The eleventh commandment

"Thou shalt not piss and moan too much”.I remember while I was going for my bachelors degree, my mother became morbidly ill and was staying at a hospital nearby the campus. After classes I would stop by her room to visit. I must’ve reeked from having smoked a couple of cigarettes, as I neared my mother’s bed she acted as if she was smoking a phantom cigarette, bringing her two fingers close to her lips and taking an imaginary puff. Back then and years later I was a defiant and obstinate smoker, Friends told me that they could smell the smoke all the time. I absolved myself by smoking outside reasoning that the air and wind would prevent the smoke from attaching to me. But the images of my mother reaching out for and smoking an imaginary cig were very profound, unfortunately not shocking enough as I continued to smoke for years after her passing.- I was making my way toward my favorite bus stop when I came upon a homeless woman who had set up temporary quarters at the stop. She was maybe in her mid 30s, looked as if she had been at war with the elements and lost a few battles. The veins in her eyes shot out like bolts from a Tessla coil. She reached down to the seat and picked up an imaginary pipe, pretended to have lighted it and proceeded to take imaginary tokes. What she was smoking could be left to any one’s judgment or imagination including what was left of her’s. But with each hit she became more lethargic. This whole scenario reminded me of the visits with my mother in the hospital. However, I can’t figure what could’ve triggered her actions-except I usually wear a pea coat, maybe I reminded her of someone. But I was upset at the parallel that I made between this woman and my mother. I also became increasingly more upset with my dependence on public transportation. I’m tired of it, I’ve done my part and have played by the rules. I am leaving a small fraction of a percentage of a carbon footprint. I want to drive again! I want to brag about my ride, right now it’s the # 10 bus from Mission Hills toward College Ave. or Old Town. Sort of cramps my style if you catch my drift.

Share a little tea with- - -

- - - Oh how I wish it was Goldie and not Mrs. Palin’s party. I’m getting quite fed up with the hysteria, practically at a national level stirred up by the mouth that bored. Numbers or ratings falling behind? Pick a minority and start bashing. In fact I think that ole Sarah and her starry eyed following should smoke a little of that tea. I can’t help but to recall the movie ’The Russians are coming, The Russians are coming’- with Alan Arkin at the helm of a Russian submarine that inadvertently slips into a New England, Atlantic seaboard town causing panic and mayhem among the villagers. Only now the mantra is’The Mexicans are coming, The Mexicans are coming’- close your windows, lock your doors, talk to your boss and make sure your job is secure-the Mexicans are taking away our jobs, invading our hospitals and stealing from the State coffers to acquire health benefits. Seal the borders, call out the national guard build new fences and barriers. Wasn’t there another country that built a fence/’wall’ around a city to prevent passage? South of San Diego there is a fence that runs all the way into the Pacific Ocean to prevent the immigrants from crossing into the United States and steal American jobs. ALL the way into the Pacific!!-I challenge and defy anyone to provide legitimate and concrete evidence that they lost their job to an illegal immigrant. They won’t, they can’t, they’re too busy being buffaloed by the klutz from the Klondike spewing out her vile and thinly veiled racist remarks seemingly targeting illegal immigration, but in reality aimed at Pennsylvania avenue. What an embarrassment my generation has turned out to be- It wasn’t that long ago that we marched in Selma, Birmingham, and Washington DC to protest the very same thing that we’re part of now. Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck, and Jan Brewer- these people are dangerous and to be avoided . Their hateful rhetoric is NO match for the prose and verse that we read and heard in times past.---“like an unchecked cancer, hate corrodes the personality and eats away its vital unity. Hate destroys a man’s sense of values and his objectivity. It causes him to describe the beautiful as ugly and the ugly as beautiful, and to confuse the true with the false and the false with the true”--- Martin Luther King Jr. Lincoln Memorial, Washington DC, August. 1963 . Yes, he had a dream- that all his hippie followers would take their collective sense of values, post them on Ebay and sell out to the highest bidder‘. One of the gubernatorial candidates for the state of California is promising to call out the National Guard and send them to the border if elected. Looks like Black Jack Pershing and Pancho Villa ride again. So think back, before you let Palin, Beck, Limbaugh, and Brewer work you into a state of social stupor, recall the images of the Birmingham fire department hosing the protesters. It happened and can[will] happen again. Share a little tea with everybody. Don’t bogart your opinion.
- Mike

The ghost of Johnny Ramone

Technically it should read the geese of Johnny Ramone. I will explain. Musicians are a superstitious lot. Some time ago my uncle passed away and was interned in a mausoleum very near the grave site of Johnny Ramone, legendary guitarist for the Ramones The cemetery is located in Hollywood, and has many ponds and water fountains situated throughout the grounds. These waterways have become home to many water foul, ducks, and geese, they all roam freely throughout the grounds. I took a break from my uncle’s service and walked over to visit Johnny’s monument. It’s a very impressive bronze statue of John leaning back, knees bent forward, and holding his guitar. His right hand formed a cup as he was holding a pick to strum the strings on the guitar-the left hand was in the third position on the neck as if he was playing one of his famous riffs. In the cup/space made by his holding the pick were laying several actual guitar picks, presumably left there by fans of the Ramones or Johnny- So the debate began- Big sin/little sin-good mojo/bad mojo. I will confess that at that time I had never listened to a Ramone’s recording and that I was pretty unfamiliar with their style of music. But I knew Johnny Ramone to be a great guitarist-soo –I took one of the guitar picks hoping that some of his magic would transmit through it and help me in recapturing my guitar playing ability.All of a sudden, I was surrounded by several geese-all cackling, honking and making a commotion, so I turned and tried to make an exit-But one of the geese in an almost perfect, human like tone of voice cackled or honked out what sounded like to be ‘Michael’! I looked at my sister and asked ,”did you hear that?” She replied that she had and was getting out of the area. So it appeared that I had little choice left. I scooted away the guardian goose and placed the pick back in Johnny’s hand. I was relieved and with sense of alarm dissipating quickly, I was happy to leave the vicinity. This event was a little frightening, even though I wanted to be, I was not sedated. I eventually returned home, picked up my guitar—just in case—but sad to report, there was no spike in my ability to play To those of you who have visited Johnny’s monument and have left a guitar pick in homage to him be assured I did not defile your sacrifice, it’s still there