Now Hear This

With the Christmas holiday waning, the carols are still being played and remain in our collective consciousness.  So, this is an ideal time to examine the magnitude and magic of all music.

 

Whether made by a guitar, piano, saxophone, violin, or trombone, music is created and played by using only 13 notes.  Yes, just 13.

 

Johann Bach, Paul McCartney, and Weird Al Yankovic, all use the same 13 notes to make songs that convey serenity, love, and satyr.

 

When I speak of music, I am not referring to rap, which is nothing more than frustrated poetry coming from no-talent clowns.  Rather, the music to which I refer is classical, rock and roll, heavy metal, big band, easy listening, and even new wave.

 

The same notes are used to construct mediocre songs or masterpieces offered to the masses for their listening pleasure.  Incorporated therein is the often butchering vocalist. 

 

Lately, I hear way too much of whiney women strumming a guitar sounding as though they are being water-boarded during the actual recording.  They imitate a breathless pleader begging to be saved from another Alec Baldwin movie screening, which only makes that song more annoying.  But, I digress.

 

Accidentally tuning in to one of those many show that are helping America replenish the dwindling singer stock, I caught a “singer” making the song “your own.”  Evidently that means yodeling until the listeners’ ears bleed, while grimacing as if being attacked by a snow blower.

 

These disturbing shows only ruin the sanctity of melodies that were written one way, yet performed in another.  That is sacrilegious.  A case in point is the oft heard Star Spangled Banner.

 

This reverent song is played before each sporting event and known, by heart, to nearly every American.  Still, when sung by many, it is so mangled that it is almost unrecognizable by anyone except the performer, who made it “their own.”  This is akin to karaoke night at the local Italian restaurant, and having the tune Mandy being corrupted by some drunken biker wearing leather chaps.  But, I digress, again.

 

In any case, Christmas songs are very few and limited in number so, we all know the words to most.  Keep in mind that the notes creating Deck the Halls, are the same ones that composed Ave Maria, and Back In Black.

 

I find that amazing because it is the onus of the composer to arrange the appropriate notes in a sensible fashion, thereby manufacturing a melodic work that is sometimes catchy.  Maybe they are too catchy for our own good.

 

Too often I find myself with what is referred to as an “ear worm.”  Those are tunes that are hard to shake and cause us to whistle, hum, or actually sing that tune over, and over, and over again.  They don’t have to be good tunes, only catchy.

 

In any case, the composers and musicians of the world have a limited supply of notes with which to work, yet create some great works of audible art.  Manufacturing a cerebral image through sounds, alone, is a gift.

 

And that is why I enjoy music.

 

It’s Called What?

As a child, I remember one project that my father was working on in our home.  My Dad had an entire workshop in the basement with his tools neatly placed in labeled drawers or hung upon pegboards, all polished and sharp.

 

But because we lived in a second-floor flat, the trek to retrieve a simple screwdriver was a job in and of itself.  Dad kept a few regularly-used tools in a Maxwell House coffee can in our pantry.  Therein were some loose nails and various screws, an awl, pliers, adjustable wrench, and a couple of screw drivers.  Lying nearby was a hammer, as it was too large to fit inside.

 

This quick and easy project required only the use of this ersatz tool kit, and I was the gofer.

 

I was a five year-old told to fetch a “Phillips” screwdriver.  I went to the coffee can and brought back a screwdriver, albeit a wrong one.

 

I promptly received a thorough lesson on the difference between flat point and Phillips screwdrivers.

 

It seems as though back in the day, most people used a flat point screwdriver for their screwing needs.  Being a novice, I didn’t know that Mr. Phillips didn’t invent the flat point screwdriver as well as the one with the “x” tip.  Nonetheless, I was made aware.

 

Yesterday, I visited a local hardware store and needed fourteen #10, 1½” long screws with Phillips heads.  I handed my list to the clerk who asked if I wanted “cross point” screws.

 

After spinning nine revolutions, I was able to stop my head from unscrewing and falling off altogether.

 

This pimply-faced turd was a lot older than I was when I got the lecture on the difference between and betwixt screwdriver types.  It was about time he was schooled, and by someone like me.

 

“Yeah, Phillips screws,” I said.

 

“We call ‘em cross points, now,” he retorted.

 

I wasn’t nearly as good at lecturing as Dad was so, I gave up.  The turd won.

 

The trip home was filled with thoughts of other name changes.  Immediately, Christmas came to mind.

 

Do-gooders in Pittsburgh changed Christmas to “Sparkle Days,” so as not offend anyone except Christians.  And, Buttinski’s in Arlington, Virginia changed Christmas to “Winter Holiday,” to honor Hanukkah.

 

Feminists have urged the use of “gingerbread figures,” rather than the uber-offensive “gingerbread men.”  No immediate word on “snowmen” or “man-hole covers.”

 

Still, I will always refer to screws with little x’s on the top as Phillips screws, and Christmas as Christmas.

 

Let’s offend everyone by wishing everyone “Merry Christmas!”  Merry Sparkle Days doesn’t have the same ring.

On a Budget

I have several hobbies to keep myself occupied and out of trouble.  One of my favorite hobbies, though, is saving money.  That sounds ridiculous to the uninformed so, allow me to explain.

 

Most people simply buy things at retail price and are delighted to get what they want.  The price is rarely an issue in the decision making process.

 

For me, it is the thrill of the hunt.  I am usually armed with coupons, sale flyers, and the patience of Job, in order to get the most for the least.

 

For decades I bought used cars to avoid that nasty ‘depreciation’ penalty which amounts to roughly $3,000 to $5,000.

 

But for smaller items I usually turn to one of those on-line want-ad services or the newspapers to find my treasures.

 

To be clear, a newspaper is a regularly printed stack of recycled paper with information printed thereon.  They can be purchased at stores or can be arranged for home delivery.  They contain all sorts of things including news, sports scores, and want-ads.

 

People who advertise in newspapers generally want to quickly unload their stuff to clear out their basements, or make room for their cars in their garages.  Baby items and tools, furniture and exercise, equipment can all be found for sale in these ads.

 

Occasionally you will see an outrageous price for a piece of junk that is being sold as “old.”  Just because something is old doesn’t make it valuable.  I have a 350,000,000 year-old rock in my backyard that no one will give me a dollar for.  But, I digress.

 

In addition to finding bargains in these listings, one can also find great entertainment in the form of amusing ads.

 

Emmett Kelly dolls are a dime a dozen.  Evidently they were big some years back.  One hundred-seventeen bedroom sets were for sale in one issue; are people sleeping standing up like horses?

 

Five dollar blue plastic 55 gallon containers sold as “rain barrels” can be bought for only $30.  “Wheel barrels” can be found, too – whatever they are – not to be confused with “wheelbarrows.”

 

I located two “mirrows.”  And, plenty of broken refrigerators can be purchased for a song.

 

Animals appear in these publications for the rescuer in all of us.  Sugar gliders are $35, red-eared turtles are $6, and hedgehogs $120.

 

“Mixed breed” dogs are code words for “results of a pit bull with an over-aggressive libido.”

 

And, regional bargains should not be overlooked.  Check for surfboards for sale in Iowa, snow blowers in Florida, and solar panels in Oregon.

 

In any case, bargains abound and should not be overlooked when shopping for that treasure.

 

Now I have to figure out why my picture was listed under “antiques.”

Brainstorm

We’re well amid the Christmas season where people like me are desperately searching for gift ideas.

 

My sainted wife claims she has everything she needs – except a young, virile cabana boy – so, shopping for her is arduous, at best.

 

I, on the other hand, can use practically everything, including a brassier.  My man boobs are often dwarfed by those of acquaintances but, I could still use a training bra.  But, I digress.

 

Watching late-night television the other night caused me to catch an ad for a giant, pajama-type wrap that contained footies to keep your tootsies toasty.  It was sold as “one size fits all.”

 

This 60-second spot showed both men and women lounging about with bowls of food and apparently watching TV.  In essence, these are thin sleeping bags with arms and legs.

 

The Snuggies appear to be geared toward folks who have ample television-watching time on their hands, are too morbidly obese to wear PJ’s, or are simply out of Christmas gift ideas.

 

Some serious thought came to me at this point.  During the last commercial break seven-minutes earlier, an Australian-accented guy was trying to sell me a genuine imitation chamois cloth made from synthetic fibers.

 

It seems this ShamWow! rag is banned from the Great Lakes area.  If it happens to fall in to a lake, it is just too absorbent to be safe and ensure any water will be left.

 

After a thorough wash, the video salesman dried an entire Buick in nine seconds!  He sopped up spilled beverages of all types and after a quick wringing-out, he implied Moses didn’t part the Red Sea.  Rather, Moses used one of these shmatas to do the job and, for only $12.99 plus shipping and handling.

 

Here is where my grey matter kicks-in.  Normally known as “The Idea Guy,” I often come up with really terrific ideas that are the envy of everyone else too lazy to patent them.

 

I enjoy watching hours of NASCAR, football (not soccer) games, and baseball.  The most annoying part of all these events, aside from the relentless commercials, is the bathroom break time.

 

My sainted wife will espy me making my way from the bathroom and immediately recall an inane task that absolutely must be completed RIGHT NOW!

 

She thinks that since I am taking a break from the TV action, I am disinterested in the goings-on in the sports venue from which I just broke.  She thinks wrong.  But, this is not the time for an argument.

 

Now if I could only buy twelve of those super absorbent towels and configure a pattern of sorts, I could sew them into one of those over-sized pajama loungers with the footies.

 

Allow me to explain.  Not only would one of the homemade garments work well for me, allowing me to avoid those pesky bathroom breaks, it would also be beneficial to those folks targeted by the PJ wrap merchants.

 

Of course this is where you are likely trying to figure out how to invest this stellar plan.

 

Sorry, but I work alone and count my money the same way.  Just keep your eyes open for a late-night ad for the “Snug-Wow!”  And, my sainted wife’s eyes will light up with delight when she receives the prototype as a Christmas gift.

 

 

Free-for-all

It came to me in a dream, and this is one of my best ideas ever.  Since times are financially tight, I would take up a cause du jour, and then “go shopping.”

 

Allow me to explain.  Simply find a reason to do something – anything.

 

As a kid we all heard those excuses in school, such as “my dog ate my homework,” “I was too sick to lift a pencil,” and “my mother’s meth lab blew up.”  That’s bad behavior we learned from attending school.

 

Well, we now have a way to not only behave badly, but also get stuff while doing so.

 

Peruse the news and select a story that is rather mundane except for that odd dog-bites-man twist.  It can be about same-sex marriages, or an unexpected death, but it has to be something that is local and can be imagined nationally.

 

It is imperative that you are able to feign outrage, and it would be good to have the ability to manufacture “facts” about your chose event, out of thin air.

 

Now simply text your friends and associates, and tell them about this selected injustice you’ve opted for.  Using social media is a plus as it will find its way to all the losers who don’t have, or want, jobs.

 

At this point you will want to direct all your 300 closest friends and former cellmates to gather somewhere very public.

 

Have them bring legible signs or cardboard.  Be certain to have someone who can spell waiting with a magic marker, and someone with clever sayings show up, too.

 

Imagine if everyone brought 50-or so buddies, Molotov cocktails, matches, ski masks, and baseball paraphernalia in the form of bats.

 

Soon, the police will arrive as they are pretty curious folks.  A megaphone would be useful to begin the crowd chanting, “No justice, no peace.”  It could be, “No cold ice, no peas,” too.  Either one is pretty catchy.  For future reference, “Hey, hey, ho, ho, [fill-in-the-blank] has got to go,” is always a crown pleaser.

 

In any case, as the throngs grow and noise escalates, keep your fingers crossed for some tear gas to be dispensed by the police.

 

It is at this point you and your comrades should throw your Molotov cocktails, and run in varying directions.

 

This is where that sports equipment comes in handy.  Breaking into businesses to get fifteen pairs of size 7 EEE sneakers, or three magnesium car wheels is the crux of this brilliant plan.

 

Of course entering a smoldering beauty supply to get away with nine bottles of hair gel or a couple of jugs of that blue juice they put combs in, is an opportunity that should not go wasted.

 

I can’t stress enough that it is imperative to plan the “shopping,” well.  Your protest needs to begin near your favorite merchants.  Remember that display cell phones in those wireless stores always make great Christmas gifts, as do 22 pairs of the wrong-size jeans.

 

Sure, other non-progressives might call this behavior “looting.”  I call it “justice for peace.”  A rose by any other word is still a rose.