James Rising

WEEKENDER

I must admit I don’t follow politics. As a matter of fact I don’t follow very much of what the world considers the latest breaking news. Unless it’s along the lines of “NORTHEAST PENNSYLVANIA BRACES FOR TSUNAMI” I don’t pay it much heed. My interests lie somewhere in between news of the forthcoming apocalypse and “News of the Weird”, off beat and quirky stuff. Man bites dog, dog sprouts wings.

But the latest news cycle coverage of the story of pathetic Rep. Anthony Weiner D-NY, and his Internet escapades has caught my eye. Mostly because he tweeted his hairless six pack abs and his wiener stuffed BVD’s to young ladies and didn’t, apparently, get a bite. Or anything else for that matter. Then the man who represents 654,360 folks in Queens and Brooklyn LIED his behind off about it.

I have taught a class about using computers for a few years at L.C.C.C. and one of the most important points that I try to make to my students is that nothing done on the Internet or for that matter on a computer is private. Everything leaves a trail, is traceable and can and will come back to haunt you, most likely at the worst possible time. Ask any pedophile in jail for downloading his fix via “Limewire” or whatever. Or now ask Rep. Anthony Weiner D-NY.

Several interesting things about this whole deal. Mr. Weiner (I will not, shall not, stoop to making any ‘wiener’ jokes. Besides it’s spelled different. ) works for New York, the same state that gave us “Client 9” otherwise known as whore-loving Eliott Spitzer. At least Eliott had the decency to come clean, so to speak. Possibly there is something in the water in NY?

Mr. Weiner is married, at least until she wises up, to Huma Abedin, a longtime personal aide of Hillary Clinton and the ceremony was officiated by none other than “I Did Not, Have, Sexual, Relations, with THAT Woman” Bill Clinton his ownself. Is it just me? Or is reality getting too weird to handle?

Mr. Weiner has steadfastly refused to resign. He knows that this story will blow over, so to speak, and people will forget and forgive. The next news cycle will find something else to blather about. I am betting you haven’t seen the end of Mr. Weiner. Although apparently several million have.

Reach Jim at contact@jamesrising.com Even more rants are on his blog, updated every day ending in ‘y” at jamesrising.com

The Rant D’Jour is about the Hells Angels. Sort of.

Just when you thought the world was weird enough, along comes something that stops you…more

Just when you thought the world was weird enough, along comes something that stops you in your tracks.

Some of you may have read Dr. Hunter S. Thompson’s book on the Hells Angels. The Dearly departed gonzo journalist lived and rode with the motorcycle club for a year before being as he put it, “Stomped” over some infraction. I can’t remember but it might have been over a case of beer.

Among other things he described in his book was the utter contempt that the group had for any sort of law enforcement. According to Hunter the gangs would gout of there way to provoke, confound and just plain make life miserable for those who protect and serve and had great disdain for the court system in particular. Hells Angels didn’t do trials and spend very little time in the company of lawyers.

So it was with particular wonder that I saw the news that The Hells angels planned on suing the Walt Disney Company.
It seems that the Mouseketeers are planning on making a movie called Wild Hogs which the Hells angels claims infringes on their trademarks, the name Hells Angels and the Skull logo.

All of this is too weird for me to wrap my mind around. First of all Disney doing a movie about the most unsavory characters you can imagine. Walt is probably spinning in his grave like a lathe unless of course he is frozen like they have saying for years. And the rough tough Hells Angels suing somebody?
Just another guidepost on the slippery slope to the hot place.

ED NOTE: Written in 2006-before Tim Allen and Wild Hogs came out.

Tuesday Review:

James Ellroy’s Feast of Death
2001 NR 90 minutes

I bet James Ellroy is only half as bad ass as he comes across.

I could be wrong.

The American crime fiction writer (The Black Dahlia (1987), The Big Nowhere (1988), L.A. Confidential (1990), White Jazz (1992), American Tabloid (1995), The Cold Six Thousand (2001), and Blood’s a Rover (2009) is a personal favorite so when NETFLIX popped it up into my suggested viewing I gave it a try.

The very beginning sets the hook for me.

Ellroy:

L.A. Confidential, the movie, is the best thing that happened to me in my career that I had absolutely nothing to do with. It was a fluke—and a wonderful one—and it is never going to happen again—a movie of that quality. Here’s my final comment on L.A. Confidential, the movie: I go to a video store in Prairie Village, Kansas. The youngsters who work there know me as the guy who wrote L.A. Confidential. They tell all the little old ladies who come in there to get their G-rated family flick. They come up to me, they say, “OOOO… you wrote L.A. Confidential…. Oh, what a wonderful, wonderful movie. I saw it four times. You don’t see storytelling like that on the screen anymore.” I smile, I say, “Yes, it’s a wonderful movie, and a salutary adaptation of my wonderful novel. But listen, granny: You love the movie. Did you go out and buy the book?” And granny invariably says, “Well, no, I didn’t.” And I say to granny, “Then what the fuck good are you to me?”

This is a very different movie. It moves back and forth from the story of Ellroy’s life, his mothers tragic death, the “Black Dahlia” case and Ellroy’s role as “famous author” as he holds forth in bookstores and at dinners.

For me one of the most fascinating parts is the dinner with the LA Sheriffs and Detectives. They discuss, among other things, The “Black Dahlia” case which is fascinating in and of itself, but just to see actual, seasoned, professional and successful investigators tear into a case (and dinner, and wine) is pure gold for a lover the genre such as myself.

In many ways this is a very shocking film. Aside from Ellroy’s frequent prolonged bursts of profanity, the gruesome crime photographs of both the “Dahliah” case and Ellroy’s mother are graphic and horrifying. But probably most scary are Ellroy’s eyes. He is in full “thousand yard” stare in some of the scenes. It is a little unnerving.

SPOILER ALERT:
Interwoven in all of the story-lines Ellroy is also on a quest for his Mother. In a very well played scene at the end, he finds her. Sort of.

Maybe Ellroy is only playing Ellroy in this film. If so they picked the right guy for the lead role.

The Rant D’Jour is about a sequence of events. Not a good one.

I have taken a part-time job. It’s almost not a job at all except for the fact that I have to show…more

I have taken a part-time job. It’s almost not a job at all except for the fact that I have to show up. Before I went on vacation a couple of weeks ago the gym where I work out posted a note on the locker room door. They needed someone to open the joint up at 4:30am Monday, Wednesday and Friday. 3.5 hours a day.

Since I spent more than thirty years as a morning radio announcer getting up that early is an engrained habit. The perks include a free gym membership and a few extra dollars a week to put towards my newly reassessed mansion/estate. I haven’t worked a job where I had to be anywhere on a regular basis for almost a year. I actually kind of like it. So before I went on vacation I told them that if no one wanted it when I returned I would take it. That’s exactly what happened.
The first day, 8 08 08 was a disaster.

I am able to wake up without using an alarm clock. I can tell myself what time I want to wake up and I do. I am also one of those insufferable people who can climb out of bed completely awake and even with a hangover that would kill a lesser man, usually in pretty good mood.

But just to be one the safe side I had the long suffering wife set an alarm clock.

I don’t know what made me turn over and look at the clock. For a few seconds I couldn’t believe it, and then I started swearing. It was 4:55am!

A great way to start a new job! Late the first day.

With hair standing straight up and clothes thrown on I raced out the door and drove like Dale Jr. was on my tail. Thank God there were no cops or deer in my way on my route! I live pretty close so I made it only five minutes late. But still loads of grumbling from the early birds. And I had forgotten all my careful notes about how to do the job so I had to wing it.

The day just got better. I was supposed to review a concert that night for the Weekender. On our way to the show the long suffering wife’s car conked out. Stopped dead in its tracks. Right near the Moosic entrance ramp of I-81. So I called my buddy and he helped me get a tow. I am lucky to have a friend like that. While we waited on the side of I-81 (staying in the car became not an option. Watching huge 18 wheelers bear down on us in the rearview was just too nerve wracking) an SUV pulled up behind our car. Then leaned on the horn like it was in the way. I struggled up the steep bank to see what the hell was going on. The tinted window rolled down and the driver said “Is that your car?” A moment here to describe the driver. She was blonde. Very blonde. Now I am happily married but I am not blind. She had on tube top that was dangerously full. Tribal tattoos on her arm. The car smelled like…well it smelled real good. And she was drop dead gorgeous.

She was in the words of the late Rick James “The kind you don’t take home to mother.” A snap judgment maybe but I stand by it.

“Yes it is.” I managed to stammer.

“Oh crap! My girlfriend has the exact same car and she said she was broken down right here.”

What are the chances? Sure enough as I looked down the highway I saw another car with flashers on about a mile away. It was a twin to my Wife’s car.

The babe in the SUV pulled out and soon after my friend and the tow truck arrived.

I never did make it to the show.

ED Note: Written in 2009- I Have since given up the gym job.

It doesn’t take much to make me happy. These days anyway.

My father once wrote me a letter about happiness. I guess I was going through a rough patch. For much of my life I was not a real happy camper. In his own way he was trying to help me make sense of it all.

The funny thing is I never once thought about where he was in all that. My father was a complex guy. He had a lot on his plate and had a lot of stuff in his head, being a WW 2 Vet, that I bet he wished wasn’t. I am sure he had his share of the “Black Dog” as Winston Churchill called it.

Dad and I didn’t have a close relationship. I can not recall him telling me that he loved me, although I am quite sure by his actions that he did. And maybe that is enough. Was enough.

His letter said that sometimes happiness is sadness turned inside out. It puzzled me then and I am not sure that I have a better understanding of it now. Perhaps it is because Father’s day is this Sunday that these thoughts are coming up.

But, back to my simple needs now. Top on the list right now is a good wrap.

I just love them. Better for me than the big old Sub sandwiches I used to get. More delicious too!

The receipt below is from The Bakehouse in Kingston. I went there for a meeting the other day and tried one of their Chef’s Wraps – Oven-roasted turkey, ham, roast beef, Swiss cheese & romaine lettuce with Thousand Island dressing.

Oh my!

This is now the gold standard of wraps for me.

The only ingredient it needs to make it perfect is onions.

Now that the long-suffering wife and I don’t kiss so much (it happens, kids. Face it. Deal.) I have developed a warmer, closer, personal relationship with onions. To me a burger or sandwich is just not done until it has that little pungent kick.

So the other day when I ordered at The Bakehouse I stressed my need for onions. I said “A Plethora of onions” to the nice person behind the register.

Here are several things that make me happy about this. My order taker (A very pleasant young lady) repeated my words with a smile.

The wrap did indeed come with a “plethora” of red onions. Yum! (or as the kids say,”nom”)

And The Bakehouse has a register system that allows for requests such as mine. Literally. In all senses of that word.

Makes me happy. As I said before, it doesn’t take much.

The Rant D’Jour is about truth, justice and the American way. Oh and School Bus radio.

I didn’t ride the bus to school very much. I don’t exactly remember why but I do remember walking to school a lot…more

I didn’t ride the bus to school very much. I don’t exactly remember why but I do remember walking to school a lot and it was uphill both ways with snow up to my neck and….well you get the idea. But the few times I lived where I did get to ride the big yellow school bus I remember it as tedious and not much fun.

Of course this was long before laptops and I pods and cell phones which I am sure take some of the boredom out of the trip. But I noticed the other day that there is a move afoot to program bus rides with radio designed for kids.

According to the CEO of an outfit called Bus Radio, a guy named Michael Yanoff, buses now have FM radios that play stations that- Gasp- have commercials for beer and R-rated movies. Oh, the horror. Like they don’t see ten times worse on the TV. But anyway Yanoff and his company are providing school buses with a broadcast mix of music, kid oriented news (Justin Timberlake? Dreamy or Hunky?) and of course ads, presumably not for Vodka or Viagra.

The problem here is that the kids don’t get to choose what they are listening to. And with a name like Yanoff I am wondering about this guy’s intent. Could he be a Russian trying to turn our kids into little communists? Nah, that’s just paranoia on my part but the real point is, who elected this guy the judge of what is appropriate for our kids to hear on the bus?

Bus radio plays what the company refers to as Pop music, Kelly Clarkson and that sort of pabulum. If your are like me you think maybe it would be ok if kids were occasionally fed music that matters like maybe, oh I don’t know, Symphonies or heaven forefend blues or jazz then you are not on the same bus with Bus radio.

Recently a small town in Massachusetts which happens to be where Bus radio is based pulled out of a deal with the company that was paying them $10,000 a year, covering most of the costs of maintaining the bus fleet. According to a school official, numerous parents worried about exposing elementary school students to the “subliminal messages that kids would get through the advertising.” In other words they didn’t want big brother or Bus radio to have control of the kids ears. It’s a small step but in my humble opinion one in the right direction. And believe me when I say I don’t care if the kids listen to my radio station on the bus or not.

That's a wrap

Sunday Wrap

Monday 6/06/11

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Tuesday 6/07/11

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Wednesday 6/08/11

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Thursday 6/09/11

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Friday 6/10/11

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Saturday 6/11/11

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