Archive for the ‘MUSIC’ Category

Here I go again

Wednesday, January 30th, 2008

Quick note…I cannot disclose the details, but I will briefly be on television tonight. Watch Fox News after the republican debate, and connect the dots. I will be the guy smiling while pretending not to be sobbing like a 4 year old girl. Now back to business.

“I don’t know where I’m going…but I sure know where I’ve been…hanging on the promises, and the songs of yesterday…I’ve made up my mind…wasting no more time…Here I go again…

I know what it means…to walk along a lonely street of dreams…

Here I go again on my own…going down the only road I’ve ever known…like a drifter I was born to walk alone…Here I go again.”

20 years have passed since Whitesnake gave us that song, with hard rock romantic David Coverdale on lead vocals. I think of his words today, because like many people out there, I feel lost right now, a fellow in the wilderness…the political wilderness.

A man I deeply believed in ran for President…and did not win the nomination. As awful as I feel, politics is very similar to sports, and I do not want to become one of those fans that takes the game harder than the players.

Yes, I wanted Rudy Giuliani to be President. Yet I cannot allow myself to feel worse than the Mayor feels himself. There are three reasons I believe in him.

1) He took a city somewhere between Detroit and Fallujah in terms of livability and turned it around.

2) He was magnificent on 9/11.

3) The Jayson Blair Times hates his guts.

I want him to soldier on, attend the California debate, win it, and clean up on Super Tuesday. Then again, the people have spoken, and I respect the decision, painful as it is.

I wonder if Rudy Giuliani knows who Del Shannon is. He is the guy sang “Runaway.”

“As I walk along, I wonder, what went wrong…”

I bring up because Del Shannon had success in life, but was miserable. He took his own life. Nobody should ever reach that level. Rudy Giuliani put his pain aside, made a very gracious speech, and will continue leading a happy life. His supporters should do the same.

So where do we go from here? We choose another candidate.

I backed John McCain in 2000. He was my second choice in 2008. I have said on more than one occasion that the only man who could keep me from voting for him is Rudy Giuliani. Rudy Giuliani and John McCain admire each other. It is a shame they could not both share the top job. Nevertheless, Rudy Giuliani believes in John McCain as the next best alternative to himself. I agree with that assessment.

John McCain can defeat Hillary Clinton. Mitt Romney would have a much tougher time. Conservatives are nervous that John McCain is loved by democrats. They should take note of the fact that the democrats who will be voting for a democrats are scared to death of him. They are licking their chops at facing Mitt Romney. This has to be taken into account.

John McCain is the man who in 2000 vowed that if he won the nomination, he would “beat Al Gore like a drum.” I pray that the feistiness and combativeness he has had with some in his own party will be extended to Hillary Clinton.

I also hope that McCain extends the Vice Presidential ticket to Rudy, and that Rudy accepts it. This truly would be a dream ticket. With Mitt Romney as the Treasury Secretary and Fred Thompson as Attorney General, all we would need is a top notch Secretary of Defense. Duncan Hunter would be a good choice, and so would Dick Lugar. McCain might cross party lines and go with Joseph Lieberman.

While this is not my first and most desired scenarios, I have backed many candidates that did not win. In some cases it turned out well, and in other cases not so well.

In 1996 I saw the 4 main candidates as Bob Dole, Phil Gramm, Jack Kemp, and Dan Quayle. I decided that Quayle, despite being much maligned, would be the clear conservative. Gramm was next, and if I had to, Kemp third and Dole fourth. When Kemp and Quayle opted not to run, the candidate I first became passionate about was Pete Wilson. I enthusiastically backed him. When he dropped out, I backed Lamar Alexander, with Dick Lugar being my second choice. Everybody dropped out except for the candidates I wanted least, Dole and Buchanan. As we now know, Dole and Kemp ran on a ticket that inspired nobody. I voted for Dole by default. Pete Wilson could have defeated Bill Clinton, and Alexander and Lugar would have been competitive.

In 2000, I enthusiastically backed McCain, and pumped my fist when he defeated George W. Bush in Michigan. Yet Bush won the nomination, and unlike 1996, I enthusiastically backed him. That turned out spectacularly well, and I was perfectly content to see McCain in 2008…until 9/11 and Giuliani.

To quote Rush Limbaugh, my success in life is not determined by who wins elections. I decide my success. Rudy Giuliani can still be President in 2016. He may never get the job, but few people ever do.

(Editor’s note…just before I went to sleep, I saw a few clips that were part of the replay of the Patriots-Rams Superbowl played 4 months after 9/11 to close out the 2001. With a couple minutes left in the half, Pat Summerall and John Madden pointed to the booth to show Giuliani and Judi Nathan. Summerall and Madden praised them. What a knife in the heart way to end my night. Like the Rams, Rudy was a heavy favorite that got shocked.)

The bottom line is that the process does work. I still believe in it.

Political science classes will see the Giuliani campaign as a spectacular gamble that failed. Yet the strategy was not a mistake. It just did not work. Had anybody but McCain won South Carolina, Rudy would be in good shape right now. Had Thompson stayed in, that would have helped.

Then again, the republican party is a hierarchy that always nominates the man next in line. Yes Rudy was the frontrunner for awhile, but McCain was next in line. He fell short in 2000, and this was his turn.

Rudy Giuliani should get that Vice Presidential slot. That way he will be next in line.

If one positive thing came out of this campaign, it was that Giuliani and McCain consistently said positive things about each other. Contrast that with the democratic nominees. Their mutual admiration society was not fake. They genuinely respect each other.

McCain will be the boss, but every leader needs quality people around him. Giuliani will not be the top dog, but as he reminded us, he can still help shape history.

I hope he does. There is a war for civilization going on, and John McCain and Rudy Giuliani are prepared to take the fight to the enemy.

As for me, I believe In Rudy, and he believes in McCain. I believed in McCain in the past, and am ready to do so again.

The mourning period must be brief. I need to roll up my sleeves. There is much work to do, and not much time to do it.

Here I go again…and if I have to…on my own.

eric

Dead Week

Sunday, January 27th, 2008

This is Dead Week, the worst week of the calendar year. There is no NFL Football this Sunday, since the Superbowl is not until next week.

I hate Dead Week. It is a reminder that while the Pro Bowl is in 2 weeks, in 3 weeks there will be no football. I will have nothing to do. Every offseason gets tougher for me. I have no other hobbies, nor do I care to develop them.

This makes my column on Sundays a practical blank piece of paper. I could take Sundays off, but until my blog is established to my satisfaction, it will be a 7 day adventure.

Some have asked me how I write a column every day, but the truth is I do have a lot of “filler,” although that filler is still helpful to some. One example is the recap I do of Presidential debates. Any monkey can transcribe, and I am happy to be that simian. Yet within a month, that well will run dry.

So what should I write about on Sundays starting 3 weeks from now? I would prefer it not be straight politics, since I do that Monday through Saturday. Here are some ideas below. I would like feedback, but may or may not listen.

1) I have written 70 songs in my lifetime. I could just post song lyrics from one song each Sunday, with the story or inspiration for the song.

2) Jdate horror stories. Jdate is a Jewish dating website, and while most of my experiences have been positive, train wrecks do make for good writing.

3) Links to other articles…a complete copout.

4) I did a radio show for 15 years where I played rock music. I could transcribe my comments from one show per week, or perhaps play the clips if I can figure out how to transfer them from cassettes and cds to internet files. The show was called “Hard as a rock.”

5) I could have people submit me articles from their blogs, and the very best article would be published on my site, with me only providing bookend comments.

6) I could provide links to You Tube videos I like, but then I would have to actually go on You Tube. I suppose I could. In the meantime, here is a hysterically funny clip somebody sent me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2triiYXSY8

I could just play a video clip of me holding a remote control and sobbing uncontrollably, knowing that no matter how furiously I change the channels, there is no football.

About 25-30 Sundays with nothing to do. I hang out with my friends or go on dates in the evenings, but during the day?

I have 3 weeks to figure this out. Otherwise, the quality of this blog is going to drop 14.2%, or 0% for those who already feel it has dropped 100% from its early promise.

Oh yeah, and the democrats had the South Carolina Primary yesterday. Wake me up when the Panthers improve.

Happy Dead Week everybody.

eric

Eastbound and Down

Thursday, October 11th, 2007

The Tygrrrr Express is Bama bound.

Given my love of Tigers (with the exception of the Detroit Tigers and Tiger Woods, who I am neutral towards), I visit campuses that feel the same. I have been to Princeton, NJ, and the Clemson campus in South Carolina. The only thing left is to visit more of them at Auburn in Alabama.

For those who have seen the movie, “My Cousin Vinny,” where New Yorkers face culture shock in the deep south, I can say that this is not what happens to me. Sorry to disappoint those that have never been to a red state, but they are fairly normal people. As for the deep south, the one stereotype that is true is that the food is fantastic. Southern hospitality and food is as true as it is fantastic.

I say this because as the Presidential race kicks into high gear, I confess to being a tad jealous of the candidates. I could care less about their wealth, and while the power is nice, it is not the end all be all. What I am jealous of is that they get to meet millions of Americans and hear their stories. If I could shake the hand of every American and hear their story, I would try to do it.

For those who remember Charles Kuralt, he would take his camper around America into small towns, and just meet Americans. I refuse to call them average or ordinary, because they are just plain great. With Mr. Kuralt gone, the closest thing would be to meet John Madden. Lord knows I would eat well.

For those who have never been to the deep south, it is true freedom. For one, it is freedom from traffic. People drive fast in the left lane, and slower cars actually move out of the way so the faster cars can get on with their lives. This does not happen in big cities in California. When Yahoo Maps tells me something will take 2 1/2 hours, in the south it takes me 90 minutes.

The people are friendly. True, when I say I am a New Yorker, or that I live in Los Angeles, they initially think that I think that I am better than they are. Truth is, there is plenty of arrogance on the coasts to justify this suspicion. Then when I let them know that I grew up on Long Island, my dad played the banjo, and that I like red meat, football, and support the NRA, I make friends easily. I don’t watch NASCAR, but when I tell them I haven’t been able to watch since Dale Earnhardt died, they understand, and hope one day I will watch Junior. The reason my comments are not patronizing is because the comments are sincere. I really am like this.

Oh, and they are very tolerant down south. I am Jewish. The bible belt is Christian, which in most cases means they like Jews. No, they do not try to convert me. They understand I do not believe in Jesus, but they are appreciative that I overwhelmingly respect that they do. I wish more Jews, and liberals in general, could meet these fine people.

Some people say the south is the same south that was racist. If that were true, why are so many black Americans moving down there? Atlanta is still booming, and Charlotte is the biggest banking center outside of Wall Street. Prejudice can exist everywhere, including on the enlightened coasts where middle America is looked down upon.

I arrive in Atlanta Friday night, where a buddy of mine (Yes, he has a pickup truck, and I like it!) and I will be driving to Birmingham. Sunday night it is back to Hotlanta, where just outside the city people bought 4 or 5 bedroom houses for $200,000 only a couple years ago. The quality of life is peaceful. Monday night I am off to Washington, DC, where on Tuesday I will have the pleasure of meeting Giuliani, McCain, Romney, Thompson, and Brownback. Yes, that will be blogged about, and no, I can’t wait.

Then it is back home to Los Angeles on Tuesday night. I love this city, but getting out replenishes me. My blogging might be spotty over the next few days, but that is because I will be living life.

People ask what I do when I have writers block. So far I have been lucky. My life is a traveling carnival of adventure, and the adventures abound again very soon.

I will be meeting people, shaking hands, and if I work up the nerve, asking for votes.

As you know, I am competing in the bloggers choice awards, and am # 4 in the country. I am one spot behind left wing hate site Daily Kos, and I have several days left to defeat the Kossacks.

http://www.bloggerschoiceawards.com/blogs/show/21020

I am not a natural politician. Yet the one thing that is natural about me is my liking of people. I hate having to ask for things. I am not a salesman. Yet when I have no agenda, to dive into a crowd and shake hands, and make friends, I am very at ease.

The key is to know the environment. To go to the deep south and ask where a guy can get a vegan dinner and a juice bar special is possible, but I am grateful that is not me.

People want to know that you know anything about anything they are familiar with. I remember talking to a lady in the Kentucky Attorney General’s office who was not happy about something. First of all, the words “attorney general” and “unhappy” should never be in the same sentence. The woman on the phone was pleasant, but she said, “The problem I have with you guys on the coasts is that you don’t know anything about Kentucky. You’ve never been here, met us, or even looked us up on a map.”

I had to correct her. “Mam, with all due respect, I grew up on Long Island, there was a farm around the corner, the general store was within walking distance, and one of my favorite songs is ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky.'” For the sake of ethics, I saw an episode of “King of the Hill,” where Boomhauer (sung by Vince Gill) sings the song, and it has been in my head for a decade. Nevertheless, the lady was incredulous, and she asked me to sing a few bars. I explained to her that I was at work, and I did not want to be carted away. It is important to note that one should also never mention the words “carted away” when talking to someone in an attorney general’s office.

So I sang to her, as my boss looked on wondering if I was on crack. “Blue Moon of Kentucky, Keep on Shining…Shine on the one whose gone and proved untrue. Blue Moon of Kentucky Keep on Shining…Shine on the one whose gone and left you blue.”

The woman said, “Young man, you are delightful. This matter is closed.” Now if we were guilty, a song would not have gotten us off the hook, but innocent people can get in trouble when they come across as unlikable. If I have trouble in Bama I know the song, “Hail…hail…the gang’s all here…at the Alabama Jubilee.” I just hope the officers are old enough to know country music legend Jerry Reed.

Some people think I like red states in the deep south because they vote republican. That is only partially the reason. It is that they believe in things that just do not resonate with many ivory tower liberals, particularly those in academia. For one thing, it was not New England liberals at Iwo Jima. It was “bubbas” fighting for their country, and proud to do so. Bubbas don’t think they are better than anybody else. They just don’t want to be treated like they are worse.

As for the women in the deep south, the moment they open their mouths, I want to just give them my credit cards. Scarlett O’Hara type women turn my brain to mush. Hot, sexy, republican women…heck, even the Jewish ones, while democrats, are not leftists.

While the south is as modern as anywhere else, try finding a general store on a corner on either coast. A song my dad played for me as a kid talks about how life used to be. It just moves so fast, so think about how great it would be if it would just slow down once in awhile. The south moves, but not at the breakneck pace of the coasts. In the south, you can sit back and smell the flowers, and they smell great. As for the song…

“There’s an old wooden sign…just outside of Stratton, Maine…it says…’if we ain’t got it…you don’t need it…Bill Jones’ General Store’

Oh I can hear the creaking, of that rusty old screen door…smell the penny candy…at Bill Jones General Store…the pipe smoke and tobacco…wet boots on the floor…Campbell’s Soup and shotgun shelves, at Bill Jones General Store.”

The song is actually sad. It talks about how the town gets deserted, because times change, and in real life, the store gets replaced with a conglomerate. Yet what does not change is the dignity of the people in the town.

We grow or we die, and progress is not always so. Yet it is possible to be modern without giving up old fashioned values, such as God, country, and yes, mom and apple pie. That is not “hokey.” It is traditional.

I love LA, it is my home, but there are too many liberals here, taking days off of work to protest the right to protest and not work. I look forward to five days away from them, so that I can come back and remind myself that normal people do exist.

Plus, if we can just get the car cranked up to 90, my friend and I can emulate my heroes of 30 years ago. Yes, 1977, the year that Burt Reynolds and Jerry Reed brought America the Bandit and the Snowman in “Smokey and the Bandit.” Interstate 20 is a straight shot from Bama to Hotlanta. It is a sweet drive during the day, and a rapid dream at night. Now all I need is the black Trans Am.

“Put your foot hard on the peddle…son never mind them breaks…let it all hang out, cause we got a run to make…the boys are thirsty in Atlanta, and there’s beer in Texarkana…we’ll bring it back, no matter what it takes…Eastbound and down, loaded up and trucking’…we’re gonna do what they say can’t be done…we got a long way to go, and a short time to get there…eastbound, for another Bandit run.”

I will leave you all with the theme from the third Smokey movie, a song by Lee Greenwood that is so rare that even he can’t seem to find a copy of it (I asked his people). Lee Greenwood does sing, “God Bless the USA,” but he also sings my theme song, “The Bandit Express.”

“Look out the Bandit’s coming, get your money and warn the women…tell them smokeys all to take a rest…because they’ll never catch the Bandit Express.”

Yes folks, that is how my blog came into existence. There can only be one bandit, and Burt Reynolds took care of that. I am a Raider, a pirate, and many other characters.

Yet at heart, I am a Tiger. To be more accurate, a Tygrrrr.

I am Bama Bound. So hide your kitchen utensils, snap on tools, and Jewish republican brunettes with hot southern accents. Break out your best plastic silverware and lock the liberals on the coasts so I can get some needed relaxation in the south, aka relaxation nation.

“Tell your daughters they better get some rest…cause they’ll never catch the Tygrrrr Express.”

eric

Permanent Flame–9/11/7

Tuesday, September 11th, 2007

I began blogging on March 11th, 2007. On my 6 month anniversary, I decided to replay “Permanent Flame.” A final verse was added today. 

As You read this, know that at 8:46am on 9/11/7, I will be on a plane to New York. This flight was arranged deliberately. I wear the red, white and blue of America on my t-shirt, and these colors don’t run.

Permanent Flame–In memory of the United 93 Heroes

March 31st, 2007 at 4:13 pm (POLITICS, MUSIC) · Edit

 

7/30/6 PERMANENT FLAME

 

Chorus: NEVER FORGOTTEN…PERMANENT FLAME

NO LONGER HERE, BUT YOU’LL ALWAYS REMAIN

3000 GONE…BUT NEVER IN VAIN

HONOR THEIR MEMORY…TAKE BACK THE PLANE

 

 

1a) September 11th, 2001

Started so normal, ended so wrong

American airplanes, turned into guns

Fired on our towers, that stood proud and strong

 

1b) Black clouds from New York…to the Pentagon

60 years after 1941

American steel…will never yield

Look at the hole, in the Pennsylvania field

 

1c) Beamer and company, saw America attacked

Our Capitol saved, because they fought back

Ordinary people…scared but so bold

Rose to the challenge…told the world “let’s roll”

 

Chorus

 

2a) Some blamed the US, but nothing we did

Justified the murder, of innocent kids

Since then we’ve had Bali, London and Madrid

We try to save the world, across the global grid

 

2b) 2002…Afghanistan

Liberated a nation, routed the Taliban

2003…war in Iraq

Saddam in jail…democracy on track

 

2c) September 11th, 2004

36 months, since the start of the war

Less people airborne, scared to the core

What can we do…we must do more

 

Chorus

 

3a) An ordinary man…I see in the mirror

But now I understand…the picture is clearer

Only total victory…in the war on terror

Will make America…for all our children better

 

3b) Our soldiers fight…because the cause is right

So our children are safe…when tucked in at night

Donate your dollars to police…and those who firefight

Money left over…go book that flight

Chorus

 

4a) September 11th, 2006

Chargers vs Raiders…I got my tix

From LAX…TO OAK

Don’t worry mom and dad, I’ll be ok

 

4b) I need to do this, it helps heal the pain

I’ll get home safely, so don’t be afraid

I’m only one link in an American chain

If others join me, we can take back the plane

 

4c) So call up United, Delta and Southwest

Show all the world our American best

Take back our freedom…take back the sky

For our fallen heroes…American Eagles let’s fly

 

 

Chorus (2x)

 

 

May God Bless the USA…again…Let’s roll.

September 11th…2007

En route to New York…I point to the Heavens

The war we will win…and evil we’ll sever

September 11th, 2000-Forever

America Forever!

eric

Yakkety Yak, Don’t Talk Barack

Monday, August 6th, 2007

Rush Limbaugh has a satirist named Paul Shanklin. Mr. Shanklin has come up with brilliant parodies. His best was a takeoff on the famous 1950s song by “The Coasters,” entitled, “Yakkety Yak, Don’t Talk Back.” His version, at the height of the initial Iraq War was, “Yakkety Yak, Bomb Iraq.”

It is in that spirit that I offer a satire of Barack Obama, who should guest host “Saturday Night Live,” since he is simply not ready for prime time.

https://tygrrrrexpress.com/2007/06/william-jefferson-is-innocent-by-louisiana-standards/

(a previous satire of Congressman William “Weezie” Jefferson.)

I have nothing against Mr. Obama. I am sure he is a nice guy. However, I feel he is simply not up to snuff, and his recent comments on several issues reveal him to be a lightweight. With that, I present the song, “Yakkety Yak, Don’t Talk Barack.”

You’ve only been around two years…

You are still wet behind the ears…

You need to listen to your peers…

Before you spout off big ideas…

Yakkety Yak…Don’t Talk Barack!

Nobody cares that you are black…

It’s not your race that we attack…

It’s your ideas and what they lack…

An ounce of substance, that’s a fact…

Yakkety Yak, No Beef Barack!

You move so fast, you are so deft…

Yet you can’t hide from the hard left…

Despite your style, gab is your gift…

Again of substance you’re bereft…

Yakkety Yak, Enough Barack!

The USA’s military might…

Cannot be given to a neophyte…

Read the foreign policy books on your bookshelf…

And then come back in 2012…

Yakkety Yak, Not Now Barack!

America’s worried about Osama…

Yet what would you do Obama…

Hey do you even have a plan…

Oh yeah you want to bomb Pakistan…

Yakkety Yak, Shut Up Barack!

Barack I say this with respect…

I wish you nothing but the best…

You had a most impressive ride…

For a man whose just not qualified…

Yakkety Yak, So Long Barack!

At some point in the future, when Barack Obama is a trivial pursuit question on par with Kristin Shepherd (the woman who shot J.R. Ewing), this will all be something we can laugh about. However, given that we are fighting World War III, it is no laughing matter that a man with so little to offer in terms of anything tangible can be so high in the polls.

It is not the audacity of hope. It is the audacity of thinking that hope by itself is a replacement for actual solutions, and that waxing eloquent equals understanding.

eric

War is for tough guys–bring on the 80s rock music

Saturday, July 14th, 2007

Where are the Pro-war movies?

Long before Hollywood made it’s living aiding and comforting the enemies of the nation that pays their mostly undeserved salaries, there was a time when the entertainment industry loved America. During World War II, they loved America as it was, not the obscure utopian society they wished it to be. The movie industry showed America and the Allies as the good guys, the Axis as the bad guys, and the twain did not meet. Patriotic movies had rich soundtracks with music designed to pump up emotions and tug at heart strings. It is time to write that movie today.

My knowledge is not movies. It is music, primarily 1980s hard rock music, which had its zenith from 1986 to 1992. There are many songs that could be used at various scenes in the movie. I have no knowledge of the political views of many of the artists, or whether or not they would approve of their music being used to promote America’s justified struggle to win the War on Terror. Nevertheless, let freedom ring and the music blare.

The movie could start out with Osama hiding in a cave, as Firehouse’s “Reach for the sky,” starts to play. “Well I’m an outlaw…I make my living on the run…my life is lonely…but I was born to need no one…always on my own.” A video camera can then pan away to soldiers training by shooting at bulls eyes of Bin Laden. “Reach for the sky…I’ll shoot you down, in the blink of an eye…nowhere to run, nowhere to hide…I’ve got the drop on you, so raise ’em high…reach for the sky.”

As Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “The smell of death,” booms loudly, the American soldiers refuse to let anything stand in their path. “Whiskey bottles…brand new car…oak tree you’re in my way.” The troops soldier on, very motivated.

There would be car chases, explosions, heroes saving lives, and testosterone filled rock music. There would be fierce firefights, one of which would take place with the recent song by “Kiss” star Paul Stanley. As we kicked in doors and hunted terrorists one by one, over the loudspeakers would play. “Day by day, kicking on all the way, I’m not caving in…Live to win…till you die…live to win.”

In one of the bloodiest firefights of the movie, the Sammy Hagar song from the Sylvester Stallone movie “Over the Top” would be playing. A movie about arm wrestling is a great metaphor for a movie about hand to hand combat. “A burst of light…inside your soul…and when the heart…gets pumped up for the gold…there’s no defeat…you’d sooner die…it’s man to man, as we stand, eye to eye…Winner takes it all…loser takes a fall…fight to the beginning of the end…Winner takes it all…till he breaks or falls…time to make it over the top.” At that moment an American soldier would find Osama and and shove him up against the wall, decking him in the face and forcing him to submit to American will and steel before he is beaten up some more.

I want to make it crystal clear that I am not trivializing war. War is hell, and no sane person wants it. However, America never asked for war. We were attacked, and are fighting back. It would help if we could win the public relations war. The soldiers are fabulous. The media undermines them.

Manuel Noriega was brought down not just by military force, but by rock music. He was holed up in a church, which should have lost its protection under the Geneva Convention since it was used for criminal purposes. We blared rock music so that Noriega could not sleep. He caved.

Caved is the appropriate word. We need to go to every cave, and let every cave dweller know that they will not sleep peacefully until they turn over Osama. Anybody who thinks this would fail has never witnessed an American parent trying to think when their teenage son is listening to rock music. True, the ACLU would consider this torture, but to pacify them we can offer to switch to easy listening or show tunes depending on the level of cooperation.

A clip of Osama and his fellow terrorists plotting strategy and justifying their lunacy could be dubbed over with Santa Esmeralda doing his remake of a classic 1960s song by “The Animals (how appropriate).” “I’m just a soul, whose intentions are good…oh lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.”

For those who like 1960s music, upon capturing Osama, we can have a hard rock remake of the classic song made famous by the Bobby Fuller Four. Osama is dragged away in chains (and a couple bullet holes in him leaving him alive but wounded) to the song, “I fought the law, and the law won.”

Captured homicide bombers will be forced to listen to Bon Jovi. “Better stand tall when they’re calling you out…don’t bend, don’t break, baby don’t back down. It’s my life…it’s now or never…I aint gonna live forever…I just want to live while I’m alive.”

1980s rock music would be a great choice because it represents the gaudiest of American culture. Long out of control hair, men wearing lipstick, high falsetto voices, reckless sex…it is every stereotype that causes the lunatics to hate us. The ACDC song “Moneytalks” could show Americans at our materialistic, imperialistic finest. “Tailored suits…chauffeured cars…fine hotels…and big cigars…up for grabs…up for a price…where the red hot girls keep on dancing through the night…Come on, come on, love me for the money…come on, come on, listen to the moneytalks.”

Imagine how humiliating it would be for the Al Queda murderers if right after we captured Osama, General Tommy Petraeus had his feet on a coffee table lighting up a big, fat stogie. Some may think this is based on the Will Smith movie “Independence Day,” but it is actually reflected in Alberto Fujimori, the Japanese former President of Peru. After some leftist rebels took hostages, he did not negotiate. He had his men storm in, killed all the rebels, and saved almost every hostage. He was criticized for his post victory machismo. He was right.

Fujimori did not negotiate. Neither did Ariel Sharon, the bulldozer. Neither did Vladimir Putin when terrorists took over a school. Neither did Margaret Thatcher when dealing with the Falklands. Neither did George W. Bush when 9/11 happened. The time to negotiate is when your enemy is on his knees and his face is bleeding.

If only the media, especially Hollywood, could understand that most Americans love America, and understand that we are the good guys. We feed, clothe, protect and defend the world. We bring God’s gift of freedom and liberty to places that have never had it.

This is not done through kumbaya or love trains. It is done through blood, sweat and tears. It is not pretty, but it is noble, decent and right.

In the final firefight, as Asia’s “Heat of the moment,” and Europe’s “The Final Countdown,” blare loudly, the troops kick in the door, and ask Bin Laden if he believes in his warped, bastardized version of Allah that justifies 9/11. When he says yes, we reply “Good, because you’re about to meet him.”

Def Leppard’s “Rocket,” Guns n Roses’s, “Welcome to the Jungle,” and Aerosmith’s “The other side,” are used to break his will. We then make sure every camera is on Bin Laden’s terrified weakening excuse for a soul. Just before two bullets are put in his heart, Golden Earring’s “Twilight Zone,” plays loudly.

“You will come to know…when the bullet hits the bone. You will come to know…when the bullet hits the bone.”

As the credits roll, Metallica’s “Enter Sandman,” plays. “Exit light, enter night, grain of sand, off to never never land.” The Rolling Stones would end the credits with either “Sympathy for the Devil,” or “Paint it Black.”

9/11 will be avenged against everyone who either commits, supports or harbors terrorists in any way, shape or form. For those who hate America…bring it on. For those who love America…Help make this Pro-American movie. Bring on the 1980s rock music.

I applaud those who “get it.” For those who do not, “You’ll come to know…when the bullet hits the bone.”

eric

Ron Paul, Sean Paul, John Paul and RuPaul–Which one is the least coherent?

Saturday, May 19th, 2007

In listening to Ron Paul, which I can only do for a few moments before bursting out laughing, it occurred to me that I do not have the special Marvin the Martian version rabbit ears required to understand his strange dialect. Like other Pauls in history, his message is incomprehensible to those who do not speak gibberish. I compared him with a couple of other incomprehensible historical Pauls to see which one made the least sense.

I started with the late (rest his soul) Pope John Paul. Now first of all, I personally liked Pope John Paul II. He was a religious @sskicker. Unlike in Judaism, where there is anarchy to the point of “Lord of the Flies,” Catholicism has structure. Like them or not, the rules are crystal clear. When asking the Pope to change standards, so people can feel better about being sinners, the Pope reminded people that the church IS the standard, and it is people that must change. Stop being a screwup, or stop being a Catholic. I love this guy. I have guidelines on how to behave.

One of the reasons I never grasped the Pope’s message is because he spoke in Latin. For those of you in public school, Latin is not the language where the first letter becomes the last letter followed by “ay.” It is a romance language. This makes the Pope speaking Latin ironic, because he was forbidden from having romances. My inability to understand his sermons in Latin were no more difficult than understanding them in Croation. The titles of his sermons had cool names like “Ecclesia de Eucharistia” and “Centecimus Annus.” Not since rock group “The Police” put out albums such as “Zenyatta Mondatta,” and “Outlandos D’amour,” has popular culture been so cool while requiring so much translation.

To show solidarity with the Jews, the Pope wore a Yamulkah, and he was a good sport by going on the comedy “Night Court” with Harry Anderson in the 1980s. I have to say that once his words were put into English, he was understandable, and a pretty cool dude as far as Popes go.

This brings me to Sean Paul. Unlike the late John Paul, Rastafarian singer Sean Paul insists that he already is singing in English. His song “Temperature” is a great dance song, and despite what I originally posed, does not overtly mention Barack Obama. Here are some of the lyrics.

“The gal dem Schillaci…Sean da Paul
So me give it to…so me give to…so me give it to…to all girls
Five million and forty naughty shorty…
Baby girl…all my girls..all my girls…Sean da Paul sey…

[Chorus:]
Well woman the way the time cold I wanna be keepin’ you warm
I got the right temperature for shelter you from the storm
Oh lord, gal I got the right tactics to turn you on, and girl I…
Wanna be the Papa…You can be the Mom….oh oh!

[Verse 1:]
Make I see the gal them bruk out pon the floor from you don’t want no worthless performer
From you don’t want no man wey can’t turn you on gal make I see your hand them up on ya..
Can’t tan pon it long…..naw eat no yam…no steam fish….nor no green banana
But down in Jamaica we give it to you hot like a sauna..”

Contrary to those who follow the Pope, “The Gal Dem Shellaci” is not one of his liturgical musings. I think it is a pasta dish that goes either goes well with red wine or diet coke, or translation for “The girlie dems get shellacked.” As someone that does not smoke marijuana, it is not 100% English to me. Then again, a message about having fun without harming others should not be discouraged, even if subtitles are required. So Sean Paul for now gets a pass.

This brings us to the political gadfly Ron Paul, who on the surface appears to be tire executive Morrie Taylor without logical reasoning. Below is a transcription of his fiery exchange with Rudy Giuliani, with Paul’s comments translated from the original democrat/liberal gibberish.

“REP. RON PAUL, R-TEXAS, GOP PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATE: They attack us because we’ve been over there, we’ve been bombing Iraq for 10 years. We’ve been in the Middle East. I think Reagan was right. We don’t understand the irrationality of Middle Eastern politics.

RUDY GIULIANI, GOP PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATE: That’s an extraordinary statement of someone who lived through the attack of Sept. 11, that we invited the attack because we were attacking Iraq. I don’t think I’ve ever heard that before and I’ve heard some pretty absurd explanations for Sept. 11. I would ask the congressman to withdraw that comment and tell us that he didn’t really mean that.”

Blaming the USA for 9/11. There are three contributions for this…1) Ron Paul is a liberal democrat…2) Ron Paul works for Al Jazeera…3) Ron Paul is a crackpot. I suspect all of the above is the answer.

So based on his uselessness to anything resembling intelligent discourse, I therefore declare Ron Paul to be the least comprehensible of the Paul brothers.

As for black drag queen RuPaul, whatever he/she/it actually is, RuPaul’s problem is one that is disturbing to the visual senses, not the auditory. Apparently RuPaul has crossover appeal to blacks, women, and the transgendered. My lack of understanding of this Paul renders me unqualified to analyze what went wrong and where. Ron Paul therefore still disturbs me most.

eric

Thank you Lee Greenwood from a misty eyed American

Wednesday, May 9th, 2007

One of the misconceptions about conservative republicans is that when we wave that flag loudly and proudly, that we heap scorn on those who don’t. While I disagree with Alan Colmes on most issues, I trust that he is sincere when he claims to be “red, white and liberal.” I will not criticize others who choose to show their patriotism in a calm, silent, stoic manner. I only hope that my right to be over the top in all things positive about America is not seen as nationalism, ethnocentrism or jingoism. If it is, so be it. I get angry when I see 9/11 footage, I beam with pride when I see firefighters, emts and police officers rescuing people, and I still get charged up watching highlights of the 1980 Olympic Hockey Game where we beat the Russians and Al Michaels asked us all if we believed in miracles. Yes! This is America, of course we do. America is a miracle.

To this day, nothing gets me as misty eyed as listening to Lee Greenwood singing “God Bless the USA.” As I hear the words, I picture sports highlights, as well as my own journeys. I travel all across this land, and the song amazes me, as do the people.

“From the lakes of Minnesota” (I have yet to go, but the Mall of America is a destination…I met Governor Pawlenty and Senator Coleman, and look forward to meeting Jesse Ventura.)

“To the hills of Tennessee” (From the Titans Adelphia Miracle “Tennessee has pulled off a miracle! There are no flags!” to the wonderful Jewish community of Chattanooga, to the most romantic horse and buggy ride I have ever been on)

“Across the Plains of Texas” (Dallas has where JFK was shot, plus where JR Ewing was shot. I apologize for the good people of Dallas for “Standing on the star” outside a Cowboys Preseason game. Deion Sanders has an awesome house)

“From sea to shining sea”

“From Detroit (Northwest has a large airport hub) down to Houston” (Fat Robert made my Mardi Gras. Thank heavens Sister Mary and the Nuns had no idea what happened in that hotel banquet hall 5 hours earlier. Bikers know how to party, and they worry about the public school systems)

“And New York (Brooklyn born, Long Island raised, Mark Messier made 1994 a sports season for the ages, and Rudy Giuliani remade Gotham into a world class city…and 9/11 is seared into me forever)) to LA” (Randy Newman is right, I love living here)

“There’s pride in every American heart, and it’s time we stand and say”

“I’m Proud to be an American, where it least I know I’m free

And I won’t forget the men who died, who gave that right to me

And I’ll gladly stand up next to you, defend her still today

Cause their aint no doubt I love this land, God bless the USA.”

It is more than a flag. It is a story of 50 noble kingdoms, each one with their own special story. From Mom’s diner in South Carolina, to that quiet hotel in Fort Payne Alabama, to that record store in Pocatello, Idaho, where I finally found a cassette that no one else in America seemed to have.

In 2006 I finally made it to Hawaii, and holding back tears, touched the ground at Canton Ohio, the home of the National Football League Hall of Fame.. In December of 2007 I will make it to Green Bay Wisconsin. I was told to go to Brett’s Restaurant and have the ribs. I have partied in Miami, celebrated Passover in Chicago, and kissed the forehead of a troubled but sweet girl in Scranton, Pennsylvania. I have danced sweetly with one in a hotel room in Salt Lake City, and more suggestively in Gulfport Mississippi. From “Sweet Home Chicago (Baby Dontcha Wanna Go) to the Louisiana Boogie (Baby wontcha slide on down), every city has a hamlet that is unique.

Braselton North Carolina has the “dropping of the possum” (it is harmless, no animals get hurt), and there are are no songs for pure fun like “Blue Moon of Kentucky,” or the “Alabama Jubilee” (hail hail the gang’s all here).

Brooklyn has the Boardwalk and the original Nathan’s hot dog restaurant, and Oakland has my friends of the Raider Nation.

I love what Lee Greenwood sings because I love seeing for myself who the people are that make up this land. I look forward to meeting every single one of these people and shaking their hands, and of course, hearing their stories.

The people add to the beauty of the song. May we all have the privilege of experiencing what Lee Greenwood writes about.

“There aint no doubt I love this land…God bless the USA.”

President Bush said after 9/11 that “The entire world has seen the state of our union, and it is strong.” I hope you all get to see for yourselves.

Time to throw a dartboard at the map and see which people I will be lucky enough to get to know next.

eric

In Defizzle (Defense) of Snoop Doggy Dogg, or whatever he calls himself this week

Sunday, May 6th, 2007

As a general rule, if Al Sharpton is in favor of something, it is wise to oppose it. Al Sharpton is the black version of P.T. Barnum, with the exception that P.T. Barnum had an actual product to sell. Al Sharpton provides a circus, but not one kids should be taken to see.

Al Sharpton is now trying to declare war on Gangsta Rap. He claims to have always been against it, but then again when the camera is not on, he seems to have little interest beyond expanding anything besides his waistline, bankroll and ego. I can only expect him at some point to discover that heart disease is a problem in the black community, which he will announce with great fanfare at a ceremony where he claims that pork producers are racist because the white man forces him to eat bacon. Who knew, the top agenda of the Ku Klux Klan is killing black men by raising their cholesterol.

Ludicrous? Not as much as blaming Ludacris (whose music I am admittedly unfamiliar with). When I was a teenager, my late grandfather was worried I would be a drug dealer because I had long hair. The rock groups at that time all had long hair, and I still like Poison and Great White among others. I suspect that my having long hair was less a fashion statement, and more a byproduct of laziness. Nevertheless, I finally explained to my grandfather that “I have long hair. I do not do or sell drugs. The hair does not make you sell the drugs.”

Gangsta Rappers do not cause the conditions that they rap about. They are an effect of those conditions. While many young black men do turn to crime, there is no evidence that the music forces them to do this. Ozzy Osbourne did not force people to shoot themselves. Twisted Sister and Kiss did not make people worship Satan. When rednecks in Texas dragged James Byrd, and then brutally murdered him, nobody of any serious intelligence blamed country music for the killing. Country music does not make somebody a redneck.

I like Country music and Gangsta Rap, and I have never shot a police officer, lynched a man, or hit an ex-girlfriend (although Chris Rock is right when he says that while he never hit one, he wanted to “shake the sh*t out of them” to get them to shut up).

There is not an absolute right to free speech. Hate speech should be condemned in the arena of public opinion. However, there is a large gap between material that is racist, antisemitic and hateful, and music that is merely “distasteful.” Before the current Gangsta Rappers, there was 2 Live Crew, led by Luther Campbell. While many found offense at songs such as “Me so horny,” and “Pop that Coochie,” nobody was forced to buy these albums. Parents had the right to ban their children from buying these albums. Other than that, doing nothing was the best option. 2 Live Crew was dead right when they put out “Banned in the USA,” a song with as much social and cultural signifcance as the song it was patterned from, Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the USA.”

The main objection is that Gangsta Rap songs refer to people as “n-word, “b*tches,” and “hos.” These rappers are not attacking specific women. They are not even attacking all women. They are attacking women who use guys for their money and power. These women come in all shapes and sizes. They are called golddiggers. The only men who have not been used by these women are poor men, because by definition golddiggers do not want poor men.

“With the Dogg Pound right behind me, and up in your b*tch, is where you might find me.  Shaking and waving that g-thing. She wants the guy with the biggest nuts, and guess what? He is I, and I am him.”

My lord, the absolute horror. A young man is bragging about the size of his genitals, and boasting of screwing his friend’s (or enemy’s) woman. Anyone who has ever been to summer camp…or anywhere where young boys congregate…knows that young boys and machismo are as natural as peanut butter and jelly, or as Al Bundy would say “alcohol and firearms.” Below is a transcript of boys turning into men.

Age 7–“My dad can beat up your dad.”

Age 14–“My blank is bigger than your blank.”

Age 21–“I get more girls than you, and they are hotter.”

Age 28–“I make more money, have a nicer car, and a bigger house than you.”

Age 35–“I have a bigger and better big screen tv than you.”

Whether genitals , houses, cars or tvs, it is a competition of inches, feet, meters, etc. If it is normal for guys to brag about their possessions, it is equally normal for women to brag about who is dating/married to/sleeping with the man with the best possessions. Then the men brag that they have those women because they have those possessions. This is as common as it is normal.

For the record, I am a white conservative republican, and I hold several views that are anathema to young black men. Their response is to not care, because being a white conservative invalidates my opinion. I believe in dialogue because someone who disagrees with me 90% of the time might staunchly be by my side the 10% of the time we agree. Black America has some severe problems, some of which are being addressed (black on black crime, drugs, violence, and failing schools with poor textbooks) and some of which are not sexy enough to be addressed (heart disease).

It is because of those serious issues that not one minute should be spent worrying about what singers with funny hair, funny teeth, or funny linguistics skills involving strange use of the letter “z”, have to say. Snoop Doggy Dogg, or whatever he calls himself, is harmless (in terms of his music). I like his music, and I have dealt with women who wanted to get to know me because I live in a fancy neighborhood. His attacking of b*tches and hos is an attack on aggressive, shallow, social climbers. Would these vipers be less offended if we called them shallow, aggressive social climbers, or vipers? I do not remember any of these Gangsta Rappers referring to Oprah Winfrey, Rosa Parks, Condoleeza Rice, or other accomplished successful black women in these derogatory terms.

Snoop Doggy Dogg is an American success story. He is an entrepreneur who succeeded without hurting anyone else, unlike his phony critics, including Al Sharpton. If I was a rapper, I would write that Tawana Brawley was a ho, and Al Sharpton was her pimp.

So for those who have nothing better to do than attack a man trying to make a living in a legal industry, that being music, which is subjective, I have a crystal clear message…Get a lizzife (life) and a clizzue (clue). I have no idea what I just said, but I mean it.

Let Them Burn–Dedicated to Arabs who hate Jews

Saturday, May 5th, 2007

The song below was written 3 years ago. I was in a state of rage at the time. I have calmed down since then, but my disgust with the Antisemites of the world remains strong. Before anyone asks me if I blame every Arab on the planet for what is going on in the Middle East, my response to them is that until I hear “good” Arabs loudly and clearly condemning what the “bad” Arabs are doing, I will absolutely lump them all together.

My wish is not for Arabs to be destroyed, but for them to simply “knock it off,” and allow Jews to live in peace. For the Arabs in this world that truly do not hate Jews…I have not an ounce of scorn for you either. For the Arabs that do hate Jews…my sentiments are below, and they remain strong.

3/9/4   LET THEM BURN

 

1) In a world of kill or be killed

Only the strong survive

Passions and dreams unfulfilled

The struggle is to stay alive

 

2) I believe you deserve a homeland

Let’s start the plan in motion

Palestine will be your homeland

Under the Pacific Ocean

 

3) Twelve million of me, one billion of you

Tired of your game called blame the Jew

Let’s reverse the numbers till your black and blue

And underground, finished, over, through and through

 

Chorus: LET THEM BURN

LET THEM BURN, LET THEM BURN, LET THEM BURN

ANIMALS AND ARABS NEVER LEARN

SO PREPARE THEIR URN AND LET THEM BURN

 

4) You say that we cheat you in business

Yet you own almost all of the land

Your bodies are covered in oil

To hide all the blood on your hands

 

5) Zionist, aggressor, donkey, infidel

Shut up already, and burn in hell

Blow yourselves up till your numbers shrink

Your ashes add flavor to a Jewish drink

 

Chorus

 

6) Libya, Saudi Arabia, Iran and Iraq

Let’s kill them all, time to fight back

Your lifestyle is my fantasy

Eating animals feeds humanity

 

7) Afraid of my anger, you want me calmer

I won’t sing “kumbaya” with a homicide bomber

I’ll support peace when you’re on Fox News

Telling your fellow dogs to stop killing Jews

 

Chorus

 

8) We choose peace, you opt for war

Let’s get it on, till you’re no more

One more chance, well this I vow

Change or perish, decision starts NOW

 

Chorus (2x)

 

Spoken words (Coda): Force works. Victory brings peace. I want peace.

But they can’t learn. They won’t learn. They never learn.

There will be peace. Or they will burn.