Talk about being at the right place at the right time

JFGI, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

A South Carolina man was sentenced to three years in prison for having sex with a horse; the judge suspected he was guilty when he asked the man if he had anything to say in his defense and he said; “Neigh.”

New York Yankee Alex Rodriguez commissioned two artists to paint him as a centaur; does this mean Philly fans weren’t wrong to call A-Rod a horse’s ass?

Game six of the World Series is tonight in New York’s Yankee stadium, unless it rains. Rain in the Northeast in November? Who ever heard of such a thing? This global warming thing is out of control.

The lawsuit over the cost of former Miss California, Carrie Prejean’s breast implants has been settled out of court. Gov. Schwarzenegger volunteered to arbitrate and examine the evidence.

“Twilight” star Kristen Stewart hates being famous; talk about a poor career choice. There just aren’t many openings for unknown and anonymous movie stars.

Girls, if you’re looking for a good Fall gift for your man, you can’t go wrong with a Snuggie, the blanket with arms now comes with two pockets where men can put their masculinity and their pride.

Maine voted down a law allowing same-sex marriage. In a related story, in gay protest, Maine antique stores can anticipate a huge drop in business this weekend.

President Barack Obama campaigned for Chicago and Rio got the 2012 Olympics, Obama stumped for democratic governors and yesterday the republicans won. Today Obama offered to cheer for the Philadelphia Phillies and they said; “That’s OK. We’re good.”

Since you asked: Reading more about the whacked out Los Angeles music scene in the Seventies. It is amazing just how incestuous it was. From Winnetka, Illinois in 1974, I could see that everybody was playing on everybody else’s albums, James Taylor, Don Henley, Glenn Frey, Linda Rondstadt, Joni Mitchell, Dan Fogelberg, Jackson Browne, J.D. Souther, Randy Newman, Warren Zevon, et al. But the musical inbreeding went even deeper. Led Zeppelin and the Rolling Stones were drawn to Los Angeles like moths to the flame. So was Bob Dylan. So was Eric Clapton. Many swear the Stones stole “Wild Horses” from Graham Parsons. Led Zeppelin quickly tired of the candlelit mutual schmoozing with acoustic guitar fests of Laurel Canyon – even though that was what “Misty Mountain Hop” and “Going to California” were written about - and decided to look for inspiration in the Tom Waits/Doors seedy side of the Los Angeles scene. Cue: “When the Levee Breaks.” The Stones have a long-standing reputation of chewing up and then spitting out their musical influences. From Muddy Waters and Chuck Berry to Elton John, they are like royalty crowing; "Bring him to me, he amuses me" and once they have gleaned what they can, they discard them. That is what Richards did with Gram Parsons. Zep’s Plant and Page and Bonham and Jones trashed and partied with bikers and low life’s at the Hyatt “Riot House” on Sunset Blvd, not exactly slumming, but no mellow fern and incense Lookout Mountain backyard party either. My impression is that most musician types were the polar opposite of the cool kids in high school. They were the loners playing guitar on the stairs of the party until the real cool kid, John Belushi, thankfully smashes the guitar into smithereens against the wall. And they take this tormented loser personality into the studio and it shows in their earlier heart-wrenching love-gone-wrong “Best of My Love” “Daisy Jane” “Fountain of Sorry” songs. Suddenly the long-tormented high school losers are getting babes, blow and tons of dough and they don’t know how to handle it. So they start acting like how they think the cool kids are supposed to act, aloof, rude, arrogant and snotty, and they do it very, very badly. The real cool kids in music – like Jimi Hendrix and Keith Richards - don’t try to be cool, they just were/are cool. Many of the late Sixties and Seventies bands from L.A., from the Doors all the way through to Motley Crux, had a phony air of faux cool. It was a California cool they were trying to package and market and that always ends up reeking of insincerity. Kind of like songs about the music business disguised as love songs. Don’t get me wrong, I love “Wasted Time” but that is clearly about the Eagles’ endless time in the studio and not sympathy for a heart-broken dumped lover. “Poor me, I have to take a limo from my hotel suite down to a radio station and do an interview when I would rather be doing tequila shots out of a hot groupies naval. Can’t you feel my pain?” No, actually we can’t you adult spoiled brat. Now take a weapon and stand a post. Either way I don’t give a damn what you think you’re entitled to. (Sorry, I’ve been lapsing into Col. Jessep a lot lately) High school with money is right. All of these dyed-in-the-wool loners and losers from all over the country were scrambling over each other in Los Angeles in a desperate attempt to look like the coolest jocks who got the hot cheerleaders. “Oh, I’m sorry, you can’t ride in our limo, you take the next one. Snort, snort.” Using Richard Nixon as a drastic example, being a high school loser can both horribly scar and tremendously motivate someone for the rest of their lives. But, tragically, in the end, the scars are always there. And, in the end, even they, the rock stars, aren’t believing their own masquerade. Sure, some ended up with money and fame, but they all pretty much lost most of their souls somewhere along the way. As badly as they may have been treated by the jocks, cool kids and pretty cheerleaders in high school, they ended up abusing their fans, groupies, roadies and managers ten times more. You can't do that without selling your soul. But the music was awesome and we got to keep that. If you ask me, I think we, in the long run – sorry, Glenn and Don - came out ahead. Me and you, the regular folks, we got to keep the music and keep our souls.

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