I Seem To Be In Alaska Mode

I am continuing my babbling from my railroad blog because I got off track. To see where I started, go here… Wow, what a day!

not too far from Russia and Point Barrow. Have you ever “tobogganed” down a mountainside of the Alaska peninsula on a small aluminum triangle to a latitude and longitude known only for a short time to some USGS office pogue. I have. A note to the wise: NEVER trust USGS maps. We were flying south down this “valley” one day, according to the 1:250,000 map, and the “valley” turned into a mountain ridge. After climbing up and over the “valley,” umm, 2000-foot ridge that WASN’T a valley, we found the place where we were supposed to put a cadastral survey monument (south of Canoe Bay). Gary “toed” the Hughes 500C into the mountainside about 500 feet above the point at a place where the rotors wouldn’t hit the mountain, and I and my coworker sidled out onto the skids to get all of our gear out of the helicopter. After dumping the backpacks, aluminum rods, miscellaneous survey gear, and our bodies onto the mountainside without getting chopped into hamburger by the rotors, we slid down to the place where we put the official survey marker in place. When we were done setting the survey marker, we slid down to the bottom of the mountain on plastic garbage bags. What a blast. Oh, we had to leave the aluminum triangle on the mountain so the monument could be spotted from the air. BLM Auto-Surveyor Camp 13. Youth is a wonderful thing, when you are young. When you get old, it seems natural to embellish the youthful adventures. Put me in a 500C and I’m happy. Don’t put me in a “Death” Ranger, or, as some call it, the Jet “Danger.”

That was 1980, and not too many days after I took the first photo for which I got paid. Yes, I’m repeating myself; if you are young and wonder why your father tells you the same story 5000 times, well, if you live long enough, you will know. Memory is a precious thing; it is not infinite. I babbled about my first sale here: My First Published Photo

I will say it again, umm, if I haven’t said it already… did I? This one $50 sale means more to me than all the covers and extraneous photos for Front Sight magazine that most of you have never heard of, or will ever see. It doesn’t mean as much when you say to yourself, “I think I will use this photo I took on the next cover of the magazine.” Again, I damn the “work-for-hire” clause of the copyright laws because it means I cannot post those photos here, or anywhere. I don’t own them.

Tex’s Lament

I keep a DOS machine in the closet for one single purpose; to play “The Pandora Directive.”

This was a computer game/movie from the mind of Chris Jones (Tex Murphy) on the Access Software label. Access Software was gobbled up by Microsoft (note to Bill, Microsoft is a registered Trademark of Billy Boy’s empire.) Microsoft bought Access software, in my opinion, because its golf game sucked and Access’s was good. However, in the process, they murdered Tex Murphy. They wouldn’t even sell the games they didn’t want and had no intention of continuing. Evil.

The first Tex Murphy game I played was “Under A Killing Moon.” That was pretty good, and I wanted more. I got it in their next release, “The Pandora Directive.” Many paths, different levels of experience, and lots of fun. After hours of working my way through the game, I was rewarded with a song by Richie Havens, which is the title of this post – Tex’s Lament. Tonight, I found a video of one of the alternate endings that I thankfully never saw. You had to be a callous human with no regard for humanity to get there, but the performances by Suzanne Barnes and Chris Jones are captivating. And it’s all wrapped up with a song from Richie Havens — Tex’s Lament.

The decision to case Suzanne Barnes as Chelsee Bando was a great part of the success of this game. I, too, wanted to follow the “Mission Street” path and win Chelsee’s heart. All too often, I ended up on Lombard Street: still friends with Chelsee, but she went home with someone else, or alone. One of these days, I’ll make it to Mission Street.

After The Pandora Directive, I wanted more. Unfortunately, the followup, “Overseer,” bombed because they abandoned tried-and-true technology for pie-in-the-sky promises. I’m bummed that I never finished “Overseer.” I don’t think I got more than half-way through it, and that was a shame because the story and concept were very good; the interface and technology sucked.  I just couldn’t fight my way through the interface anymore.

Check This Out

I was following some old links in my bookmarks file, and the next thing I knew I discovered this.

Catherine Britt when she was 18.

“But wait,” exclaimed the annoying ad man, “there’s more!”

A few years later, she did this with Max Merritt, who was closing in on 70 at the time and STILL singing so beautifully.

Max Merritt and Catherine Britt – “Slippin’ Away”.

I love her smoky voice. Those viewers who are not brain dead will note Max’s plea to the audience to join in for “Stewie.”

And who the xyz are Max Merritt and Stewie? Let’s set the “Way Back” machine to 1976, when Max was living in Australia and his band was called “The Meteors.”

Slippin’ Away

Yep, that was Stewie on drums. Looks amazingly like a guy I know up here, but Stewie is gone now and Steve is still with us. Stewie was a well-known name on the Australian Blues circuit in the 60s.

And by-the-by, Max is a double transplant. Born in New Zealand, moved to Australia, and then to the United States.

And I STILL haven’t made much progress with my mandolin (The Loar). My fingers are too short, my voice can’t stay in one key (one second I’m with Bowser singing ‘Ghost Riders In The Sky’, and the next with Alison Krause on When You Say Nothing At All), and my fingers don’t move fast enough.

BOIL THAT CABBAGE DOWN BOYS!

I THINK (really heavy emphasis on THINK) I can sing You Ain’t Going Nowhere, if I have cue cards; you know, the kind of card you want to hold up for stupid people, like me.

For example;
“Breathe in”
“Breathe out”
NO! OUT. Breathe OUT! WAP, WAP WAP.
Good… now breathe in.

You get the picture.

Now class, we discuss music history. Name the band in which Roger McGuinn and Chris Hillman were bandmates?

Jimmy Ibbotson, where the HELL are you? The Nitty Gritty ain’t gritty without you.

In better days when the Nitty Gritty was Jimmy Ibbotson, Jimmie Fadden, Bob Carpenter, Jeff Hanna, of Paint Your Wagon fame, and, a special guest in the person of Jeff’s wife, Matraca Berg. All together now…

It Makes Me Smile…

We are entirely too serious these days. Here’s a chill pill.
The Lion Sleeps Tonight

And September Races Into History

There are times when I embarrass myself with my posts, but I am who I am. Thanks for checking in now and then, or not as your desires dictate.

I spent two weeks in Las Vegas getting tired while working all day in the sun (90 to 100 degrees), and now I’ve returned to this frozen wasteland (4 million degrees below zero, or thereabouts) I call home. I am HAPPY to be home. My cat, Marie, is even happier.

I was taking photographs, along with doing a bunch of other jobs, for a company event. No, I cannot post any of the photos I took because I do not own the copyright. It’s called work-for-hire in the copyright laws, and from my perspective, it sucks.

I (we, coworkers; not my cat) stayed at the historic Riviera Hotel. No, I did NOT see Frank Sinatra’s ghost, or anyone else’s ghost, wandering the halls, but I was using my imagination. In one of the hallways, near the REALLY EXPENSIVE steak house, I saw a photo of the swimming pool that was taken in 1958, three years after the hotel opened. Outside the fence to the south was nothing but desert sand. Today, it’s yet another tower of the hotel rooms, and beyond that are endless streets, casinos, golf course, airport and so on. The hotel is older than I am, and probably STILL in better shape. Okay, so the carpet was badly worn as you go around the corner by the tattoo parlor. And the ceilings leaked in a few places, umm, (think HEAVY RAIN). A little plaster, some paint, presto change-o, good as new). But really, you should stay there while it’s still standing. Mark, the manager, will be really happy, as will all the other employees who keep looking outside to see if big cranes with wrecking balls have pulled up to the door. Mark is a displace Montanan, too. I sound critical, but I did like the place. Not that I had time to do anything other than work, but it’s close to the Las Vegas Convention Center, and across from Circus Circus (if you’re into circuses). Everything else has been knocked down, or is half-built and waiting for Obama to go away. I think half the hotel rooms in Vegas, or more, are empty. I got to Vegas at 6:00 p.m. on a Wednesday, and Las Vegas Boulevard was nearly deserted compared to pre-Obama years.

The Queen Victoria Pub is a nice place to eat, but, really, the “Bangers and Mash”, and “Bangers this” and “Bangers that” and “Bangers whatever” doesn’t sound appetizing (it’s a type of sausage). I usually had the rib-eye, or was it New York, steak and Newcastle Brown Ale. Oh, and then there was this girl, who didn’t look anything like Petula Clark, but I thought of her as Petula anyway.

By the way, if you’re driving to Las Vegas, you really should drive highway 318 between nowhere and someplace called Hiko. First, you have to get to Ely, and I hear the locals pronounce it “ee lee” instead of using English and calling it “ee lye.” (Railroad buffs can check out the Nevada Northern Railway there.) Then take highway 6 west 20 miles or so to highway 318 South. Be careful you don’t take the road to Ruth, or you will be on the highway to Somewhere Else Nowhereville, Are We Still In Nevada?.

On 318, you will be following an ancient, and maybe sometimes current, river bed called the White River. Toward the southern end of 318 you will pass through the White River Narrows. I didn’t stop this time, but I did 12 years ago. Rocks!, BIG rocks. Narrow canyon. Beauty. Imagine Tyrannosaurus Rex trying to outrun a glacial dam break up north, and losing the race. Beauty. Check it out if you can. And don’t blame me if you are unimpressed with nature. Here’s a web site with more information than I ever knew before about the White River Narrows.

If It’s August, This Must Be…

Santa Clarita? But it’s September! Where am I? Vegas? What am I doing here? Huh, I’m not there yet? Whooo, that’s a relief. Wasn’t I there a short time ago? Really! When am I there again? OOOOH! For how long? Not good; that flushes September down the drain. I’m never going to get my railroad room built at this pace.

Hey! Rod Stewart won’t be there when I hit town. Bummer. I was looking forward to that show. No, I wasn’t going to buy the in-your-face $675 up-front ticket. $105 for the bleachers on the far side of the moon is in my range.

Maybe I should take my mandolin and torture everyone in the hotel as I play “Boil That Cabbage Down” over and over and over and…. G-C-D – easy as cherry pie. Oh, no. Not 4-string G-C-D chords ’cause my fingers are TOO short. Need at least two more inches to get those. Double-stops are my refuge.

Okay, let’s chill out. In my next life I’ll be a sailor. Wait! I don’t get another one? You mean it’s either streets of gold or the lake of fire. Hmmmm, okay in THIS life, let’s pretend to be a sailor and listen to Crosby, Stills, and Nash, then I’ll be a street sweeper on those golden avenues.

Whoops, commercial, or something like that. When I was in Papua New Guinea a million years ago, I tried to find the Southern Cross (with help), but, more often than not, I found the false southern cross (it was MUCH larger). At 2 degrees south latitude in a country devoid of electricity, it was a serious challenge for a landlubber to find his butt in the dark. There were 40-seven umpty kajillion more stars than anyone could see in North America. Didn’t look for the Large Magellanic Cloud at all; what a pity. Let’s sail.

Crosby, Stills & Nash – Southern Cross on Schnoob Toooob

Oh! By the way, if you look up the lyrics for this song on this net thing, you will trip over too many cretins who don’t know how to pronounce the capital of Tahiti, not to mention they haven’t a clue which direction the protagonist is sailing.

Here it is: the capital of Tahiti (Papeete) is pronounced Pa Pa Ay Tay. It is NOT pronounced Papayt Bay. OR ANYTHING WITH BAY IN IT. Maybe it’s Pa Pay Ay Tay. But it AIN’T “Bay.”

And then, if you actually use your ears, you will hear that the sailor is heading from Papeete to the Marquesas Islands, which are NORTHEAST of Papeete. He’s heading HOME, folks, to Southern California. City of Avalon; Island of Catalina. Got to find that woman who walked out on him.

She’s long gone, bub, likely looking for some bastard who will beat her more than you did. My limited experience is that you have to beat her FOUR times a day and wear a HUGE silver belt buckle from some two-bit rodeo just to show her how much you LOVE her. The bigger the buckle, the bigger the… And now we return to our regular broadcasting day.

Then she’ll wonder what she did wrong. You chose an evil BASTARD, woman! Get a brain. That’s why there are 10 million decent single guys out there wondering what’s wrong with them while they are looking for YOU.

And that’s why I have a cat. I got tired of chasing women who needed love and preferred disgusting, hateful men. I cannot help you, girls. That means you, Diane. Let’s sail again – The full version by Jimmy Buffett

Ahhhhhh! All is WELL! Thanks Jimmy! But it didn’t have to blow up in Missoula, you know. Who am I to talk. Mine blew up about 1959. Hey, I was talking to the other Jim! Who?

“And we never failed to fail; it was the easiest thing to do.” Lyrics by Stephen Stills. It’s the story of my life. I think I find it amazing that after multiple millennia, Stephan Stills reduced life to its simplest form.

Still Stuck On Music

Listen to this guy! Incredible.

Israel “IZ” Kamakawiwo’ole

I read some of his music was used in movies I didn’t see, and they say it was a platinum-selling hit. Where was I, I wonder. Oh! I know, in my private cave on a planet far away.

He died in 1997, must have been his funeral at the end of the video.

Addendum: I thought I posted this a long time ago.

Why Are Congress Critters Stupid?

I read that Congress wants to put YouTube lip synchers in prison for five years. Does this video mean that Chevy Chase will be heading to Club Fed really soon? Maybe Guantanamo Bay? Hey, Chevy, tell us what waterboarding is like!

You Can Call Me Al

The first time I heard this song I was riding with a reporter for the Missoulian on our way to Condon. We were going to cover a sled-dog race, except there was a serious lack of snow. I got a photo of one of the mushers with one of his dogs that ran in the paper. I should scan the photo… if I can find it. That was back in the day of black-and-white film and chemicals. I think I have a print somewhere.

Back to Paul Simon… I really liked the music so I went out an bought a cassette tape the first chance I had. Great music.

Mr. OCD’s Evening Music Show

Some of you may understand the title.

Listen to this, then come back. I’ll wait.

Little Wing

The Corrs. Andrea (vocals, tin whistle), Caroline (bodhran – look it up),  Sharon (violin), and Jim (rhythm guitar). In 2011, they seem to be taking time out for the honorable responsibility of raising children. Wish they named the fellow playing the shiny guitar. Honestly. Why do people think Jimi Hendrix could play the guitar?

The fellow on the weird shiny guitar has a million times more guitar talent than Hendrix ever hoped for.  I never had a clue that Hendrix could write lyrics because I could never understand a word he sang. The above song shows he had the talent to write lyrics, but not the talent to play the music  for his words. Sad.

Note: If the diehard Hendrix fans expect me to approve any of their comments, they are required to point me to a song that: 1. I can understand what he’s saying, and 2: doesn’t sound like he’s shredding a factory full of guitars in  a blender. Good luck with that.

And then for more delicious musical enjoyment:

Summer Wine

Yes, I know Bono needs to spit the marbles out before he sings, but wow! This in no way diminishes Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood’s version from 1967. Both are fantastic.

And, now for a soothing tune to sleep by:

Toss The Feathers

I really love the way everyone stops playing while Caroline does a marvelous drum solo. Beautiful!

And, we close the day with Scotland’s best kept secret: The Pipes and Drums and Military Band of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards. Weep with me if you will.

Amazing Grace

Sweethearts Of The Rodeo & c.

Put your headphones on, go to to Sweethearts of the Rodeo and turn it UP. Way UP! Or, annoy your neighbors until the sun comes up!

I have never understood the music industry’s penchant for dumping really good musicians/singers for some flash-in-the-pan nobodies. There was a time when I drove a long way to listen to fabulous groups like Sweethearts of the Rodeo and Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. The Nitty Gritty came to the Island County Fair in Freeland, WA, or thereabouts, in 1993 or so, and Sweethearts came to the Evergreeen State Fair in Monroe, WA, in 1994 or so. I went to both of them, and they were worth the trip.

Listen to these four songs from Janis and Kristine; from new to old, their singing is so captivating. Count me in on their latest album, even if I have to drive to Nashville to get it. Curse you RIAA! I haven’t bought an album in years because you dumped all the great bands.

But, wait, what’s this?  Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.

Oh, my aging body. They are still making GREAT MUSIC. Some of them were in the movie “Paint Your Wagon” in 1969, and they are STILL making great music today — Jeff Hanna, Jimmie Ibbotsen, Bob Carpenter, and Jimmy Fadden. “Mr. Bojangles,” “Ripplin Waters,” “Fishing In The Dark.” And then who can forget, “The Long Hard Road.”

Wow! I hadn’t heard this one before. “Walkin’ Shoes” “I thought you was worth it once, but I was crazy. My walking shoes don’t fit me anymore.”

And….
“Cupid’s got a gun, arrows wouldn’t do.” I have to say that, given my experience, cupid couldn’t shoot himself in the ass no matter what weapon you gave him, nukes included. Wrapping myself in bacon, gold, diamonds, and honesty didn’t work; so that’s why I have a cat named Marie who loves me. Perhaps if I’d beaten hell out of them and treated them like s***; nope, not in my Christian makeup.

And then, as time goes by and I get older, this song really means more to me. My mother died 25 years ago at the age of 58 or so. I have blocked out the details as it is still painful. Enjoy with me, though, “Will The Circle Be Unbroken” with a bit of Johnny Cash, the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, and others. Someone, please chime in with the ultra-known old guy whose name escapes me. I should know who he is, but I don’t. This is, by far, the best rendition I have ever heard.

EDIT: Sorry about the multiple short-term updates, but I’m still trying to figure out links to LEGAL videos; not to mention the html to make it work.