Category: Pointless blather

  • He’s Baaaack!!

    Apparently the current Administration’s goings on have had an . . . unusual side effect. They’ve apparently caused at least one former political figure long thought dead to return from the grave.

    No? Well, how else do you explain the return of “Tricky Dick” on Twitter?

    Hell, I may have to break down and actually follow this guy.  He’s got Nixon down to a “T” – and many of the tweets are freaking hilarious.  (smile)

    Oh, and in case anyone is wondering about what “goings on” of the current Administration I’m talking about:  I’m talking about this obvious pattern of “stonewalling”.

    “Most transparent administration in history” my ass.  Even the Nixon and LBJ administrations were more open and transparent.

     

    (Hat tip to a TAH regular who forwarded me this article on the matter.)

  • À Madam Ducornet . . . .

    Longtime readers know that Jonn tolerates my occasional random walk ramblings here at TAH.  And yeah, that means this article is another such ramble.  Consider yourself forewarned. (smile)

    . . .

    I’m not a big believer in ESP. Those who claim to be able to “remote view” objects or tell the future are IMO almost always as shameless a group of liars as the fools and tools we often feature here at TAH.

    But I’m not willing to completely dismiss the possibility, either. There is indeed strong evidence that time appears to be one-way and irreversible, and that the connection between past and future is the same.  However, mankind’s knowledge of the physical world is woefully incomplete. And even our best current theories of how the world works don’t categorically rule out the possibility.

    In short:  it’s obvious that the past affects the future.  But it’s IMO a bit too early to say, categorically, that the future cannot possibly echo into the past.

    Besides, I’ve had a few experiences that make me wonder. A number of them have to do with music.

    As a youngster, a number of tunes over the years made an impression on me. For some reason, I knew that these few were different – and damned important.

    How I knew, or why they were important . . . I didn’t know. I just somehow knew they were.

    Eventually, I found out why – usually years or decades later.  The experience usually wasn’t much fun.

    I’m about to talk briefly about one of those tunes.

    . . .

    Walter Becker and Donald Fagan. You might not recognize those names immediately unless you’re a fan. But if you listened to popular music since 1971, I will guarantee you’ve heard their music.

    They’re the duo that formed the creative core of Steely Dan.

    In 1974, Steely Dan released perhaps their finest work – an album called Pretzel Logic. The song in question is found there.

    Steely Dan songs are often filled with obscure literary references and metaphors. They are typically lyrically indirect, and elliptical – even more so than those songs by Michael Stipe of REM. They frequently have not-immediately-obvious messages, sometimes darkish; the lyrics are often cutting, cynical, and satirical. Often they have borderline disturbing or taboo subjects.

    And they’re invariably exquisitely crafted, as is the music. Steely Dan’s pursuit of perfection in the studio is legendary.

    But except for the craftsmanship, this particular tune is none of those. Donald Fagan, the song’s principal author, has said that this song should be taken at face value.

    The song is a relatively simple song about a young man who became infatuated with a lady. It was reportedly written about a woman Donald Fagan met while a student a Bard College in Annandale-on-Hudson, NY.   She was married to a member of Bard’s faculty.

    The lady’s married name was purportedly Ducornet; she was American, but had married a Frenchman teaching at Bard in the late 1960s. She and her husband left for France in 1972, when Steely Dan was on the brink of commercial success. And while a student at Bard, Donald Fagan had indeed given her his number at a party – and suggested she call him.

    A relationship between the two never happened. Fagan has never confirmed the story above, or indicated who the song is about.  The lady in question has, and believes the tune is about her.  But she’s obviously not in a position to know with certainty Fagan’s thoughts while writing the song.

    So:  listen to the tune and judge for yourself. Personally, I’m convinced the song should be taken literally – and that the lady is correct.  The pieces simply fit together too well.

    Here’s the tune. IMO, it’s possibly the best song Steely Dan ever did.  And that’s saying one helluva lot.


    >
     

    For what it’s worth:  Mme. Ducornet’s first name . . . is indeed “Rikki”.

    . . .

    Author’s notes:  Some other interesting bits of trivia about Steely Dan and the tune above.

    1. Jim Gordon played drums on the tune. Yes, that Jim Gordon:  the same guy who played drums with Eric Clapton in Derek and the Dominos, wrote the second half of Layla – and later went off-the-rails insane, killed his own mother, and is still incarcerated today.

    2. Timothy B. Schmit –  of Poco and the Eagles – sang backup on the tune. 

    3. The musical intro for the song – the odd-sounding percussion solo that takes up about the first 20 seconds or so – is not a marimba.  It’s a similar instrument called a flapamba.  They’re fairly rare.  

    4.  If you think the song’s opening piano/bass line sounds similar to something you’ve heard before – if you’re a fan of jazz, you’re probably right.  It was taken from Horace Silver’s “Song for My Father”, released about a decade previously.

    5. Jeff “Skunk” Baxter, the original guitarist for Steely Dan, did the guitar solo on the tune.  Baxter left the band shortly afterwards and joined the Doobie Brothers.

    During the Reagan administration, Baxter – an absolute genius as well as a talented guitarist – took an interest in technology related to defense. He became enough of an expert eventually to become a sought-after consultant to the US DoD and Intelligence Communities on various matters – including missile defense. Watch this video clip (about 1 hr 3 min) if you’d like to get a flavor of the guy’s personality and intellect.  Fascinating guy.

    And yeah – Baxter often gets asked, “How in the world did a rock and roll guitarist end up working as a consultant for DoD and the Intel community?”

    6.  Finally, and for what it’s worth:  that story you’ve heard about the band being named after an . . . “adult novelty item”? It’s true. But the item in question was made of rubber, not stainless steel as one variant of the story often claims.

    Growing up, Becker and Fagan were huge jazz fans; that is apparent in their music. “Beat generation” literature was hugely popular among jazz fans of the day, and Becker and Fagan were no exceptions. 

    The band’s name was a shortened form of “Steely Dan III from Yokohama”.  That phrase was taken from William Burroughs’ 1959 novel Naked Lunch.  In the book, “Steely Dan III from Yokohama” was the name of what is today perhaps the most famous “adult novelty item” in history. (smile)

     

    Various Wikipedia articles were also used in preparing this rambling. I’m not going to list them all here.

  • Yer Friday Afternoon Funny: CED

    Might want to use caution around prudes and small children.  Otherwise, enjoy.



    (Disclaimer:  TAH is not responsible for any sore sides or cramping due to laughter.)

  • “Oh. I guess maybe you are setting the right example.”

    Dave Hardin’s comment here about a LSoS former cook, fake SF, and congressional candidate reminded me of one of the funniest things that I ever saw in the military. So I thought I’d relate it here.

    At Fort Bragg years ago, the XVIII Airborne Corps at one time had a formal IG Inspection – and no, I’m not talking about what later came to be called an “IG assistance visit”. This was a freaking formal, unannounced, full-blown no-notice inspection.

    I understand the change to a different form of IG inspection (the IG assistance visit) happened during the early 1980s. However, my unit was one of the ones tagged for the formal hoo-hah before the change occurred. Lucky us. (smile)

    Under the old-style IG inspection procedure, a unit would be called at 0500 and would be notified it was having an IG inspection that day. You might hear a rumor that your unit was a “possible” beforehand, but the date was almost never known.  Or you might get completely blindsided.  That depended on how good your higher HQ was at working the “BRAGG RUMINT” pipeline.

    After notification, the unit would recall its personnel, get gear and records laid out for inspection.  Everything had to be ready for inspection by 0900 that same day.

    The IG Inspection team – a slew of folks – would then descend on the unit like ravening locusts, looking for whatever they could find wrong. Equipment, personnel, unit area, arms room, operational/maintenance/supply/administrative records – you name it, the team looked at it.

    Some of it was kinda over the top.  One example:  the arms room inspector used a damn dental pick – the kind a dentist uses to probe for cavities – he’d obtained somewhere when inspecting rifles and pistols in order to find traces of carbon.

    Good times. (smile)

    The formal inspection began with an in-ranks inspection of the unit, in unit formation arranged by MTOE slot number, by the inspection team. Dogtags and ID card out, checked against unit roster – the whole bit. That formal in-ranks inspection was conducted by the head of the IG team and his NCOIC.

    The IG Team OIC at the time was a Major (remember, this was the XVIII Airborne Corps IG conducting the inspection). The guy wore an eyepatch; as I recall, he was indeed a Ranger – though not, as I recall, SF.  He appeared to have been fairly recently injured (hence the eyepatch and probably the assignment to the IG team). But regardless, he was still a rather imposing, mean looking SOB – especially to a youngster like myself.  And from having crossed paths with him elsewhere, I knew he could indeed be a SOB at times.

    At the time, my duty assignment put me fairly close to the unit’s Mess Sergeant in the unit formation – but not immediately next to him. During the inspection, out of the corner of my eye I could see the IG Inspection Team OIC talking to our Mess Sergeant – first quietly, then rather angrily. Then suddenly the IG Team OIC stopped talking, went quiet for a second or so, said something quietly to the Mess Sergeant – and moved on to the next soldier in the ranks.

    The inspection took a few hours, but was done that afternoon. We did well as I recall – not 100% perfect, but well enough to stay off the Corps (and our Brigade’s) “sh!t list” and out of trouble. No serious problems or issues were found.

    After the outbrief, I ran into our Mess Sergeant, SFC Smith (I’ve changed the last name here). He was smoking a cigarette, and chuckling to himself.

    A bit of background: SFC Smith was a damned fine Mess Sergeant. He ran a good mess hall, and could – within limits – still do a bit of wheeling and dealing to take care of the troops, food wise (that had become much more difficult in the late 1970s and early 1980s than it had been a few years earlier).

    He obviously enjoyed good food, too – like many mess sergeants of the day, he was a touch heavy. Not sloppy-fat heavy, but maybe 5 to 10 pounds over the screening weight for his height.

    This was also about the time the Army had started to tighten up on height/weight standards.

    Our conversation went something like this (SFC Smith’s words in italics):

    . . .

    “Hey, Sergeant Smith – what’s so funny?”

    “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

    “Try me.”

    “Remember the in-ranks inspection? What happened there still cracks me up every time I think about it?”

    “Yeah, I was wondering about that. It looked like the Major was reaming you a new one. What was that all about?”

    “Damnedest thing I ever saw. He looked at my ID card and asked me my name. I told him. He looked at my uniform.

    Then he asked me how tall I was. So I told him that, too.

    Then he asked me, ‘How much do you weigh, Sergeant Smith?’ So I told him.

    Then he kinda went off. He told me, ‘That’s more than Army regs say you should. That’s unacceptable.  Sergeant, you’re setting a poor example for your soldiers! Sergeant, what is your job?!!”

    So I told him, ‘Sir . . . I’m the Mess Sergeant.’

    Then the major’s face went blank and he was quiet for a little while. Then he told me, ‘Oh. I guess maybe you are setting the right example.’ And after that, he made a right-face and went to inspect the next guy in line.”

    . . .

    Personally, IMO the Major had a point.  Think about it – would YOU really want to eat at a mess hall that had a skinny Mess Sergeant? (smile)

    And, for what it’s worth:  as I recall there was no mention of SFC Smith being over his DA screening weight in the IG Inspection Report.

    No, I’m not making this up – this actually happened.  I was there to see it myself.

  • America in an Hour

    Recently, I had a chance to listen to a collection of tunes that I’d not heard in a while. That collection was The Band’s 2000 Greatest Hits compilation CD.

    While listening, an idea finally “clicked” into place.   It’s something I think I realized subconsciously.   But it wasn’t until now that I could finally put it into words.

    The collection is a wonderful description of American life.

    Maybe add Arlo Guthrie’s City of New Orleans if you want a bit more background and/or the sense of things lost due to change.  But even without Guthrie, the set IMO explains much.

    No, it doesn’t cover everything. But it gives a pretty decent overview, IMO – even if heavily weighted towards rural and Southern.

    It’s worth a listen, especially if it’s been a while. So enjoy the links above if you like.

    Damn, those guys were good.

    . . .

    And before I forget:  happy 4th, all.

  • Yer Friday Funny: Stupid Criminal Tricks, Part . . . Whatever

    A guy got busted the other day for trying to sell marijuana. Nothing terribly unusual there.

    Well, except for maybe three little details that were a touch unusual.  He tried to make his sale

    1. while pushing a stroller containing his 2-month-old child;
    2. to a cop in uniform; and
    3. while out on bail after being busted for burglary earlier this year.

    Seriously.


  • News About a Former CINC

    Former President George H. W. Bush, to be precise.

    The man had a birthday yesterday – his 90th. He celebrated it in a rather novel way.

    With a parachute jump.

    What makes this one a bit unique is that the former POTUS no longer has the use of his legs. He was assisted in the jump by SFC (Ret) Mike Elliotta. Elliotta is a retired member of the US Army’s Parachute team, the Golden Knights. He guided the pair, jumping together, to a soft landing.

    Think about that for a minute. The man is 90 years old. He can no longer use his legs. And he celebrated his 90th birthday by making a freaking parachute jump.

    I don’t think we need to check his “man card” any time soon.  (smile)

    The former POTUS was uninjured. He departed the DZ without speaking to the press.

    Well done, sir.  Keep on jumping as long as you can.

    Oh, and all of you who voted for Perot:  freaking thanks heaps.  Hope you enjoyed Slick Willie’s Administration.

  • A New Monument in Poland

    Well, a town in Poland has erected a monument. In Nowa Huta, a statue of Lenin was recently erected.

    Yes, you read that correctly. And no, you haven’t fallen through a 50+ year time warp back to the late 1950s or early 1960s.

    A bit of background: Nowa Huta was a town created by Poland’s Communist government. Nowa Huta was intended as a proletariat monument to Socialism; it was intentionally built near Krakow, as a counter to the “intellectual influence” of its neighbor. At one time, it sported a huge statue of Lenin as a monument.

    The plan didn’t exactly turn out as expected. While grey and industrial, the people of Nowa Huta were never committed Communists. In fact, some even tried to blow up the original statue of Lenin there in 1979.

    The new statue continues this tradition of defiance. It’s a bright lemon-lime yellow-green color, and doesn’t exactly strike a heroic pose:


    And yeah – it’s a fountain also.  I’ll leave it to you to figure out where the water comes out. (smile)

    The new statue is planned to be temporary.  It’s intended to stimulate discussion of what the final monument should be.

    Personally I think they should leave that statue in place permanently. “Lenin p!ssing on the world” is IMO a perfect metaphor for what Communism (and in particular, the Communist elite) did to the world between 1917 and 1990.

    It also points out what the Left (and Leftist elite) continues to do today.