The End of '10

Sitting in the quiet late night at a downtown LA hotel, surrounded above and below by Rosy Bowlers getting their beauty sleep, I can't help but reflect on The End Of 2010.

Has there been another year in living memory that so spiked bad news with worse, and provided too few good omens to sooth a rattled psyche? Not in my memory, which still lives an active sort of life between uninformed youth and the fracturing of age.

Of course, as you contrarians out there will remind me, there were some good things in 2010. That is true, but I would reply that most were canceled by equal and opposite badness, like antimatter seeking out its matter clone.

You only need look at the economy for an example; when banks flourished again, and the stock market rose with corporate profits while jobs continued to disappear. Lack of gainful employment for far too many is the 800 pound antimatter Gorilla in the room, threatening to annihilate everything.

I've wracked my brain for something unequivocally positive to say about 2010. The best I can come up with is to note it was the year that scientists managed to create antihydrogen in the CERN Hadron collider, a long-desired feat. But whether that's positive or negative in the long run, depends on your perspective. For all of us made up of matter, it might not turn out so good ...

So, cherish your matter while it's intact and non-annihilated. And greet 2011 with hope and persistence.

Poetry Break: New York Riffs

New York City, in December:

Is as cold as I care to be

Is an amazing mix of grime and majesty

Is civilized, with a metal core

Would be a bad place for a wealthy alcoholic

Leaking

By now we've all heard about WikiLeaks, ad nauseum, but I feel the urge to comment. I know, I know, but I just can't help myself.

I can't see what all the fuss is about. From what's been discussed in the press, the information leaking is simply embarrassing to our diplomats, not damaging to national security. What one of our ambassadors thinks about Medvedev, or Berlusconi isn't that newsworthy. Nothing in the WikiLeaks pile released so far is anything like the 'Pentagon Papers', and certainly is not a diplomatic 9/11, as some beaurocrat in Spain ( I think) commented.

And the solution is simple, don't talk dirt about foreign dignitaries behind their backs if you are going to use vulnerable means to dish the dirt. Stick to verifiable facts in written communication (or cables - whatever that term means these days) and only speak opinion in face to face meetings, or via secure media. Haven't our state department folks heard of video chat over secure VPN connections?

We should use this WikiLeaks barrage as a wake-up to improve our security. Because you know if a former hacker like Julian Assange can dredge up these 'secrets', so can the intelligence operatives of other countries.

Lag Time

Remember when you've seen a trailer for a movie that got you all excited to see the flick, only to read that bad news bit at the end: 'coming Summer 20XX', where 'XX' is at least a year away?

Now what if you saw that trailer nearly every time you entered a theater, until the thing was finally released? Are you even more excited to see it?

Ok, so suppose when this film is eventually released, it's shown first somewhere in the world where you are not. The reviews flood in. You do your best to avoid them. And you avoid listening to the opinions of your friends, who somehow saw the movie while traveling in Outer Wozbekistan, or somewhere.

Eventually, and inevitably, as the days drag by, you give in to curiosity and read. And listen. Within no time at all you've learned everything, good or bad, about the film, except (hopefully) the exact script lines.

And then the fateful day comes - the showing of the film in your local bijou. Still care to see it? Perhaps, you tell yourself, you'll just wait and catch it on DVD, or better still HBO / Cinemax / Showtime / Starz/ etc, when it will be free (or seem so).

So there it is: Lag Time is bad news for box office. Which, I guess, isn't a surprise to most people - although it escapes the grasp of some movie marketers, apparently.

But it occurs to me this statement applies to other fields as well. Motorcycles, for example.

It's not been uncommon for a manufacturer to announce a new model to the press a year (or more) in advance of release to the showrooms. Then release the model everywhere BUT in the US market for another year (or more).

During all that time prospective American buyers are inundated with review after review. Eventually, the motorcycle is released into our local showrooms and we can actually buy one. Trouble is, that bike will likely be parked next to other bikes that have just been released. Ones we've only heard about for a few months.

And, by this time, the press has largely quieted when it comes to that long-delayed bike, which, when first revealed was touted as THE bike to own. Now the reviewers are all jazzed about something else.

So, when the dealer tells you the long awaited bike costs as much (if not more) than the newer models, do you plunk down your cash? Or do you tell yourself to wait and catch it on the used market?

Lag Time is a killer ...

Doing Dishes

In some respects I surf the curl of modern technology, in others I lag behind the wave's crest. And, I must admit, in a few others I am still on the beach.

An example of the latter is my family's failure to adopt automatic dishwashing technology that's been around, oh, since Eisenhower. We do the dishes the old (really old) fashioned way, by hand.

Now, I am sure that 90% of the people in the world do dishes by hand, some of them possibly trekking long distances to riverbanks and ponds for the task. At least I have hot and cold running water piped right into my house, a technology that dates to the Minoans of 1500 BC. So I am not totally behind the times.

But in the US of A, I expect my family is in a distinct minority, dishwashing-wise. So, every time there is a feast of significant proportions, like the Thanksgiving just past, there follows a dishwashing chore commensurate in scale.

If I was wise I would follow behind the cooks in our family and clean whatever they dirtied as soon as they were through with it. But no, I am not that wise. Which inevitably leaves an enormous pile of pots, pans, plates, glasses, and cutlery in need of scrubbing. So many, in fact, after we've hosted a gathering of friends for Thanksgiving, that one look at the pile induces shock. I am rendered helpless and am only cheered by more turkey, stuffing, and wine.

The turkey, stuffing, and especially the wine leave me immobile but reflective. This year it occurred to me that our economic meltdown has much in common to that enormous pile of mouldering dishes in my kitchen. In that it got there by failure to clean as you go. We ignored the accumulating mess and kept on gorging at the table. Inevitably the party ended and we found ourselves with a titanic clean-up task. And a national state of shock.

My point of reflection this Thanksgiving was: are we cleaning up, or in shock/avoidance mode still? Are we immersing our hands in hot water and soap, or numbly sipping wine as the dishes marinate?

Making Music

One of my many lapsed enthusiasms is music - specifically guitar music. Preferably electric, loud, and as bluesy as possible while still 'rockin'. But acoustic is good too, more accessible, and arguably less irritating to the neighbors.

Once upon a time I played a lot, and dabbled with home recording. I had big plans, inspired by the Grunge movement of the early 90's.

There were only two flies in the ointment: first, I didn't really have the time, given a growing family and a demanding job; second, and arguably more important, I had/have no talent. Zero, nada, zilch. I can strum a passable 'D', 'C', and 'G' progression, and run a few blues-rock scales, but there it ends.

My lack of persistence saved the world (or at least my family and friends) from an aural disaster of biblical proportions.

I am not alone. There are literally millions of misguided souls who think they can make good music (or at least be rock stars) playing guitar in a band. If there weren't Guitar Center would go bust overnight. Visit any of that chain's locations on a weekend afternoon and listen to the cacophony of jammin' wannabes, if you need (painful) physical proof.

But, luckily for all of us who truly love music and the guitar, there are a few talented souls out there we can live vicariously through.

One of these talented types is an LA guy named Jim Vitale. For a young gent he's been around for what seems like ages. I first met him when he was a doorman at the late, lamented Highland Grounds, where he would occasionally sit in on open mic nights. His music was rough, a bit raw, but powerful and played with conviction.

For reasons known only to Jim, though, he stopped playing at HG, and I didn't hear him play a note on stage for years. I say on stage because he would always oblige with a tasty riff played on someone else's axe, out in HGs spacious patio.

That's how it went for a few years until Jim, out of the blue, released a CD of music titled 'Echo Waiting' featuring the tune 'Aztec Garage' by his band called the 'New Vistas'. I say band, but Jim sang and played most of the instruments, including some amazing guitar. I guess he must have been off in the woodshed, ala Clapton, or maybe he visited the crossroads, I don't know, but his playing had improved amazingly.

Jim also began playing with a local band called 'With a Bible and a Gun', playing Johnny Cash covers. I am not a huge fan of all the Man in Black's hits, but Jim's telecaster playing was spot-on and made it all worth hearing.

Not long after that, Jim did me the favor of giving my son some guitar lessons. Jim's not a teacher by trade, but my son learned a great deal and something in those lessons must have inspired because my son is now a 'real' guitarist. He's even playing out at open mics now, making his Dad proud (and not a little bit green with envy).

Which brings us to the present. Jim Vitale is working on a new CD project, and he's using KickStart to fund it. If you haven't heard about KickStart, it's a site that allows you to take pledges from supporters. If you reach a certain goal, the project gets funded, if not, it doesn't. Jim's just a little past halfway there, with only 4 days to go.

I've contributed, and if any of you who might be reading this like music made on an electric guitar, check out Jim's kickstart site and see if you want to help. If you can't, then get out and support your local live music scene. At least remember to tip that busker playing Hendrix through a worn-out pignose next time you pass him on the street, OK?

Bike Addiction

Sometimes the right decision is trumped by emotion. Maybe most of the time. Depending on your political bent, that may or may not have happened in the elections just past.

It seems to happen all the time when I attempt to make rational decisions on buying motorcycles.

Just now I am blessed with an abundance of goodness when it comes to two-wheeled powered machinery, owning (1) a very pleasing and powerful retro-standard Kawasaki ZRX1200R bought new in 2001; (2) a very fast and nimble Ducati S4RS bought new in 2006; and (3) an extremely usable, accessible 2004 Triumph Bonneville T100, bought used. There is no reason on this earth I need anything else.

If I want to tour on a bike, the ZRX can be pressed into reasonable service. For commuting, the Bonnie is an obvious choice. For a track day, the Ducati won't disappoint. There really is nothing else I need.

But, Oh, do I ever want something else!

I browse the ranks of new bikes at my local dealers with a desire to own most of what I see. It's a disease, treated only by lack of funds and some remnant of responsibility.

A small, evil voice from within tells me I'm getting older and time is wasting if I want to experience all that the world of motorcycling has to offer. There's no time to stick with what you've got for years if you expect to broaden your experience. You want to KNOW, then you have to BUY.

A saving rational voice chimes in counterpoint, telling me to stop being silly and look at what I've got. If you want to buy something new, it says, you have to sell something. Can you do that, it asks ruefully.

Right now, the answer is 'No'. I am the victim of having chosen wisely - or luckily, and every bike I own is 'precious' to me. And I have run out of garage space, money, and time in the week to own/ride more than three.

So, the rational voice wins at the moment, and my addiction is held in check. I have no intellectual doubt this is the right, reasonable condition. But emotion is a strange thing. 'The Heart Wants What It Wants', according to the eminent failed rationalist Woody Allen.

How long I can hold out depends on the economy, my family responsibilities, and how much extra room I can wrest in the garage through careful reorganization.