Stanleyman

Hello friends,

Well, Tracy left for Hawaii Saturday morning and I believe I set a record this time. It only took till Monday morning for me to screw things up. See, we have these dumpster cats and they are very spoiled. They have the run of the house for the exception of our bedroom. Now, ever since Tracy has been gone Stanleyman has been looking for her, moping and pouting around like some teenage who just found out that being grounded means you don't get to go hang out at Rockwell Park with Scott and Roger on Friday night because you got a bunch of D's on your report card (that you probably didn't deserve but the teachers hated you for no good reason) Where was I? Oh yeah, Stanley. I proceed to fall asleep on the couch Sunday night. I wake up at about 7:00 in the AM and head to my bedroom. When I turn the corner there is Stanley, just laying there waiting for Tracy to get up. I told him she was in Hawaii but he didn't understand me cause he's a pussycat. So I decide to brake cardinal rule number 37 and let Stanleyman in the room to see for himself, while he is looking around I crawled in bed and fall asleep. Next thing I know, Little Ethel Merman is meow, meow, meowing, I wake up to see that Stanley's fat ass has fell through the screen on the window and is long gone! Christ all mighty, where the hell did he go?!?! L.E.M. (Little Ethel Merman) is just like Lassie except he's a little pussycat and I'm just like Timmy except grown up and better looking.

Now, I kinda fancy myself as some what of a MacGyver and I am probably the best pussycat wrangler in these parts, so I got to work. Don't worry Stanleyman, I'm coming. I put on my warden hat and put all the pussycats on lock down, and recuted my stupid friend Nipper to help me. I set 2 pussycat traps out baited with a variety of foods I thought Stanley would like. I put his litter box by the open back door. I dawned my handy flash light headband and crawled around under the house and my deck like a spelunker on crank (have I mentioned that I have a huge deck. I have all kinda of pictures of my deck. All the Lady's want to see my big deck....sorry) Nipper crawled around under there too. I put some food in the Man Cave (my detached garage) under the house, and by my deck where I tore off about a 7 foot section of lattice (I better get that fixed before Tracy gets home) Then I sprinkled flour all around the food bowls so I could see if he was there and which way he went. I put 2 security cameras out, 1 under the house and 1 in the Man Cave, and ran the lines into mission control (my living room) I told Tracy what had happened and she blamed me cause "I was in charge". I tried to blamed it on Nipper, but she didn't buy it. She was pissed. She said to open up the bedroom window and maybe he would come back the way he left. Good idea, except his fat ass can't jump that high. So, I made a ramp out of a 1x6 and wrapped it with carpet for traction. I placed it in the window then stuck Little Ethel Merman's butt in the hole (Kitty Crate) and threw him in to the bedroom and closed the door. And just as I planed, little sissy cat started crying like a big ol baby. That's gonna lure him in for sure....but then I felt bad cause of all the crying, so I put L.E.M. back in lock down with the other prisoners.

Now this all started about 9:30 in the morning. Then, as I stared zombie eyed at the surveillance monitors (my bedroom and living room TVs) I hear a faint meow from my bedroom. It can't be Stanlyman cause he has never ever meowed in his whole life. He is a mute pussycat. Some stray cat has climbed in the bedroom window. I jumped up, ran down the hall (all 4 feet) threw open the door, and there stands Stanly. Stanlyman, your not a mute! And your home!!! It's about 4:00 AM on Tuesday. I called Tracy and she is very relived. The pussycat prison is off lock down and the inmates are sleeping. Stanley is very happy to be back. He won't leave my side, never getting more than 3 feet away. He is sleeping next to my feet as I write this. I sure am glad he's back, my little fat assed Stanleyman.

I would have attached a photo of Stanley but for some reason most of my pictures are not on my computer any more. ??? I think that my stupid friend Nipper deleted them on accident while he was down loading some'educational' videos.


This is a great girl band but the video sound is not that great. I like it anyway. This is 'The Gore Gore Girls'.




Adios,
~e~

You know I'm born to lose
and gambling's for fools
But that's the way I like it baby
I don't wanna live forever
Don't Forget The Joker

Jimmy Strader

Hello friends,

My friend, Jimmy Strader, passed away Monday. His funeral will be at 4 p.m. Friday at All Souls Unitarian Church, 2952 S. Peoria Ave.

You know, the term genius is thrown around way to much, but anyone who has seen Jim play can not deny him that. Anyone who knows the least little bit about music knows what a phenomenal talent he was. Know, understand what I am going to say right now, because I am as serious as I have ever been, Jim was as good as anyone who has ever picked up a bass guitar, period. The fact that he is not in the Oklahoma Blues Hall of fame or The Jazz Hall is stupid. It proves that stupid people are in charge of all that rig-a-ma-roll. Oh, he will get in now for sure, but it's a little to late. You know why? Because he's DEAD! That's why. Good job team. Stupid, stupid people. That is the perfect example of why the music industry is so screwed up. It is run by business men not musicians. Besides, Jim thought that stuff was a bunch of crap anyway, so as far as I am concerned you can leave him out. You didn't want him before, so don't bother now.

Sorry.

Jimmy was a gentle giant who I loved very much. I would sit and listen to him talk. He would quote John Baconthorpe or Che Guevara or say things like 'It is hard to believe that right deductions from true principles should ever lead to conclusions that can’t be maintained or made consistent.' I would sit there with a real serious look on my face and nod, the whole while thinking 'What the hell is he talking about?'. It was hypnotizing to listen to him. I always walked away having learned something.

Now, I have a extremely wide musical taste, from Sun House to the Sex Pistols. But when I was younger it was only the Beatles. There was no one else as far as I was concerned. Jim was at the house and I was in the 8th or 9th grade. He said something about some band I can't remember and I said something stupid like "Yeah, well they ain't the Beatles'. Jim said to me "Don't limit yourself. I know that you feel like your betraying the Beatles, but you are really betraying yourself." Now, I don't know if that is the reason why I expanded my musical horizons, but if it is, he gave me something I could never pay back in a million years.

Here are a few seeds he planted~
1) Rock n roll isn't about great musicians, it's about great music.
2) Don't listen to what anyone says, Charley Watts is God on drums.
3) The Gibson SG is kind of a squirrely guitar.
4) That shit will destroy your life or maybe even kill you.
5) Miles Davis gets it.
6) The Ramones are a strait forward rock n roll band, just listen to the hooks.
7) Paul McCartney out of this world guineas, so is Les Claypool.
8) I saw a roadie bust Hank Thompson's guitar but I never told anyone.
9) Sometimes playing less is the only way to play it.
10) Don't try to write a song, just write a song.

I was honored to have Jimmy record with me. I will cherish those tracks till the day I die. Jimmy gets it.

My heart is sick. I will miss my friend very much.



Adios,
~e~

My Pop

The ONEOK Building

Hello friends,

I talked to a fella the other day who usta work for my father, well actually he worked for the guy, who worked under the guy, who worked under the guy, who worked under my father. Now, let me describe my pop.

He is Caucasian, white hair, 6', 210 pound, college educated (University of Tulsa) engineer, and a WWII vet (Army Air Corp). He really doesn't say much, but when he does say something it has been thought out completely before he speaks. He is the smartest man I know. (I guess those brains jeans skip a generation) He is a mathematical whiz, but has common sense. He can figure out how much force it takes to move an object out of the earths gravitational pull and he can rebuild the carburetor on the lawn mower. He is a gentleman but doesn't take crap from anyone. He had a big office with a glass wall that over looked the lobby of the ONEOK building (which by the way, he was head engineer of the building of that baby).

Now, let me describe the fella I talked to. He is African American, 6'1", skinny, and high school educated. He is funny and a great guy. When he work with daddy-O his job was about at the bottom of the ol' corporate latter.

So, I called this fella up the other day and asked him for a favor, and needless to say he came through with fling colors. When I thanked him for doing the favor for me he said "I didn't do it for you. I did it for your father". I said "what do you mean?" He said "Your father always talked to me like he talked to everyone else."

I thought this was so cool. I was so proud of my pop. When I told my father about this conversation, he looked at me for a second, getting his thoughts in line I guess, and said "Well, how was I suppose to talk to him son?"

Well, there I stood with that stupid "I don't have an answer" look on me face that I have worn a gazillion times before. I said. Uh....well.....I just thought it was....I mean, thought that was...ahhh....you know dad, in this day and age and turbulent times, we find ourselves (I'm diggin' deep, trying to sound like this was well thought out) put in a position where society, or what we conceive as society, states (I can tell by the look on his face, one that he has worn a bazillion times before, that it ain't workin') that we, as a human race of humans, should live to the extremist formation (Christ, what the hell am I talkin' about?! He ain't buying it, but he ain't gonna stop me. He's gonna let me hang my dumb ass with my own damn words!) of the guide lines in which, we, as a society, have under tookin' (Under tookin'?!?!) as a whole, and as a nation. A nation of humans under God, with liberty pop, liberty! That's what I'm talkin' about" (My father must be completely baffled about what genetically went wrong with that whole reproduction thing) "Good Lord son, why is that such a big deal? Because I spoke to him?". "No...I mean, yes...no, wait a minute...because you were nice to him." I said. "Nice to him? Why wouldn't I be nice to him? (I'm giving him that 'look' agian) "Listen, I only know one way to talk. What should I have done, spoke Chinese? Sometimes son, I don't have any idea what the hell your talking about." (I got that one a lot, believe you me) But thanks to my quick thinking and dads hard hearing (Army Air Corp) I used pipe full-O-fun trick #14 to get myself out of this predicament. "Is that mom hollering? I think moms got dinner ready, it's meat loaf. You love meat loaf. I'm starving. I'll explain it to you after we eat pop, it's complicated" Ol' #14 always works...and he always lets me off the hook.

How cool was that?!?! It wasn't that he was being nice to the lowly employee or practicing good manners, he just talk to him. It never dawned on my pop that society had placed them worlds apart (Dad never really cared what "society" said anyway) It never entered dads mind that he was better than him or above him on some so-called social ladder. The fella was a man and dad treated him that way, like a man.

Pop had a saying " Son, you don't have to be a leader, just don't be a follower."
Chew on that one for a while.

Here are a couple of other do-dads pop had a hand in engineering.

I couldn't get the damn photos to upload. Stupid Blogspot. The stuff he was a part of were nothing big, just little things like the Saturne V rocket, the Boing 747, the AGM-28 Hound Dog Missile, etc....oh yeah, and me.
Thanks, pop!......you to mom.

My dad bought me my first electric guitar....well my first acoustic also...and one of those little plastic jobs when I was a little tot, anyway, I broke tradition and Smoke On The Water was not the first song I learned. This was the first song I learned. And I played it over and over and over and over and over. It must have drove him nuts. But he never asked me to quite.


Adios,
~e~