Almost Time

According to both rpmchallenge.com and my swanky little Apple Watch, there are less than 26 hours to go until the start of the 2016 RPM Challenge.

Tomorrow I’ll check all the plugs and cables and everything to make sure the whole set up still works (fingers crossed), then I’ll put new strings on the ES-335, go to band practice, go home and go to bed, then get off to as much of a good start as I can on a Monday morning.  These games are so much easier when they start on weekends.

February is almost here.  Get ready for the flood of annoying music posts!  I’m ready!

Weirdest Dream Ever

I needed a nap this afternoon. I’ve been exhausted to near disfunction for weeks now, and a nap really helped. While taking this nap I had a dream. It’s not complete (screw you, alarm clock!) but it really needs to be documented because… well… it’s weird, but it could also be the Michael Bay action movie of the millennium.

We open on a massive house boat, docked at some exclusive looking location. The kind of boat a billionaire in a mid-life crisis would live in. In the middle of the night, a small army of armed men, clearly mafia soldiers, are stealthily boarding and breaking in. They hear the sounds of a man and a woman, in the midst of a passionate, and very weird romp in the bedroom. They kick in the door and find…

Former US President Bill Clinton and his wife, current Democratic Presidential candidate Hillary Clinton on a bed together. Bill looks at the intruders, then looks at a clock on the bedside table, “You guys are early. Give me about 15 minutes to finish up here.”

“Make it 30 minutes.” Says Hillary.

So, are you weirded out by my dream yet? I sure was.

About an hour later, the former and future Presidents come out. Hillary is wearing a business suit, Bill is wearing a bathrobe. “Have any of you found the liquor cabinet yet?” Bill asks. Hillary laughs and walks out side and off the boat, and out of our story completely. The mobsters look at Mr Clinton confused. “You dudes don’t think this is my boat, do you? No, we saw this from the road and decided to break in and squat for the weekend.”

“So what’s the job, Mr President?” asks the lead mobster.

“Normally I’d have my Secret Service detail handle something like this,” says Bill, “but it’s a little too politically sensitive right now. I need outside help. You see, eight years ago, my wife lost an election. This whole time I’ve been planning revenge on those who beat her. I need to pull this off before Hillary takes office next January, so we’re under the gun on time. It has to be now, and you folks are going to help make it happen.”

…and scene.

Now we cut to an exterior shot of the White House. Our gaggle of mafia goons are sneaking across the lawn and into a side entrance. They take the secret service detail by surprise and quickly overpower them (with zero fatalities or injuries on either side. No one is actually getting hurt in this little subconscious brain dropping). All of the top staff are herded into the oval office. Former President Clinton is the last one into the room. He’s wearing an oversized black, hooded cloak, and he’s got a tommy gun in each hand. He surveys the people in the room, occasionally saying a pleasant hello to those he knows personally. He sees that his two targets are not in the office. Finally he says, “Bring me the President and the First Lady.”

The White House Chief of Staff says, “What do you want with them? What is the meaning of this? Your wife is going to get pummeled on Meet the Press because of this!”

President Clinton looks the Chief in the eye, points one of the tommy guns at him and says, “Payback for the 2008 primary. No one beats Hill-Dog and goes unpunished. I’m getting revenge in a way that is perfectly suited to my public persona.”

He pauses for dramatic effect… probably for way too long, and then says, “I’m going to have sex with Michelle Obama, and I’m gonna make Barak watch.”

Outside of the oval office, a mobster is standing guard by the door. A silent figure sneaks up behind him and wraps his head in a sleeper hold. It’s so perfectly applied that any pro wrestler from the 80’s would have been impressed. The guard falls to the floor. President Barak Obama comes out of the shadows, picks up the guard’s shotgun, cocks it for dramatic effect, and says, “Fat chance of that, you intern banging bastard,” and then ducks into one of the hundreds of secret passageways hidden throughout the White House.

That’s when my alarm clock went off.

This proves that I need therapy, right? I can’t possibly be right in the head after a Democrat on Democrat violence dream, can I?


Originally published at robj2112.wordpress.com on January 30, 2016.

Weight Watchers Week 2

Surprised about this one.  I am down four pounds from last week.  That makes a 3.88% total reduction of my initial weigh in.  I thought this was going to be a bad weigh in, I didn’t expect this.  Only about 180 or so pounds to go!

About to Weigh In

I am about to go to Weight Watchers and weigh in.  I have a bad feeling about this.  I don’t feel all that great, and I don’t feel very good about my week.  I tracked, but it just all felt… wrong somehow.  Now there’s something up with my stomach…

This is going to suck.

Paul Kantner

I’m so down over Paul Kantner’s passing.  It seems stupid to be so effected by the death of someone I never met, but this sucks.

I’m putzing around on youtube.  Here are a few…

This is from February 1970.  It’s not Spencer Dryden on drums, so it must be Joe Covington.  Give this a NSFW tag due to language and a little hippie toplessness, but it’s worth it for “We Can Be Together” and “Mexico”.

 

Did you know that Jefferson Airplane did a rooftop concert that was broken up by the cops a whole year before the Beatles?

 

Monterey Pop.

 

This one says it’s from 1970, but I don’t think it is.  I think it’s a bit earlier than that.  Spencer Dryden is on the drums and I think he left in December 1969 after Altamont.  But what do I know.  This clip more or less proves that Jack Cassidy is a god.  Just saying.

 

 

RIP Paul Kantner

Remember how crushed David Bowie fans felt when they heard he died?  Remember how crushed Eagles fans felt when they heard Glenn Fry had died?

That’s how I feel right now.  Paul Kantner of Jefferson Airplane died tonight.

With the rash of musical deaths over the past month, my fandom so far had been spared the great losses.  Until tonight.  Musically speaking, Paul Kantner is a giant in my eyes.  This one hurts, bad.

Rest in pace, Paul Kantner.
(The photo comes from a rolling stone article)