Nobody But Me

The big conversation starter in the recording industry this week was high-profile producer Mark Ronson came out as a sapiosexual in a television interview. At least that's how social media interpreted it. I've never heard of such a thing. There's an old joke from the 80's about being a quadrasexual. If you lived through that pre HIV era, you probably know what I'm talking about. No need to get into specifics with outdated jokes. But I drew a blank with sapiosexual. Lucky for us, Google's at our fingertips in the ubiquitous smartphone era. According to the dictionary: "A sapiosexual is a person who finds intelligence sexually attractive or arousing.". That's part of the package, but drop dead good looks count for something, too. What ever happened to, "I might like you better if we slept together.".

If you're an older person, you probably aren't familiar with Mark Ronson. Maybe Mick Ronson. He was David Bowie's guitarist and a 'Spider From Mars' on Ziggy Stardust. But Mark Ronson is a heavy hitter. A big influence on the music industry. What makes the Hottentot so hot? Seven Grammy Awards including record of the year, twice. The Amy Winehouse single "Rehab" and Bruno Mars with "Uptown Funk". He's also worked with Lady Gaga, Adele, and Miley Cyrus. His résumé is worth it's weight in gold with a net worth estimated to be $20 million and counting. He can say whatever he wants.

Others that speak their minds and seem to get away with it are the hedge fund managers. Masters of the Universe. They're constantly featured on the business networks. Bloomberg. CNBC. Fox Business. They fill a lot of airtime. I find this outrageous because they tend to underperform the market, yet charge exuberant fees. Once in awhile a guy like George Soros or John Paulson makes a mint on one big bet, but those are few and far between. Plus, after they make their killing, they end up losing most of it with subsequent investments. Confirmation bias up close and personal. Network anchors call them out on the carpet for poor performance, but they keep coming back. There's got to be major financial incentive for the money managers to take that kind of punishment. Buyer beware.

Money is always important, but once you hit retirement, it's really important. I watch CNBC sporadically throughout the day and monitor the balance of my stock portfolio to a fault. Financial Planners will tell you to check the bottom line once a quarter. Fat chance. There's too much riding on it in the high-stakes game of equity investing. With the advent of cellphones, it's difficult to remove yourself from the minute-to-minute gyrations of Wall Street. In the digital age, the real world has integrated with the virtual world, and we're all avatars now. Ghosts in the machine. This is especially true in the financial industry where over 50% of the population have a vested interest. Pensions, IRA's, 401-K's and individual investments.

Television commercials from discount brokers bombard us with incentives to sign up for their services. E-Trade. Charles Schwab. Fidelity. Interactive Brokers. TD Ameritrade. They all do it. I've had a discount brokerage account for three decades now. One of the few smart things I ever did. No regrets. There was no Internet when I started. You executed your trades via the keypad on the telephone. You had to think about it. Now it's a click of the mouse or press a button when you're mobile. This can be dangerous. The thirty second spots touting derivative trading perplex me. Commercials from the discount firms seem to advertise the same theme - trade options, it's child's play. This couldn't be further from the truth with 85% of options contracts becoming worthless. But usually in the ads you have some smug corporate denizen bragging about how it's a piece of cake and how he made a fortune. No fuss. No muss. It's not that easy. Although the discount brokerage companies are on the up-and-up, you still have to be careful. Don't let them sweet-talk you.

But getting back to Mark Ronson, he eventually walked back the sapiosexual statement. Said it was taken out of context after the negative spin cycle in the press and on social media. What else could he do? If you watched the interview, it was no big deal, and he didn't go hog wild with the sapiosexual comment. Just said he could identify with it. He won the Oscar this year for Best Original Song for "Shallow," in the latest remake of A Star Is Born. He's got clout, is probably left leaning, and trolls still crucified him. What the world needs now is a new Frank Sinatra.

Love And Rockets

"Smokin' cigarettes and watchin' Captain Kangaroo. Now don't tell me I've nothin' to do." From "Counting Flowers" by The Statler Brothers

Besides football, one of the best things about the Fall is that Hollywood begins to release their Oscar worthy, adult movies. Not Adult Films, you can get those 24/7 on Pornhub, but productions geared towards people over 25 years old. More story-line. Less body-count. I have nothing against the Summer Blockbuster season, but I've had about enough of the Marvel characters: Spider-Man, Hulk, Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Wolverine. And the list goes on and on. DC Comics, too, except of course for Joker which comes out next week. But that has a plot. The last time I enjoyed a superhero movie was Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy starring Christian Bale. All three were great. It's been said that the Caped Crusader triad is to the millennials what The Godfather movies are to the Baby Boomers. You can't do better than that.

Bela Lugosi's Dead

I usually attend Tuesday matinees at Regal Cinemas with the ongoing half-price popcorn promo. Kick in the Senior Citizen discount, and you've got a bargain. Enjoy the shared experience of seeing a movie in the theater, plus, most films are supposed to be seen on the silver screen with surround sound. It doesn't matter how big your flat panel TV is, or how crisp and rich the fidelity is with your home audio system, the best way to watch a movie is in the theater. At home, my premium streaming subscription is limited to one movie channel, HBO, and that's primarily for Bill Maher. Most of the films broadcast on HBO or Showtime or Cinemax or Netflix don't interest me because I've already seen the ones I want to watch at the cinema. Sure, all those networks have some interesting original programming, but I can only watch so much scripted television. In addition, it gets expensive with multiple subscriptions. I've seen enough dragons, zombies and vampires.

Ground Control To Major Tom

This week I saw Brad Pitt in Ad Astra. I'd call it science fiction, but it's set in the near future and with the rapid evolution of technology, we'll just call it imminent fiction. If Elon Musk has his way, SpaceX Falcon rockets will be colonizing Mars next year. One reviewer described the movie as an amalgamation of Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey and Francis Ford Coppola's Apocalypse Now. Although that's an apt description, and Ad Astra is a very good movie, it's not in the same league as its predecessors. Those are all-time classics. Besides the well crafted story, it's Pitt's solid acting that makes Ad Astra a winner. He should be disappointed if he's not nominated for "Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role" at the Academy Awards. The last time Pitt was nominated for Best Actor was in 2011 for Moneyball and he should have won that year.

Helter Skelter

Another recent Brad Pitt role is Cliff Booth in Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood. The Quentin Tarantino flick is much more uplifting than Ad Astra, that is, if a story about the Manson Family can be a mood elevator. But it isn't the usual Tarantino splatterfest. Yes, there's a few violent scenes, but not where you have to look away like you did in Reservoir Dogs. I realize it's all make believe, but gore is gore and sometimes it's hard to take. Tarentino has made a career of it. Pitt plays a down on his luck stunt man, and I'm not sure if he'd be nominated for Best Actor for his excellent performance. Leonardo DiCaprio has the lead and will probably get the nod, but they both ate up a lot of scenery. Pitt will undoubtedly have to settle for the nomination for "Best Actor in a Supporting Role". With both Ad Astra and Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood, it's a great acting year for Brad Pitt. I hope he's nominated and wins. He's long overdue, but so is Leonardo DiCaprio. Interesting decisions for the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences next Oscar season.

I run hot and cold on Tarentino movies. Artistically, most of them are brilliant, but some of them are art for art's sake. Jackie Brown, Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction. That's more than a career. Pulp Fiction could have won Best Picture in 1995, but was edged out by Forrest Gump. That was a good year for films. Quiz Show and The Shawshank Redemption were also nominated. No participation trophies on Oscar night. Something had to give. Although Uma Thurman is one my favorite Gen-X actors, I couldn't get into the Kill Bill series. Still don't understand why it's offensive to refer to Uma as an actress. But Martial Arts movies aren't on my wavelength. That includes Bruce Lee, Sonny Chiba and Chuck Norris. When I saw Inglourious Basterds, I totally lost interest in Tarentino even though it wasn't a bad picture. I just expected more. Too much gratuitous violence. He's won me back with Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood. I'll have to stream Django Unchained and The Hateful Eight if I ever go back on Netfix.

One thing I enjoy about Tarentino productions is his obsession with popular music from the 1960's and 1970's. Some of it's kitschy schmaltz, but most of it's just gold old fashioned AM Radio hits. I was weened on that music. Before 1970, there was very little FM Radio. After Album Oriented Rock (AOR) was introduced on underground FM stations, AM fizzled out, but I still listened to it on my transistor radio. Now the AM Band has been hijacked by Alt-right zealots - Deutschlandsender - the Nazi propaganda machine back in World War II. Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood pays homage to one of my favorite bands from the 60's, Paul Revere and the Raiders. They were big time on American Bandstand with hits such as "Kicks", "Hungry", and "Good Thing". I'm not talking about a one hit wonder, but a string of Top 40 chart toppers. They even had their own television show "Where the Action Is". Used to watch it on Saturday afternoons when I was in elementary school. This was pre "Monkees".

Video Killed The Radio Star

If you watch video clips of Paul Revere and the Raiders, they look absolutely comical. Decked out in white tights and pastel colored satin Revolutionary War garb, I tend to look the other way. They probably looked a little ridiculous back in 1966, too, but once you get past the optics, they rock out. Have quite a collection of their singles on my iPhone. They're out of style, but what do I know. I'm sixty years old. Things are tough all over.

Data Is The New Oil

“Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you.” Joseph Heller from Catch-22

Operation Igloo White was an expensive and failed foray into semi-automated combat by The Pentagon in the Vietnam War. Eavesdropping microphones, motion sensors, and olfactory detectors that replicate the sense of smell were all utilized in 1970 to track the Viet Cong with dismal results. Fast forward half a century, and the military is still collecting data, but with much greater proficiency. Moore's Law and the network effect have turbocharged semiconductors and servers, ushering in The Internet of Things. Not only for soldiers, but civilians, too. Amazon Echo, Google Home, learning thermostat Nest (also by Google), and Apple's HomePod which includes Siri are all collecting data on you. Don't sleep on the Ring video doorbell and security cam, either. Forget Big Brother. Worry about the corporations.

A small sample size is Facebook's recent acquisition of Ctrl-labs, a company that utilizes wearables to coordinate brain and motion activity. What is referred to as neural interfacing. The overarching plan is to be able to control a computer with just your thoughts. I understand that we're living in the future, and although this technology is in its infancy, it's also inevitable. What bothers me is the monopolistic structures of the corporations engulfing our lives. The conglomerates claim they're doing this for society's greater good, like they're some altruistic entity. Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining.

For instance, in February of this year, Ctrl-labs raised $28 million from GV (Google's venture capital kitty), and Amazon's Alexa fund. As a stand alone investment, this wouldn't irritate me, but in aggregate, it's as if Cyberdyne Systems from The Terminator has come to play. This is especially true when you consider Mark Zuckerberg's brainchild just scooped up the firm for between $500 million and a billion dollars. A drop in the bucket for Facebook, but Google and Amazon are also in on the action which makes it troublesome. Everybody is in bed with everybody else like a swinging singles orgy. What was once a technology oligopoly has become one big monopoly where finance and computer science from just a few firms are interconnected. Concentric circles with big blurred lines. It's all about the accumulation of wealth and control of our lives.

I've had an iPhone for over 10 years now. When I originally bought my first smartphone, I had a big dilemma. A Blackberry or the iPhone? Remember those days? Research in Motion was the hottest stock in the market, and Blackberry was the de rigueur communications device. They got crushed. I am entrenched in the Apple ecosystem and can't imagine switching to a competitor like Android for any reason. I don't care if Samsung phones cost less or have a technological edge. All I want to do is check my stock portfolio, send and receive emails, utilize text messaging, and once in awhile snap a photo or shoot a video. The GPS with the maps app comes in handy, too.

All my photos, applications, files and music reside on the iPhone. I've got over 500 songs in iTunes which I paid probably close to $600 for. My portable jukebox. Dick Clark said popular music is the soundtrack of your life, and mine sits right in my hip pocket. I'm not migrating to Spotify or Pandora or iHeartRadio. If I decide to fork over money for a music subscription service, it will go to Apple Music. I'm just not ready for that yet. Besides, how many songs do you need when you're buying singles? Although technology is still difficult, it's getting better, especially with iOs. Apple is the closest thing to plug-n-play we've got.

That's not to say Apple doesn't have its vulnerabilities. Just ask Jennifer Lawrence, Rihanna, Kaley Cuoco and three hundred other celebrities whose nude photos were released in a data breach when iCloud was hacked a few years ago. Apple is also a big part of the surveillance state along with peers in what Jim Cramer dubbed the FAANG companies (Facebook, Apple, Amazon, Netflix, Google). Even though their artificial intelligence tactics scare me, not only do they enhance my day-to-day life, they've also increased my assets by leading the S&P 500 to all time highs. I don't invest in individual securities, but buy index mutual funds, so I am vicariously investing in them. Maybe a bit hypocritical, but how else are you going to make a buck when savings rates are close to zero? Plus, I've always put money into the market. Even before the digital age.

Let's not forget, with A.I. the more data you have, the better the technology. Machine learning grows exponentially - data begets more data. In the olden days, there was disruptive technology by lean and mean start-ups that would dethrone the king. The smartphone killed the PC, just like the PC killed the mini and mainframe computers. There's still disruptive technology, but it's being acquired en masse by the digerati. Google, Facebook and Amazon. The chance of getting in early on a hot company are few and far between now. That's reserved for the rich. These huge monopolies are only going to become larger and more intrusive in our lives unless the government intervenes. And if the government doesn't, it's game over. That said, the books I ordered from Amazon are arriving this afternoon, and I look forward to doing business with them again.

Party Out Of Bounds

It's Football Sunday in America. At 4 a.m. ESPN and NFL Network analysts begin tweeting injury reports of players throughout the National Football League. FanDuel and DraftKings participants take note and make their wagers. I'm just waiting for the first kickoff. Usually one o'clock sharp, but this week the New York Football Giants don't start until four. The early televised games don't interest me, and the Sunday Night game between the Rams and Browns will be more than enough gridiron action for a day after watching the Giants. I watch a lot of football. September Saturday afternoons are spent watching college rivalries with national playoff considerations. Yesterday, Wisconsin shellacked Michigan. Wasn't even close. So much for the Jim Harbaugh era.

Pigskin weekend began with Friday Night Lights at Ithaca High School. What was once known as Bredbenner Field is now called Bredbenner Field/Joe Moresco Stadium. It's a fitting extension after the career Moresco had as coach of the Little Red from 1956 to 1983, compiling a 141-81-14 record in the Southern Tier Athletic Conference when the league was revered throughout New York State. Battles with Vestal coached by Dick Hoover and Union-Endicott under the leadership of Fran Angeline are lore in the Southern Tier. I suited up for the Little Red in the mid 1970's, the tail end of the Ithaca High powerhouse years. All I can tell you is that it was an honor and privilege to play for Joe Moresco.

By today's standards, Joe would be considered an antiquated pariah, but for the period I played, he was nothing short of spectacular. That's not to say he didn't have his detractors. He was our Vince Lombardi and in a liberal college town, his authoritarian methods didn't sit well with some of the townspeople. Both parents and students alike. However, we're talking football here. When you're young, it's just a game, but as you get older, you realize it's a violent sport. It took me almost 60 years to understand some people don't like football and Lacrosse players because of the violent nature of the sports. I played both. Sometimes you have to pick your poison, especially during those teenage years when hormones run wild. I relished the discipline, and it helped mold me as a person.

What distinguishes football from most other athletic endeavors is its militaristic structure. Essentially, you're given a set of instructions, and you're supposed to execute those assignments for the benefit of the team. No questions asked. It's like a computer program. Garbage in. Garbage Out. Like Mr. Moresco used to tell us, "You can't shine shit.". You took pride in your performance and like a seasoned actor, tried to hit your marks on cue. I took a leap of faith that not only Joe Moresco knew what he was doing, but all of my coaches in all sports I participated in did too. You notice the plural in sports. No specialization 45 years ago. Whether it be football or Lacrosse or Winter track, my coaches were looking out for my better good. Today's youth tends to question everything, and although that can be a great quality, it also has its drawbacks.

Joe ran a tight ship. Because of his emphasis on weight training and aerobic conditioning year round, you could go full-tilt from the first kickoff of the Fall. Ready to do battle. My senior year we were vastly undersized, so we needed every edge we could get. The entire team pumped iron before it became mainstream in high school athletics. We hit the gym for three years just to be prepared for the big stage of the varsity team. Sometimes we'd get 7,000 spectators a game. Moresco said we had a lot of 'moxie'. “It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.” No doubt a football cliché, but apropos for my teammates. We competed mano-a-mano against some of the top ranked teams in the state. Nothing to hang your head about.

I have vague memories of all the X's and O's, or the down and distance of important plays, or even the final scores of that senior year. What I do remember are the friendships I cultivated. I don't know what it is about football. Perhaps because you're putting yourself in harm's way, there's a camaraderie that you don't get in sports like track and field. Even Lacrosse to a lesser extent. Football has the infamous double sessions of training camp with full contact drills. Those I remember. Still sore forty plus years later, but it toughened you up. I keep in contact with some of my teammates and it's like time has never passed. We talk about all the sacrifice and struggle it took the be up to snuff for the Ithaca Little Red. It's been many years since we were dressed in full regalia representing our school. Now we're retiring and are becoming grandparents.

I try to attend an Ithaca High School football game at least once a season. What was once one of the best programs in the state is now a doormat for former equals. We're the team everybody schedules for homecoming because it's an easy win. You can't put the blame on anybody. It's not the coach or the players or the town. It just happened. Times changed. It doesn't make me sad that the program is in such disarray, and has been so for the better part of 25 years. What gets me down is knowing the current football players will never know what it's like to feel the power and the glory of making lifelong friends from a positive shared experience. You're not going to get that strong bond by losing. Nevertheless, I bought my senior citizen ticket Friday night and rooted the team on. They were losing 35 to nothing at halftime. Needless to say I didn't stay for the second half. Joe Moresco is rolling over in his grave. May he rest in peace.

Where Is My Mind?

Besides Amazon algos and recommendations from Barnes and Nobel sales associates, new authors come to my attention while watching talk shows. Guests on MSNBC's "Morning Joe", CNBC's "Squawk Box", and HBO's "Real Time with Bill Maher", have all bolstered my personal library. Bill Maher recently had liberal radio host Thom Hartmann as a panelist, and his book The Hidden History of Guns and the Second Amendment sounded interesting. I have nothing against hunting but am a staunch believer in gun control. Some sort of national regulation. You don't need an assault rifle or semi-automatic pistol to bag a deer. When The Founding Fathers introduced the Second Amendment, the gun of choice was a flintlock, not a machine gun.

Because Hartmann is in favor of firearms abatement, reading the publication was like preaching to the choir. However, what it taught me is a little known fact that the original 1930's US Treasury Department's Federal Bureau of Narcotics eventually morphed into the DEA (Drug Enforcement Administration). Back in The Depression, Henry J. Anslinger became the first commissioner. Known for zingers such as "This marijuana causes white women to seek sexual relations with Negroes, entertainers and any others.", and "Reefer makes darkies think they're as good as white men.", he depicts an era. Or does he? Talk to an Alt-right devotee, and those are the good old days. Praise the lord and pass the ammunition.

Although I usually have good luck finding new books from talking heads promoting their work, sometimes it doesn't pan out, even after reading the editorial reviews and reader comments on Amazon. One collection of essays I recently bought left me flat, White by Bret Easton Ellis. I'd never read Ellis, but very familiar with his reputation as the literati Bad Boy in the Greed Decade of the 1980's. One of the better known writers from Gen-X with bestselling fiction such as American Psycho and Less Than Zero. Both books have been made into movies. You can't argue with success. Originally, I was set to buy Chuck Klosterman's new brainchild, Raised in Captivity, but it's fiction and I prefer essays. As a side note, despite his penchant for Hair Bands, really enjoy Chuck Klosterman stories.

Like Thom Hartmann, Bret Easton Ellis was a guest on Bill Maher's show a few weeks back and I thought I'd discovered a winner. He was a good interview and on the warpath against 'woke' millennial hipsters and the onslaught of political correctness. I tend to ignore PC's, even in a university town, but celebrities such as Ellis really take the heat on Twitter. Politicos, too. I can see where he'd have a chip on his shoulder. Although I could identify with his premise against left leaning militants, the writing style didn't grab me. The kicker was halfway through the book, he said he didn't vote in the last presidential election. That to me is an endorsement for Trump and all he stands for. I lost interest...tout de suite. I realize 'Crooked' Hillary wasn't an ideal candidate, and the Clinton legacy has become tiresome, but she would have carried the torch of the Obama Administration. Plus, she was qualified.

It's no secret that the Affordable Care Act, a.k.a. Obamacare, is an imperfect system. However, it's probably the foremost accomplishment of the previous presidential administration. At times in my past, I've been without health insurance with catastrophic consequences. Years ago, I was working as a permanent Temp. This is before the gig economy became part of the lexicon. At my place of employment, I'd clock in for approximately 38 hours a week. Just short of the time needed for health benefits and paid vacations. Did this to close to three years. It's an old grift some corporations use to stay lean and mean. One day while riding my bike to work, I was sideswiped by a car. Hit and run. Fractured my leg right below the kneecap, and had a cast from my foot to my crotch for three months. Living paycheck to paycheck, it wiped me out financially with mounting medical expenses and loss of work. I'm sure it's happened to others, too. If Hillary would have been elected, Obamacare would have improved and expanded. Instead, people live on the streets.

It's a privilege to vote. I've exercised my constitutional right to cast a ballot ever since I've been eligible. Over four decades. For the past 20 years, I've been a registered Independent, but always caucus with the Democrats. I became disenchanted with the Democratic Party eons ago but, never voted for a GOP Presidential Candidate. That includes Ronald "Dutch" Reagan, the old Gipper, who many die-hard Republicans venerate. Sure, I would've preferred somebody as good looking and charismatic as JFK or Barack Obama, but they weren't on the ballot. In some areas of this country, most notably the Deep South, voter suppression abounds. People want to vote, and can't. Bret Easton Ellis is an apolitical privileged Caucasian. He didn't exercise his right to vote, then spends 250 plus pages complaining about the self-righteous youth movement. What's wrong with this picture?

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

"Put a glide in your stride and a dip in your hip and come on up to the Mothership." From "Mothership Connection" by Parliament

Just finished reading the 500 page opus Sticky Fingers: The Life and Times of Jann Wenner and Rolling Stone Magazine by Joe Hagan. Sometimes I like a long book, and this didn't disappoint although the last fifty pages tended to drag. Perhaps I was tired of reading, or perhaps I was tired of hearing about Jann Wenner. The New York Times, The New Yorker, The Atlantic and the usual cast of characters gave it great accolades. Hadn't read such a long and thorough exposé about the music industry since Life, the Keith Richards autobiography. Like the industry itself, there's plenty of sex and drugs and rock and roll throughout the tome. Unfortunately, it's the same old story, same old song and dance with these showbiz insiders. Too much coke and too much smoke. The overarching theme tends to feel like a predictable script for a VH1 Behind the Music episode.

That's not to knock the book. It's a page turner with plenty of juicy gossip. Originally bought it because I wanted some perspective on the San Francisco music scene in the late 60's, plus information about Hunter Thompson and Tom Wolfe (The Bonfire of the Vanities Tom Wolfe, not the Look Homeward, Angel Tom Wolfe.). If I could jump in the Wayback Machine and beam back to the mid 1960's, my preference would be Carnaby Street in London. The Yardbirds, The Beatles, The Animals, The Stones, they all hung out there with thriving live performance venues. San Francisco in 1967 would be my second choice. Music mavens have said many times in many ways that it was a magical place. The Main Event until the Hells Angels killed a guy at the Altamont Speedway Free Festival in 1969 as the Rolling Stones sang "Under My Thumb". That ended the era of Peace and Love.

What I could glean from the book is that although Rolling Stone was instrumental in nationally amplifying Hunter Thompson's prominence as a political scribe, Wenner had a habit of stiffing him. Thompson, you may recall, was given Cult of Personality status from being caricatured as Uncle Duke in Doonesbury. Plus, his 'Fear and Loathing' books are second to none. I've never been fleeced for a freelance job, but the unfortunate reality for a writer is you get about one week's worth of wages for about a month's output. A day job helps. Making it in the arts and entertainment industry is like trying to win the lottery. Better to go for the gusto and write what you like.

Back in olden days, when Zine publishing was in it's heyday, I wrote a series of stories dubbed 'The Salvation Army of Books'. They were printed in a local Philly fanzine buy a couple of guys I knew. The scenario was simple. I'd go to thrift stores, buy twenty year old paperbacks for ten cents apiece, then review them. The books weren't the Harvard Classics, but were very popular in the 60's and 70's. You'd be amazed how much things change in twenty years. Leisure Suits didn't last too long. Neither did EST Therapy, Puka Shells, and Platform Shoes. The list goes on and on. I'd also buy the pulp novels for their covers. Some of the artwork was great. Catchy titles, too. Sweetheart You Slay Me. Honky-Tonk Homicide. The Two Timing Blonde. And so on a so forth. Fanzines are anther word for vanity press, but some of the output was phenomenal. Digital versions still exist on the Internet, but it seems like a young person's game.

Bought Sticky Fingers at Bronx River Books in Scarsdale, an independent bookseller. They have a great selection of nonfiction and novels. The entire village is trying to support it and I hope they make it. But it's a tough business, especially when they're battling artificial intelligence systems from the likes of Amazon. As I've stated earlier, I've discovered great new authors recommended by Amazon algos. Plus you can't beat the price. However, sometimes it's better to pony up to help an endangered species. Nevertheless, it's survival of the fittest.

"We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile." From the movie Star Trek: First Contact

The Daily Beast described Sticky Fingers as, "The Essential American Biography For Our Times.". I disagree. It's primarily about Rock and Roll which peaked sometime in the 1980's. That was over thirty years ago. Although Wenner is a major celebrity hound and there's coverage of A-list movie stars throughout the book, it fizzles out by 1990. Problem being, it chronicles Rolling Stone Magazine until about 2015. In addition, about the last 100 pages of the bio focus on former macho man Jann Wenner coming out and getting married to a same-sex partner. He comes off as a hypocrite.

Wenner made a mint with the magazine, but he's been insignificant for years. Rock and Roll as we used to know it's been relegated to second-class citizenry with the advent of technology as a cultural force. That's why I believe Steve Jobs by Walter Isaacson is much more indicative to what's going on now. Both Steve Jobs and Jann Wenner dominated Pop Culture at one time or another. Both have also been described as narcissists, to put it mildly. Maybe they were just ahead of their time. Like the old adage goes, "Be kind to the people you meet on the way up, because you're going to meet the same people on the way down.".

I Want a New Kind of Kick

"The point is, ladies and gentleman, that greed, for lack of a better word, is good.". Michael Douglas as Gordon Gekko in Wall Street.

Leo Durocher was a Major League Baseball player and manager with a career spanning almost 50 years from 1925 to 1972. Elected posthumously to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1994, he's remembered for his 1975 autobiography Nice Guys Finish Last. Durocher was friends with a Who's Who of renown personalities from mid 20th Century America such as Babe Ruth and Frank Sinatra, and spins yarn after yarn of his escapades in the book. Dished the dirt on his adversaries, too, which confirmed his nickname, Leo the Lip. Married four times, including a movie star and a socialite, Durocher was a pop culture icon before there was such a thing.

I had his baseball card when he managed the Cubs, but primarily remember him from guest appearances on 1960's sitcom reruns in the in the early 90's. Mister Ed, The Munsters, and The Beverly Hillbillies all had Durocher as guest star. He'd play himself, a baseball manager, pursuing cast members such as Jethro Bodine or Mister Ed or Herman Munster for the big leagues. What they used to call Bonus Babies. He usually bagged his quarry, too. They all got major league contracts except for Jethro. He was superseded by his cousin Elly May Clampett. She had the better fastball. The girl can't help it.

Leo the Lip was famous for saying, "Some guys are admired for coming to play...I prefer those who come to kill.". Dog-eat-dog. Sounds a lot like Ayn Rand, a major inspiration for the Tea Party crusade, as well as a guiding light for Silicon Valley. Steve Jobs. Travis Kalanick. Evan Spiegel. Jack Dorsey. Peter Thiel. Elon Musk. Many members of the PayPal Mafia. All influenced by Rand. Although she rejected Fascism as well as Socialism, Rand was only looking out for number one.

Lived in Center City my first year in Philly. You could hear the church bells chiming every hour. I seemed at peace with myself. Stopped drinking for five months, and this was a fresh start. Thirteenth and Pine Street, the third floor of a three story rowhouse with no elevator. Caddy-corner to Dirty Frank's Bar and a few blocks from the art college on Broad Street. They call it Antique Row because of all the antique shops, but there was a bakery, a pizzeria, small restaurants and a used book store. I liked it. There weren't many amenities to the apartment, but after all, it was 1985. Cable television wasn't widespread nationally, and would take another decade to be deployed in the neighborhood. Had a SONY Trinitron with rabbit ears, but still got lousy reception. As a result, I'd walk the streets because let's face it, you can only read so much.

Didn't work very often in those days. Didn't have to. My first three months in the city, I checked ID's in a bar/restaurant for happy hour in The Bourse located in the historic district. Right near the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall. The Bourse is a converted stock exchange that's a food court now. Didn't really like the job, plus it was a comedown after three years in the advertising business in Manhattan. But I made friends. Two of them were roommates and lived down the street from me. They were writers and artists and had girlfriends. Told me to call. Just dial MARTIAN. The corresponding numbers to the letters on the keypad. 627-8426. I did and voilà, got the answering machine:

"Hello. This is the thought police. We know who you are. We know why you called. But get it off your chest. You'll feel better for it.".

Panama Red. Acapulco Gold. Gainesville Green. One toke over the line. That's all I wanted. That's what I couldn't have. Marlboros. Mezcal. Miller High Life. What were once habits were now vices. Always on my mind. I recently saw Atomic Blonde with Charlize Theron. It takes place in the mid 80's, and has a good soundtrack with songs such as "99 Luftballons". It seems as if everybody in the movie is smoking cigarettes and drinking chilled shots of Stolichnaya Vodka. That's the way it was back then, and I couldn't get in on the act.

For the better part of a year, I read, wrote a journal, and worked part-time as a banquet waiter and bartender. Society soirees for the local aristocrats. Got a bird's-eye view of how the other half lives. Wasn't entirely isolated. My roommate from Manhattan lived in Philadelphia, too. Just west of Broad on Spruce Street. He worked in New Jersey at Campbell's Soup, but was moving to to Michigan. Met a woman that lived in Society Hill Towers. They were getting hot and heavy, soon to be married. I was slowly starting to make friends, too. However, time was running out. I'd been accepted for the MBA program in finance at Fordham back in New York. Deferred admission for a year because of a lack of a career conviction, a new sense of sobriety, and it was expensive living in New York. I was in dire straights.

Bodhisattva, would you take me by the hand?

Demon Rum

“I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy” - Dorothy Parker

My 35th anniversary of sobriety is December 26th of this year. Not ready to take a victory lap yet. It's one day at a time although there's no desire to drink. Can remember my last cocktail. In a bar with two friends from high school that recently married. I was in the wedding party, so we were close. But all it took was one libation and I slurred my words. Was on the verge of blackout. A first-rate performance. Probably more embarrassing for my companions than me because the details are foggy. My friends drove me home and the next day, I entered an outpatient facility for alcohol abuse. One's too many, a hundred's not enough. That was me to a T.

This had been coming on for five years. I was ready for it, but kept it to myself. Back in those days, about one in ten had substance abuse problems. Plus, there was much more of a stigma attached to it. Now it's one in five because of the opiod epidemic and lackadaisical attitude about chemicals in some circles. Cancer is the same way. Everybody openly talks about it now. I've experienced both, but being at an advanced age, tend not to bring it up. Old habits die hard. N'est-ce pas.

"Life Is Like High School with Money." - Frank Zappa

I had a tight-knit group a friends in high school. The popular clique. Because it's a college town, Ithaca High had blurred divisions for all the social factions. Jocks. Nerds. Dramaramas. Even the greasers. A blended collective. My secondary education era was the 1970's, so there's a mixture of Rock, Soul, Funk, Disco and Heavy Metal. Not just the music, but a mosaic mindset. Anything goes. I'm not sure what it's like now, but if it's anything like current musical tastes, there's probably rigidity in the segmentation. People enjoy either Country or Rap or Pop or Electronica or Folk. Very few concentric circles like days of yore. Or so it seems. I'm OK – You're OK. Works with me.

Relationships ebb and flow through the years. Sometimes they get lost at sea. But I'm very grateful and fortunate I'm still in contact with my inner circle from The Class of '77. Missed a couple reunions early on, and somewhat lost touch. My parents never went to reunions, and they were class officers. It rubbed off. Could picture myself at the beer and bull sessions drinking bottled water while old associates were having a few cold ones. My world had been turned upside down. Better to let things simmer. Or so I thought. Temperance is a never ending process. In the past fifteen years, I've reconnected, and it's been great.

When you get older, one of the more unfortunate things that happens, is nature begins to thin out the herd. Some of it's from 'lifestyle complications', which is code for overdose. But the majority of it comes from natural causes such as cancer and cardiac arrest. I've lost friends. Six members of my high school football team have already passed away. Two from my inner social circle. I was in both of their wedding parties. As a groomsman and as Best Man. Yes, one was with me the last time I consumed alcohol. He died of pancreatic cancer recently. He and his wife moved to Atlanta years ago and found religion. I don't know which way he leaned politically. It didn't matter. He was my friend.

I remember him from football. Pound for pound, the strongest guy on the team. Punched above his weight, too. They said he battled cancer, but people always say that. You really don't battle cancer, you try to contain it. Nevertheless, he put up a good fight for two years. Countless rounds of chemo and surgeries. Kept a stiff upper lip, too. His wife stayed by his side every step of the way. Lots of people lift weights and think they can play football. It's not as easy as it looks on TV. All hat, no cattle. You've got to button your chinstrap and put a hat on somebody. My buddy, he could play ball.

During my first reunion, I wondered if I'd come across as a party pooper. I tend to speculate if my sobriety bothers people. Most don't notice. At the reunion, some classmates came three sheets to the wind. We used to drink together, and they took a dim view of me. Buzzkill. It was just the whiskey talking. Like water off a duck's back, I let it go. However, my old gang accepted me despite my faults. That's what friends are for. With all the drinking we used to do, somebody had to fall through the cracks. Unfortunately, it was me. For the past three years, we've had an annual weekend cookout on Cayuga Lake. Most come from all over the country. I'm looking forward to next year.

Who Needs a House Out in Hackensack?

"Life's just a cocktail party on the street." From "Shattered" by The Rolling Stones

Besides the premium subscription channels from HBO and Spectrum TV Choice, my Roku streamer provides many free apps. Filmrise, Crackle, Tubi, Pluto TV, and the eponymous Roku Channel. Pluto TV has live Bloomberg broadcasting 24/7 which compliments CNBC coverage, plus, they transmit on the weekend. I like that. Although there are commercial breaks, all feature free movies. Grew up with commercials, so it isn't an issue, but the uninterrupted films on Turner Classic Movies are much more enjoyable. Looking for something to watch last month, I came across 1984's The Pope of Greenwich Village starring Mickey Rourke, Eric Roberts, and Daryl Hannah. I lived in Manhattan in 1984, so I streamed it.

Although it was filmed in real time, it comes off as a period piece now. After all, 35 years have passed. The cars, clothes, and absence of cellphones remind you of days gone by. Like the title suggests, it takes place in the East Village, and conjured up memories of my old neighborhood, the Upper West Side before gentrification. I lived a few blocks west of The Dakota where John Lennon was shot, between Broadway and West End Avenue. The old Needle Park area, but had been cleaned up substantially since the early 70's when they filmed Panic in Needle Park. Al Pacino's first featured role. Lived in a hotel converted to apartments and slept on a couch in the living room. My roommate had the bedroom with his girlfriend. He's been my friend since junior high school, and still is to this day.

Manhattan was gritty. Times Square wasn't the Main Street, U.S.A. it's become. It was like a scene from HBO's The Deuce. Strip Clubs, Peep Shows, Three-card Monte scams along with narcotics flowing. You'd walk to work, and street dealers would come at you: "Loose joints. Loose joints. You walk by, you don't get high. You buy three, you get one free.". Disney took over, and along with the Giuliani Administration, cleaned things up. The last time I walked through Times Square, I was en route to Lincoln Center to see Laura Benanti in the revival of My Fair Lady. Beautiful voice. A set of pipes like Julie Andrews.

An exciting time in my life. Out of college. Out of Ithaca. Out of my head. Plus, wasn't in the suburbs of New Jersey. No bridge and tunnel crowd. My first year post graduation, I lived in The Garden State, Boonton and Budd Lake. My life revolved around my job and the malls. Calling home was expensive. AT&T would take you to the cleaners. No unlimited talk, text, and data plans. You spent a half hour on a landline, it cost you about a week's salary. I wrote letters and lived by my wits. It was an adjustment.

“To be is to do” - Socrates.
“To do is to be” - Jean-Paul Sartre.
“Do be do be do” - Frank Sinatra.

Kurt Vonnegut snatched that phrase from graffiti in bathroom stalls. I read a lot of Vonnegut while living in Manhattan. He struggled for almost thirty years until publishing his sixth novel, Slaughterhouse-Five. He made a fortune after it went to the top of The New York Times Best Seller list. I enjoyed the book and the movie adaptation. Like the old hitchhikers credo: "Ass, gas or grass, nobody rides for free.".

I get a lot of unsolicited emails from LinkedIn these days. Job postings for freelancers, primarily in Manhattan. Wouldn't want to live there now. Too expensive unless you're loaded. It all started when I applied for a personal finance reporter position at Yahoo!Finance. Sent in my résumé via LinkedIn Easy Apply. At sixty years old, you don't expect to hear back, especially with gaping holes in your employment history. Writing screenplays takes a lot of time, and oftentimes in my youth, I'd opt to write instead of work. You lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas. Anyway, my inbox is barraged with job postings. Most I'm not interested in.

LinkedIn is a subsidiary of Microsoft now. Often confuse founder Reid Hoffman with Reed Hastings, another forward thinker who started Netflix. Talk about comebacks. Microsoft was left for dead after the PC market ground to a halt. They missed the boat on wireless, too. Although Steve Ballmer laid the foundation for Microsoft's resurrection, current CEO Satya Nadella has been instrumental in leading the charge back to exalted status. Microsoft's foray into cloud computing goes mano-a-mano with Amazon Web Services. Nadella made close to $26,000,000 in total compensation last year. The median household income in the United States is $61,000. And you wonder why people are so angry.

Raw Deal

'Steady, As She Goes', is a nautical term. It's also the name of a song by The Raconteurs. You may be familiar with it: "Find yourself a girl and settle down. Live a simple life in a quiet town.". And so on and so forth. Written in 2006, the title may be too sexist to fly in today's hypersensitive environment. I can understand why you'd call a postman a letter carrier, but things have gone too far. I'm Greek. I've heard all the Greek jokes from "How do they separate the men from the boys in the Greek Army?" to "Why did the little Greek boy run away from home?". If you haven't heard them, you've lived a sheltered life. If you have, you get the drift. It's no big deal. These days, they're calling a snowman a snowperson. And you wonder why they voted for Trump.

When I moved back to Ithaca close to 25 years ago, two things jumped out at me. Number one is you needed a car. Car sharing services are available now, but in those days, no dice. I'd spent over ten years riding the subways, trolleys and buses in Philadelphia. Shoe leather express, too. Number two is that the wages were depressed, and from what I understand, they still are. The local workers' center has a "Living Wage Coalition", where they try to get blue collar laborers a decent minimum wage, but from all the economic activity in the area, there's not enough participants from employers. Ithaca's not alone, either. It's a nation of have and have-nots.

"I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?"

Except for three years in media sales in Manhattan and the Tri-State area surrounding New York City, I've been a have-not. Graduating from college, I thought my métier would be in the business world, but my priorities changed. Got the writing bug. You can do that in your 20's. Manhattan was too expensive, so on to Philly, The City of Brotherly Love. Back in those days, you didn't have as many creature comforts. With a bed and a boombox, you could live just about anywhere. Cable, smartphones, and computers were only on the horizon. I could practically panhandle my rent. Underemployment paid in the big city, too. One day's work as a banquet waiter could take care of expenses for a week. It's not that way in Ithaca. Very expensive to live here.

My M.O. when I get up in the morning is to immediately check my iPhone. Email, sports scores, stock futures, The Weather Channel app, and especially Twitter. I'm not on Facebook. Don't want to be bothered. No way. No how. If you have children or grandchildren, that's a different story. You need to send and receive those family photos PDQ. I'm a lurker on Twitter. Don't tweet, just use it as a news feed. Primarily follow financial services, technology info, and the beat writers for the Boston Red Sox and New York Giants. Locally, it's #twithaca. Indispensable for what's going on in town. The Ithaca Journal, Ithaca Times, Ithaca Voice, 14850.com all post pertinent breaking news. Even the obituaries.

My limited exposure to Facebook has been as an investment. I watch a lot of business news and tracked the Road Show. Big IPO at the time. Wouldn't you know it (and this happens frequently), the stock cratered after it began trading on the NASDAQ. People put their life savings into it and got burned. When it got to its all time low, I backed up the truck. Lucky guess, but made a killing. That said, I also lost my shirt on another trumped up security. Came out a little ahead, but would've been better off in an S&P 500 index fund. Like John Bogle, the founder of Vanguard said, “Don’t look for the needle in the haystack. Just buy the haystack.”.

Money is important...to everybody. Many of the Beatnicks, Hippies, Punks, or whatever grassroots movement is popular these days come from wealth. Trust Fund Babies. Arts and Entertainment 101: get a good day job. Something I failed to do and paid the price. I'm fortunate that my father financially mentored me. Starting in my 30's, I salted away as much cash as I could. Even as a have-not, the market's been good to me. It's been good to a lot of people. Not just the one percent. Nevertheless, it's a rigged system. You do a five to seven year stretch for smoking a joint in some states. Collapse the financial system, you get a slap on the wrist and a golden parachute. You've got to play their angles.

The stock market can be a dangerous place. But if you'd bought a total domestic market index ETF or mutual fund in 2007, right before the Great Recession and subsequent market crash, you'd have doubled your money in ten years. Much better than a savings account which generates zero interest. Time is strange when you're older. Years fly by. That decade since the financial meltdown is a blip on the radar screen. At eleven years old, "Summer in the City" by The Lovin' Spoonful began playing on the radio of our Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser station wagon. I hadn't heard it in five years. At that age, it seemed like a lifetime ago. Now twenty years ago is like yesterday.

Happy Hunting Ground

"All the other kids with the pumped up kicks. You'd better run, better run, faster than my bullet." From "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People

The prepubescent years can be a difficult age. I don't know how I survived them. I don't know how my parents did, either. You think you're a good kid, in reality, you're a handful. Not quite ready to venture out on your own like a teenager, yet not a clinging child. Led Zeppelin II, Alice Cooper's Killer, and the three disc Woodstock album became the core holdings of my LP collection. We were living in East Lansing, Michigan while my father finished up his PhD at that time. Detroit radio stations broadcast to our area. It opened up a whole new world to me.

I had other influences at that stage, too. Alan Sherman's parody record My Son, the Nut featuring "Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh" and "You Went the Wrong Way, Old King Louie" was one of my favorites. And there were books. 2000 Insults for All Occasions by Louis Safian comes to mind. Chock full of barbs such as:"They call him locomotive. Plain loco, no motive.". Plus, Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions by Al Jaffee published by Mad Magazine was a staple. In actuality, anything by Mad was popular in the house with two sisters near my age. They were good getaways from my parents strained marriage. Mad recently stopped publishing. That's a shame. These days, if you have trouble with your parents, you take a 9mm automatic pistol, or whatever firepower is available, and gun them down. Or so it seems.

It all started with Howard Unruh. He's the first domestic mass murderer. In 1949, he walked through the streets of Camden, New Jersey armed with a Luger and a pocket full of bullets, and gunned down 13 people. It's known as the Walk of Death. Like the Cyberdyne Systems Model 101 Series 800 Terminator, he could not be stopped. In my early Philly days, around '87 or '88, a writer friend of mine was scouting ideas for a screenplay. He had a book on mass murderers and suggested a story on Howard Unruh. I shot it down. More interested in potboilers. Boy was I ever wrong.

Nobody wants to hear about struggling writers. That's why I'm blogging instead of at The Kennedy Center accepting my Lifetime Achievement Award. But as a writer, you're always looking for new storylines. These days, most top grossing movies don't have plots. It's one big chase scene or shoot 'em up. Big body counts. I like an organized scenario. Frequently watch Turner Classic Movies, especially Westerns and Film Noir for narratives I can modernize. The one's with no storybook ending. Most of these films are in black and white, and that's the way I like it. Sometimes they colorize them, but that takes away from lighting techniques by the directors and cinematographers. It's like spray painting Michelangelo's statue of David.

Sometimes you can improve on a film, sometimes not. John Huston's 1941 The Maltese Falcon is considered a classic. Based on the Dashiell Hammett novel, it has two earlier versions, 1931's account called The Maltese Falcon, and in 1936, Satan Met a Lady. All three were viewed as good entertainment, but it's the 1941 movie starring Humphrey Bogart that people still watch today. A Star Is Born has been made four times, and successfully, both critically and commercially. Some black and white movies are much better than the remake despite box office gold the second time around. D.O.A. with Edmond O'Brien is superior to the 1988 iteration starring Dennis Quaid. Against All Odds was a big draw in 1984, but pales in comparison to Out of the Past, the original. Out of the Past features Kirk Douglas and Robert Mitchum. Body Heat was a commercial success and was inspired by Double Indemnity, but can't hold a candle to it.

Last summer I got what I thought was a great idea for a screenplay while watching Turner Classic Movies. Easy Living starring Victor Mature and Lucille Ball is a movie about a professional football player at the end of the line. Made in 1949, it features the Los Angeles Rams and with the football frenzy in America, I thought an update would be marketable. The 1949 version has the Victor Mature character suffering from a heart ailment. I was going to change the malady to Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE) to modernize the story. In addition, his wife played by Lizabeth Scott is an aspiring interior designer in Manhattan doing whatever it takes to get ahead. For her character, I was going to overhaul that to a Pop singer or dancer. That's what people do now. There's about a million of them.

Long story short, I bagged the idea because I'd be deficient in contemporary youth lingo. My dialogue would be unauthentic. That's a killer when you're writing scripts. This past week there have been two reports of shootings in Ithaca. One was last weekend, four shots fired, but no one was hit. Yesterday, somebody took five rounds from a .357 revolver in the back. Right near The Commons. The whole place was on lockdown. Nothing but the dead and dying back in my little town.

No Stems, No Seeds That You Don't Need

"I tried everything in my life. Things I like, I try 'em twice." From "You Got That Right" by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

More from the white punks on dope department:

Some mornings I don't want to get out of bed. Not like a teenager that wants to skip school, or a hungover twentysomething. I have an acute lower back problem that flares up on occasion that makes it painful to straighten up. Some of it's age. Some of it's hereditary. Some of it's repetitive stress injury from doing too many dead end jobs in the restaurant and construction industries. Tote that barge. Lift that bale. I've seen a specialist. He gave me exercises, but even after stretching religiously for a year, it still flared up, so I stopped. Take Ibuprofen as needed.

Besides the economy, gun violence, strained race relations, climate warming, and affordable health care, the legalization of marijuana is one of the hot topics in the country. I have very few areas of expertise, but smoking weed is one of them. Bong hits. Wake and bake. Hash under glass. Spliffs. Blunts. You name it, I've done it all with combustibles. I could roll a joint riding shotgun in a convertible with the top down going 55 miles an hour. Not a 70's style reefer with the twisted ends, but one that looked like a Lucky Strike. Practically a Rastafarian.

If I were twenty years old, and weed was legal in my state, I'd be down at the marijuana dispensary picking up four finger bags on a regular basis. It's coming. According to The Economist, "by 2024, medical marijuana will be legal in all states, and recreational use will be found in almost half." For the paranoid Reefer Madness crowd, which believe smokers are dopefiends, it couldn't be farther from the truth. It's not a stepping stone drug, or I would have been mainlining or freebasing years ago. Potheads don't rob banks, it's the junkies, crack addicts and meth freaks.

I'm not a hardcore libertarian that believes in the legalization of all drugs. Narcotics are harmful. Additionally, many people can't handle their drugs. Nevertheless, whether it's a placebo, or if it's real, marijuana does wonders for pain and epileptic seizures. Despite this fact, and despite I'm sometimes in pain, I would never take another toke again. THC is out, even an edible. No CBD, either. I don't want to put anything in my body except for caffeine. Been borderline straightedge for decades and want to keep it that way.

My back worries me. I have an uncle in his late 80's that has chronic back problems. He uses a cane now. The Ghost of Christmas Future. He's got a great attitude about it, but he's in constant pain and discomfort. It's not like you have a bad knee or hip. There's always total knee and hip replacement. Titanium does wonders. However, you've only got one Sacroiliac, and when that goes, you've got problems. Surgery is not an option.

Exercising almost every day seems to help. Do the low impact aerobics at the gym, or walk 3-4 miles when the weather cooperates. 5,000 steps. When I can't get motivated, I think of my high school classmate that's a quadriplegic. Very successful man. Ivy League degree. Bootstrapped himself into a local powerhouse in the construction industry. Someone to look up to. Dove into the ocean and broke his neck after becoming a multi-millionaire. Life is short. I try to take it one day at a time. Shopping at Wegman's, you often see the morbidly obese customers in the motorized scooters stocking up on soda and Oreos. It makes me crawl out of bed and get moving.

SannTek Labs recently developed a nanotechnology based sensor to quantify marijuana intoxication. A breathalyzer for ganja, grass, wacky tobaccy, or whatever you want to call it. Venture capitalist firm Y Combinator has already invested in the company. They're the seed money behind organizations such as Airbnb, Dropbox and Coinbase. Get ready for the future.

Best of Both Worlds

"Football is not a contact sport, it's a collision sport - dancing is a contact sport." - Duffy Daugherty

Jay-Z and his company Roc Nation recently announced a partnership with the NFL. Part of the collaboration specifies that Roc Nation will have significant input as to which artists will perform at the Super Bowl halftime show. All I can say is, it's about time. The last time I enjoyed a halftime show, Bruno Mars performed "Locked Out of Heaven" decked out like Sly Stone in his heyday. That was 2014. They've had chart topping Pop artists such as Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, Justin Timberlake, and Beyoncé in the last few years, but Pop music commands a measly 13% market share. Rock is in second place with a 20% slice. Believe it or not, it's R&B/hip-hop that takes the lion's share of approximately 26%.

There's been a lot of controversy with Jay-Z and the about-face he took with the NFL high command (he protested in support of Colin Kaepernick during the past few years), but I'm not going to get into that. There's an avalanche of articles on the subject. This is about the music. Statistics don't lie. We're in an era of Big Data, Sabermetrics, and Artificial Intelligence. Give the people what they want. A twenty-six percent predominance is head and shoulders above Pop, and what's left of Rock and Roll.

If the majority of music consumed in this country is R&B/hip-hop, then that's what people want to hear. Unfortunately, you can't always get what you want. Hillary Clinton won the popular vote, but the Electoral College got in the way. Ninety percent of Americans are in favor of gun control, but the NRA lobby is too strong. R&B/hip-hop rule the music industry, but the NFL could get pressure other financial syndicates. Advertisers with 'Family Values' may prohibit some artists from the grand stage of the Super Bowl Halftime Show. If the powers that be had it their way, choreographed boy bands would dominate. The decline of Western Civilization.

I have nothing personal against Mark Wahlberg of New Kids on the Block, or, Justin Timberlake of NSYNC. They sold a lot of albums. They're excellent actors, decent golfers (I've seen them at the Lake Tahoe Pro/Am), and are getting busy with A-list celebrities, but their music blew chow as we used to say in the 70's. Although times change, and you've got to roll with it, you can count me out with the boy bands. Call me an old fogie, I don't care.

Things are too segmented today. Although we have more options, we tend to get set in our ways which can lead to myopia. Music calms the savage beast. Music can also be the elixir to placate social divide. Maybe it's just my imagination, and although there's always been racial tension in a country founded on genocide and slavery, the mainstream Caucasian culture of 30 years ago was much more inclusive of African American culture. I believe it's because FM Radio was more free form. Ohio Players, Sly and the Family Stone, and Rick James could all be heard in the same playlist as The Rolling Stones or Iggy Pop.

Besides Alternative and Indie bands, station WICB FM in Ithaca has a Funk and Soul program Looking Back every Friday from 10 to noon. It's hosted by Ricky Milton, son of Bernie Milton, a local music legend. James Brown, Heatwave, Stevie Wonder, and Earth, Wind and Fire are featured. Not just the hits, but album cuts, too. I listen to it whenever I have to opportunity. WICB has another show I tune into. The Blues Progression hosted by Pete Panek. Pete Panek and the Blue Cats are an entrenched local band in a thriving music scene. With most radio stations streaming now, you can find new things to listen to out of your comfort zone. It's just more difficult than it used to be.

Back in the late 80's, early 90's, I bought Fear of a Black Planet by Public Enemy. Also enjoyed Ice-T's O.G. Original Gangster, plus anything by De La Soul and Run-DMC. Some tracks by 2 Live Crew, too. I was living on the border of Center City and South Philly. Philadelphia has college radio with stations from both Drexel and Penn which were my primary forms of audio entertainment. I don't know if it was my location, or the era, but the music just seemed better. Maybe I'm just getting old. It happens.

If it wasn't for "race music" and the "Chitlin' Circuit", there'd be no Beatles or Rolling Stones. We'd still be listening to Ray Coniff and Ferrante & Teicher. Jump cut ten years, you get Disco, which influenced Some Girls (I had an original copy of the album. The one with Lucille Ball, Farrah Fawcett, Judy Garland, Raquel Welch, and Marilyn Monroe on the cover). I'm looking forward to seeing what Jay-Z and Roc Nation has in store for us. Even as an old white guy.

Redneck Friend

"Plucked her eyebrows on the way. Shaved her legs and then he was a she. She said, hey babe, take a walk on the wild side." From "Walk on the Wild Side by Lou Reed.

An organization called Super Happy Fun America staged a "Straight Pride" march in Boston this past weekend. It was their rebuttal to the "Gay Pride" movement of the LGBTQ crowd. Members of Super Happy Fun America donned Stars and Stripes T-shirts, wore Make America Great Again baseball caps, and held flags with the slogan "It's Great to be Straight". I can't think of anything more comical and idiotic.

Since junior high school, I've lived in liberal college towns, or in the inner city of New York and Philly. Because of that, I tend to lean left of center. You're a product of your environment. I also had a sister who came out forty years go. It was a big deal back then. I was a little slow on gay marriage, but so was Barack Obama. Equal rights for everybody. Times have changed, and I'm much more accepting than I was in 1980. The Stonewall riots were in 1969. Fifty years ago. Super Happy Fun America and their ilk should be ignored. Unfortunately, it's difficult to do that in the times we live in.

Think globally, act locally. That's what they tell you to do. You'll never see more of a dichotomy than when I was standing in the checkout line at Wegman's, our regional grocery store. I was behind a guy with a Make America Great Again cap as he gave his cash to a transgender cashier. A microcosm of the culture clash.

"Well, I'm not dumb but I can't understand why she walked like a woman but talked like a man."

That line is from "Lola" by the Kinks from 1970. Yes, there was controversy about those lyrics a half century ago, but that's not why the BBC originally banned the song. The Kinks used "Coca-Cola" in the original lyrics, and the BBC had a policy against product placement. We now live in an era of, for and by the corporation. They used to say an artist "sold out" if they were involved with commerce. After Nike used The Beatles' "Revolution" for a TV commercial, all bets were off. The floodgates opened as the counterculture was now commodified.

The divide in the country, if not the entire industrialized world, makes me think of the old days when Ronald Reagan and Tip O'Neill would toss back a few after a long day at the office. It seemed more civil. Maybe it wasn't, it just seemed that way. I don't know. Mary Matalin married James Carville. Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski tied the knot. How can you forget Kellyanne Conway and her husband George? Not only very public relationships, but televised, too. Rock ribbed conservatives hitched to a partner much more left leaning.

Sometimes you have to take what you're given. Henry Ford and Charles Lindbergh were both Nazi sympathizers. They believed in the extermination of blacks, Jews and gypsies. They're considered great Americans. At least that's what they taught me in school. Technologically, they were way ahead of the curve. Socially, they sided with Adolf Eichmann. Both were instrumental in the development of the aeronautical and automobile industries. I still drive and I still fly.

It's the same way in the arts. Some of the artists I enjoyed and respected growing up are alt-right at the most, Trump supporters at the least. James Woods, John Voight and Clint Eastwood come to mind. I still watch and appreciate their work, just don't agree with their politics. Just like John Travolta and Tom Cruise in the Scientology movement. Love their work, hate their religion, but I'm not going to miss a movie such as Pulp Fiction because one of the stars believes he's a descendant of Martians.

Clint Eastwood is the artist that's let me down the most, although as you get older, you learn not to get disappointed with people. It began when he had that rift with Obama at the 2012 Republican Convention with that soliloquy with the empty chair. He's since apologized for that, but it took me back. I'm not a starfucker, nor do I worship people (especially at my age), but I put Eastwood in a class with few others as far as creative output is concerned. It goes back to his Rawhide days. I recently watched the series on STARZ Encore Westerns along with Bat Masterson. They didn't disappoint.

Most actors pine for one big hit. Eastwood has many. His resumé spans 60 years from Rawhide to the Spaghetti Westerns to Dirty Harry to an enviable career in directing. In the directorial chair, he learned from the best. Sergio Leone from 'The Man with No Name' movies which included The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, and Don Siegel of Dirty Harry fame. Taught, well crafted movies that influenced Eastwood. Influenced a generation for that matter. You don't make films such as American Sniper and Million Dollar Baby by accident. Clint's even been venerated in song. Back in 2001 Gorillaz did "Clint Eastwood", and going back to 1980, Adam and the Ants performed "Los Rancheros" off their album Kings of the Wild Frontier.

Although we live in a divided country, both culturally and economically, we're still Americans...for now. It's time to start rowing the boat in the same direction. Clint Eastwood has a new movie recently released on HBO, The Mule, which received good reviews. I think I'll watch it this week.

The Low End of the Food Chain

"Circumstance has forced my hand to be a cut-priced person in a low-budget land." From "Low Budget" by The Kinks.

By today's standards, I am considered a failure in some sectors. Never made the big time. In writing, you're on the Best Seller list, or you're selling screenplays, or you're on the dole. It's not show show, it's show biz. There's very little in the middle. Newspapers and magazines are folding. Computers can write copy, too. The ink-stained wretch has gone the way of the horse and buggy. Even if you get a gig, the pay can't feed a family for all the time and effort expended. It can't even feed a single person.

It's always amazed me how some outstanding artists can be so prolific at a young age. I'm not including childhood actors, because they're often one-trick ponies. A flash in the pan for sweet sixteens and pubescents. Some chart topping bands from the 1960's, bands I still listen to, had teenage frontmen. Alex Chilton was sixteen when he sang "The Letter" with The Boxtops back in '67. Number one song internationally that year. Nothing like Blue-eyed Soul. Want to feel really old, just think of the Alex Chilton revival in the late 80's when The Replacements wrote "Alex Chilton" for their album Pleased to Meet Me. That was over 30 years ago.

The list goes on. Tommy James of Tommy James and the Shondells fame was a teenager when "Hanky Panky" hit the top of the charts in 1966. Stevie Winwood was fourteen when he joined the Spencer Davis Group. He had a long and illustrious career: Spencer Davis Group, Blind Faith and Traffic, not to mention his solo act in the early 80's. It's not just music, either. Tiger Woods was a scratch golfer in junior high school. Lebron James could probably do a 360 Tomahawk Dunk in elementary school. Bryce Harper was on the cover of Sports Illustrated at sixteen. I'm sixty years old and still grinding. You make the bed you lie in.

In our current society, you're either a technology native, or a technology immigrant. Because of my age, I wasn't born into the digital world, so by default, I'm a technology immigrant. I remember those computer courses in high school and college where you used punch cards with IBM "Big Iron" computers. I hated every minute of it. We've come a long way in programming to the point where coding will be obsolete in twenty years. Artificial Intelligence will do the work for you. You can even ascertain the speed of technological innovation in our television viewing habits. It's coming on quickly and enables end users to pinch pennies.

I had a stroke of good fortune three years go when my father and I visited my uncle in Westchester County. My father has passed away since then, but my uncle is still going strong. He had an extra Roku streaming box, one that my cousin had given him, and he gave it to us to take home. I'm not a Luddite, but I was apprehensive about taking it. Primarily because when it comes to home entertainment systems, they tend to be a pain in the ass to set up. As it turned out, the installation was easy, and my father and I began streaming Red Sox games on MLB.TV the next season. My father was ecstatic. Not only did he save over $100 a year with the single team streaming option (We subscribed to the Extra Innings package from the cable company beforehand.), but he also had the option to exclusively watch the Boston broadcast team from NESN (New England Sports Network).

Fast-forward three years, and I'm doing some belt-tightening. The iPhone was easy. Dump AT&T and move to Cricket. Cricket is a subsidiary of AT&T and they use the same network, but at half the price. The cable bill was enormous. Three hundred channels, most of which I didn't watch. Although we're in the second golden age of television, The Minutemen got it right with their tune, "There Ain't Shit on TV Tonight". I had to do something. My checking account was on life support. Enter Roku stage right with a cable cutting bundle: Spectrum TV Choice, my cable company's a la carte streaming offering. They give you all the local broadcast channels and PBS, plus you select ten cable networks out of 65 possibilities. I slashed my bill in half.

I'm elated with Spectrum TV Choice. The only drawback is they don't broadcast the regional sports networks. MSG, SNY and YES (which carries the Yankees), are unavailable. Bummer. I enjoy watching Red Sox/Yankees battles, but since most of the rivalry is carried on national networks such as ESPN and TBS, I only miss about four games a year. That's doable. I receive all the major news channels but opted out of Fox News. That's like subscribing to state run television in Russia. If I can avoid it, I want to minimize my contribution to the Murdoch Family Empire.

What I don't understand is why Apple hasn't bought Roku yet. Apple is primarily a hardware company and already offers a streaming box in Apple TV. It's barely making a dent in the sector. Roku is the industry leader and commands about 40% market share with a durable competitive advantage. They recently went public, and the stock has gained approximately 500% since the IPO (Initial Public Offering). Although it may appear that Apple missed the boat, they can still afford it. They've got more than Fort Knox in their coffers. I believe it would be a nice tuck-in for them.

I'm Waiting for my Man

"Outside the door, she took four more. What a drag it is getting old." From "Mother's Little Helper" by The Rolling Stones.

Ripped from the headlines: Los Angeles Angels pitcher Tyler Skaggs dies from accidental overdose. I saw this come across the crawler on both FS1 and ESPN yesterday. The first thing that came to mind is that it's a redundant statement. There's no such thing as an accidental overdose. It's just an overdose. If your dealer gives you a hot shot, you call it murder. If you intentionally snort or shoot junk, there's no accident involved. I read the summary of the coroner's report. Fentanyl, Oxycodone and alcohol were found in Tyler's system. He died chocking in his own vomit, asphyxiation. Just like Jimi Hendrix and Bradley Nowell of Sublime. It can happen to anybody. You too.

The opioid crisis isn't new, and there's a lot of blame to go around. Johnson & Johnson was just ordered to pay $572 million for their involvement, and in my opinion, they got off practically scot-free. Then there's the doctors who overprescribe the medication. I had major cancer surgery 10 years ago and my doctors gave me Oxycodone for just one day after the operation. That's it. It was 600 milligrams of Ibuprofen as needed after that. They were looking out for me and I thank them. That's all I need is a monkey on my back.

Drug culture didn't become mainstream until the 1960's. Before that, you'd see a movie such as The Man with a Golden Arm starring Frank Sinatra in the 1950's where Ol' Blue Eyes was shooting up on the silver screen. It seemed like another planet. Now heroin use is everywhere, and permeates every social strata in America. You can't just blame the drug companies and the Dr. Benway's of this world. (Dr. Benway is an ongoing character in William Burroughs' novels including The Naked Lunch and lacks a conscience. He's more interested in himself than his patients).

My first introduction to painkillers goes back to early 1976. I had a serious knee injury from playing football that required surgery. My medial meniscus cartilage was removed. That connective tissue maintains the stability in the knee joint, and as a result, I've had a bad wheel since high school. After the operation, I was prescribed a vial of Percocet. I looked forward to cranking some Aerosmith Get Your Wings while convalescing with my medicinal. Much to my chagrin, when I got home from the hospital, my father confiscated the medication, and tossed it in the trash. He explained to me in stern terms that it was addicting, and I would just have to tough it out with over-the-counter pain killers like Tylenol. Disappointed? Sure, but you didn't question your parents in those days.

Two things come to mind here:

• Number one is that Baby Boomer parents, also known a Helicopter Parents, have raised a generation of children who can't take "no" for an answer. Everyone's a winner. Trophies for everybody. In reality, there's no second prizes for the loser. It's a winner take all society. Remember this line from Glengarry Glen Ross: "We're adding a little something to this month's sales contest. As you all know, first prize is a Cadillac Eldorado. Anybody want to see second prize? Second prize is a set of steak knives. Third prize is you're fired.". I don't mean to broad-brush the manner in which my contemporaries reared their children, but many are to blame for a lack of discipline. This can lead to drug abuse in some instances. I never had children, so maybe I'm being off base here, but it's what I believe.
• Number two is that kids are much more mature and aware at a younger age than we ever were. Even if you came from a single parent household, and didn't have a drug prevention course in your high school, a teenager today knows which way the wind is blowing in regards to opioid use. Being consumed by creative content such as movies, television programs and YouTube videos, you can't miss the overt message that heroin is bad. This isn't subliminal seduction. It's right there in front of your nose in every visual medium. Yet, popping pills, snorting and shooting remain a popular pastime.

Sure, opioid manufacturers are partially to blame. There's also an occasional Dr. Benway lurking in the background trying to get enough money to help a paramour, or, payoff a gambling debt, but I believe in the Hippocratic Oath of "do no harm". Doctors want to heal. It's the individual's responsibility to take care of business. I'm not buying into the myth that a millennial that's been weaned on television shows such as C.S.I. Crime Scene Investigation and N.C.I.S. doesn't know that controlled substances are bad for you. Peer pressure can't be that overwhelming.

I lived in the inner city of two East Coast metropolises for a number of years. The concrete jungle. Living on the lunatic fringe trying to make it as writer. I've known junkies. Back in the day they'd site movies like Drugstore Cowboy and Trainspotting which rationalized heroin addiction. When the Chet Baker revival surfaced in the early 90's, some of the hopheads I knew wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, just like Chet (Chet Baker was a critically acclaimed jazz musician with a habit from the Eisenhower era that died at 59). The rationalization was who wants to live past 60? One got his wish. Dead of a heart attack before he qualified for AARP. I miss him to this day because he was my friend.

A candy-colored clown they call the sandman
Tiptoes to my room every night
Just to sprinkle star dust and to whisper
"Go to sleep, everything is alright"

That last quote is courtesy of Roy Orbison from In Dreams which reached number 7 on the Billboard Hot 100 charts back in 1963. It gained a cult following in 1986 from being featured in the neo-noir thriller Blue Velvet, a movie I enjoyed at the time of release. I also enjoyed Tom Petty, Prince, and Scott Weiland from Stone Temple Pilots. Great artists whose lives were cut short from narcotics. You've heard the expression, "Live fast, die young, and have a good-looking corpse". It's never been more relavent. Nancy Reagan launched the “Just Say No” campaign in 1986. How's that working out?