Bike Tour Book Review II

Today brings us the second installment of the Bike Tour book review. Some good reads recently on my daily bus ride home from the D. The book reading process on the bus provides a nice getaway from:  the work day, the ladies sitting behind me bitching about their work day, the anguish on the face of the poor individual sitting across who is sandwiched in a two-seater with a 300+ pound individual, the deodorant challenged individuals, lady plumber butts (large ones), the loud cell phone talker, the losing gambler (bus has a stop at MGM) and last but not least, the beer spilling painter. Everything mentioned actually has happened one time or another on the bus but are exceptions for the most part. The ride is A-OK as a majority of riders are good, hard working folks looking to get home. The beer spilling painter seriously happened once. That sure wasn't coffee in his tin tumbler when the bus came to a sudden stop, the lid somehow popped off and he spilled on the lady in front of him; almost a full tumbler. I saw said painter sleeping on the sidewalk in front of the RenCen sometime after. No lie.

With that, the reviews:

- Tom Petty autobiography

Whether you're a fan of his or not, a great read of the many, many, many peaks and valleys of someone who left us too soon; yet the man cheated death a few times prior. He sure took his entertaining seriously; and it showed in his concerts. 

- Trump book (exact title withheld)

I'm leaving the exact title out as the book already has enough public relations over the past year by the actions of the subject of the book. The author sure had to be in quite a few places though to capture what he has in print (insert skepticism) but boring stories aren't going to sell books, eh? Nothing too shocking in it but National Enquirer readers will enjoy it. The Prez himself didn't think he'd win the election as the author infers? Make that two of us. The son-in-law is a moron? Wow!! (sarcasm). You can just turn on the 24 hour news network, see it live and save yourselves some book money.     

- The Curse - The Colorful & Chaotic History of the LA Clippers

This should be lumped in with the previously referenced book as the root of both issues lie in the leader. Donald Sterling had no clue. They say any publicity is good publicity; not in his case. The man unfortunately had no little man inside his head to tell him to keep it to himself.  

Bad owner aside, the team just couldn't catch a break. The most knee injuries ever and Bill Walton's broken feet didn't help. 

Good read though as each season that Sterling owned the team (roughly 30 years), you can only say "no way" in reading what went wrong each year for either him (self induced) or the team (plain bad luck).

- U.S. Guys: The True and Twisted Mind of the American Man
- Work and Other Sins: Life in New York City - Charlie LeDuff

I'm lumping these two together as they are from one of my favorite authors. Both deal with the people you don't see all clean and perfect on television; he writes of real people. The author is not afraid to walk up to anyone from a crack addict to a prostitute to a group of firemen who were part of 9/11 to a group of individuals recreating Little Big Horn, sit down with them for an extended time and learn a little bit about how they came to be. Those pan handlers weren't shaking the paper cups their entire lives. 

The author was able to be part of the circus, play arena football and joined the Little Big Horn reenactment to name a few. The stories aren't about the circus, football or the war though, they're about the people behind the activity. You learn about the lives of foreign families going cross country in the circus; just getting by.  The former football hero looking for that one last shot to be seen. And the group of individuals driving cross country each year to dress up and celebrate (??) the anniversary of an entire calvary getting slaughtered.
Five stars on anything this author writes. 

- Good Vibrations

Beach Boy bio from the lead singer.  The 'Endless Summer' album (one of their many, many, many greatest hit compilations) back in the 70's was one of my first. The author seems to pat himself on the back more than once but when you're writing, I guess you can rationalize all you want. The author whines a handful of times on not getting enough credit for some song writing that cousin Brian claimed sole credit.  We get it. You only have to tell us once that you were bitter.
We learn that Brian Wilson should have stuck to the naturals. Really? (more sarcasm). Artificial buzz is not the way large fella.
A good read overall though as it was one talented family. I had the music player on the 'Pet Sounds' album the entire week after the read.  

- Present at the Creation: My Life in the NFL and the Rise of America's Game

The author, son of one time NFL commissioner Bert Bell, started in the business working for the Baltimore Colts ticket office, moved to the scouting department, became personnel director and eventually became general manager of the New England Patriots. That would be my dream career path in some fashion if I were to do it all over again. A great perspective on the scouting process and I understand even more what a crap shoot the draft is after the 1st Round.
Mr. M. Millen, if you're reading, you at least have to get the 1st Rounder right though and you couldn't even do that.

- The Godfather

Yes, I've seen the movie a trillion times but the visual while reading is always a treat.

- Sole Influence: Basketball, Corporate Greed, and the Corruption of America's Youth

Written in 2000 but still applies to today in some respects (unfortunately) as it talks about the shoe companies taking over the AAU basketball circuit, and the lack of background checks for some of the coaches within the program. I would hope in 18 years since the book came out that more thorough background checks are being completed; but there is no way the shoe wars will ever stop. Friend Gus' son plays AAU currently and haven't heard any horror stories so that is a good thing.

- I'm Dying Up Here: Heartbreak and High Times in Stand-Up Comedy's Golden Era

Good read on the golden era of comedy in the 70's when some were making it big (i.e. Letterman, Pryor, Leno, Kaufman) and some not so much; one comedian who jumped off the roof of the club was one of the unlucky ones. A profession that if you can't take getting the heckles that go along with the laughs, you won't last.
We learn about a group of up and coming comics joining together to picket the club to protest the crappy wages (little, if any) they were getting. The owner claimed she was providing exposure for the comics to make it big so most got little or nothing to appear. It eventually worked with the comics getting their wishes but not without a little blood; and one death unfortunately.

Taking the Blame for the Late Spring

winter project complete

Yep, I'll take the blame for this one as my winter project finally concluded tonight so...spring may commence! 

I'm taking the blame but I'm bringing the frame company who I ordered from with me! One order of 25 frames that mat to a 5 x 7 picture, all the same color/size; seemed like a simple order. After getting someone else's candle holders, the wrong size frames and a couple visits to the UPS store (thanks again Michelle for the help both times!), my 25 frames came. 

With my yardstick, level, pencil and 125 reader glasses guiding the way, besides a few cusses, the framing process went pretty smooth for this large headed fellow. 

Time to pedal.

Trail Head

 

Music Album Envy

Digital music. Love the crystal clear sound but today's youth have no idea what they are missing with not being able to experience the record album. Besides the obvious of the outstanding sound quality of what appears to be bratwurst cooking as you play them, nothing beat going to the record store. It was an event. The only thing better was getting home and not just playing the album but digging your melon into the cover and the contents inside the sleeve. The artwork, the credits, the lyrics and sometimes a crazy art insertion by the band. I had the lyrics to Styx's "Renegade" and Queen's "Another One Bites The Dust" down pat as they were right there in the sleeve for you to sing along. Laugh all you want youngsters but it sure beat the hell out of today's youth equivalent of seeing who on social media is changing their profile picture (again).

Case in point of a great album is the Zeppelin IV album. Not only a great album musically but open the album cover and put the inside picture of a night watchman against the mirror and a 'beast' is seen. Of course it made all of us into satanic worshipers once we saw it (insert sarcasm). 

Zeppelin IV with the night watchman turning into the beast

The millennials have no idea of the 'Paul is dead' conspiracy back in the day. The Beatles Abbey Road cover had Paul barefoot with a '28IF' license plate in the background. Aren't dead people buried barefoot? Will Paul make 28? How can I get my record player to play the album backwards so I can hear the hidden message? I remember my brother telling me about it when I was about 10 or so and actually giving it a moment to comprehend. "Who is the guy in Paul's body then?" my 10 year old pea brain thought. One of my favorite SNL skits re-visited the silliness via the 'Chris Farley Show'; with Paul McCartney as the guest:

Chris Farley: Did you see "Terminator"?

Paul McCartney: No, I missed that one.

Chris Farley: That was a pretty awesome flick. [ pause ] O-kay.. remember.. you remember when you were with The Beatles, and you were supposed to be dead, and, uh, there was all these clues, that, like, uh, you played some song backwards, and it'd say, like, "Paul Is Dead", and, uh, everyone thought that you were dead? That was, um, a hoax, right?

Paul McCartney: Yeah. I wasn't really dead.

no, Paul really is alive

I was recently cleaning up some pictures and came across a couple that could easily double as album covers. 

To the left we have the Rolling Stones. To the right we have my friends being silly up north; two of them literally 'walking on water'.

Ozzy to the left; me to the right prior to the Judas Priest show last weekend.  My speech has mirrored his at times.

Way Back Machine to Socially Accepted Cigarette Smoking

The Way Back Machine takes us back to a time when cigarettes were advertised on television, allowed in pretty much any establishment (even hospitals), were considered a stature symbol (Humphrey Bogart and James Dean look cool doing it; I want to be cool too!) and even our sports heroes were enjoying the habit. Nothing like taking a drag after working so hard to get your body in peak condition. 

It was accepted and a different era. My parent's high schools had designated smoking rooms for students to partake. We had an oak tree just off the grounds at my high school that was the designated 'smoking tree.' 

My first boss at my current employer when I started back in 1990 was an old school smoker, real old. The kind that can down half a smoke in one puff and not even flinch. He fought the "no smoking inside" rule to the end as our branch was the last to convert. At the very (bitter) end, we had half of the lunchroom established as a smoking area. You could tell where that area was as the white ceiling tires were dirt brown. Post work libations at the time involved going to an establishment at 10 Mile and Telegraph. I didn't notice it at the time but looking back, the place made the smog in Los Angeles look tame with the cloud of smoke present in the air when you entered. They had a pool table in there so I took out my work angst in kicking my co-worker's asses while stinking up my clothes; serious smoke stink.

This is not a C. Everett Koop rant on the pratfalls of smoking as I tried it back in college while attempting to tackle the world of Business Accounting 202. Enough times of your head spinning trying to get your mind wrapped around accrual basis accounting will lead you to the cancer sticks. The habit lasted the semester and that was enough. As the saying goes, I gave it the college try but even the lure of a "really cool" duffel bag (they definitely target the young) with the purchase of three packs of 'Players' cigarettes could get me to stay with it. Marlboro had a whole catalog for smokers to pick "free" merchandise if you earned enough smoking points (i.e. bought lots of cigarettes). A friend of mine earned a good portion of the catalog. 

And I got a B in the accounting class.

With the evolution of the world, we learned that cigarettes are bad for you. And stinky clothes are not going to bring the ladies in. Go figure. The television advertisements for cigarettes have been replaced by drug ads for everything from longer erections (get a prettier girlfriend) to depression to hair restoration products. Personally, I liked Mickey Mantle telling me about the joys of a post game drag versus a 30 second drug commercial where 25 seconds cover the side effects. The "may cause suicidal tendencies" is sufficient enough for me to say "no thanks." 

Smoke 'em if you got 'em.

Trail Head 

one of the joys I get surfing the
Twitter world are posts like this
(no, I don't 'tweet')

bet he couldn't juggle without the smoke

755 - time to relax

wtf you want?

Sparky contemplating how great
Chris Pittaro could have been

 

dainty smoke

that is a power smoke

Tour Heads West - Anyone know how to get red clay out of cotton?

The bike tour headed west this past week as this large headed scribe ventured to what I think could be classified as the granddaddy of them all (so far) in terms of mountain biking utopia, Sedona, Arizona. As the old saying goes, pictures don't do it justice but got some good helmet footage as well to hopefully show the vastness (first time ever using that word) of the place. It's broken up into about 10 short parts. The music covers up my gasping.

Some funky trail/loop names as I pedaled: Chuck Wagon, Mescal, Cockscomb, Canyon of Fools, Rupp, Yucca, Dawa, Girdner, Adobe Jack, Jordan, Javalina, Grand Central, Ridge, Old Post, Skywalker, Carroll Canyon and Crusty. All were well marked and only had one instance of needing to backtrack because I was in my A.D.D. world with the music player going, not paying attention. The elevation took its toll on day one as the city is a little over 4,000 feet above so extra climbing was a treat; not. The payoffs were worth it though as what comes up, must come down; into some beautiful views. 

I brought back some of the red clay/rock from Arizona as my shirts and black riding shoes are a reddish/orange hue. The socks made it to the trash can at my hotel. If anyone has the secret to get red clay clean, give me a shout. 

Trail Head

Way Back Machine Visit to the Beginning

I’m putting together a family wall in my house and looking over the pictures I compiled. It got me thinking of the many things that could/could not have occurred to have this large headed writer exist/not exist in this wacky world we live in today. With that, the Way Back Machine takes us back to the 1930’s in Detroit when four individuals came together and through a chain of events, created me.

Frank Reeves was working the beat as a Detroit cop when he met Eva Heisenleder (just a hint of German in that name), got married, raised two boys, Hugo and Joe, and called Bordeau Street around Grand River and Livernois in Detroit home.

Grandpa Frank

Aunt Freda, Hugo & Joe

Not too far away, Byron (Barney) Meece, working in the local tool and die world, was courting Evelyn Cowger. They too got married, raised a girl and boy, Donna and Howard, and called Montrose Street around Greenfield and Plymouth Rd. in Detroit home. Barney built his own house. That alone gets you classified as a man's man. 

Grandpa Barney

Barney & Evelyn

Howard & Donna

Donna

Barney & Donna

Donna

Fast forward 20 or so years when Hugo was at a party around his neighborhood (details are sketchy but this is the story I was told) and came upon Donna. I guess he waited until his wedding vows to not lie as he told my Mom he was younger than he was right off the bat. After some courtship (and truth telling), the two married, created their own family and after a few glasses of wine on what was probably a cold, winter evening in 1967, the two got frisky and conceived me.
Thanks to all involved for making it happen!

Trail Head

Donna

Hugo

me, sis & bro - doing a really bad 'see no evil, hear no evil, speak no
evil' (how could I see the camera with my hands over my eyes?)

Monday Moonlighting

Yep, I moonlighted at my second job last night, filling in for the concert review writer from the local paper to cover the Winwood show at The Fox. I wish as what a gig that would be; having rock star access to any show and giving your two cents on what you heard. I think there is only one main reviewer in the metro Detroit area (and he's a good one) so it sounds pretty much like a lottery ticket job. One in a million. 

Back to the show. First of all, it was an older crowd; MUCH older. I was the baby in the house at 50. My apologies to any elders we may have nudged fleeing after the show. When its time for Timmy Leaves to leave, he does so get the hell out of the way fella in the walker!   

A perfect venue as The Fox is as nice as they come. The main act did not disappoint as the White Ray Charles can play him some organ/piano/guitar/bass, etc....  A simple stage with four or five throw rugs flanked on the stage with a group of five, sometimes six band mates, all right near each other. Other than some 70's lights that went for a bit, it was as simple of a stage as they come. No dancing and long stories; just some great music. Winwood plays a 'jillion' instruments and was close to being outdone by a band mate (don't know names) who also had the organ/piano, rocked some flute and handled all of the horns. 

Leading off with "I'm a Man" had me wanting to stand and get funky but restrained to some toe tapping and large melon bobbing. Close your eyes and it was Ray Charles up there abusing that organ. 

Those wanting their Blind Faith fix got it with "Can't Find My Way Home" and "Had to Cry Today," the latter witnessing Winwood doing his Clapton guitar impression better than Clapton himself.  

The Traffic fans also got their fix with "Dear Mr. Fantasy," "John Barleycorn Must Die" (awesome flute), "Low Spark of High Heeled Boys," and my favorite of the night, "Empty Pages;" the toe tapping of all toe tapping songs.

The "Back in the High Life" album (yes, have it on vinyl) could be a concert by itself but surprisingly only heard "Higher Love" from that collection. "Roll With It" from his other solo album again had the need to bob and tap. 

Last, but not least, the group closed the night with some Spencer Davis Group's "Gimme Some Lovin" and the contingent in the crowd rose EVER SO SLOWLY and exited. 

I wanted more as the catalog still has pretty much an entire second show that could have been played: "While You See a Chance," "Medicated Goo," "Walking in the Wind," "Split Decision," "Back in the High Life," "Spanish Dancer" and "Talking Back to the Night" to name a few.   

Mr. Winwood, if you're reading, if you want to play the second set, we're having a music festival in August here locally; about a 100 or so good people. My contact information is on my profile here. See what you can do. Thanks for the entertainment.

Trail Head