Feel A Whole Lot Better

The other night, Thursday to be exact, we went to see Chris Hillman and Herb Pedersen. It was a nice contrast to the heaviness of last week's jury duty. Ick.

Of course, Hillman was in two of my favorite bands, The Byrds (above) and The Flying Burrito Brothers. Pedersen has played with about everybody who ever did the country-rock thing — I'm a big fan of the records he did with The Dillards (Copperfields and Wheatstraw Suite).

Thinking about Hillman, I realized what a huge influence he's had on my appreciation of Country Music — adding to the Johnny Cash fandom I inherited from my Dad. The Byrds' and Burritos' covers lead me to the Louvin Brothers, Buck Owens, Hank Snow and on and on. And for all that, in addition to masterpieces like The Notorious Byrd Brothers and Sweetheart Of The Rodeo, I can't thank them enough. And I'm sure there's plenty of other alt-country fans out there who were educated the same way.

Lately, I've been all over those Sundazed mono mixes of the first four Byrds LPs. When it comes to mid-60s rock, people, mono's where it's at.

A few tools, an old VW, and a whole lot of "what the hell?"

Sitting around the courthouse yesterday, I trolled the many Volkswagen restoration sites and blogs out there. Came across this, which someone scanned outta Mechanix Illustrated.

My bug, a '74, is yellow. I won't take the color of this bitchin' camper as some sort of sign — and start making with the hacksaw. But this is a very cool thing.

However, I bet getting it up I-77 into Virginia would be one long, slow, white-nuckle ride. Note the aerodynamic windshield.

Does this make me Commissioner Gordon?

Here I sit in the "jury lounge" of the Wake County Courthouse, nursing this laptop through some very terrible wireless signals — all in an attempt at doing some work while waiting to be called to some courtroom downstairs.

Thought I'd put this overdue Halloween picture up. Months ago, Presley wanted to be the Pink Panther, so Jennifer started sorting out how she was going to pull it off. It was going to be very very hard. (Last year's masterful Herbie The Love Bug set the bar very very high.)

Next, Presley wanted to be a flower. Easier than the Pink Panther, for sure.

Then she came to the realization that she should be Mickey Dolenz of The Monkees. Huh?

Let's see, one of those shirts with the weird yoke, a drum with the Monkees logo and a curly wig? Would that do it? And would any of the other kids wandering around Cary, North Carolina, have a clue as to who she was? And do we really care? She'd certainly get points for originality — and maybe a few more for out and out weirdness.

But in the end, she settled on Batgirl, as seen below.

No crimes were solved, but much candy was secured. And the Batarangs absolutely refused to stay in her utility belt.



We went to the Museum Of History which had a special Halloween thing going on. A TV crew was there and Presley/Batgirl somehow ended up on TV.

I love these things.

Where's a fried bologna sandwich when you need one?

On the way to work yesterday — at my new job — I dropped Jennifer and Presley off at the NC State Fair. After lunch, I left the office and joined them. By the time I got there, they'd milked a cow, seen a buncha animals, walked miles, etc. They're huge fans of the Fair, and spent about 10 hours there all-told.

I snapped this picture of Presley on the Ferris wheel (that's Dorton Arena in the background). As you can see, she was a little uneasy about the whole thing. Guess heights aren't her bag.


When we got down, a guy from the News & Observer approached us. He was pointing his camera at us as I was pointing mine at Presley. We appeared on the N&O site this morning.


The whole thing is a bit more documented than I think was really necessary. But it was a fun day, even though I never found the fried bologna sandwich place Mark Brumback told me about.

Oh, and Presley won a stuffed bear and a weird doll that plays some crazy song in some crazy language.

Paul Newman, 1925 - 2008

The shot's from HARPER (1966). That's the one-sheet to the right. It's my favorite Newman film, and it pointed me to one of my favorite writers, Ross MacDonald.

Paul Newman was, and still is, a yardstick we could all use to measure cool. And he made it cool to care about other people, which we should all be grateful to him for.

We're losing these guys at a pretty distressing clip. What are we gonna do when all the cool guys are gone?

Meet Supercat!

Presley started the second grade yesterday. In one of her workbooks, she had to create a new superhero. She came up with Supercat.

It was some sort of exercise to use verbs, with a fill-in-the-blank thing to describe her superhero. It reads:

"My superhero can fly, save, arrest and meow!"

It's great here in North Carolina: Barbie rod hooks record-breaking catfish

BARBIE ROD HOOKS RECORD-BREAKING CATFISH
From The News & Observer

A Wilkes County fisherman caught a record channel catfish -- with his granddaughter's hot pink Barbie doll rod and reel.

David Hayes landed the fish, which weighed 21 pounds, one ounce, on Aug. 5 in a private pond in the northwestern North Carolina county. He was fishing with his granddaughter Alyssa, 3, the N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission said.

The fish was 2 inches longer than Alyssa's rod and reel, which measured 2 and a half feet.

Hayes and his granddaughter were using black crickets as bait and fishing for bluegill when nature called for Alyssa.

"After catching two or three bluegill, Alyssa turns to me and says 'Papa, I've got to go to the bathroom. Hold my fishing rod,'" Hayes recalled, according to a news release issued by the Wildlife Resources Commission. "A few minutes later, the float went under and I saw the water start boiling up. I knew right then that I had my hands full with that fishing rod."

It took Hayes 25 minutes to land the fish.

The fish was weighed on certified scales at Thurmond Grocery in Thurmond, N.C. It was certified by Kin Hodges, a fisheries biologist with the N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission.

The fish was 32 inches long and 22 and a half inches in girth.

The previous record channel catfish was an 18-pound, 5-ounce specimen caught in August 2007.

Hayes told the Wildlife Resources Commission that he and Alyssa have been fishing together since she was old enough to hold a fishing rod.

Big-rubber-foot

"As the team and I began examining this area near the feet, I observed the foot which looked unnatural, reached in and confirmed it was a rubber foot."

This Week's Greatest Thing Ever

There's a lot of Stupid in my life right now, which come to think of it, isn't anything new. So maybe it's a little more obvious these days.

So, it just makes sense that all this stuff would be scored by "Surfin' Bird" by The Trashmen. Or maybe by that 4-CD Stack O' Greatness (and the current Greatest Thing Ever), BIRD CALL: THE TWIN CITY STOMP OF THE TRASHMEN.

(What you're looking at up there is their first LP.)

Maybe the world isn't as crummy as I thought.

It's pretty easy to see the world as a pretty lousy place to be these days. The economy, war, people starving everywhere, network TV.

But then you figure that we live in an age where you can own the 1966 BATMAN movie, starring Adam West, an a high-definition Blue-Ray DVD.

Something about that makes me feel good inside — even though I don't have a Blue-Ray player.

Atomic batteries to power!

Sugarlight

In late May, my best friend James and I took my daughter Presley to see X. She had a blast.

Yesterday, it became apparent what an impact that whole event has had on her.

Like most seven year olds, she loves lightning bugs — even though most other insects freak her out.

She caught four the other day. Their names: Exene, Billy Zoom, John Doe and DJ Bonebrake. I talked her into letting them go. Last night, she had another one in her special plastic bug container thing (a jar with holes in the lid was good enough when I was a kid). She swears it's Exene again.

Hooray! It's The Feelies! Part 2

This morning while drinking my Bushiban coffee and eating my Dolly Madison coffee cake, I geeked out and read a buncha blog entries and stuff about the Feelies' Maxwell's shows.

One of the best came from Stan Demeski's daughter, Katie. You can read it here:

http://howstrange-innocence.blogspot.com

The photo I snagged from her site. (Thanks, Katie. Or maybe it should be "Sorry, Katie!") Down at the bottom of her post, I came across:

http://www.nyctaper.com/

Here, you can download the second set of their July 1 show.

So there. Proof that this whole Internet thing really can make our lives better.

Hooray! It's The Feelies!

I know where I wish I was gonna be on July 4 — seeing The Feelies. But I'm happy just to know they're back.

Thought For The Day

It's a bird! It's a plane. It's Father's Day!

For Father’s Day, Presley gave me a right spiffy gift: a trip to the indoor skydiving place.

What’s that? Well, that was kinda what I was wondering, too. You head to this place outside Fayetteville called Paraclete where they got this big fat monster wind tunnel and you get in there and hang in the air and zip around and stuff like you see skydivers do as they drop like stones.

As they describe it on their website, “you will soar on a column of air inside a vertical wind tunnel.”

And that’s what I did. Suited up in a jumpsuit and helmet, with some goggles that thankfully let me keep my glasses on, I got in there and flew around a little bit, with an instructor keeping me from blowing around like a wadded up piece of trash on a blustery day. It was a blast. And I was less lousy at it than I figured I’d be.

It was for sure a Father’s Day I won’t forget. And I’m ready to go back and try it again.

Jennifer took some pictures with her phone, but they aren't much to look at. So, I boosted this shot off their website. My aerobatics were nothing like those you see here.

"Must Not Think Bad Thoughts"

Been pretty down on my fellow man lately, thanks to an almost constant onslaught of rudeness from just about everybody I come into contact with. On the way to work, at the grocery store, walking around the flea market -- you name it, I've found creeps there. And my wife, Jennifer, has been complaining about the same thing. What the hell's wrong with people? And is it that damn hard to be civil?

So what did I do to fix all this, to restore my faith in the human race? Took my seven-year-old daughter to see X.

X is one of my favorite bands. Maybe they are my favorite band. If there was such a thing as a Rockometer -- a way to scientifically measure whether you prefer The Beatles to The Stones or Sgt. Pepper to Pet Sounds or Punk to Grunge or mono to stereo -- then I guess X could duke it out with The Kinks for my High Score. I discovered them in college and quickly pegged UNDER THE BIG BLACK SUN as one of the greatest albums of all time. But I was a latecomer -- the mighty Billy Zoom was gone by the time I found 'em.

Flash forward to 1998, and Billy Zoom is back for reunion shows. I'm married, sporting a hairdo clearly inspired by Zoom's, and my best friend James (after running the whole scenario past my co-conspiring wife) flies us out to LA to see X at The House Of Blues on the fabulous Sunset Strip. One of the greatest days of my life, easy.

Ten more years pass. I've got a seven-year-old daughter named Presley, the same Billy Zoom hair and thankfully the same wife and best friend. X comes to The Cat's Cradle in Carrboro last Tuesday, and James comes down from Brooklyn to take it in with Presley and I.

They played a little under an hour and a half. Stuff from the first four records, all played really hard. (They did "The Have Nots"!) And throughout, they seemed to be enjoying it. It mattered. Can't say that about many reunion tours, can you?

One of the greatest days of my life, easy. Not just because I got to see X play perhaps the best live show I've ever seen. Not because my daughter was there having a good time and sitting on the stage — perched in front of Billy Zoom and looking splendid in her “White Girl” t-shirt. Not because James came down — and I see him all too infrequently. Not because I met his friend Lauren, who took the above photos. Not because I also ran into my buddy Dick Vincent there. But because people were so NICE, from the ticket guy to the fans to Billy Zoom. And even though I felt a little conspicuous going in with a little kid, by the end of the show, people were coming up and saying they wished they'd brought their children.

It was a perfect father-daughter evening. And one of these days, Presley'll be able to tell her friends that her dad and his kooky friends took her to see X. And they'll probably say "Who?"

I feel sorry for them already.

John Phillip Law, RIP

John Phillip Law, 1937 - 2008

Our populace is getting less cool by the day, people!

And some more Roth.

I've had this car on my mind for days. It's beautiful.

It's Ed "Big Daddy" Roth's daily driver during his prime mid-60s custom-building days. '55 Chevy with a fiberglass front end. Scoop on the hood. Tangerine orange. The back fenders were radiused.

And of course, it's got ROTH painted on the doors and trunk lid.

Ed's vehicles are well-documented and their whereabouts are locked down, especially since the Orbitron was located. (In fact, some say the mill from this '55 was chromed and plopped into the Orbitron.)

Wonder where this '55 is? Wonder how hard it'd be to clone it?

More Roth.

Here is Ed's 1979 Honda CVCC, which he used to haul his airbrush stuff around in for years. Of course, as much paint went on it as in it. The hood, even in its unrestored state (I hope the owner leaves it as-is), is a thing of Beauty.