for the jugular, their masculinity. Real men don’t need to deface property, and it doesn’t matter what orientation they are, if you get my drift.
These boneheads have too much time on their hands. What they need is to discover something more glamorous than vandalizin’, shootin’, gangin’ and druggin’. How about some farmin’? With the ultra-high price of food these days, we could use more community gardens in Chicago. How about that site on the South Side where the Wal-Mart was scotched? There are some neighborhoods that are veritable food deserts and they have plenty of vacant lots. This would provide income and nutritious food to these areas while giving former gangbangers a healthy dose of self-respect. Come on, ’bangers, help us out here! Invest some of that excess energy in the most glamorous act of all: sustaining the human race.
Final Swipe:
Speaking of masculinity and the lack thereof, if a certain columnist from a certain Chicago newspaper expended as many nouns and verbs castrating true criminals as he does trying to make Barack Obama look swishy, maybe we would stop calling them drug lords and instead call them by their rightful name, drug pansies. Kinda changes your perspective, don’t it.
The viaduct in Chicago at Roscoe and Kostner Aves. gets tagged with gang graffiti every few weeks or so. With all the Big Brother surveillance we have at our disposal, why not invest in a camera to snap a shot of these guys (it’s usually males who vandalize). The video of them tagging could then be posted on YouTube with the caption, “Young men get in touch with their feminine side by attempting artwork before sashaying off to see Sex and the City.” To bring these delicate flowers down, go for the jugular, their masculinity. Real men don’t need to deface property, and it doesn’t matter what orientation they are, if you get my drift.
These boneheads have too much time on their hands. What they need is to discover something more glamorous than vandalizin’, shootin’, gangin’ and druggin’. How about some farmin’? With the ultra-high price of food these days, we could use more community gardens in Chicago. How about that site on the South Side where the Wal-Mart was scotched? There are some neighborhoods that are veritable food deserts and they have plenty of vacant lots. This would provide income and nutritious food to these areas while giving former gangbangers a healthy dose of self-respect. Come on, ’bangers, help us out here! Invest some of that excess energy in the most glamorous act of all: sustaining the human race.
Final Swipe:
Speaking of masculinity and the lack thereof, if a certain columnist from a certain Chicago newspaper expended as many nouns and verbs castrating true criminals as he does trying to make Barack Obama look swishy, maybe we would stop calling them drug lords and instead call them by their rightful name, drug pansies. Kinda changes your perspective, don’t it.
3 Short Rants, the 3rd of which may not be suitable for more sensitive readers....
For the “Duh” file:
We’ve all been in this situation. You're at a restaurant enjoying your food and having an intense conversation. Just at the point you’re about to tell your companion, “…and she found out the Coke she drank contained luminous poison and she had only 23 hours to live!” the server barges in with a perky smile. “Is everything OK?” The solution: have a little flag at each table. When the flag is up, we want you to come by and ask if everything is OK. If it’s down, everything is OK. No need to ask! (Silently clearing used dishes is acceptable at any time.)
My dream car:
If I were rich and could have anything I wanted, it would be a hybrid in the shape of an armadillo, complete with 9 bands, a snout, 2 cute little ears and a tail. What? Doesn’t everybody want one of those?
If I were Bush:
If my name were George Walker Bush, I would be very careful to avoid the name Adolf Hitler, especially while visiting Israel. If my name were George Walker Bush I would be very worried that somebody might bring up the inconvenient fact that my grandpappy, Prescott Bush, was a Nazi sympathizer and war profiteer back in the ’30’s and ’40’s. If my name were George Walker Bush I would be saying, “Note to self. Only seven months left. Keep mouth shut.”
We’ve all been in this situation. You're at a restaurant enjoying your food and having an intense conversation. Just at the point you’re about to tell your companion, “…and she found out the Coke she drank contained luminous poison and she had only 23 hours to live!” the server barges in with a perky smile. “Is everything OK?” The solution: have a little flag at each table. When the flag is up, we want you to come by and ask if everything is OK. If it’s down, everything is OK. No need to ask! (Silently clearing used dishes is acceptable at any time.)
My dream car:
If I were rich and could have anything I wanted, it would be a hybrid in the shape of an armadillo, complete with 9 bands, a snout, 2 cute little ears and a tail. What? Doesn’t everybody want one of those?
If I were Bush:
If my name were George Walker Bush, I would be very careful to avoid the name Adolf Hitler, especially while visiting Israel. If my name were George Walker Bush I would be very worried that somebody might bring up the inconvenient fact that my grandpappy, Prescott Bush, was a Nazi sympathizer and war profiteer back in the ’30’s and ’40’s. If my name were George Walker Bush I would be saying, “Note to self. Only seven months left. Keep mouth shut.”
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