Why Mother Goose Rhymes Are Insidious!

Most of us have at least a marginal familiarity with the Mother Goose rhymes of our childhood. Since my enforced term of “unemployment” two months ago, in an effort to stave off the boredom threatening to engulf me on a daily basis, I’ve taken to delving into anything and everything that strikes my fancy. For some reason, I am now engrossed in reviewing the above mentioned “rhymes”.

“A cat came fiddling out of a barn,
With a pair of bagpipes under her arm…”

WHAT??!! OKAY, now THIS is just plain AMBIGUOUS!! Is the “cat” a “FIDDLER” or is this alleged “cat” a “BAGPIPER”?!! WE DON'T KNOW, thus casting the reader into a roiling PIT of doubt, chaos and turmoil!

“As round as an apple,
As deep as a cup,
All the king's horses
Can't pull it up.”

Blatant sexual innuendo, wouldn’t you say?!!

“As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives…”

FLAGRANT endorsement of POLYGAMY!!

“Cobbler, cobbler, mend my shoe,
Give it a stitch and that will do…”

“Little Betty Blue
Lost her holiday shoe…”

“Cock-a-doodle-doo! My dame has lost her shoe…”

“One, two, Buckle my shoe…”

ad nauseam, ad infinitum…..]

Blatant “FOOT FETISHISM”!!

AND I continue…

“Cushy cow bonny, let down thy milk,
And I will give thee a gown of silk…”

PROSTITUTION!!!

“Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town,
Upstairs and downstairs in his nightgown,
Rapping at the window, crying through the lock,
’Are the children in their beds, for now it's eight o'clock?’"

This “Winkie” character is not only a lunatic EXHIBITIONIST, but more than likely also a PEDOPHILE!! (Of course, with a surname like “Winkie”, small wonder he’s doesn’t have all his OARS in the WATER)!

“Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross,
To see an old lady upon a white horse;
Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes,
And so she makes music wherever she goes.”

I won’t even BEGIN attempting to dissect THAT little gem as it’s so RIFE with ALL MANNER of innuendo and incongruity that my mind REELS!!

I could go on, but I am presently so overwhelmed by shock and disbelief that I must end here. Of course, feel free to continue your own research and draw your own conclusions; however, my caveat: THE READER BEWARE!

THOUGHTS & SONGS -- I'M NOT ALWAYS FUNNY

This past Wednesday, August 19th, part of my Celtic band and I decided to take our usual Wednesday night rehearsal in the studio outdoors in the daylight hours and this being Southern California, what better place to be than at the beach! This in mind, we congregated at the usual studio location near L.A. International Airport and then carpooled down to the Port of Long Beach. We eventually set up our gear near the Belmont Shores Pier and proceeded to play music.

After about an hour or two, I noticed, just outside of my field of vision, a weathered, scruffy, bearded man grasping a rolled up blue sleeping bag and a small, dark-colored canvas sack. He appeared to be dressed in a jacket inappropriately warm for the sunny beach weather, a cap pulled down over his graying hair, who, with eyes closed, was listening to us intently. On closer scrutiny, and judging by his puffy, flushed complexion, it was evident he grappled with a serious daily alcohol abuse problem; however, he wasn’t completely grubby and he may have been younger than he looked – it was hard to tell.

After about 15 or 20 minutes he moved closer -- until he was about 12 feet away. We started playing again and he stood as near to us as he dared. Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, he began singing out loud in a relatively clear voice – not OUR words but HIS words -- but it was our melody. If the truth be told, it wasn’t half bad! Our lead singer, however, got slightly peeved and told the man to stop singing and said, “Could you please stop?! We’re trying to play here!” The man began to cry and slowly walked away and as he was leaving he said, “But I thought that’s what music was all about!”

The lead singer, not meaning to have come off so harshly, then told the man he was welcome to listen. The man slowly walked back to us and proceeded to sit in our midst on the cement, listening with a faint smile and moist eyes. We eventually took another break and the guitar player gave him a few of her cigarettes. The man (who by this time had told us his name was “Ronnie James”) began talking to the guitar player, all the while longingly eyeing her guitar and, tears again welling up in his eyes, he told her that he used to play guitar and sing. She asked him, “When’s the last time you touched a guitar, Ronnie?” He said, “About a year ago – I had to pawn mine,” his gaze melting inward and into the distance.

He left shortly thereafter, with his few belongings and a few cigarettes in hand, but before leaving, he attempted to hug and kiss each of us. I inadvertently recoiled when he tried to hug me and, instead, reluctantly extended my hand, not a proud moment for me but human nature I suppose. Thereafter I was inspired to write a song about him and, being a lyricist, wrote the following lyrics – the music’s in the process of being composed…

This is for you, Ronnie James, and all the “Ronnie Jameses” out there. Keep the music in your heart!





Shadow Man/The Ballad of Ronnie James © Lyric by Myrna Neuberg –
21 August 2009

You pass him on the street - he smiles -
You turn and walk away,
Because he’s just a shadow man
That’s all he is today.
He said he had a good guitar
And he could really play
But now he’s just a shadow man
To scorn and throw away.

Chorus
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
Maybe kin of Jesse James
Once you thought that you could do it all.
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
You’re all that’s left of Ronnie James
You didn’t know how far it was you’d fall.

It’s been a long and twisted road
It’s been a long way down
Just try to keep on breathing
As you walk the streets of town.
You said you’d had a good guitar
Yes, you could really play.
But you’ve become a shadow man
To scorn and throw away.

Chorus
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
Maybe kin of Jesse James
Once you thought that you could do it all.
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
You’re all that’s left of Ronnie James
You didn’t know how far it was you’d fall.

You pawned your old guitar you said
About a year ago
Or maybe it’s been longer
You really didn’t know.
But you’ve still got a song inside
And tried to sing along
Just making up your own words
‘Cause you didn’t know our song.

Chorus
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
Looking just like Jesse James
Once you thought that you could do it all.
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
Where are the dreams of Ronnie James?
You never dreamed how far it was you’d fall.

Bridge
But hold on to that song inside
‘Cause music was your joy and pride
You said you picked a mean guitar like me.
Before you walk that final line
Remember that you’ve still got time
There is a way; it’s just that you can’t see.

Chorus
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
Looking just like Jesse James
Once you thought that you could do it all.
Ronnie James, Ronnie James
Where are the dreams of Ronnie James?
You never dreamed how far it was you’d fall.

THE CAT DID IT!

After a protracted absence from this, my sorry blog (place the blame, if you will, on a serious case of “blogger’s block”), I thought it high time that I write something, ANYTHING, to prevent my brain from atrophying further. So, before my brain shrinks to the size of a walnut and rattles around in my head, I present … “something”!

I had initially planned this blog to be an intellectual treatise on the stupidity of weight loss products that really don’t do anything (i.e., “carb blockers” and/or other pills that allegedly cause weight loss without your ever changing either your diet, or getting your sorry fat butt off the couch!?!) I say if these things actually WORKED, everyone would be skinny, right? So to hell with that topic! In my present cynical state, I simply propose the prodigious use of duct tape over the mouth, thus preventing the introduction of any food into the oral orifice – thus cutting down on the amount of food consumed – ergo, less caloric intake and, finally, TA DA!! WEIGHT LOSS! It’s cheap, effective, and costs a hell of a lot less than either lap band surgery or any of those overly expensive, highly touted weight loss products!!

So, enough about that and on to a NEW topic, namely, the accidental, unintentional sending of incomplete, idiotic and/or un-essential “shite” e-mail or Twitter tweets caused by careless placement of an object [usually one’s own finger] on the mouse – also known as “THE CAT DID IT!”

No one wants to feel like a complete idiot following the inadvertent sending of some type of garbled mess so why not place the blame on a hapless, loyal PET who can’t possibly defend either himself or herself (or, if the truth be told, who could really give a shit) which, in my case is THE CAT! Therefore, if I’ve sent you a stupid e-mail or tweeted a garbled and/or incomplete tweet, sorry, but THE CAT DID IT! I wasn’t even in the room, much less near the computer and yes, he CAN, in fact, type really well … okay, reasonably well… okay, not at all and I’M really to blame! (Are you HAPPY now?!!! Jeez… )

NOTE: Use of duct tape on THE CAT is neither condoned nor recommended. Your cooperation will be appreciated. Yours sincerely, “THE CAT”

"IFFY" COOKBOOK TITLES

Okay, I haven't posted anything here for what seems like years but which is, in actuality, only WEEKS! Anyhow, since my brain hurts from too much paperwork yesterday, I am not taxing the old grey matter too much.

So, without further ado, I present, for your consideration, delectation, and comment, a few titles of cookbooks you may NOT want to cook from!

[Drum roll please..................]

• The Guesswork Gourmet
• A Pinch of This, and … Whatever…
• Fun with Gum
• Blue Plate Special? Or Merely Mold?
• Cauldron Classics: Old Salem’s Best
• Hints from Hades' Kitchen
• 101 Greasy Spoon Favorites
• Back Yard Game Cookery
• Rodents I have Known and Loved
• Of Mice and Men
• War and Peas
• Arachnid Cookery
• Psychotropic Slow Cookery
• Great Poisons of the World
• Toadstool Cuisine
• After-Dinner Antidotes

[And my favorite …....]

• You Were What You Ate!

“Have You Seen My Coffee Cup? Or, “LOST: My Marbles! REWARD if found.”

The other day, much to my chagrin, I once again “misplaced” my oft-lost coffee cup. Now this wouldn’t be so bad if I lived in some palatial multi-room mansion, but my house, being somewhat small, doesn’t have that many rooms within which to “lose” ANYTHING!

Since I adamantly refuse to admit to anything akin to age-related memory loss, I prefer to believe that this particular coffee cup has simply sprouted LEGS and developed the uncanny ability of maneuvering independently [I have this “favorite cup,” but never mind, I’ll write about this predilection some other time]. I have also conveniently “explained” this frequent “coffee-cup-loss-in-tiny-house scenario” to myself, and others, as either “poltergeist activity” or “The CAT did it”!

Admittedly I’m also prone to sometimes walking into a room, freezing mid-step and asking out loud, “Now WHY the hell did I come IN here??!” or walking up to someone to start a conversation and standing there blankly saying, “Oh shit, I forgot what I was going to say! What were we talking about?!” [Or variation of theme: “What the hell was I talking about?”] The resultant response to this question is usually a blank stare and “Hell if I know!” Of course, misery loves company so I immediately read into THEIR response, “Oh good! They’ve got it too! Thank god, I’m not alone!” Most likely, however, they really have no idea what I was going to say (and why should they?) but I’m inventive in my efforts of self-deception.

If this isn’t bad enough, my keys frequently come up “missing” and I now have about six or seven “spare sets” floating around somewhere (?) in the above-mentioned tiny house. Hell, if I didn’t do this, I’d never be able to leave the house, much less DRIVE anywhere! The “up” side, though, is that the key maker and I are now on a first-name basis and I will usually locate at least ONE of these key sets without too much difficulty and stress, thus averting an otherwise forced, involuntary “housebound’ness”.

My brother [supportive soul that he is] has laughingly “explained” my “forgetfulness” with the simple words, “you’re getting ‘old’ and losing your mind!” I would tell you what I then replied but I’m trying to keep this clean, and anyway, I don’t really remember what I said to him.

I wish I were making this all up but unfortunately it’s all sad but true, and I’d probably write a longer blog but I forgot what the hell I was talking about!

Now where was I?

Order One Thing Online and You're Marked for Life or, "HOLY CATS, BATMAN!"

Another rant about online shopping…

A few months ago, in another insomniac-fueled fit of consumer weakness, I ordered a “cat design” tote bag from some online store. At the time it seemed rather cute so I justified the purchase by convincing myself that I “could always use a good tote” and “besides, it kinda looks like MY cat” – which, as we all know, is ALWAYS a good reason to do just about anything (okay, maybe not).

A little less than a week later, I received the tote bag – cute enough I suppose though, admittedly, a little embarrassing to carry around, and I haven’t really used it much. Okay, I actually don’t use it at ALL and for the past few months, the bag’s been gathering dust on a closet shelf, BUT for what it’s worth, the design really does [kinda] LOOK like MY CAT!

Okay, where was I? Oh yes, MARKED for LIFE.

To continue, since receiving the TOTE BAG, I’ve been barraged by a virtual onslaught of unsolicited e-mails offering me a seemingly endless array of “matching” items, which list, so far, includes:

1. The matching CAT PURSE – the smaller, more compact version of the above-described CAT TOTE [to compound the “humiliation factor,” you can carry BOTH at the same time and look REALLY crazy!];

2. The matching CAT WALLET [to carry in either the cat tote OR cat purse!];

3. The matching CAT CHECKBOOK;

4. The matching CAT BANK CHECKS [no big surprise there];

5. The matching CAT DESK LAMP [no doubt, to illuminate my late-night check writing forays using “Item 4” above];

6. The matching CAT MUSIC BOX [I think it plays the theme from “CATS”];

7. The matching CAT CUCKOO CLOCK [not sure I get that ,“cats” and “cuckoos” being totally disparate species];

8. The matching CAT WIND CHIMES [as if I don’t have ENOUGH problems falling asleep at night!];

9. The matching CAT EARRINGS and PENDANT SET [oh JOY!];

10. The matching CAT CHARM BRACELET [with an impressive 33 charms no less];

11. The matching CAT COLLECTOR PLATES [helpful to throw at that Cat Cuckoo Clock when the “cuckooing” becomes too much to take!];

12. The matching CAT FLEECE JACKET;

13. The matching CAT FLEECE VEST [for those with a SLEEVE AVERSION – see “Item 12” above];

14. The matching CAT ROBE; and

15. The matching CATS PAJAMAS [lovely to pair with Item 14 above].


[NOTE: I only admit the following in the hope that some kindly soul might orchestrate an “intervention” on my behalf…]

Okay, getting back to those “cats pajamas” – I may actually order these, if only for the reason that if someone should say to me, “that’s the ‘CAT’S PAJAMAS’,” I could turn around and smugly reply, “No, THESE are the CATS’ PAJAMAS!” and of course, I wouldn’t be wrong.

Obviously, by virtue of that one innocent purchase, I have now been pegged as a “CRAZY CAT LADY” who will buy just about ANYTHING, as long as it has the same design! Suffice to say that by the time I’ve finished writing this, I probably have waiting for me at least 9 or 10 more e‑mails offering me yet more “matching” cat items – this list knows no bounds!

I really need to exercise more restraint!

Infomercials – Not as “Easy” As It Looks

Because I tend towards being an obsessive insomniac (not necessarily in that order), I often watch late night TV to try to wind down, and sometimes end up mesmerized by the virtual onslaught of “infomercials” aired during the wee hours (cleverly aimed at a target audience populated by others like myself no doubt).

Case in point: Not long ago, under one such “spell,” I gleefully purchased these things called “Green Bags,” which are green [obviously], plastic food storage bags that, through some chemical/mineral “magic,” are supposed to keep your produce looking shop fresh for indefinite periods of time! A great money-saving idea, right?

What they don’t clearly tell you [unless you actually READ the fine print on the back of the box -- which box I had quickly tossed in the trash after using up all 20 bags at one time!] is that you have to be vigilant on a [presumably] DAILY basis to make sure you wipe away (with at least some modicum of regularity) any accumulated MOISTURE from inside the bags or they won’t really work! Naturally this is something I failed to do, on either a DAILY or WEEKLY basis!

My “excuses” are: (1) being too busy to bother with such “trifles”, and (2) forgetting there’s something at the bottom of the fridge called a “produce drawer” that I need to open and look into occasionally.

Today I finally opened this “produce drawer” after hearing strange SOUNDS emanating from its bowels, and discovered that I had succeeded in creating quite a wide variety of colorful, furry, fruit AND vegetable MOLDS (and I don’t mean the “Jello salad” type), some species unknown perhaps until now, and some defying description altogether! (It is to my credit, however, that initially, I had ambitiously “Green Bagged” every green, orange, yellow, red, purple and/or blue “fruit” and “veg” thing within proximity of my fridge, and had judiciously placed each bag INTO the produce drawer.)

So much for the “money saving” aspects!

Anyway, since I don’t like feeling like a COMPLETE FAILURE, I’d like to think that maybe I’ve at least made a contribution to modern medicine by inadvertent creation of some new, improved strain of “miracle-cure” “bacillus-something-or-other”, but maybe that’s a stretch.

So, like I said earlier – it’s probably NEVER “as ‘easy’ as it looks”! In fact, I plan on steering clear of any more impulsive TV buys prompted by any infomercial. However, in all fairness to the manufacturers of Green Bags, maybe they can work as advertised (at least for the “moisture obsessed”) but please don’t take MY word for it!

P.S. And in case you might be wondering . . . Because I’d already run out of “Green Bags” by the time I got to the “Fingerling Potatoes” of my previous blog, the spuds had fortuitously escaped the above-described “moldy” fate; however, I still haven’t cooked them and they’re now beginning to take on a very interesting “life” of their own.

[To be continued… “The Attack of the Fingerling Potatoes” or “FEEEEEEEED Meeeeee, SEYMOUR!!!"]

Fingerling Potatoes, and Other Objects of Obvious Alien Origin

The other day my housemate, who shall remain nameless for these pages, trotted into the kitchen to retrieve a cup of coffee. Seconds later, his voice emanated from the vicinity of the coffee maker in a plaintive wail. “WHAT ARE THESE ‘THINGS’ IN THIS BAG??” he cried, a lumpy plastic sack in his fist.

“Why, THOSE are FINGERLING POTATOES!” I replied rather matter-of-factly.

“What ARE they!!? What do you DO with ‘them’??!!” he again inquired, his brain struggling valiantly with this most alien of concepts.

“Well, …. er …. Well, I….I’ve been planning on ROASTING them with olive oil and garlic – and perhaps a little rosemary?!”

“You mean we’ll EAT THESE?!” he asked, his voice rising in alarm. “HOW?!” “WITH WHAT?!!”

[I spoke slowly, carefully enunciating…] “Well, yes, I’ve been planning on cooking them … maybe serve ‘em with chicken or steak … just haven’t gotten around to doing anything with them yet.”

“WHY??!” “WHY ARE THEY STILL HERE??!” “Do you MASH ‘em?!”

“Well, nooo, we’ll eat them WHOLE – they’ll be nice and crispy once I cook ‘em.” I probably should have added, “IF I cook ‘em” since they’ve been languishing around the kitchen counter for about a month or so! … But I digress…

Meanwhile I’m trying to remain patient but find myself wondering when the ALIEN had taken over his body, as he seems to be intensely puzzled by even the mundane, familiar and earthly!

This witty banter continued for about an hour or so… well, okay, it was more like 30 seconds to a minute, it just SEEMED so much longer – and got me thinking about how we “humans”, when faced with the unknown or the unfamiliar (be it a thing, a person, or an experience) will attempt to “dub in” some logical seeming “explanation” fitting within the “framework” of our respective experiences and sense of familiarity.

Take for example a visit to the local hardware store or antique shop, places rife with any manner of “odd” and “unidentifiable” “thingies” just screaming for misidentification and misnomer! We’ll pick up the questionable object and if it fails categorization by our terms, by god, we’ll figure out what “it” is and GIVE it a NAME and a USE, just so we don’t have to go around for the rest of the day with a “blank” in our brains, wondering what that “THING” might have been!

Same with “people”. We’ll see or meet someone who, by their manner of dress, appearance, speech, art, etc., doesn’t quite fit some “cookie cutter” stereotype with which we may have become familiar (comfortable?), and we’ll EXPLAIN them “away” by “jamming” them into some familiar “category” or, worse still, by summarily dismissing him or her by filing them under some stereotype, and vilifying them because they don’t “fit” into that SAFE little familiar “niche”! Why?

I say, TO HELL with CATEGORIZATION and FAMILIARITY! Open yourselves UP to experiencing and interacting with the unfamiliar and unknown, smash down the walls of your respective little boxes, and you just might be pleasantly surprised, if not that much richer for allowing yourself to venture out into the vast unknown!

[Okay, I’ll get off the soapbox now… and go roast those damn Fingerling Potatoes.]

Before You Go Off The Deep End, Make Sure There’s Some Water In The Pool!

I’m an Aries. “So what?” you may ask, with a resoundingly loud yawn! I make this rather unoriginal statement in the hope that this “fact” will help to excuse the stray message or ill-advised e-mail I may at some point have tossed out to you, willy-nilly and without the benefit of at least a cursory, OBJECTIVE and preliminary proofreading at my end! (By the way, the operative word here is “objective” since, prior to foisting an unsolicited message on the unsuspecting object of your communiqué – especially if that “object” happens to be a complete stranger – it’s always a good idea to re-read the intended message from a third-person viewpoint before hitting SEND!)

I make this statement with slightly crimson-faced embarrassment since I, the “Aries” (”impetuosity” being one of my more “flattering” characteristics), have been known to blabber on and on about something (possibly a subject I’m not even well versed on), pat myself on the back, and give my hastily composed message the old heave-ho into the ETHER! [“Woohoo, there ya go! Into the vast unknown!!”] Then, about a nanosecond later, I reread my message and I’m left writhing in a state of abject humiliation, but of course, I’m now unable to UN-SEND it!

I subsequently make painful, self-castigating assumptions of what I believe to be the probable, gruesome consequence of my actions: to wit, I have created the impression of being a complete TWIT! Of course, more probably, the “object” of my communication has given my MESSAGE a cursory scan, prior to hitting “DELETE” and going on to more interesting endeavors!

So, on the rather remote chance that anyone now reading this BLOG may actually have been on the receiving end of one of my brilliantly impetuous messages, I could grovel and beg your absolution and/or forgiveness – and hopefully, we all learn from our mistakes. Unfortunately, I’m a slow learner and there’s a very good chance I may do this again!

Bottom line, I said what I said, and good or bad, this is who I am. We all make mistakes so get over it! (But, please, if you have it in your heart, perhaps you will one day forgive me and grant me your absolution?)

With groveling humility, I remain,

Sheepishly yours

Help! I think I've Contracted a Social NETWORKING Disease!

Okay, so first (a mere 7 months ago – my, time DOES fly whilst Twittering!), it was -- “joining MySpace.” Started out with a handful of friends and a modest-appearing profile page – which has now “morphed” into its present state -- hundreds of friends, a plethora of HTML coding, links to this, links to that, Pyzam, Photobucket, this bucket, that bucket, bucket of chicken… well, you get the idea.

Then Facebook reared its mysterious [to me anyway] head! A few friends had joined up; I was compelled to go there, so reluctantly I went (well, okay, maybe I actually went “kickin’ and screamin’ [“Hmmmm, well, I don’t really GET this one .... but…. Okay, here goes…”). Of course, now I go there more often than I care to admit.

Shortly thereafter came TWITTER! [“What’s with all this ‘following’ stuff? Is this maybe a STALKER site?! Well, okay, guess I’ll give THIS one a shot!”] So I then joined Twitter and languished “there” for a month or so, just lurking in the shadows and saying … er, I mean, “tweeting” NOTHING!

Then I got a bit bolder, uploaded a profile pic, and now I find myself “tweeting” and “following” – and have linked my mobile to get a few UPDATES here and there. [Sad but true: Two weekends ago, while on a gig [I'm a pro musician], I thought I had lost my beloved “mobile” and almost died from apoplexy, lest I be unable to tweet MY updates and/or GET anyone else's “updates” on the road! Happily, I did find the cell phone up at the stage, clipped to a drum bag, not that you asked.].

Okay, so, moving right along, and flashing forward to the present!

At every conceivable opportunity, I now “update statuses”, I TWEET, I “BLOG,” I “write on walls”, I “link,” I am apparently obsessed! And in addition, I barely find time to sleep as I stay up waay too late at night “conversing” with friends in global time zones 8 times removed. There doesn’t seem to be any relief in sight!

Also, somewhere along the line I think I may have joined Reverbnation, YouTube and one or two other sites, but I can’t remember either the log-ins OR the passwords so I don't go there at all! And, most recently, I am now a member of “Living History Worldwide”! (Hey, just look at my MySpace Profile … I’ve got a "BADGE" stuck in there somewhere so you can easily find it/me on THAT site!)

Last, but not least, I am presently contemplating an imminent out-of-town vacation (plus have an out-of-town GIG in a few months so I will be AWAY from my beloved COMPUTER! [Oh, god FORBID!]… So what am I NOW doing?! I’m looking for a NETBOOK with WiFi, to take with me on the road so I can keep UP with all that MySpacing and Facebooking and Tweeting (as if the “mobile” isn’t enough!)!!

Is there a DOCTOR in the HOUSE?!!