Guilty Until Proven

Right now as I sit in my jacuzzi tub writing this blog it seems yesterday was a lifetime ago. My chest cold is breaking up and I have more voice than I did yesterday. In hinesight as irritating as it was and as stressfull as it seemed, here I am safe and warm at home.  Like most things in life I spent a lot of wasted time being upset over something that never happens. 

I woke up yesterday thinking of Shari Lewis as a "charlie horse" in my leg sent me shooting out of bed. I couldn't tell if I was just exhausted from the shows the day before or sick.  Turned out I was both. Coughing and foggy headed,  it wasn't until I tried to order breakfast that I realized I had almost no voice.  I was facing a long day of travel after a long day of performances, proceeded by a difficult load in and set up of "The Two and Only" at a theatre just outside Boston. 

To "help" the theatre I rode with John to the airport so they only had  to pay for one limo ride not two. It meant sitting at the airport three hours more than necessary, but I knew there would be a bar with the football games on TV somewhere at the terminal. 

Finally it is time to go through security; I proceed to my gate so I can finally go home. I notice on my boarding pass I have been pre-screened by the TSA.  Because I agreed to share certain travel information with the TSA I am what they call a "trusted flier".  Although you can always be randomly chosen to go through a complete check, I am usually allowed to go through security with my shoes and jacket on and do not have to take my computer out of its case.  Like the old days before 9/11.  In most airports the Pre screening is an entirely different line of machines.  

I get in the only security line that leads to my gate and ask if this is where they do the pre-screening. The checker is a little irritated at the question. He fumbles for a laminated 5x7 card under his podium and hands it to me. "Give this to the agent". On the card it says that I am a trusted flier and I don't have to take off my shoes etc.. etc.  But wait there's more.

As my carry on case goes through the xray, I walk through the metal detector to have the TSA agent sharply tell me to remove my shoes. I hold up my card like one would a cross to a vampire, she hisses and looks away as I walk through. 

Of course my carry-on, the one with "three heads" inside is stopped by the xray gorilla. This is Boston, I get it. They have seen their share of terrorism, and I would expect they would want to check carefully.  It happens most of the time I travel. So like most times, I go into my travel routine. 

When the x-ray gorilla looks up to see who is waiting on that case, I catch his eye. "Puppets" I say to him.  He responds by calling over another officer to look at the screen.  They whisper, and point at the screen tracing outlines on the monitor. They look over at me.  "Puppets, gentlemen, Puppets...I am a ventriloquist." Of course as I hear the raspy morning voice of Tom Waits come out of my mouth, I wonder if anyone would believe that I make a living with that sound.  Then I say something I might not have said given another take at this scene.  I said, "I'm on the trusted flier list if that makes a difference." Obviously it did....but not in a positive way. 

Monkey number 2 walks over to me and says "Hold out your hands palms up."  I comply to the request and realize it is perfect body language for "What the Fuck?" 

He proceeds to swab my palms with the wand detector and jam the swab into a machine that beeps and says, "You know that pre-screening only applies to your person not your luggage. We are going to have to do some more tests on that case." He hauls it out of the side door of the x-ray machine with the same care a wrecking ball might have for an old building.  

None of this is unfamiliar to me, I must go through it 35% of the time I travel.  I start my speech about how they are fagile and vauable insturments as he bangs the case on the metal surface of the chemical inspection machine. He begins to open the case lid side down which will cause the puppets to fall out. I say, "It opens the other side up."  He virtually slaps my hands away when I instinctively try to help him turn it right side up.

"Do not touch that case till I have cleared it. Do you understand?" Okay... now I sense a little attitude. 

He opens the case and jams his hands down the side.  "There are some delicated controls on these puppets, I would appreciate it if you would be carefull." There is no response as he pulls the black cloth off Bob's face. TImes past this would be the end of it.  Like the guy said recently in a similar encounter with the TSA "What are you screening for, Puppets?" 

Instead, the agent grabs the wand and scrapes it across Bob's face.  Since he has been newly painted I cringe at that sight. 

He sticks the swab into the machine and I hear the sound of a dot matix printer on crack. A 6 inch strip of rolled paper is spit out the front of the machine.  

This isn't the first time that has happened.  Once in Miami the TSA agent swabbed the handel of my case and the machine did the same thing. Back then the guy looked at the read out and said, "Do you have a heart condition or take blood pressure medicine" I said no and asked why. It sounded like the set up to a joke,  "Do you have a heart condition? No... good cause what I am about to tell you would kill you if you did." Seems that nitrates in heart medicene will set off the machine even if very small amounts are detected.  That TSA agent said the amount was not enough to worry with and he said that if a sky cap touched that handel just after he had taken a pill then it would be enough to show up.  He let me go on my way a little more informed than before.

So having been in this situation before I was not concerned. That case and that face had not been touched by anyone but me. I was not hiding anything and just wondered what they had detected. When the lady supervisor was called over I said, "What did it hit on?" She got very third grade teacher on me, "It could have been many things. Things that are a threat and things that are not a threat, we are going make that determination." It meant they would have to take everything out of that case and have a look. I said once again that it was delicate stuff and please be careful.  I felt I was already a terrorist in their eyes and a consideration of gentleness was not in the cards. 

They took all the guys and out ran them through the x-ray individually and while they were starring like zombies to the sky I was searched and frisk.  I had to take off my shoes, my belt, my sweater. They took a swab of my foot. 

After huddling around the x-ray machine for a few minutes the guy comes up and says, "Can't let you on the plane with this case."  When I asked why they wouldn't tell me. The options were to go back to the counter and check the case, leave the case at security where it would be disposed of or... not fly today.  Obvioulsy none of the options were acceptable to me.  When I explained once again how these insturments might be damaged if they were checked they had no other solution that would allow me to continue my day with the possiblity of seeing that case again.  I played my final card.  

"Look I know that even blood pressure medicene will set off that machine.  That puppet was recently painted and you probably got a hit on something in the oil based paint.  It is really a large enough amount that could cause any danger?"

There is another huddle.  They pass the read out to each other, glance at Bob looking very much like the decapatated head that he was.  Then the original guy came back and tossed one of the black towels into my case. I said, "If I can't fly today, at lease let me pack the case back up myself." He walked away.  I wasn't sure what I was going to do I just wanted out of that area and away from the Guest-stop-O TSA. Once I finished packing up the supervisor came up and said, "You're free to fly with your "intruments" today." There was a tinge of irony in the word.  After all that...just a dismissive, be on your way. I got to the gate and FaceBooked a status that suggested that the Boston TSA could kiss my ass.  I doubt they will, but they sure inspected my ass enough. 

I might have yelled and screamed if my voice was 100%.  I doubt it would have ended as positively as it did had I made a scene.  

So TSA I get it.  You are there for my protection.  I know it is a boring and menial job, but I am glad you are there on the front line.  But...The fact is if you swab a Rembrant oil painting with that wand of yours it would probably make the chemical trace machine go crazy.  I suspect that the varnish on the surface of a violin would do the same thing. But...would you consider even for a moment that these things would be a threat to anyone's safety.  We are all humans here... you can make a common sense decision and perhaps that is what you finally did.  But I feel like if I had not spoken out, I would have been turned away. 

As you were,

Jay

Homage du Edward

Looking Back..looking forward

So ordered by the Pasadena Rose Parade committee, it is a stunningly beautiful day in Southern California.  It makes one believe that this year will be the best and brightest of all.  If tarot card predictions are correct it will be.

We spent the evening at a small dinner party.  My sister gave me a new set of tarot cards for Christmas and I gave readings from the new deck to the friends who were interested.  I can't say that I am a psychic or even an average mit reader but the nature of the tarot cards always gives way to some startling revelations.  The future looks very bright for all who were there last night. 

I always say that these "ventriloquial" card readings are just snap shots of how the universe looks at that moment.  Obviously the picture changes to the same degree that the information has been revealed.  The entire picture can change with the next decision or intention one makes.  Which is to say that predictions of the future do not determine the path of anyone's life. It is just the opposite. Our path determines our life.  We all have the power to find in life what we seek and what we need.  We are visualizing our own destiny and have the ability to shape it. 

If we think our life is like a paper cup in the wind being blown toward an unseen destination we will experience that journey. But if we think our life is like a sailboat using the wind to take us in the direction we wish to go the we are the captain of our experience. 

2014 is just another road sign in this life adventure. Every minute of everyday we can plot our own course and take the cruise we want to take. Like the sailboat that must tack, and ziz zag in a continuously changing wind, the journey will not always be the shortest distance nor always a straight line to our goal.  However, if the course corrections are made with the destination and goal always in mind, the boat will arrive at the safe harbor and bring the bounty of that journey to a new place.  

In 365 days we will look back on 2014 and try to understand.  If we make the necessary course adjustments moment by moment we will find ourselves where we want to be as we see the sign up ahead that saya 2015.  Make this year the one you want.

As you were,

Jay

Wylie Revisited

New Years News

Just under the wire for this year, I signed an agreement with Pop Twist Entertainment to be distributor for the film: "Jay Johnson: The Two and Only."  We actually executed the contract on Friday of last week.  

I am very excited that we have moved into this phase of the project.  I am looking forward having information soon about the purchase, download or other viewing possibilities.  Thanks to everyone who has helped move the project along especially Bryan and Marge, you are the best. Wooden Americans everywhere are in your debt.  Thanks also to everyone who has patiently stood by during this long process.

In other news if you have friends in the New England area send them to Norwell, MA on January 11, 2014 and   The Company Theatre .  I will be doing the live version of the show on that Saturday for two performances, 4:00 and 8:00. 

Start the New Year off with a laugh and a heart felt tear, This is the first time we have been in the Boston area since before we opened on Broadway.  I am excited to "play theatre" with my friend and PSM John Ivy and tell the story again.  It is my greatest thrill to do this show live and I hope to see you there.

I am slowly getting back into my regular blogging schedule.  I'll be waiting for things to happen so that I can relate them here.  It seems impossible that it will soon be 2014.  It seems even more impossible that this is the beginning of my 8th year as a blog writer. However, I will keep trying until I run out of things to write about....

As you were,

Jay

Becoming the New Year

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to all.  And to all a good night.

The Black Hole of Chicago

Based upon more than 3 million miles flying on various airlines I have some rules I try never to break. One involves Chicago.

Never book a connection through Chicago. 

If there is no other way to get where you are going, then the lay over between flights at O'Hare can't be less than two and a half hours.  Any airline will tell you that a "legal" connection is anything that leaves 45 minutes later than your incoming flight... don't believe it.  That is the absolute minimum time in perfect conditions and no varibles. It can take that long to walk from one end of the terminal to the other.  The over/under of that bet is much too risky. 

In the winter the issue is weather.  It can hit Chicago fast, cancelling flights and causing delays which cause havock with connections. But even in the best of weather there is an issue that can stress out even the most seasoned traveler.

For me travel/flighing time is gate to gate.  For the airlines "flying time" is the actual time in the air.  So flying time stops when the plane lands. 

For the passengers the flight is not over until you can get off the plane with all your luggage. It doesn't so much matter if the plane lands on time if it takes 45 minutes to get to the gate so passengers and luggage can be transfered. Chicago is infamous for landing on time and killing your connection time with more than a half hour taxi time, or waiting on a plane to leave a gate your plane is scheduled to arrive.  It has happend to me so many times that the "no Chicago connection" rule is carved in stone.

So, when I was booked through Chicago to get to Ft. Lauderdale from Los Angeles, it didn't seem like a good idea for many reasons.  But the arrangements were made before I could voice my concerns and the flight locked in.  There was almost two hours layover in Chicago, and although it is winter, I thought it would work. 

First problem began with LAX at 7:00 in the morning. Just as we were ready to board we were told our plane would be unloaded and a different plane would be making the trip.  "Equipment change" is the exact term.  I asked about connections and the LAX gate agent said that the new plane was on the ground, "That was good" he said, and my  connection would also be good. It would probably only mean a delay of an hour.  I had almost two hours so he convienced me. 

The hour delay turned into an hour and a half, but still there was a chance to make the connection, although there was no way to make sure the luggage would make it.  That becomes a bigger problem for me than most since it is not just my clothes but my act that is checked. 

We made up time in the air and we actually touched down in Chicago almost 50 minutes before my connection.  That is a legal connection according to the airlines.  I thought it might work. But then again this is the black hole of Chicago and there was snow on the ground. 

We taxied for 40 minutes and although I was the first one off that plane it was not an easy hike to the connection gate and when I got there the gate was closed and the de-icing process had begun. There wasn't even an agent around.

Being a Platinuim American Flier I called my American number.  I told him my problem.  I needed help to book another flight.  He said he could not help, I needed to find an agent at the airport.  I reminded him I called because I could not find an agent.  It was a catch 22.  

This was the last flight to Ft. Lauderdale that day and I was stuck for the night in Chicago.  I went to the Admirals Club and got the first flight the next day. However, the club was closing in a couple hours... did I need a room for the night? They found me a room near the airport but would not pay for it since the "Flight landed on time" It was my fault that I missed my connection.  At this point I was not in the mood to rally a cause.

In the course of life this is not even a blip. Spending the night in Chicago before getting to my destination is not a crisis.  Not having my luggage for a night is also no big deal.  Not having a coat in the freezing Chicago snow was the worst part of it. Who dresses for Chicago when you are flying to Ft. Lauderdale?

The worst part of the experience is, I could have avoided it.  I temped fate by breaking my Chicago Rule. I knew better, and will not press my bet again.

As you were,

Jay

It works for me...

Perhaps the Mayans were right and the world did end on 2012.  Something is different because I've had two good experiences with TSA types in just a few days.  As most know, my experience with members of that agency have never been, what you might say "cordial".  I think it is the idea that they presume everyone is guilty until we prove otherwise.  In  Chicago there was a random gate check by the TSA.  There was a sign that said, "Anyone refusing to be searched will not be allowed to board the plane."  I can't decide if that is blackmail or extortion. At any rate, I was not one of the ones chosen to be randomly violated, although it still pissed me off.  

Then at the dock in Ft. Lauderdale the port side security put my cases through the xray before I could board the ship.  He stopped the coveyor belt and looked very closely at my bags.  I repeated the well practiced phrase that gets me through these situations, "I'm a guest entertainer boarding, that's my puppet, I'm a ventriloquist."  The person acted like he didn't hear me, and yelled "bag check." A woman of extaordinary size came over and looked at my bag. Then she looked at the screen.  Once again I said "It's a puppet". She stands like a huge deer in the headlights for a moment then tells me not to touch the bags.    This process has taken a lot of time and the people in line behind me are growing in numbers and becoming more irritated.  The massive lady paused for a minute and called over the armed police official who was standing by.  I said, "I'm a guest entertainer... I'm a ventriloquist and this is my puppet." The policeman looked at the screen, then at the two screeners and said, "What are you screening for? Puppets? That's clearly a puppet, let the man go."  As I was gathering up all my stuff I heard him say, "Clock out." to the man on the xray and another person took over the screening.  

On any level I take that as a win.  So either the world did end or the TSA monkeys are being extra nice since the shooting at LAX a couple months ago. Either way, the cosmos it making my life a little easier. 

As you were,

Jay

Bad Dreams

Did you ever have one of those bad dreams that seem to hang on for most of the day?  Like the smell of burned toast that stays in the air long after. All day long you have to remind yourself that the bad feelings are only the memory of a dream? I have been experiencing those dreams for the past week. 

One of them involved a fight with my best friend. It was a very realistic and stressful dream. It took some time for me to realize it didn't happen.  The memory of the fight was just the memory of the dream not an actual event.  But, it continued to bothered me. I could not get the thought out of my mind and began to think that it might be some premonition. Perhaps my freind was actually mad at me and I channelled the idea in a dream, or maybe it was a sign of a fight to come.  

I decided to text him. I said, "Last night I dreamed that we had a horrible fight. Are we still friends?"

I got this reply, "You are my best friend. One of the nicest guys I know, except in your dreams where you are obviously a dick."

That dream was just the first of several nightmares this week. The pattern seems to be the same.  A stressful situation of loss that takes me all day to get past. Last night even that idea became part of the plot. In my dream I said to someone, "'For a minute I thought this didn't really happen, and I only dreamed it."  The person in my dream said, "Oh, you didn't dream it, it really happened." I became even more depressed in my dream state. 

This experience started me thinking about reality. There is no doubt that when we are dreaming, no matter how illogical, we believe it is the truth of what is happening to us.  At one moment in this imaginary universe I caught a glimpse of the truth.  I knew it was not reality but a dream.  However, the minute I express that truth the dream tells me I am wrong and I return to the illogical universe. 

I guess the lesson is: when we have found the truth within ourselves we can not look for validation or proof from the outside. We have to find the truth and hold on to it inside oursleves.

As you were,

Jay

TSA

Normally my interaction with the TSA is a contentious one. But not this morning. I am pre-screened. That means I get to go through the "security lite" line. They are generally more friendly and less stressed.
So the X-ray guy looks at the screen and says, "What is in there?" Indicating my small black carry on.
I say "That's a puppet."
He looks at it again and says "Works for me."
I said, "Actually he works for me."
There was a rare laugh from the TSA. My day has been made but the plane is late. Just when you thought it was a good day to travel.
As you were
Jay

If it smells like a Duck...

It is Friday the 13th and that seems like a lucky day to me.  Maybe we had more luck than we know this past week.
Everyone is getting a lot of humor out of the sign language interpreter for the Nelson Mandella's memorial. It's funny, an interpreter for the deaf signing gibberish at an event the whole world is watching.  It is much like a Saturday Night Live sketch with Garrett Morris yelling at the camera through cupped hands. However, as the details of the event come out it becomes a little less comedy sketch and more like a sinister plot.  

According to the LA Times the man who stood only feet from the most powerful leaders in the world was clinically diagnosed with schizophrenia. He heard voices inside his head and he spent a year and a half in a hospital jail for his problems.  He was known to be violent with sudden outbursts of anger and once took a clerk hostage inside a courtroom. 

The man admits to his condition and says now that he was having "an episode" while he was on stage with president Obama. He was hearing voices and "seeing angels".  In the Times he was quoted as saying that the episode was probably brought on by the excitement and the importance of the ceremony.  He basically broke under the pressure. Fortunately he did not get violent. 

At the least, the people responsible for vetting this guy to be on stage were derelict in their duties; at worst it was a terrorist plot that did not play out.  To add to the mystery, the agency responsible for getting this guy to the podium is gone.  "Vanished into thin air" is the quote from South Africa. 

Now if I owned the agency that supplied this guy, I too might disappear from a public relations angle if nothing else.  It can't be good business to be the agency that sent an "illiterate" signer to the big show.

But playing the role of conspiracy advocate as I do,  what if this was a "front" company who got this guy to the podium that day.  The company knew he had uncontrolled violent outbursts capable of harming people and could crack under pressure. Just get this guy next to world leaders in a stressful situation and see what happens. 

If he cracks and becomes violent he would  be the "lone crazy" who snapped.  Damage would have been done, this guy would be the patsy.   The people who got him there (the agency) would have "vanished into thin air" and the chain of responsibility would be broken. The plot would end with a mental problem.

There are so many political terrorist plots that are interrupted, this could have been the bomb that didn't go off, but in the perfect cover story it was just a confused sign language interpreter. You can bet that no one will look into this as anything but a "comic" situation.   

I personally think that the minute it was determined that his sign language was gibberish he should have been quietly removed from stage. First of all, he was not doing the job he was supposed to do, and secondly... most importantly... he could have been sending instant signals to coordinate a larger plot of attack. 

Perhaps I read to many crime stories.  Still this whole thing seems like a very odd duck.  You can bet that it won't go any further than this blog.  I guess there is no story if there is no story, but in some ways it seems that a crisis event was diverted by sheer luck. 

As you were,

Jay

Literary Clean Up

Deviant Moon Tarot Card reading.
Lunatic Spread Personal Indicator Cloth.. by Jayson

Looking through drafts of blog pieces never published is interesting.  Some are so time sensitive that finishing them now would be passé. Some have no time reference but a logical thread missing that does not connect to any idea I still have.  Other missives were not well thought out blogs but bits of prose related to nothing specific. 

However, it seems a shame to discard these ideas simply because they were edited or deleted from a blog. Ideas should always be relevant for the mere sake that they are ideas. So here is my plan for this blog: It consists of the left over pieces from attempts to blog. They do not relate... they do not connect. They are simply dust bin shavings of ideas past.  After you read them you will know why they have never been included in a blog before.

Time Stamped

Until a few years ago I thought Black Friday was the Friday when the stock market crashed and the Great Depression began.  Or as I celebrate it, Black Friday is the Friday before Halloween.

Unfortunately it has been co-opted by the retail commercial marketing machine and turned into a news worth freak show of greed and bad manners. It represents the worst quality we have as Americans and shows the world that we care more about a flat screen television than we care about starving children.

How ridiculous it must seem to other countries who are fighting for their freedom and peace, to see a bunch of over fed Americans fist fighting for the best deal on a new PS 4 at Walmart. In most countries you would see violence like that over a loaf of bread. It would be a fight for survival not a fight for cheap electronics

What is with the attention grabbing slutty actions of  Madanna    Paris Hilton   Britney Spears   Miley Cyrus last night? 

Incomplete 

... but then again it was not because he wasn't trying. He wore a hole in the carpet with his

What I actually said was, "That is a cunning array of stunts..."  

I was reading the entertainment section when I became aware that someone was looking at the same article over my shoulder. It was beginning to irritate me so I turned to give whoever it was a look. It was Donny Osmond wearing an Elmer Fudd hunting cap.  I said, "I thought you were the one who was a little rock an roll..."  

Well, it wasn't like being the opening act for the Aristocrates. 

So the Rabbi walks up to the guy in the gorilla suit who has just bought the hooker a drink and says, "What da ya think.... this is an Avacado factory?

I swear it was a TSA agent that was so wide she would get stuck in the metal detector if she tried to go through.

There was no spelling checker in those days so it said, "Be sure you come to the desk and sign the Rooster."

All cleaned out now, and a meaningless blog.   As it was.

As you were,

Jay 

  

Morning Eye Opener

H-Eye Ball...

The World is s Stage in on Vacation for a week.

Thanksgiving Sunday

Omniscience  Gratitude

Fifty Years Ago

Junior High Band
Jay Johnson

I lived only a few blocks from Belt Line Junior High. At 12:00 on Friday, November 22, 1963, I walked home for lunch.

I was the "new kid". I had been at Belt Line Junior High only two months and I was lost in a massive student body.  My life  had been dramatically turned upside.

My father changed jobs and the family moved from Abernathy, Texas to North Dallas, Richardson, Texas in August of 1963. Living all my life in the small town of Abernathy, Texas, I was suddenly up rooted and transplanted to begin growing up in Big D.  To make the transition more difficult my voice was changing and a very wispy mustache appeared on my upper lip.
Dad would work in  Dallas but chose to live in Richardson because of the reputation of the public schools. But this wonderful new school, I had to attend, was an alien planet to me.  In Abernathy I attended school with the same 20 kids since first grade. Belt Line Junior High as part of Richardson High School had more students than the entire city population of Abernathy. As the smallest freshest fish in this gigantic adolescent ocean I was sure I would be eaten first. I thought I would never survive Richardson/Dallas, Texas. This is why I avoided the incredibly intimidating lunchroom and walked home for a snack.

In spite of all this drama in my life, today Dallas, my new home town, will host the President of the United States. The idea that the actual President of the United States was physically 45 minutes from this new school was impressive to anyone even if they did NOT grow up in Abernathy.

My Mom had the television on and we watched local WFAA coverage of Air Force One landing at Love Field. The first Lady Jacqueline Kennedy, in a pink outfit and pill box hat, was first to exit the plane.  Then President Kennedy exited looking regal, waving and smiling to the cheering crowd.  At the bottom of the runway stairs he walked away from his security detail and greeted those who were straining at the fence to see him.  A reporter said he was brave to do that given the fear surrounding his visit.  Once the motorcade started there was no more television coverage, I wolfed down a tuna sandwich and headed back to school about 12:20.  My next class was Study Hall. 

As we began to settle into study hall  there was a rumble that the President had been shot. Kids were whispering it but no one seemed to know where the story came from.  It was as if the information was just in the air.  This girl I liked was very upset and almost in tears.  "It is a stupid rumor", I said, "I went home for lunch and just now saw him on television. He got off the plane and into his car. He hasn't been shot." The fact that the new kid had just seen the President on television made everyone feel better. Especially the girl I liked. It was a momentary victory for the new guy.

Moments later the  school PA system interrupted the quiet of the study hall.  Our principal said that the President had been shot. I remember to this day the look I got  from that girl I liked. Fifteen minutes later they gave the official announcement: President Kennedy was dead. There was a gasp followed by sniffling and crying. 

My next class was History. Only years later did I see the irony of living history that day rather than studying it.  The teacher became the moderator for the questions everyone had. Local reporters were grabbing anyone who witnessed the assassination and sticking them on television and radio. Some how this information was making its way into our class. Students were asking questions. Was it four shots or three? What is this grassy knoll and where is Dealey Plaza?  At one point it was rumored that Our Governor John Connally was dead.  I remember the History teacher getting everyone's attention and saying, "The  latest is the presidents assassin shot a policeman in Oak Cliff and the Dallas police have arrested him.  His name is Lee Harvey Oswald."  I thought it was very strange that although no one was certain how many shots were fired or where the fatal shots had come from or who fired them - the Dallas Police had arrested the assassin an hour and a half after it happened. Case closed crime solved.  It was too quick for even a junior high student to believe possible.

School was out at 3:00 and by the time I got home nothing was on the television but the "tragedy in Dallas".  I was sure that there would be different information by now, shedding more light on the quick arrest of Lee Harvey Oswald,  To my surprise the story I heard in History class didn't change. They had the guy, there were no other "person's of interest".  Oswald was already being referred to as the "lone gunman".  Once again it was hard to believe.

Over the next few hours Oswald is paraded around the police station for the television reporters.   Sunday morning Oswald is shot and killed at the Police station by a nightclub owner.  A lone gunman kills the lone gunman. The truth would  forever spin just out of reach.
Lyndon Johnson appoints a "commission" to investigate and find the truth.  The Warren Commission eventually concludes that the story I heard an hour after the assassination was the truth. That didn't make logical sense.  Johnson sealed the evidence records for 75 years.  That didn't make logical sense either. If the Warren Commission had done such a perfect job... why was it necessary to lock up the evidence for so long. That is when term "cover up" came into my vocabulary.
The assassination became a teen-age after thought as I discovered that a small fish in a gigantic adolescent ocean has a lot of room to swim. Belt Line Junior High changed the obit of my life and the Kennedy assassination will always be a part of my changed life.  

I doubt I will write much about the assassination 25 years from now. That's when we get to open the little black CLUE envelope to see who really did it.  I hope I'm still writing  twenty five years from now, but no more about the assassination. That story has now been told. Game over.
I think it was Col. Mustard in the Library with the lead pipe. 

As you were,

Jay

Catch A Falling Star

Tomorrow is the actual anniversary of the Kennedy Assassination. The media has been all Kennedy all the time. I have watched every one of the retrospectives. If you follow this blog you know I have written about the assassination several times over the last week. There is one more JFK essay to go, it will appear in this blog tomorrow and be the last Kennedy article for a while. 

Everyone old enough remembers exactly where they were when they heard about the assassination. I've written about that.  No more conspiracy theories just the memories of a new kid at Belt Line Junior High.

But--

It's time for a Kennedy break. Time to write of other things again.

It gets dark so early now I am not sure what time this happened last evening. As I open the door to let my dog Boo go outside, I notice it is overcast and misting. I stay outside to encourage her to be quick. I am not sure how wet she will get from this very light percipitation. The mist is too fine to even call it rain, tiny particles make the yard sparkle. I look up to see the driveway light reflecting off the small drops resting on the tree leaves. They look like stars on a overcast night. Then...

Movement in the sky distracts my attention.  At first just a shadow I can't identify.  There is no sound of a plane or helicopter only silence. As I focus in on the object it flashes red for a moment. Not like the light on an aircraft more like a glow sweeping over the object.  I can see it as a shadow against the grey sky, it is oval shaped. It's altitude is hard to judge but it is between me and the high clouds.  It appears to be moving or rather hovering just above the large ash tree. I don't think to reach for my camera but consider the possibility the unidentified floating object is an actual UFO, an alien craft attempting to land on my driveway.

The closer it gets the more detail I can see. It is not frightening so I walk to the driveway directly beneath it.  It gets almost close enough for me to touch it. There is no writing on it, nothing to identify it.  I am very excited as it gets closer, I know what this means.  The UFO becomes an IFO, identified is a star-shaped red helium filled Mylar balloon gently losing altitude and floating right into my hands. Just like Roswell, my flying saucer turns out to be a balloon.

I have no idea how far it traveled, nor what occasion it celebrated. No written greeting printed on it, just a red party balloon. It had plenty of helium and should have continued to soar higher and higher except for the weather. The weight of the mist sticking to the Mylar had eventually weighed it down to my level.  Inside I dried it off and the red star quickly floated to the top of my ceiling. Finally I remembered my camera and took a picture.

I see it as a good omen.  The native Americans believe if you could catch an Eagle feather before it hit the ground it would bring you magic.

Then there's the old Perry Como song that goes:  "Catch a falling start and put it in your pocket - save it for a rainy day."  I thought the event ripe with positive metaphor and symbolism. It was a good thing.   The mist delivered me a gift.  I caught a falling star.

As you were,

Jay

Anniversary Break

Body of Evidence

In the 1980 book "Best Evidence" author David S. Lifton concentrates on the physical evidence of the Kennedy murder. The "best evidence" in any murder case is the body of the victim. Once you determine how someone died you work backwards to means, weapon, motive, then suspect.  There is no question that the autopsy of John Kennedy's body was botched.  Lifton's book is over 700 pages long and goes into meticulous medical detail deconstructing the Kennedy autopsy with all the countless flaws.  If you like those details you should read it.  However, don't expect it to play out like a CSI episode. 

First of all in 1963 it was not a federal crime to kill a president. It was just a murder to be handled like any other crime by the local police. The law in Dallas was clear that an autopsy of a murder victim be done by local medical examiners. The Secret Service, under orders from Lyndon Johnson, effectively stole the body from Dallas Police custody in what some witnesses described as tug of war with the Presidents casket. 

One hour and thirty minutes after Kennedy was shot and thirty minutes after he was pronounced dead at Parkland Hospital, Kennedy's body was loaded onto Airforce One at Love Field and flown to Washington. The plan was that the body be autopsied by Walter Reed Hospital Army doctors. 

After the arrival in Washington the chain of custody for the "best evidence" is unclear and contradictory. Although the television audience sees Jacqueline and Robert Kennedy get in the ambulance with the body they do not stay with it.  The presidents body was actually taken by helicopter to the Hospital.   Lifton suggests the body is taken to Walter Reed Hospital where an autopsy was begun. But Robert Kennedy and the First Lady pointed out that John Kennedy was a Navy man. Walter Reed is an Army Hospital.  Bethesda is a Naval Hospital and the family insists the body be taken there for the autopsy.

The Bethesda autopsy is performed by Commander James J. Humes, MC, USN: director of laboratories of the National Medical School, Naval Medical Center, Bethesda. He was not experienced in gun shot wounds.  He was not a forensic pathologist nor medical examiner.  He had never performed an autopsy for a murder investigation. Instead of trying to find out what the evidence was telling him, he was listening to what people in the operating room were saying happened.  

The official version of the autopsy report is not the original.  Dr. Humes burned his original notes in his fireplace before submitting a revised version. It seems he was pressured into changing his statement on the trajectory of the head wound. If the Presidents head wound did not go back to front then there was a problem with the lone assassin theory. The case was already solved by the Dallas police, they had their lone gunman in custody.  The autopsy had to show that the bullet came from the back for that case to stand. 

The most stunning information in the Lifton book is a reprint of the autopsy transcript taken directly from the Warren Commission Report.  Dr. Humes states the time of day and says, "We are beginning the autopsy of President John Kennedy. Visual observation shows there has been surgery to the top of the Presidents head". He continues, describing the incisions he is making. But wait..."Surgery to the top of the Presidents head?" When and by whom? David Lifton finds no record that Parkland did any "surgery" to the Presidents head wound.  They distorted the Presidents throat wound when they performed a tracheotomy but nothing to his head wound. Witnesses at Bethesda say the President's body arrived in an aluminum army transport casket, not the ceremonial casket from Dallas, the one seen loaded and unloaded from the plane. 

Writer Lifton goes on to postulate a theory that the "best evidence" was altered to fit a pre-determined script at Walter Reed.  When all you have is a tainted autopsy report anything can be assumed. 

The  brain of President Kennedy has vanished from the National Archives so there won't be any further investigation or re-examination of that evidence.  There's not just one big thing about the Kennedy Murder Mystery that smacks of conspiracy and coverup there are so many little things.  Nothing seems to ring true and it is for sure we will never know the truth.

As you were,

Jay

Classic Auguste and Tramp Joey

Comedy/Tragedy - Happy/Sad - Yen/Yang - Toppo & Bobo

Kennedy Connection

I am not an avid reader but I have read almost every book on the subject of the Kennedy Assassination. (I can even spell assassination without looking it up). There have been some completely loony theories, some creative theories and some compelling theories on the subject. I have my own opinion based upon the local coverage from WFAA in Dallas immediately after the shooting.  

I am not a "lone gunman" believer.  I will never be sure exactly how Oswald was involved, but think he was more of a patsy than anything else. Once you open up the possibility that it was a planned operation it gets difficult to follow. It is not so important if the secret service driver of the limo pulled a hand gun and shot the President, or if it was E. Howard Hunt who shot the President from a storm drain below Elm Street. Obviously those are crucial details in the murder but what group is responsible for the plot to kill the President. Three groups are usually thought of as suspects.  They are:

1) The CIA. It is true that Kennedy didn't like the CIA and they didn't like him.  He was supposed to support the CIA Bay of Pigs invasion with air support but he didn't and the operation was a disaster.  Kennedy was quoted as saying he was going to "splinter the CIA into a thousand pieces and scatter it into the winds". 

Side note: Allen Dulles, head of the CIA was fired by Kennedy over the Bay of Pigs incident. Several of his staff resigned in protest including deputy director Charles Cabell.  Allen Dulles was later appointed to the Warren Commission by Lyndon Johnson.

2)The Mafia.  It is believe that the Mob helped Kennedy get elected in a very close race with Nixon.  There were voting districts in the Chicago area that seem to have been as tainted as any in Florida during the 2000 election.  Sam Giancana, the Chicago boss, was said to have "influenced" the ballot boxes in several districts.  However, once in office JFK unleashes his brother as Attorney General who began to crack down on organized crime with a manic passion.  Carlos Marcello, New Orleans mob boss was dogged by Robert Kennedy and is quoted as saying, "Take the stone from my shoe" meaning get Bobby Kennedy off his back.  Santos Trafficante the Miami/Cuba mob boss said, "If you cut the dogs tail off the head will still bite. If you cut the dogs head off the tail no longer wags." The Traficante idea was, kill the president and his brother will no longer be the Attorney General. After he heard that President Kennedy had been killed, Jimmy Hoffa is quoted as saying "Well, that makes Bobby Kennedy just another lawyer, doesn't it?" (Five years later Bobby was assassinated when it looked like he might become president) 

3)Wealthy Texas Right Wing Radicals.  Dallas hated Kennedy and the day he arrived for the visit there was a full page ad in the Dallas Morning News accusing him of treason and calling for his impeachment.  Months before Adli Stevenson was physically assaulted by a protester when he was visiting Dallas, Texas. Dallas in particular, was a hot bed of hatred toward the Kennedys. Earl Cabell was mayor of Dallas at the time of the assassination. He was the third generation of a Cabell as mayor of Dallas. His Father and Grandfather had both been mayor of Dallas. More importantly Earl Cabell is the brother of Charles Cabell ousted deputy director of the CIA.  The fact that the route of the motorcade through Dallas needed the Mayor's approval has always been a curious connection to the tragedy. 

It is possible to make a case that any one of these three "groups" could have motive to plan and execute the assassination. They were all one in reality.  Here is how they connect.

It is easy to connect the Mafia and the CIA. They were both working together to take Cuba back from Castro. For the CIA it was strategic and for the Mob it was business since all their casinos had been nationalized and then closed by Castro. Frank Angelo Fiorini was in several branches of the United States military, aided Fidel Castro in the Cuban revolution of 1958, and worked as an undercover operative for the CIA. When Castro won the revolution he appointed Frank Fiorini as "head of national gaming" for Cuba. Fiorini was the contact between Castro and the Mafia operations of the casinos for a year after the revolution.  Fiorini left Cuba when Castro closed the mafia hotels. It is obvious he continued in the employ of the CIA. Frank Fiorini later changed his name to Frank Sturgis and was arrested in the Watergate Break in. He alone proves the link between the CIA, Cuba and the Mafia. 

It is also easy to connect rich Texas Right Wing radicals with the CIA at the time.  In the early late 50's early 60's George H.W. Bush owned the Zapata Offshore Company, a subsidiary which specialized in offshore drilling in Houston Texas. Although Mr. Bush would later become head of the CIA, Vice-President and eventually President there is no proof that he was CIA during his oil company days. However, two of the ships used in the Bay of Pigs invasion (provided by a wealthy un-named Texas oil man) were named the "Zapata" and the "Barbara" two names closely associated with George H.W. Bush. In the Warren commission it states that private citizen George H. W. Bush was "briefed" on the assassination investigation by the government the day after the event.  This was before Mr. Bush was part of the official government. He was one of the only private citizens to receive an official briefing.  I am not implying that "George the first" had anything to so with the assassination of John Kennedy. I simply point out that the over lap between the prime suspects in this case is more than coincidental. 

So there you have it 50 years later and it is still a mystery.  I suggest it will always be.  There is no smoking gun proof of anything including the theory that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I am pretty sure the Warren Commission got it wrong, but it will be the only story that will survive ultimately.  Twenty-five years from now we will find an empty file that will lead to more mystery.

As you were,

Jay   

The Dealey Plaza Plot

The sixth floor corner window of the Texas School Book Depository is still referred to as the "sniper's nest".  It was a great location to shoot from, but totally misused by the sniper. 

I become very long winded talking about the Kennedy Assassination. I don't apologize. It will soon be 50 years ago and someone has to question the official story of the Warren Commission before that version of history wins by attrition.  

Dealey Plaza Dallas 1963

I don't believe the fatal head shot that killed President Kennedy came from the infamous "sniper's nest" of the Texas School Book Depository. There are hundreds of books by hundreds of authors who can explain in detail why they think that statement is true. I have read most of them and they are all compelling.  However, most people lose interest in the details of a 50 year old crime. Even one of such national importance. The investigation was botched from the beginning as well as covered up.  Even if you assume there was no conspiracy the records are sealed for 75 years or until 2038. That in itself could qualify as a cover up. Since no one can ever say with certainty, what happened on 11/22/63 it will always be mystery. 

Here is how I cut to the chase to cast doubt on the single assassin theory of the Kennedy Assassination. It is my elevator pitch. Enough for the curious who have no attention for long stories. 

Above is a picture map of Dealey Plaza 1963, the Kennedy motorcade route drawn in red.  The Book Depository is colored yellow and the sniper's nest is the black dot. The yellow "X" is approximately where the fatal shot hit "the target".   

Notice that instead of going straight to the freeway on Main Street due south,  the President's car made an odd right turn on Houston Street for only one block and then a left turn onto Elm. It was the only turn the motorcade made during the entire downtown Dallas parade. With all streets closed there was no reason not to continue on down Main.  

The "target" slows down and turns directly toward the sniper on Houston Street continuing to move closer for the length of a city block. (that would be the area shaded in blue) From that position the sniper could look directly into the target's eyes with the scope. It would be very hard to miss a shot like that and at the speed and direction he would have plenty of time to aim. But the sniper does not take that shot.  

The "target" slows again to make a left turn directly in front of and below the "snipers nest". The sniper is as close as he will ever be to the target, six floors directly above.  But the sniper does not take that easy shot either.  He waits until the "target" turns moving at a 45 degree angle away from his position which by then is partly obscured by the trees below.  This is the shot he takes. Unlike the straight on shot this angle has a very low percentage of being a successful kill shot. 

Told you... most people lose interest by now, but there it is; just one small mystery among the thousands about this murder that will never be answered, not even in 2038.

As you were,

Jay

Still 25 years Away...

This is a reprint of a post I did several years ago on the anniversary of the Kennedy Assassination. A week from this Friday it will be 50 years ago to the day of the week.  That amount of time is hard for me to comprehend, and yet we are still 25 years away from opening all the files of the case.  President Lyndon B. Johnson sealed the records of the assassination for 75 years in 1963. Even if I knew I would be alive and aware enough in 2065 to care about what has been sealed, I am sure there is nothing left to discover. There is no black envelope like a game of Clue that will be opened in 2065 that says, "Professor Oswald, in the Book Depository with a Mannlicher Carcano M91/38 rifle". The reason you seal up records for so long is to give time for the people who destroyed evidence and  files to die. Well done shadow government, well done.

 

Friday 11/22/63

My family moved to Dallas in August of 1963. Three months later JFK was assassinated on Friday, November 22, 1963 in downtown Dallas. The city would never be the same, me neither. I was just old enough to be affected by the events. The Dallas news covered the assassination as a local news. For the first few hours stories coming out of Dallas were different than the version the Warren commission would later deify.

Dealey Plaza is only a block from WFAA, the Dallas ABC Television station. People were literally pulled from the street and put in front of a camera and their immediate eye witness testimony recorded, minutes after they witnessed the murder. It was as raw and instantaneous as an interview can be. There was no time to think of the story or remember incorrectly. Every person interviewed at the time stated that the shots came from the Grassy Knoll or the Triple over pass, in front of the Presidents car. They also testified to four shots not three, two happening so close together they almost sounded like a single shot. That factor alone would prove a conspiracy.

But what got me was the speed at which the Dallas police were able to solve the crime of the century. In less than two hours after the shots were fired, Lee Harvey Oswald was in custody. Fourteen minutes after the shots were fired the Dallas police broadcast Oswald's description as the killer. Martin Luther King's was murdered in much the same way by a "lone assassin" using a rifle fired from a building and it took the FBI more than two months to catch James Earl Ray. I would love to think the Dallas police were that good at their jobs back then, but it reeked of set up and conspiracy to me even then.

The Dallas police caught Oswald at the Texas Theatre. The ticket seller called the police because a man entered the theatre without paying. Although the President had just been shot and the crime scene was several miles away, 30 police officers were sent to apprehend the movie goer. At the theatre they accused Oswald of being the assassin. There was at that time nothing to connect the movie going vagrant as the presidential killer.

Oswald was only in custody for 48 hours before he was shot to death at the police building. He was denied his right to have a lawyer, even though he asked for one from the moment he got to the station. Although the police were telling the reporters he was the assassin, they did not have enough evidence to officially charge him with that crime.

That is probably why I got so hung up on seeking the truth of what happened. I'm still looking. I think I have read every major book on the Assassination and a few goofy ones. There are those who still believe in the single bullet theory and the lone assassin. I never know what to say to such a belief. There is more compelling evidence for the existence of Big Foot than there is to support either of those Warren Commission assertions. Even the House on Assassinations Committee, who did their own investigation into the Kennedy assassination in 1975, came to the conclusion that the Kennedy assassination was "probably" a conspiracy. But no one ever tried to find out more than that.

I didn't need the Nixon years to convince  me that the government was crooked. I knew it even then. By the way, the files that might actually shed some light on the whole event. They were sealed up for 75 years by Lyndon Johnson. That's thirty years from now. I doubt anyone will care by then, and Big Foot will probably be head of homeland security.

(The picture above of me holding the newspaper is a couple of decades old taken at Laughs Unlimited Comedy Club in Sacramento, CA. Even then I was obsessed.)

As you were,

Jay

A game of Chance?

Sandi and I played darts with a couple last night at Kings Head in the Valley.  As I packed my darts in a carrying case to take to the bar, I came across my Southern California Darts Association membership card. It was dated 1986. My life as a competitive dart player flashed before my eyes.

I was co-captain of a dart team called "The Masked Men".  I formed the team of video camera men and production types with a girl friend named Eden. Eden was a five foot two, 24 year old busty blond pixie with a great sense of humor.  I didn't know her very well before we formed the team.  She was the booth PA for my show "So You Think You Got Troubles". I was in front of the camera and she was in the booth with the director in another room. Eden was somewhat of a savant with numbers and on her way to becoming a director one day.

I had a party for the cast and crew of that show at my house.  Eden was there and I saw her looking intently at the dart board I had in the den. I was serious about darts with a regulation bristle board. Eden said, "Do you like to play darts?" The truth was I was just learning how to really play, the board was fairly new. However, a dart game is a very good way to get to know someone so I said, "I love darts. You want to play a game?"

She looked semi-interested and said, "What kind of games do you play?"

As any man might do, I decided to impress this young girl with my vast knowledge.  I explained the most common games. I described 301 double in double out.  501 single in double out.  Cricket, with points and CutThroat.  I explained that the outer ring was worth double the points and the inter ring triple. I explained how you could hit a triple twenty and score more points than a double bulls eye which was only 50.

She said, "Do  you have any darts?" Once again I launched into an explanation of the weight, the barrel length and the flights of darts. I took several sets of darts from the drawer and laid them out. I said that they were like golf clubs and you had to find the right weight and length for your throwing style.  She looked at a couple of sets and tried throwing one or two.  She was not sure which ones were better for her.  She said, "Sure I'll play. What is that 501 game?"

I explained the rules in detail.  She said, "Do you play for money?" 

I said, "You can play any game for money I guess."

"Well then, let's play for five dollars." 

"I don't want to take your money."

"It's okay," she said, "it will be like I am paying for a dart lesson.  It will make it more interesting." 

I said, "Well, why not, sure."

With that she opened her purse and took out a personalized leather case containing a custom weighted set of her own darts.  I realized I had been played already. 

She said, "I thought you knew, my boyfriend is a team player in the Southern California Darts Association. We play in bars all the time."

It was me who ended up paying for a dart lesson.  I learned really fast that darts is a game of skill and a game of numbers, it is most certainly not a game of chance. Eden and I formed "The Masked Men" and played for several years winning three first place trophies over that span. 

In 1986 she was killed after losing control of her car on the 405 Freeway and slamming into an over pass support.  She was returning home from a dart game.  It was a life cut far too short. It ended our team and my participation in the Southern California Darts Association. 

I remembered this morning that yesterday was her birthday. My birthday is 7/11  and hers was 11/7 and we were both superstitious about those numbers. Eden is missed by everyone who knew her, she would have been pleased that I played darts again on her birthday.

As you were,

Jay 

From the Vivle

Happy Hump Day

Monkeys

How many ways are these monkeys different?

The quote

I was raised in a fundamentalist church when I was a kid in Texas. In fact my Dad's parents were founding members of that local organization.  The church had very strict ideas about what was holy and what was not especially when it came to women.  Makeup was frowned upon like jewelry and other "sinful" adornments.  My Mom and Dad were obedient to a degree but did not buy into all the rules.  Particularly the ones they did not think had any religious purpose. 

One Sunday at dinner, after church, my brother said, "Daddy what is a harlot?"  If we had been doing a sitcom Dad would have spit his coffee out but this was real life.
My Dad had a thing about bad words.  I never heard him curse at anything. He would even say, "I don't give a rats bottom".. rather than say rat's ass. Later he shortened that to RB because bottom was a little strong.
So, here is Dad who doesn't even say "bottom" and the "H" word has just hit the Family Sunday dinner table. Not wanting to commit to a definition of the word until he had more information Dad said, "Where did you hear a word like that?"

My brother said he heard it in Sunday school that morning. Dad said, "Was it the story about Jesus saying 'let him who is without sin cast the first stone'?" 

This confused my older brother. That is not the context in which the word was used.  My brother said, 

"Well, no.  It's just,  the Sunday school teacher said a harlot is a woman who wears lipstick.  Since Mommie wears lipstick I wondered if she was a harlot?"

That afternoon my family became Methodist.  We never went back to that church again. 

Later in my college years I began to read new thought books and found they were closer to the way I felt about my faith than some of the more traditional churches.  I eventually discovered Christian Science which, for me, was kind of the bridge between the two philosophies and joined that Church as an adult. As I continued to study, I followed some teachers and practitioners who left the structure of the Christian Science organization so they could express their own interpretation of Life. I liked what they had to say even if Christian Science declared their writings "NOT Authorized". Eventually the CS organization did not fill my spiritual needs any longer so I gave up my membership.  I am now a free spirit. I still attend services that lift me up, but I will probably never become a card carrying member of any religious organization. I feel like every religion, at its foundation, has good things to help improve our quality of existence. The problems creep in trying to make a "club" out of a philosophy and call it a church.
I collect quotes from writers, teachers and philosophers who make sense no matter what flavor of religion they served. These quotes become little meditations that I can think on during the day and feel better. If it is a quote from Mary Baker Eddy I would write CS at the bottom so I would know it was found in Christian Science. I use JS for Joel Goldsmith, well, you get the idea. I still find scraps of paper stuffed in various places with some spiritual jewel on it.  That was the case this week when I was clearing out some old "dead files". 

I came across this quote printed in my best block lettering on the back of a cocktail napkin.
It said:

"Do what you want when you want, cause you can do anything" CS.  

I took it as a Christian Science statement and applied this wisdom to my daily chores. Somehow it empowered me to take some risks and believe I could do anything I set my mind to do. It was inspirational.  My day was more productive.

As I was falling asleep listening to Pandora  last night, I sat straight up in bed after hearing that phrase in a song.  Because Internet music provides instant information on the artist and the song I managed to discover something interesting.  

"Do what you want when you want, cause you can do anything..." is not a religious quote. It is from a 70's  song entitled "Where do the Children Play".  The block printed  CS on my "cocktail napkin chestnut" did not stand for Christian Science.... the CS stood for CAT STEVENS. 

Inspiration is what you do with it. 

As you were,

Jay 

Auditory Joke

"We deriver"

It was  millionaire publisher Charles Foster Kane who declared, "Just get me the picture and I'll provide the story." The editorial direction of TWIAS (this blog) patterns itself after the Kane declaration of journalism.  

Here is the picture and I am trying to blog a joke which will connect text and image. Unfortunately, the joke I have in mind is a uniquely linguistic joke that should only be spoken  out loud.  I am not sure it can actually  be written in prose or text, but here goes. *

I suggest that the reader speak the joke out loud, as written, to comprehend the vocal inflections and phonics that impact the timing of the humor.

A man orders a chicken dish at a Chinese restaurant. After he has had a chance to taste it the Asian waiter asks, "How you chicken dinnea?" 

The man thinks for a moment and says, "Well to be honest the chicken was rubbery."

The waiter beams and says, "Shank You Berry Mush. Grad you rike it." *

Be the life of the party. Repeat this joke out loud as often as you can for your friends and family until you are sure it is no longer funny.
As you were,

Jay

*Ignore the following paragraph. 

Blog Newz

Day of the Dead

The day of the dead is an oxymoron.  Seems to me the very definition of being dead is having no more days, but logic never stopped living humans from constructing reasons to celebrate. And by golly since everyone knows someone who is dead, everybody can celebrate.  We celebrate the "day of the dead" less in America because it is not a retail holiday. America likes retail holidays the best. We like to celebrate holidays that can turn a profit. 

Lest we forget Mother's Day was an invention of the Hallmark Greeting card company, designed to sell more cards.   Think about the marketing of candy companies for Valentine's Day, costume shops for Halloween and Flowers for Mothers day. They also cross market with Flowers for Valentine's Day and candy for Halloween;  You get the point.

Unfortunately we can't send cards to dead people. and no product has been able to co-opt the "day of the dead" as its own.  Having a College degree in marketing, I can tell you that a lot of marketing techniques are based on guilt. Living people provide more guilt than dead people can. The dead can't complain they never get a card, flowers, candy or a call from their kids anymore because... well, they're dead.  Perhaps it is as simple as that. 

That is not to say -  there is no money to be made on the dead. Elvis is raking in more money now than when he had to tour. Marilyn Monroe can claim the same tax bracket among the choir invisible. 

Halloween is over till next year, so this is one last chance to close with a dead joke.  A dead joke for Day of the Dead:

St. Peter arrives at the Pearly Gates early to see a longer line than usual. He needs to separate the new arrivals so he can assign them wings and says, "We're taking couples first. Wives in this line, husbands in this one." Then he divides the men into two lines and says,

"Over here the men who were obedient to their wife and always did what she told them to do. Over there they guys who never obeyed their wives." 

Hundreds of men line up in the obedient line, except for one guy. He occupies the only place in the disobedient cue. St Peter is interested. He walks up to the guy and says, "Wow. We see very few of your kind, Tell me how you got here."  

The guy says,

"My wife told me to stand here. The line is shorter." 

Okay, it may not be the best Day of the Dead joke you hear today, but it is  not political, racist, obscene, anti/pro religious and not really sexist. Perhaps that is why it is not so funny.
Buenos día de los muertos

As you were,

Jay

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Today we honor St. Beanie of Cecil...