Lies, and the lying liars who tell them

Ok, so I stole that...

Everyone in the world lies at some point, let's face it. If you always told the truth, you'd probably get punched in the nose a lot, and the human race would die off because sex would cease to happen. My job exposes me to a multitude of fibbing, and of course, like anyone else, I get (and to be fair, give) my share of BS'ing.

However-what is an acceptable lie, and what goes beyond the pale?

Here's my opinion, that is probably stupid and ill-informed, as I'm sure someone will e-mail me and tell my I'm wrong.

1) Lies for entertainment value, or "fishing stories". Who cares? If it enhances a story, is any harm really done? I mean, yeah, its BS, but no one is hurt if an embellishment or two is thrown in.

2) Lies to hide something. This is tricky. Ultimately, the answer comes down to: Is something being hidden that would cause hurt or harm, and that will NOT be found out unless you open your big mouth, and that no one is hurt by not being told it? In that case, it's an acceptable lie. An example might be that you know a friends recently deceased (and well loved) spouse, was actually planning on dumping said friend in a divorce when the car wreck happened-nothing is gained by you opening your big mouth.
If however, it is a lie being told to hide something, that is merely putting off the inevitable, then that's just throwing wood onto what will eventually be a fire. "No, that child in the paternity suit isn't mine dear, I promise" would be a fine example!

3) Backstabbing accusations. well, that's just wrong, isn't it?

4) Lies of omission: OK, here's where I get in trouble. When does not volunteering unasked for information cross the line into being devilishly dishonest? Right here, right now, I will confess to this one. If asked directly, I will answer pretty much any question thrown at me, and do my level best to do so honestly. But, sometimes you just have to know the right question to ask.

Sunday morning, coming down

So, I'm walking through the grocery store this morning, shaking out the cobwebs of the night's activities, and in the background, I can hear the music being pumped in, mixing in with the noise of the stock people and shoppers. For the most part, like everyone else, I'm oblivious to it, but it happened to catch my ear, at a precise moment in the song. And all I could do was stop and wait for it. The line, the moment, that one precious piece of songcraft that set this particular song apart.

The song was Bob Seger's "Against The Wind". I'm not his biggest fan, but sometimes he can just catch a moment with a line. And in that song, he's singing about the past, and how weary we get moving forward...and then drops the line-"I wish didn't know now, what I didn't know then"...and it is just perfect. The innocence is gone, and you just can't undo it.

And then I pushed my cart down the aisle, and bought the adobo sauce and beans...

The Winter of My Contentment

In the late summer of 1973, our family was temporarily torn asunder, as my father was stationed TDY in Thailand, and the remaining three, my sister, mom and I went to England to stay with my maternal Grandparents, and my Great (in both senses of the word) Aunt Ivy.

Rather than being overly traumatic, it actually turned out to be a time that I look back upon with as much wistfulness and longing as any period of my life.

Upon arrival, I was placed in the local high school, though as memory serves, that provided some trauma-whereas I was top of everything, and brain the size of a planet in the US school system, as the English children started school earlier (and the PC brigade hadn't quiet broken the old system entirely), I found myself having to actually WORK at school for the first time in my life. And I enjoyed it. A challenge at last. There were some false starts, and some rotten moments at the school, but really, once I got used to the uniform, I settled in.

School however, isn't what this is about. This is about the magic of memory, of anticipation, the joy of seeing something so fabulous, its burned in your mind for life.

In the village, there was exactly one toy shop. And this was, in hindsight, pretty second rate in comparison to the shops on the High Street in Leicester. But to me it was absolutely magical. Being England, and being the early 70's it was a marvelously perverse truth that the shops shut before I could get there after school, except on Wednesdays, when they stayed open late. Until six o'clock! Brilliant!

Not that I let the shop being shut dampen my enthusiasm. I can still remember standing in a misty rain, wearing my ubiquitous duffel coat, breathing heavily on the glass, as I stared at the incredible things contained within.

I was at an age where I was particularly enamored with Dinky Toys. Had the entire collection of Captain Scarlet vehicles, and several of the Thunderbirds too. They carried an relatively impressive array of Action Man toys and accessories, but even they paled before my ultimate fascination. The sticker book for the upcoming 1974 World Cup. Lord, I purchased, or had purchased for me, more packets of those stickers, trying to get my set completed. Never could get all the players for Zaire, who in their one and only World Cup appearance (ever, as they have since ceased to exist as a country) resulted in a series of humiliating defeats as yet unrivaled. No matter, being the completest I am, I pursued those Zairian players as though the fate of the universe depended on it. My dismay when they quit selling the stickers in the shop, prior to my completing the set was one of the first rude awakenings, and learning of the lesson, that yes folks-You really can't always get what you want. Sadly, it never occurred to me to order them from the form in the book!

TV was a completely different experience. At the time, the British believed quality certainly trumped quantity-I was, and still am amazed at just how good the series "The World At War" was. The footage, the narrative, the interviews. Just engrossing. It made my Wednesday evenings worth getting home for.

But...Thursday was when it all came together. Yes, it was time for Top Of The Pops! And it was time to watch all the latest, greatest, and most outrageous music acts on offer. It was the time of Glam, and the gloves were off. The more ludicrous and over the top the outfits or behaviour, the better.

Looking through the glass backwards, 1972 was the year when Glam ramped up-T-Rex were huge, Bowie was becoming Ziggy, and Slade were starting to boogie down. But in 1973, everything blew up.

The first big Glam hit to come out while I was there, was David Essex's Rock On. He was kind of a hybrid between your standard teen idol and your glam boy- I think my poor sister wanted to cry (or something) every time she saw him.
In quick succession, there was a Ballroom Blitz, Alvin Stardust channeling some sort of bizarre Elvis, Gary Glitter in his pre-kid fiddler mode being more ridiculous by the week. There was Mud with their retro sound and choreographed stage performances, Roxy Music were delightfully weird, and then as the bizarreness grew, the ultimate Glam smackdown took place. Yes, it was Christmas, and two of the greatest rock and roll Christmas singles of all time went toe to toe.

It was Wizzard vs Slade. In the end, Slade won in a rout, but Roy Wood surely out-weirded them.

There were still artists like Mott The Hoople, Queen, Suzi Quatro, Cockney Rebel, and even Sparks left to come, but it all really peaked that Christmas. From there, Glam began its decline into irrelevance, and on came...disco *sigh*

Anyway, it was remarkable year for an 11/12 year old boy. Vacations in Wales, enforced fun at Butlins, having my evening rice pudding with my granddad...it really was the best of times.

Because I want to

This is just about songs that I love, or have loved for different reasons, for no other reason than I feel like putting them out there. Most are well known, some maybe not so much, but they all remind me of something or someone, or perhaps just a period in time. So, without further ado...

The Waterboys Pagan Place has such a marvelous sense of urgency. First time I heard this was while working at Record Bar, and we were just amazed. It was never going to get any airplay in a backwater town like St.Louis, but we hipsters in the stores got to listen to all the latest and greatest, and this was really a game changer. No flcok of seagulls here, boys and girls.

Neil Young wrote a lot of great rockers, some brilliant acoustic material, and this... It's just one of those songs that has that certain melancholy feel, and longing. It leaves me Helpless, Helpless, Helpless I got the record in high school, and was stunned. It was a what I like to refer to as a needle dropper. I picked it up, and put it back at the start, closed my eyes, and listened to it again. Kids with CD's and MP3's have no idea how easy they have it these days!

As an avowed power pop guy in the late 70's, this was a revelation. Their most popular song was a love song to an inflatable doll, but wow-this was just a revelation as to what could be done with a great song. I'm A Believer already!

The first 45 I ever purchased with my own pocket money! Well actually I bought two that fateful day...here's the second one. I would just love to hear someone like Ryan Adams or Matthew Sweet do the first one.

When I was a kid in England, the radio was limited-you just couldn't rock and roll with the BBC at night. But when the sun went down, under the covers with my transistor plastered to the side of my head, I could pull in the joyous sounds of Radio Luxembourg, broadcasting in English, all across the continent, and most importantly, into my bedroom, there on Hillcrest Avenue, in the cozy little village of Kibworth. And that, ladies and germs was where I heard, and was captivated by this.

In the next few days (or maybe a week) I shall do a lengthy post on the joys of the Top of The Pops in the UK in the Glam era. Fasten your seatbelts, kiddies. Mud, Slade, Wizzard, and yes, even Suzi Quatro are headed your way!

The Weighting (Is The Hardest Part)

As the furious Battle of the Bulge has resumed, it is time for an update.
Shirt size...down two inches in the neck
Pants...down six inches in the leg--I shrunk! No, but the waist has wasted
T-Shirts-down 2 "x's" on the old xxxxxxxxL scheme.


It has been my contention for a long time that losing weight and keeping it off is the hardest thing I've ever tried to do...reason I can say that is, I have consistently failed. And, there are simple reasons for that-when you quit smoking (which I kicked a 3 pack a day habit 12 years ago this month)you simply quit. Period. You don't smoke differently, or less often, or only on Sundays-you just QUIT. Can't do that with food, oddly enough. Well I suppose you could do a Bobby Sands, but that isn't really a very good answer. So, you're left with being in a constant state of monitoring. And if you've never had to fight the battle, trust me, it is hard. And you get lazy...and your vigilance slips. And things taste soooo good. And it's raining, and you don't want to exercise. And everyone is going to the pizza joint, and you're invited. And there's a party on Sunday, and there'll be beer and brats. It is a bugger! Oh well,, hopefully I shall reign victorious THIS time. It is the goal...