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F—ing Nazis

August 14, 2017 Leave a comment

When threatening nuclear war is only the 2nd worse thing the President has done this week, it may be time for an intervention (surely threatening nuclear winter is against Twitter’s terms of service, no?).

We now live in a nation so polarized we can’t even all agree that Nazis are bad. Fucking Nazis.

166It took the President of the United States 3 days to publicly condemn rampaging Nazis killing a US civilian, on US soil. Fucking Nazis…..running down a slew of bystanders, and killing  an innocent woman, in broad daylight, in front of the world’s cameras. In America. Our fathers and grandfathers fought and won a war over this shit. And this is how our nation repays that debt? By electing a guy shamelessly supported by fucking Nazis? What’s next? Khmer Rouge t shirts? When the press asked the President why it took him so long to call out fucking Nazis, the President ignored the question and walked out of the room.

My President. Your President. Our President. Think about this. Rationally. Please. His silence is providing shade to fucking Nazis. You ok with that?

Yea yea, I know. You voted for him and you are not a Nazi. Congratulations. But before going to the polls I always ask myself a simple question. Am I voting for the guy that the Nazis want to win? If the answer is no, then I can come home to some Yuenglings and benzos and sleep the sleep of the just. If it’s yes, I’d question my……well…..entire belief system…..

You can’t reason with Nazis. That’s pretty much a historical fact. You might have a chance of getting through to a Trump supporter…although the one today who defended Trump’s reluctance to condemn Nazis on Hillary’s emails might be a hard sell. But as long as he’s not sieg heiling for the cameras, dressed like a 90s era Blockbuster video clerk, carrying a tiki torch (did anybody else find this bit hilarious?), firing off spittle in all directions….you’ve got a fighting chance. Always believe in the better angels of our nature. (Except when it comes to fucking Nazis)

My daughter came to me the other day and said…in a voice of utter incomprehension, “But Dad, they’re fucking Nazis…”

Generally I frown on that type of language, but I was strangely serene about it. Still am.

And last night she was front and center at the Scranton peace rally in solidarity with Charlottesville. Wearing her “Black Lives Matter” t-shirt. Like that old Robert Conrad battery commercial….daring somebody to knock it off. Because she’s a good kid. A kind and gentle soul with the heart of a lion who hates fucking Nazis. She’s what our nation needs more of, apparently. To use a Trump term….I find this….well…SAD!

But then again….for every pro-fascist troll lurking on Facebook comment pages today, blaming black people or Benghazi for a Nazi running over and killing an innocent woman in his car, there are 100….maybe 1000 people utterly gobsmacked that somebody is actually taking the time to cover up for fucking Nazis. There is hope. If I wasn’t the father of my daughters I might not think so, but I am and I know there is. Because if they are our future, the future is dim for fucking Nazis.

Where does the hate come from? That’s the question that remains unanswered. Why are white guys who ooze privilege outing themselves as racist buffoons? For what purpose? If these guys were waving signs advertising a sale at the local Gap store they might have done a roaring business. But we’re being led to believe these are our nation’s disenfranchised? Our tired and poor? Our homegrown huddled masses? It would be really funny if one could work up a sense of humor about Nazis.

Not sure where this leaves us. Diminished no doubt. Our President has the overwhelming support of the Nazi Party…….something even a heartless racist bastard like Nixon would abhor, he being a Navy vet with 2 battle stars. Heel spurs be damned man….Nixon was mean as catshit, but he at least had some balls. Trump is a pussy.

I realize calling the President of the United States a “pussy” might seem a bit disrespectful. But it was just this type of built-in ass-tightening in the face of authority that allowed the cocksucker to slither into the Oval office in the first place. I’m not having it anymore Bubba.

Fuck fascists. Fuck Nazis. And fuck you Mr. President.

In a bit..

–tf

Categories: Uncategorized

As George Bush, no longer the dumbest President ever, once said…”bring it on”…

July 25, 2017 Leave a comment

We have become a nation of moral cowards. Seemingly every time our President opens his mouth (or twiddles his thumbs) he says something offensively, outrageously fucking stupid.

The other day he confused life insurance with health insurance. The President of the United States literally does not know what fucking health insurance even IS.

And yet? Nothing. How much longer will we accept being humiliated in front of the rest of the world?

History is a bitch of a judge. Choose carefully boys and girls. Once you’re on the wrong side of this one, there ain’t no coming back.

ps

“But her emails…..”

…….so went my latest facebook post……some spleen-venting into the ether of the dumbosphere. Since like most I tend to congregate amongst my own kind, there were no dissenters, although I suspect some verbally challenged right wing vulgarian with a Hillary hard-on is searching for the usual “Obama is a Muslim and hates America” response…..hopefully with the words all spelled correctly and the proper usages of “their” “there” “they’re” “your” “you’re” “too” “to” et al…..

I ask for so little.

As George Bush, no longer the dumbest President ever, once said…”bring it on”. I do not argue. I delete.

My life is a tad shallow these days….so I take my fun any way I can get it. Remember, no matter where you are, there’s always somebody dumber than you in the room. It’s a near mathematical certainty.

26scouts-master768Trump is fresh off his best Nuremberg rally impersonation, spewing 4th grade-level bile to thousands of perplexed boy scouts yesterday, demanding their “loyalty” like some coke-fueled African dictator surrounded by his personal militia. As low as he’s managed to set the bar, he still, somehow, almost daily, slithers under it. Recall that his Trump-Youth speech was preceded by an on the record conversation with a reporter in which he clearly and unapologetically admitted to the world that he doesn’t know the difference between health insurance and life insurance. Not a big surprise for a man who thinks that Frederick Douglass is still alive mind you, but still a bit of a stretch for someone who somehow talked 63 million people into voting for him. The fact that a decent percentage of that 63 million had better hope they never get fucking sick again until the day they die probably won’t sway them in the slightest because…..well…Benghazi.

But I digress, as I often do when I’m writing and feeling thoroughly convinced that we’re totally doomed. I see nothing redeemable on the horizon. Even if our nation collectively comes to its senses and forces Jeff Sessions to frog-march Trump out of DC wearing a jump suit the same color as his face/hair……we still gotta explain this one to the next generation. It’s like that tattoo you got after drinking that 12 pack of PBRs. You can wear long sleeve shirts all you want…but that chick’s name is still there. And it’s different than your wife’s.

Surely this nonsense won’t continue for 4 years though, right? Well, it could I suppose. When Stalin had a stroke and was pissing himself on the floor, his minions were afraid to call a doctor for fear that maybe, you know, he’d get mad at them if he somehow didn’t die. That sorta explains Paul Ryan and Mitch McConnell and Pat Toomey fairly well I suspect, a pack of soulless cowards without a single ball between them. And the less said about that sorry old fool John McCain crawling away from his government sponsored brain surgery so he could start the ball rolling on fucking 20 million people out of even a fraction of that level of care, the better. I was taught to respect my elders.

At this point I honestly think Trump could sodomize a Shih Tzu live on Fox and Friends and gain support…..because Alex Jones would just tell everyone that Obama fucked a Golden Retriever at Bohemian Grove while dressed as a goat. Plus, Hillary harbors pedophiles in the basement of pizza parlors…so….you know….there is that.

After all, nearly 10 pct of US adults think that chocolate milk comes from brown cows….and when you finally wrap your head around that one, you’ll see that all sorts of things are possible.

So there ’tis…

In a bit..

–tf

Categories: Uncategorized

What we do…

June 11, 2017 Leave a comment

A hot Sunday. A day to do nothing. To remind ourselves how hard we work and how we deserve a day to sit on our ass and drink beer in the sun and watch the grass grow.  A day that “exercise” is defined as taking the garbage out.

But somebody needed help. There was a benefit set up by a friend. He asked for help. A friend had fallen on hard times. So….that was that. No hemming or hawing. Because that’s what friends do. Especially musician friends. What time do you need me? Ok, I’ll be there.

19055233_10212628971536688_4509321112557294172_oThat doesn’t make us special. It makes us human. Which is why I’m proud as fuck to be from here. Humanity abounds. There may not be any fucking jobs….but there’s humanity in spades.

The sound system was set up. Guitar cases piled up. Drums at center stage. And the music started and never stopped. A full shift. Six hours at least. There was a schedule…I think. But that gets obliterated quickly. If you’re there, you’re on call. Wanna play this one? Grab this guitar. Key of G. You’re tuned down a half step? Fuck. Gimme a capo dude…I got this. Prima Donnas….down a half step. Damn…how am I supposed to blow harp if you’re tuned down a half step?! Never mind…I got it…..I think…..

You play your instrument. Or somebody else’s. It doesn’t matter. It’s a community. If you can’t hit that harmony vocal, you just ask somebody else to do it. So he puts his beer down, finds an open mic, and nails it. Or maybe he nails it and doesn’t put his beer down. More likely actually. Or maybe he doesn’t nail it, but he tries like hell. That’s what live music is all about. Like a NASCAR race. Sometimes we crash too. We rubberneck as much as the guy on the freeway driving past the wreckage….but we got short memories, man. Because that chorus is coming back around in 20 seconds, and I got another chance. It’s called community, motherfucker.

People dance and drink and knock your microphone stands over and request songs while you’re playing songs….always a challenge but if they are dancing and knocking shit over and screaming requests it means they aren’t bored as fuck so you do what Steve Winwood suggested and you roll with it. There’s free beer at the foot of the stage too. Granted, it’s a keg of Keystone Light but…who the fuck do you think you are…..the Beatles? It’s free….and nobody thought to bring along a copy of their backstage rider saying they stopped drinking Keystone Light when they were 18 and finally got a job….and refuse to drink anything less prestigious than Budweiser or Coors Light…although we’d love to swill Guinness or Sam Adams but can’t afford this $4 pint nonsense….which is why we’re demolishing the keg of Keystone Light like dehydrated pirates…..and promise to never do so again….until the next time. Admirable self-denial, eh?

I digress. I frequently do. But you get it. I know you do.

So the night is old. We’re home. But with no regrets. A nightcap on the porch. With the crickets for company. We’ll sleep good. And once again we’re all glad we could do what amounts to little….but can sometimes mean so much. And tomorrow the cycle starts anew.

What I see is that, whatever it is that divides us, we’re still willing to come together and help those who need helping. Differences seem to disappear at times like this. Oh, they’ll probably come roaring back in the morning…….but that’s fine…..because that won’t undo what we’ve already come together for.

Wouldn’t it be great if things could be like this all the time? If, for the time that the guitars and drums are pounding, and the bar is moving rhythmically, like people on an escalator in an earthquake…we could lock in and fulfill the promises that we all want to make to each other but don’t for fear of being…..well…..

You get it. I know you do.

Let the music wash over you….like a waterfall. Join that drunken conga line when it rolls past your table. Drink the free beer. And when that call comes….just ask what time you should be there.

In a bit…

–tf

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The Shillelaghs return…

May 26, 2017 Leave a comment

June 2 at the V-Spot in Scranton…
shillelaghs

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Chris Cornell

May 18, 2017 1 comment

Who knows where the time goes? I woke up this morning to my beeping Iphone. A text from my nephew. Chris Cornell was dead, it said.

It didn’t register. It was 7am. Not much cuts through the haze at that hour for me.

130925191836-chris-cornell-red-chair-orig-00004611-story-topBut the fog lifted. It does every morning. And it was all too real. He was gone. Played a show, returned to his hotel room, and hung himself. The crowd and the amplifiers were still ringing in his head. But it wasn’t enough. We’ll never know why. Only those who deal with what both Winston Churchill and Nick Drake called “the black dog” can come close to comprehending what filled Cornell’s head last night. And even they will end up chasing shadows. You may be able to walk in a man’s shoes, but you can’t get inside his head.

We’ll learn more in the days ahead. A note maybe. Perhaps drugs….booze….the usual suspects. But still, it won’t change anything. Yet another gifted soul who changed lives for the better has decided that his own wasn’t worth the effort. And for that we’re all diminished.

By all accounts a monster talent, A rock vocalist with a 4 octave range…Soundgarden didn’t really sound like anything else coming out of Seattle because Cornell could do things with his voice that others could not. Call it whatever you want. Grunge. Metallic Punk. Loud Mountain Music. He could wail like Plant and snarl like Rotten, with a touch of the poet thrown in for good measure. Quite a combination when you stop and think about it. I once heard him sing Van Morrison’s “Crazy Love” with just an acoustic guitar and if the world ended when the song did, well, there’d be worse ways to go.

We’re about the same age. You forget that sometimes. In my late 20s……things started to change. Cornell. Cobain. Cantrell. Wood. Gossard and Vedder. It’s so easy to be cynical about what it became….$100 flannel shirts and copycats and and the like. But these were blue collar kids filled with angst and rage, surrounded by poverty and drugs and overdoses….drop-outs from broken homes. They had no patience for anything between a whisper and a scream. They closed ranks, supported each other, and kick-started rock and roll at a time when it was down for yet another standing 8 count. Most of them flew too close to the sun….and today we’re left to ponder the remains. But at least we can do so with a helluva soundtrack for company.

I listened. I was always listening. I had my guitar. My pen. It registered. I felt safer. More secure….writing the things I was writing. Playing the songs I was playing. Loud. Soft. Whispers. Screams. I learned. I’m still learning.

So what did I do today? I reached out to friends. The ones who are my age. I wanted to hear that they were ok. I wanted to remind them to hug their kids. To not wait. Do what you need to do, now. There is no promise of a tomorrow. When beautiful souls like Chris Cornell start hanging themselves from hotel bathroom doors, synapses start firing.

It’s late now. The house is dark and quiet. My kids are home….safe. Asleep. My wife lays beside me as I type these words. We’re vaccinated from it all…at least for one more night. But for the first time today, I feel like crying. Maybe that means something. I don’t know.

What may have changed his mind? What may have pushed him along to the next show? A kind word? A human touch? A new song? An “I love you Daddy” text from his daughter? So often we seek to anesthetize artificially……as if we don’t trust the natural methods. But then again…..it’s all about timing, isn’t it? We’re stubborn. We’re selfish. We want what we want and we want it now. Did he plan this? Was it some terrifying, spur of the moment impulse? A cry for help gone wrong? Did he realize his own gifts? His own power? His unique ability to get inside people’s heads and stay there? Or did the business of it all just leave the scar tissue…..the cynicism….

The world was a better place with Chris Cornell in it. But it ain’t gonna stop turning ’cause he’s gone. So that part’s on us.

So sing your song. And remember his.

In a bit..

–tf

Categories: Uncategorized

My catalog now on BandCamp

May 10, 2017 Leave a comment

I added my entire catalog to BandCamp.com

All my records….$7.00 each. Click below….

bandcamp_1000x515

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The Shillelaghs return! One night only..

May 3, 2017 Leave a comment

Our first full gig in 4 years!
Wiggy / Lenny / Moonie / Tom
We might even rehearse first!
SHILL POSTER BRITE

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