July 31, 2008


I've been hearing this song on WFPK off and on for about month and I always seemed to miss the musician and the title of it. While I was working on a story to post the song came on! I quickly went to wfpk.org where they display what's currently playing and there it was "Club Thing" by Yoav. None of the youtube videos of this song were available for embedding so I stripped the audio off of it using this nifty free software and made my own movie using Windows Movie Maker. You know this tune has got to be good if I went through all this trouble. I love this song and he does it with only his voice and an acoustic guitar!

From Wikipedia: Yoav Sadan is a singer-songwriter of Israeli-South African descent whose debut album Charmed And Strange was released in early 2008. Yoav's music is purely based on his own vocals and acoustic guitar, which he uses to create electronica-style beats with his hands.

Did I mention I love this song?

July 30, 2008

Chuck Prophet

These songs are from Chuck Prophet's "No Other Love" CD that have been loaded in my truck CD player forever so I decided to unload it and post a couple of my favorite songs from it. First is "After The Rain" and second is "Summertime Thing".

July 29, 2008

Our Wedding on 7/30 At 7:30, Hotel Room 730, Flight 730 Which Left At 7:30

The morning of July 30th, 1988 was overcast but it wasn't raining. The air was so heavy with moisture that a mist seemed to hang in the air. I remember that day seemed like a new but unknown day of the week. I went to the bookstore and bought a novel, not that I would be doing much reading for the next couple of weeks while on our honeymoon. Charlene and I were to be married at 7:30 that evening at Middletown Christian Church (which is now Summit Academy). A few weeks ago Charlene and I walked a few miles on the south side of Shelbyville Road and we waxed sad and nostalgic while looking through the glass doors into the old church lobby where we were both members. We walked away with warm but heavy hearts.

Brad and I were looking on, the processional came Abby, Noelle, Janet & John, Amy & Darrell, nine year old Tricia dropping rose petals, and seven year old Justin with the ring atop a small pillow. Everyone stood for the bride, looking radiant in her ivory wedding dress. Charlene wanted the ceremony to include communion. She said if we didn't, Jim Baughman would have us in and out of there in less than ten minutes. During a solo Charlene whispered that she felt she was going to pass out. She was so nervous she wasn't breathing.

Our wedding cake was amaretto and I'm not one for exaggeration but that's the best cake I've ever put in my mouth, before or since. There was quite a crowd for the wedding and reception, all of Abby and Noelle's friends, our friends and family. Afterwards we were driven in Charlene's car (for the life of me I cannot remember who drove us....somebody please comment and tell me if you remember) to the Seelbach Hotel. The room number was 730 and I've since wanted that same room to celebrate a future anniversary but the seventh floor is now the concierge level and you pay through the nose for a room on that level. The room was filled with balloons. Charlene's cousins were the guilty party. I don't know how they did it, but they did it.

The next morning Janet and John came to take us to the airport for our 7:30 flight to Florida. We stayed at a time share in Sebring, Florida provided by Norm and Reta Stivers for a week and then a fews days at Sabal Point. Nearby Sabal Point was Wekiwa Springs State Park which we decided to visit one day. Wekiwa Lake is spring fed and the water is a crystal clear and seventy-two degrees. It's quite a shock when you don't know this before you jump in the water. They offered canoeing so we found a bunch of canoes with no one around so we ass-u-me-d they were there for the taking. Charlene and I were about a quarter mile down stream when a park ranger came paddling to us and escorted us back. We had taken someone else's canoe! Luckily, we weren't arrested.

All the Sabal Point condos looked exactly alike and whenever we came back from our outings we would have to point the garage door opener at the condos while driving down the street and click away until we saw a garage door open. We never could remember the address number of our unit...duh. We ate out, we went to Disney World, we went to Sea World, we had alot of fun, and the time came when we came home to start our new life together. Charlene, Barry, Noelle, and Abby. Through the years add Ben, Hailee, and Tristan. It doesn't seem possible that it's been twenty years.

July 25, 2008

Our Walk

Charlene and I took advantage of the low humidity that blew into Louisville last Monday night and the next day walked our five mile walk, north, through our subdivision, across and to the other side of the rail tracks (as it were), through Anchorage, and back home. We've walked this route for years and this time I took a few pics along the way. We start out on St. Clair Drive. I looked up Saint Clair in Wikipedia and there are no Saints named Clair, however they did list a number of famous people with the name St. Clair, one of which was a porn actress by the name of Taylor Saint Clair. She's won numerous awards for her "acting." Ain't she cute?

St Clair ends and we make a left turn and walk on the edge of Old Henry Road for about one eighth mile, then turn right onto a gravel drive named Surrey Lane. We are officially in Anchorage now and you can almost feel the imperceptible shift to a more quiet, rarified snobbery in the atmosphere. The first house on the left is the childhood home of musician, Joan Osborne. Osborne was a Grammy nominee for Best Female Rock Vocal Performance in '96 for the song "Spiderweb". She didn't win.

Joan Osborne "Spiderweb."

You get the feeling that Surrey Lane is the red headed step-child of Anchorage as it's the only street in Anchorage that's not paved. I expect paving to start one day, but it never happens. We pass by the former home of Courtney Yartz, a guy I used to play tennis with. Across the street is a big honker of a house which was just recently built. Charlene and I followed it's progress while walking by it a couple of summers ago, from digging the foundation to the final landscaping. We turn right onto paved Glenbrook Avenue and we're more sure footed after the half mile of gravel. Columnist Bob Hill (who is retiring from the Courier Journal in August...sob...sniff) once said the tree ordinance in Anchorage is so strict that the leaves need permission to change color in the fall. You can't deny the beauty of the foliage though. Most of the trees are very old, very big, and you're rarely walking without a deep shade. Glenbrook has several streets that intersect with it; Lucas, Hazelwood, Spring Garden, ending with Osage Road. We turn left onto Osage and this marks the half way point of our walk. There are some immense, old houses on Osage, some of which are surrounded by five to ten acres of manicured park-like grounds shaded by trees up to 200 feet tall. At one point an ambulance comes speeding down Osage, lights and siren blazing. I tell Charlene a new resident must have received his first property tax bill. Anchorage has it's own school district and it's paid for by residents through their property tax, whether they have school aged children or not. If the mortgages in Anchorage won't give you a myocardial infarction, the property taxes might. There are some odd characters who live in Anchorage. I remember years ago, I worked for a lawn care company and I was spraying a lawn at a house on Osage. The resident, an elderly retired doctor, was hanging japanese beetle traps. He calls me over and asked if I knew how the bug traps worked. I said the trap attracts and traps the insects by the use of a chemically reproduced insect sex pheromone. He squinted at me and growled "yeah, bug pussy juice." I guess that might be one way to put it.
It's about a quarter mile down Osage, then a left turn onto North Evergreen Road and the business district of Anchorage. The buildings here are presently going through a major renovation and reconstruction, courtesy of none other than John Schnatter, who's footing the bill for all of it. Your pizza dollars at work. Whole buildings have been moved and new buildings have been built. It's slowly evolving into a Disney World Main Street. We're now walking on herringboned brick sidewalks, past buildings with tiled roofs, solid oak double doors, and huge palladium windows. Schnatter lives at the northern end of Anchorage in a "home" that was recently sited as the most expensive home in Jefferson County.

We walk south to Ridge Road which is the only road in Anchorage that has the breakneck speed limit of thirty five miles an hour! We turn left on Ridge and walk a short distance and turn right onto Log Cabin Lane. Log Cabin Lane was named for a log cabin which sits on the same street which was built over 200 years ago. Log Cabin Lane changes into Shady Lane which dead ends at a field which is in back of the private Catholic school of Little Angels Academy. Walking through the field we're back to Old Henry Road. We're now out of la la land and back in the real world of Middletown. We make a right onto Old Henry and a short distance to Evergreen. I remember when you could drive onto Evergreen from St. Clair and rarely have to stop for traffic. Now, at rush hour, the traffic is backed up on Evergreen. Middletown is not a small burg of Louisville anymore. We come back to the opposite end of St. Clair from where we started and we're in the home stretch and you become glad you went out to walk after all. It's similar to banging your head against a wall; It feels so good when you stop. Sometimes I feel like I could walk twenty miles and other times it's chore just to squeak out two.

We get home and we have chicken salad on home grown tomatoes, (thank-you Shirley and Jesse) sliced cucumbers and tall glass of iced lime-ade. After a shower I feel clean, sanctified and self righteous, at least for tonight, for tomorrow is another day and you're only as good as your last time exercising.

July 24, 2008

Both Sides Now

I was knocking around YouTube and I found a couple of jewels. Joni Mitchell performing "Both Sides Now" and "California" on the Johnny Cash Show back in 1969.

"Both Sides Now"


Chuck Prophet

I've been meaning to put some Chuck Prophet on here for some time as he's one of my favorite musicians. I can't understand why Prophet hasn't become widely popular. Some of his music screams "play me on top 40 radio please!" Here are three songs from his "Age Of Miracles" CD and the fourth song, a live version of "Would You Love Me", which just came out on his "Soap And Water" CD.

July 23, 2008

Buster Keaton

My favorite kind of comedy is physical and Buster Keaton was one of the most inventive. Keaton's silent films are characterized by clever visual gags and technical trickery. The most ingenious gags were often conceived by Keaton himself. The more adventurous ideas called for dangerous stunts, also performed by Keaton at great physical risk; during the railroad-water-tank scene in Sherlock Jr., Keaton broke his neck and did not realize it until years afterward. Comedy director Leo McCarey, recalling the freewheeling days of making slapstick comedies, said, "All of us tried to steal each other's gagmen. But we had no luck with Keaton, because he thought up his best gags himself and we couldn't steal him!"

The Jayhawks

The Jayhawks are an American band that formed in Minnesota twenty three years ago. They remind me of the Bee Gee's when they harmonize. Here are two songs by The Jayhawks. I'll betcha like 'em.


"Save It For A Rainy Day"

July 22, 2008


Beck is one of my favorite listens. His music is dense and it seems every time you listen to his music, you hear something you didn't hear before. He can wrap several different styles of music together in a tight little ball and yet still make it have a sound all it's own in a cohesive whole. This is "Earthquake Weather" from his "Guero" CD. In parts of this song you'll hear some funky Sly Stone sounds.

July 21, 2008

Down On The T-Bar-V Ranch

I can barely recall the events of that day, almost fifty years ago yesterday in fact. Mom stuck a thermometer in my mouth. “He looks like he might be sick around the eyes.” I had a low grade fever and a slight sore throat. I remember Mom giving me an orange aspirin to chew. The only part of the drive I remember was along Brownsboro road and then downtown where the television studio was.

I was in a line with two dozen other children and their mothers. The other kids were dressed in their cowboy and cowgirl finery, the stringed hats, pot metal revolvers in plastic holsters, and the luckier kids wearing cowboy boots. The doors to the studio opened and we all filed in and sat on the little benches on either side of the studio, the Cactus side or the Randy side. I definitely wanted the Randy side as Cactus was just to scary looking for my taste with all his bizarre cowboy/clown-like makeup on his face. I remember thinking that Cactus looked like that all the time. Randy and Cactus were seated side by side at the head of the studio with a painted covered wagon for a background.

I remember a man behind the camera counting down, “five … four … three … two … one! We were live and on air. Randy and Cactus sang the opening T-Bar-V song and all the kids stomped their feet. It was quite an exciting racket. All the kiddies knew the drill. Your name would be called and you would walk up and be introduced by Randy or Cactus. You would wave and say your hello’s to family members and then the big moment when you would draw and “fire” your gun on the count of three. There were several breaks in the show for cartoons but eventually it came time for my moment in the sun. “This is five year old Barry McClain who lives right here in Louisville, Kentucky. Why don’t you say hi to your family Barry?” I have zero recollection what I said, or if in fact I said anything at all. On the count of three I drew my gun lightning fast and that was it, the big moment was over and I don’t remember anything after that.

T-Bar-V was a live local TV show that ran on WHAS from 1951 to 1970, every week day at 4 o'clock and I watched it most every day when I was a kid. Since it was a live show and before VCR's, there aren't any recordings of the show.

July 18, 2008


Friday evening four female members of Middletown Manor Swim Club came to the eastern Jefferson county pool and proceeded to disrobe. The eye opening event shocked many members who were there at the time. Vincent Gortney, a member, said, "gaa ga ga gaaaa." Another member, Randall Miller, said "baa gaa humena. Randall Miller's wife, Anne Miller said "Wipe the drool off your mouth Randy and get your ass to the car, we're leaving."

The motive wasn't entirely known for the provocative move on the part of the women, who all live in Middletown, except Emily Wickerham, who lives across the street from the Louisville Korean Seventh-Day Adventist Church . It was rumored that the women were protesting the sad shape of the food at the swim club's concession stand. One of the nude protesters, Charlene McClain, said "I don't see why they can't offer a pasta salad marinaded in balsamic vinegar."

Silence Is Golden

Yesterday I overslept and missed my van pool departure which happens occasionally. The obvious drawback is the expense of gas but the bonus is sleeping in a little later and leaving work a little earlier. It turned out the expense of gas was just a fraction of the cost I was in for yesterday. If I'm driving my truck I always stop at the Flying J to gas up because it's cheaper than Louisville gas. The Flying J is primarily a truck stop with outlets across the United States. This place is loud all the time with alot of semis idling, leaving, and departing. Yesterday it was ear splitting. Besides the semi noise, there were two guys pressure washing the concrete around the retail store, each with his own compessor going at full speed, pressurizing the water coming out of their hoses. It was so loud that my tinnitus kicked in. So combined with the external noise there was the extremely irritating noise of screeching and roaring only I could hear.

I'm through at the pump and jump in my truck, eager to get away from all this racket. I turn the key and nothing happens, I turn it a second time and my truck alarm system starts yelping and there doesn't seem any way I can turn it off (and you know how loud those suckers are.) My alarm has three distinct "movements" and they keep repeating OVER and OVER and OVER again. I have to practically STAND on my key fob to make it stop. I make a guess it's the starter that's failed as all I can hear are clicking sounds when I turn the key. In the blink of an eye my truck has become nothing but a clicking lump of metal, glass, plastic, and rubber.

Inside the retail store I ask for a phone book and look up a twenty-four hour tow place out of Bagdad, KY. While they're sending a guy out I withdrawal money from an ATM machine and call Charlene to tell her what's happening. We have trouble hearing each other. "What's all that noise?" "What?" "What's all that noise?" "What?" The tow guy comes and we have to yell at each other to communicate. There are noisy hydraulic noises, the tow truck idling, two pressure washer engines revving, and the semis roaring. Lord help me get the hell out of here. I scramble into the the passenger seat of the tow truck and off we go to a Goodyear place in Shelbyville. I am way wrong thinking I'm finally in store for a more "normal" noise level. This tow truck isn't really a tow truck but a huge flat bed tractor trailer. The muffler sounds like it's about to fall off, there's no AC, and the windows are down. My phone rings three times before I hear it.

"Take it to Doug's t re c nter, Br ce d es bus nes w him. what's that noise?"




The tow truck guy knows where Doug's Tire Center is and we're almost there. We turn right off Washington street at Making Ends Meet. Doug's is at the end of the street, next to the rail road tracks. We pull into Doug's lot and over by the rail road tracks they're doing some kind of construction and there are TWO PNEUMATIC JACKHAMMERS, each hooked up to their own air compressor which are revving like crazy. Add to this mix are other construction noises; earth movers, tractors, and a cement mixers. I feel like walking over and saying "IT'S ALMOST SEVEN O'CLOCK, WHY DON'T YOU'ALL KNOCK OFF AND GO HOME FOR CHRISSAKES!" My phone rings and I answer.

"I'm alm st th re."




Just when I think the noise can become no more unbearable I hear
DING DING DING DING...... I think 'please don't blow that hor...........' HHHOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNK HONK HONK
The I hear the extremely loud roar of the deisel train engine like it must be pulling one thousand large circus elephants. I close my eyes and put a finger in each ear. At last Charlene pulls into Doug's parking lot. "Let's go to Bruce and Ruth's, I need a drink."

We're sitting at Ruth and Bruce's table on their outside porch eating tomatoes, cottage cheese, and a vegetable casserole that Ruth fixed for us. except for the the birds singing and occasional far off sound of a car, the silence is truly golden.

Noise pollution has become a relatively new term that you hear or read about occasionally. I used to think 'what a bunch of wusses' I have to fess up...I'm a wuss when it comes to the general noisy-ness of every day life anymore and it seems like it's getting worse with time. The day's toll was seventy bucks for the tow. (I may recoup all or part of that from my insurance company.) A new battery, four new tires, (they were almost bald and I've been delaying the inevitable) and an oil change (what the hell) all for 600 some odd dollars AND SOME POSSIBLE HEARING LOSS.

July 17, 2008

Viagra, Watermelon, and Barak Obama

After spending the day working inside our frigid building the warm air outside feels good, although by the time I reach my van I'm already starting
to sweat. There is a discussion going on about watermelon and sex. I ask what the topic's about and Robert hands me a web page print out that says watermelon has chemicals in it that can have an effect on the human body similar to Viagra. The Watermelon Growers Association must be ecstatic about this bit of news. As many watermelon commercials as erectile dysfuntion commercials will soon be seen on TV. As a side note it seems the chances of seeing a Viagra commercial rise dramatically (HA!) when my mother-in-law is seated next to me.

We have the weirdest conversations in our van pool and I'm convinced our van pool is the most unique of all van pools. It's black and white and odd all over. Just last Tuesday we were talking about race and the upcoming presidential election. If Barak Obama is elected president, will he be the first black president America has elected? If you said yes, hold your horses buckaroo. There were six former presidents who are alledged to have come from mixed race ancestry, Thomas Jefferson, Andrew Jackson, Abraham Lincoln, Warren Harding, and Calvin Coolidge. Mark Twain said "Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn't." I found the black president subject intriguing and it seems plausible to me that it could be true, either in part or whole.

Charlene is elbow deep in flour, making biscuits when I get home. "We're not going to the gym, Ben and Hailee are coming over for dinner." I jump into shorts and a tee to mow the lawn. I have to borrow Bill's mower AGAIN, as I had to take my mower back to Lyndon Mower Repair AGAIN last Saturday. It happens that they pretended to repair my mower and I had to take it back last Saturday. Dripping with sweat, I get through mowing about the time Ben pulls up in his Crown Vic with Hailee on the passenger side. It's always funny seeing Hailee riding in the police cruiser, her head just barely above the windshield. She's sporting her fake hillbilly buck teeth, EEWWW GROOSSSSSS. Charlene has dinner ready; pork loin, june apples, corn on the cob, and biscuits. Charlene bad mouths her own cooking but I'm here to tell ya...she lies. If her layer cakes come out slightly lopsided she thinks the whole thing isn't fit to be gagged down. It's gotta be Martha Stewart pretty too.

Leonard Cohen

Leonard Cohen is a poet, novelist, and musician from Canada. In 1984 he wrote "Halleluja" and since then it's been recorded by alot of musicians. My favorite is by Rufus Wainwright.

July 16, 2008


Remember the movie "To Sir With Love"? Remember who sang the title song in the movie? You're right! Lulu! They played this on WFPK's guilty pleasure segment today and it's my guilty pleasure too. I had to post it.

July 14, 2008

180 Degrees Of The Law

Charlene asked if I was going to wear a coat and tie downtown. I told her I didn’t want to stand out but blend in. I was thinking more in the way of sandals, raggedy shorts, and a vomit encrusted tee. The dreaded day was here to go to traffic court and deal with my speeding ticket which I was cited for in Anchorage last Derby day. Ben is in full uniform and he will try to “fix” things for me. He didn’t make any guarantees and I didn’t expect any, as a matter of fact I didn’t have high hopes for my fine to just go away. I thought that the officer who cited me would be in a foul mood for having to come downtown and would not dismiss the charge. In any case, Ben’s effort is appreciated very much.
We enter the Hall of Justice and Ben breezes through the doors without having to go through security, whereas I had to de-metal myself and go through the detector. Court security doesn’t, as yet, make you remove your shoes. Ben tells me where to find courtroom 102 and will meet me there later. The wide hallway outside the courtroom is packed with the tempest tossed huddled masses. I walk into the lobby and look into courtroom 102. It is almost empty. I walk in, sit down, and this seems to trigger a stampede of about 250 people to file in also. I didn’t know I would be such a trend setter this morning. The court room starts to become very noisy and a sheriff’s deputy gives the tired speech about being quiet and turning off cell phones out of respect for the court. I see Ben flipping through the tray of dockets up near the bench and I assume it’s mine he grabs, and walks out.

If you enjoy people watching, the Hall of Justice is the place to come. I saw a bouncer sized man who was dressed in his jammies with tattoos covering both arms. I saw a bouncer sized woman stuffed in a pink polyester sausage casing. There was a young man in tee shirt and jeans who sported the “Portland Fade”. This is a style of haircut of which Ben had told me about some time ago. It's popular among the young men of Portland. The hair is cut very close all over and is gradually left longer until it peaks toward the front of the head. A few people were well dressed; most were dressed in raggedy clothes. I saw no vomit encrustations. The bailiff started calling the first group of names off his list. One man’s name was Johnson Jones which struck me as an odd name. I imagined it could belong to either a self appointed cult messiah, a game show host, or a pimp.

Judge Judith Bartholomew looked before her “Barry McClain”. If I had any spit in my mouth I would have swallowed my tongue. I lose my power of speech and stand up. She sees me and says “Are you Barry McClain?” All I can do is nod. “The charge against you has been dismissed, you may leave.” I want to pump my fist in the air and say ‘YES!’ I feel everyone’s eyes on me as I leave and a woman says to me “you’re lucky.” I agree, I am lucky thanks to Ben. Ben is outside in the courtroom lobby and waves an invisible magic wand in the air when I see him. He told me he spoke with the Anchorage officer. Ben told him that he was my son-in-law and could he do a fellow officer a favor. “Do you like him?” Ben said yes and the Anchorage officer granted the dismissal of the speeding charge against me. I treated Ben to breakfast at this little place across from LMPD headquarters and then we left for home. When you're riding in a police cruiser everybody is such a courteous driver, using turn signals (even when changing lanes!), obeying the speed limit, and everyone in front of you magically gets over in the slow lane on the interstate.

Ben recently switched over to work the second shift, which is ten hours long, because he likes to get the four-days-off-in-a-row benefit. We leave Ben and Noelle's in his cruiser about 2:30 and I'm still amazed at what it's like riding among utopian drivers within the one hundred yard invisible bubble around Ben's police car. We see a small pick up truck with a huge flat screen television in the back, strapped down with bungee cords. I hope this isn't the way they're going to deliver ours. We arrive at the First Division station on 29th Street. Ben's beat tonight covers most of the community of Portland. Portlanites are a proud and defensive bunch mostly because they are generally maligned or made fun of by the rest of the city. Portland's population is a largely caucasion island within the mostly black population of western Louisville. The Falls of the Ohio above Portland caused river traffic to stop and people had to portage themselves past the falls before continuing on their journey. This is how Portland became a small town. A series of locks were built at the Falls in the mid 19th century which increased river traffic and therefore increased the size of Portland even more.

I think one of the best advantages of being a police officer is the convenience of driving and parking anywhere you want to when you're downtown. Ben wants to go down by the river, under I-64, which is a frequent hang out for the homeless. Ben drives down the narrow asphalt paved River Walk and sure enough we come upon three of Louisville's homeless, two men and one woman. They all wave at us from their lawn chairs like they couldn't be happier to have company. They all appear to be in their forties and the two men have tattoos all over their shirtless torsos. Ben doesn't hassle them too much and we leave them in their gravel and broken glass strewn living room, interstate roof, and a fine view of downtown through their non-existent window. I can't imagine a more hellish existence.

A call comes over the radio which sends us to the YMCA, where a man in room 308 slit both his wrists with a rusty razor blade. Walking through the halls of the YMCA reminds me of the dorms at UK. Ben recognizes the man as a previous arrest of his. The man is a year younger than I am and has been to University Hospital before for suicide attempts. There is blood all over the room but the wounds are now coagulating and it appears to me as a half hearted attempt. He agrees to a voluntary stay at University Hospital again and EMS drives him away. Another case of chronic depression. The man will get medical attention, psychological counseling, and probably a few anti-depressants thrown in for good measure.

The "highlight" of the patrol that evening was a call about females fighting at 22nd and Muhammed Ali. We get there and Ben is talking to some of the girls there who were involved in or witnesses of the fracas. I was standing well away from Ben and the other officer who came to assist, thinking this was a boring dispatch. I see Ben and the other officer go down an alley with their flashlights on and about a half a block away I hear POP POP POP... POP POP.. POP POP. At first I thought it was left over 4th fireworks which we had been hearing off and on all evening but then I hear women's voices "Oh my god, they're shooting at us!" among other shouts and screaming. Ben comes running out of the alley and says to me "jump in". I feel the urge to do a Bo Duke style slide across the hood of Ben's patrol car.

We're booking down Muhammed Ali at least 80 mph, looking for an iffy description of a white Dodge Charger...Yeeeehawwww. We fly down random streets in the area looking for a white car and then we hear on the radio that another officer has stopped a white car that sped up when the police car turned in behind him. We drive there and it's a white Marquis. The alleged shooter is lying on the street in cuffs. They're turning the Marquis upside down looking for the gun but find none. It wasn't the shooter but the search turns up a bonus of hidden marijuana. Ben and I go back to where the shots were fired and look for shell casings but find nothing.

Ben's driving real slow down Duncan in Portland and then comes to a stop and points to a house and says "That's was Harold Tabor's last known address in Louisville." I get out and take a picture and a woman comes out the door asking what we're doing. She appears slightly drunk. EVERYONE in Portland, it seems, is in various stages of drunkeness. I say "Do you know Harold Tabor?" She says, "yes, he's my half brother, we have the same mother." Instantly I can see her resemblance to Mama Tabor, particularly the red hair and green eyes. At one point she says Harold was a crazy genius. I'm not so sure about the genius part, but it's a sure bet Harold was way off the bell curve for normal. She asks if Ben and I want to come in and have some beans and cornbread Ben says no maybe later and as we're driving off we hear her say "you like that $h1t?"

The evening brought us to twenty-two calls, most of the calls were for fights, threats, and general trouble. Most all were appreciative of the police response and I heard several thanks-you's. I've been in Portland before and it never ceases to seem unreal, as if I'm in some kind of theme park, complete with drunken Disney-like animatronics. I feel fortunate to live where I do and thankful for Louisville's finest, who enforce the laws and are all we have between between order and anarchy.

The Wainwrights

You might remember Loudon Wainwright III. He wrote and performed humorous songs. Remember "Dead Skunk"? Well...here it is.

Loudon's son, Rufus Wainwright, grew up to be a singer/songwriter too. Here is "Going To A Town". Enjoy.

July 8, 2008

Hunting And Gathering

Last night Charlene and I went to Sam's to do some grocery shopping and take a look-see at their flat panel televisions. I never feel more firmly plugged into American culture as when I'm in any kind of grocery store. All the packaging looks like an explosion happened at a cartoon factory or a quilt made out of an old Superman uniform. Everything you could imagine, you can buy, from soups to nuts, from tires to contact lenses, and from frozen jalapeno poppers to porch swings. Most everything is new and improved and you can bet that most everything groceries offer have been researched to death for marketability, product placement, and packaging appeal. I have an out of body experience, feeling that I'm looking down at myself as a rat going through a maze for some marketing study. Is that video camera in the ceiling corner for theft control or recording what makes the shoppers stop in their rat tracks to look at something? I saw a sports drink called "G2" which is made by Gatorade and is marketed as "off the field hydration". It's low calorie, of course. I was looking for a sports drink called E=mc squared™ to help with my tennis game but couldn't find any. If you could play tennis at the speed of light, would you be able to find anybody to play with?

A long time ago I participated in a marketing study for cigarettes. Once a week about twenty five of us smokers would be put in our individual booths to smoke cigarettes, one at a time, and fill out a questionaire after each cigarette. I gave up a small part of my pulmonary health for cigarette marketing but, as I recall, the money they paid us was a good amount.

Charlene and I came away with a jumbo bag of "Mystic Chips", a carton of thirty two diet cokes, and various other sundry items totaling almost 100 dollars. At home we finally made the decision (two months in the making) to buy a flat panel TV for our basement. We logged on to Dell.com and chose our fifty-two inch LCD honker, complete with 120 megahertz refresh rate, 1080p resolution, BRAVIA Engine Full Digital Video Processor, S-Force™ Front Surround function, Motionflow Technology, Advanced Contrast Enhancer (ACE), and Enhanced (XMB™) user interface with rich 3D graphics. We clicked on "add to cart" and the next screen pops up, WAIT! do you want a HDMI cable? Do you want a mounting bracket? Do you want an extended warranty? and so on and so forth.

Charlene and I went to bed tired but satisfied that we did our small part to stimulate the economy. God bless George Bush, God bless America, and God bless our new flat panel TV. I hope it gets here soon.

July 7, 2008

Sheryl Crow

This is one of my favorite Sheryl Crow songs called "Leaving Las Vegas". This is the music video that came out with it. I ask you, what true, red blooded American doesn't want to watch flying Elvi and Las Vegas show girls?

Hailee's Modeling Debut

Last week at Audubon Country Club there was a fund raiser held for Ron Crimm, our representative in Frankfort. Hailee was chosen to be a model for some overpriced children's clothing. Charlene said that Hailee was nervous at first but then she settled down and got into the swing of things. I wish I could've been there but Charlene got some pictures.