Category: Orphans

WebMD notes today that “Samonella Tomato Warning Expanded.” In addition to that being interesting if not disturbing news if you eat tomatoes, the headline would, as Dave Barry might point out, be a great name for a rock band. “Tainted Tomatoes,” part of another WebMD hed also would be a good rock band name.

Bizarre band names have become so commonplace that no one, except maybe Dave Barry, muses over them these days. I thought about that yesterday watching some documentary about Bellingham, Washington’s own Death Cab for Cutie. (I am typing this in the public library so if a blank appears before Cab it will mean the computer’s nanny censoring system has just kept that bad old word from appearing that means that state which is the opposite of life. Get it? If that word appears never mind!)

Now I don’t know very much about Cutie’s Cab other than via this explanation on Wikipedia which says the band takes its name from a song on a 1967 album by Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, which is a right interesting name in its self. But at least this explanation appears to indicate some type of meaning behind the name where some bands in days past apparently lacked meaning such as Strawberry Alarm Clock but not so as with Captain Beefhart.

Oh well, it is just good to know I can sit here at the computer in the library and completely waste an hour thinking about our wonderful culture. Kudos to Cutie for an intriguing name.

It’s a steamy Friday afternoon in Beaumont, Texas. Steamy it is because of little late Spring showers followed by Summer-like temperatures. It’s a downside to the “sub-tropical” life. But when it gets too steamy I just think about places like Minnesota, Massachusetts, Maine, you know, the “M” states, during January. I mean the very being of those states in January when it’s freezing-ass cold. I did not mean that those are only “M” states during January. That would be truly stupid.

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People have a tendency on Friday afternoons around here to get out and drive on busy streets like 11th Street and Calder Avenue and Phelan Boulevard. And they tend to drive slow and with great stupidity.

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I don’t give a rat’s ass if Hillary and Barack meet in private at Diane Feinstein’s house or at John McCain’s or at Dick Cheyney’s. Stupid is as stupid does. Isn’t that a stupid thing to say?

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Okay, I see things are rapidly getting negatively stupid so I am going to stick a fork in it for the weekend. Stick a fork into what, you may ask? That is fine. Go ahead and ask. I never promised you an answer, or a rose garden for that matter.

I just got back from McFaddin Beach and decided to check my e-mail. The beach was a nice respite from my city, where it seems you can’t walk down the street at night any longer without being stopped and questioned by the cops. It was funny how they let hordes of street people hang out yet threaten to take me to jail for walking while facing traffic in the wrong direction. I think some of these kids wearing police uniforms need to watch something other than “Cops.” And to think, I was even wearing a shirt.

So Barack it is.

Seeing an African-American as the probable Democratic nominee for president is not something I thought I would see in my lifetime. That is especially the case because I can still remember “Colored” water fountains and rest rooms in the hometown of my childhood.

Of course, I thought I would see a white woman nominated and even elected to the presidency. I did not think that woman would be Hillary Clinton.

As for Obama picking Hillary as his running mate, all I can say is in light of her RFK remarks recently: “Huh, are you f***ing nuts?” Or, to be more blunt: “Lyndon Baines Johnson.”

Actually I think Sen. Chuck Hagel, R-Neb., would be a great choice for an Obama running mate. No kidding.

As I have mentioned before I respect and even like Sen. McCain but I don’t think he would be a very good president and I shudder to think what kind of a looney tunes running mate the GOP will force upon him.

This could be a very interesting presidential race or one that is really, really bad.

It is difficult to imagine a world without Bo Diddley. “Hey, Bo Diddley” is about as an American chant as is “Hey, get offa my lawn.” But alas, our world today is Diddley-less as Bo Diddley checked out at age 79.

I didn’t know Diddley but that isn’t unusual because I didn’t know many rock n’ roll R & B legends although I think Ivory Joe Hunter visited our home once when I was a child and I chatted with Percy Sledge as he listed to an Astros game in his limo out in back of the old Texas Pelican Club in Vinton, La., although I doubt Percy remembers that or what he was doing five minutes before for that matter.

But I did see Diddley. He was the opening act, followed by Tower of Power, for Creedence Clearwater Revival at the very first rock concert I saw in Houston’s old Sam Houston Coliseum back in the early 70s. The fact that it was my first concert and that I got to see Diddley as well as my favorite band back then — Creedence not Tower of Power although they were pretty stout — and the fact that it was the 70s was … Oh, I forgot what I was going to say but it was a pretty good time to be alive and young.

So Hey Bo Diddley. Take it light, man.