Change - Part 2

Change - Be Careful What You Ask For

We've been told lately that it's time for change.














We been told that we need change.










And we very possibly might get change.

I'm Proud To Be An American

A woman living in Slovenia who found a mouse foot in a jar of pickles was shocked to be told, in effect, that it was perfectly good to eat.


Lenka Komparova contacted the Health Ministry as she prepared to sue the company producing the food, according to the Ananova Web portal.




But instead of backing her claim, officials said she should consider the rodent appendage as a "special additive."



Ministry spokeswoman Vivijan Potocnik said:

"It is completely normal in big factories to have mice wandering around, and yes, every now and then they get caught amongst the machines and do get bottled, seasoned, preserved and even make it in one piece to consumers. "

"Although not very pleasant to see, however, they pose no health threat at all," Potocnik was quoted as saying. "During the preservation process, even traces of any salmonella bacteria are eliminated in food. A [mouse foot] therefore could be classified as a special additive to the pickles."

Komparova said: "I couldn't believe it. I don't know what they eat at the ministry — but finding dead animals in jars of food isn't normal."

My Thoughts On Vintage Guitars

I used to have GAS. Guitar Acquisition Syndrome. I think one of the prime causes of GAS is a desire that many of us have experienced to return to the days of our youth, when things seemed better, easier and enjoyable.


Speaking for myself, as I grew older, gravity attacked my body, my pants needed a double scouch more room, I found myself shopping in the Husky Boys section, family responsibility trumped doin' my own thang and a great pilage of bills seem to find their way to the corner of the dining room table each month.



So why wouldn't I want to go back to those trouble free days of yesteryear in Leave It To Beaverville, when you could buy a 1956 Fender Stratocaster for around $259 complete with a tweed case. A brand new 1965 Fender Deluxe Reverb would set you back $199.


Some folks collect old toys, some build model railroads. I believe these hobbies generate a sense of youth. Vintage guitars bring back these same memories.





I have followed the Vintage Guitar market since the early 1990's and in 2008 I must admit, it has reached the point of absurdity.

For instance a 1958 Gibson Dot Neck ES-335 is valued at $55,000 to $75,000 as long as there are no modifications done to it. I have recently seen a 1959 Les Paul "Flame" being offered for $135,000. A 1959 Gibson Flying V could set you back well over $200,000.


A 1951 Fender Nocaster* can go for over $50,000. (*The Fender Telecaster guitar was originally called The Broadcaster. However the Fred Gretsch Musical Instrument Company was using that name for a drum set they were manufacturing and filed a legal motion against Fender. Fender abruptly removed the word Broadcaster from their neck decals. So for the remainder of 1951, the guitars were only labeled Fender).


A Gibson Gold Top Les Paul from 1952 to 1955 will bring anywhere from $35,000 to $85,000. And these are for guitars that have no known provinance. If you have records showing the guitar was owned or played by someone famous, the price could be at least twice what I have mentioned.



Even old beginner guitars are fetching outrageous prices. Upscale Harmony guitars, such as the Patrician, the Montclair and the Catalina that originally sold for around $50 are now being offered for over $1,000. Stella guitars were made by the same factory that made Harmony guitars, Chicago Musical Instruments. These were cheap laminated instruments primarily made from birch and sold in the range of $25. I own one that cost me $20. They are bringing $500-$1,000.


Ironically much of the market for these old guitars is from wealthly Asian business men and many of the USA manufactured instruments are now stockpiled in Asian countries, while the majority of the guitars sold in the United States are modified replicas or exact replicas of vintage USA instruments manufactured in China, Korea or Japan.

In 1999 I went with my family to Renfro Valley to hear some wonderful country and bluegrass music. During those days all Bluegrass players were required to own a Martin D-18or D-28. And of course the players at this show were equipped with the traditional Martin instruments.



However as of late, Blueridge guitars, which are produced in China, are being used by some prominent Bluegrass players. The top end Blueridge guitar are not cheap but are a quarter of the price of a Martin. Blueridge instruments play well and use the same top of the line solid tone wood that Martin uses. Recording King is also jumping on the bandwagon. This is an acoustic guitar manufactured by the same company that manufactures Jay Turser electric insturments.

Even good old Martin & Co. is now very aware of the preservation of forestry and is manufacturing well made laminated instruments for the first time. Their popular travel guitar, the Backpacker, is manufactured in Asia. I would not be surprised to see some of their laminated instruments become outsourced.



In that same year, 1999, I purchased an amplifier manufactured by the Pignose company. It was based on the schematics of an older Fender Bassman. The amplifer worked just fine, but at the time I was critized by some for purchasing a Chinese made amplifier.



Let's jump ahead to 2007 and 2008. In 2007 Fender Musical Instrument had a winner with their Chinese manufactured Champion 600 reissue. This was a re-do of one of the first Fender tube amplifiers and had a retail price of $189-199. Stores could not keep them in stock. This year Fender introduced another set of Chinese made amplifiers that are selling at a frenzy.

The Fender Vibro Champ XD and the Fender Super Champ XD. Both amps contain tubes and sell for $250 and $299respectively. The Fender FM series was boo-hooed at first due to it's country of origin, but have maintained a very respectable sales due to the price and sound. Asian produced amplifiers are now officially acceptable.

I have more guitars and amplifiers than I will ever need. I was fortunate to hang onto a wonderful old Gibson guitar from my teenage days. The other electrics and acoustics I own are more than sufficient. I still enjoy window shopping, but I have more pressing issues, such as the pile of bills on the dining room table that need my attention. My GAS cleared up a few years ago.

On Being Sick

I do not know what sort of bugs are in our fine Newport air that wafts off the waters of the O-hi-o, but it has been making my schnoz continually run since way before Thanksgiving.

At first I thought it could be allergies, but snow and ice have come and gone a couple of times since then and my post and fore nasal faucets continue to leak.

Perhaps this is a good sign for the makers of Kleenex (Kimberly-Clarke Inc) that stock may be on upswing (ticker sym: KMB), although Fridays NYSE posted a $1.61 loss. I have been through at least a case of the product since November.





Not only has my nose been running, I am also run down. My energy level has leveled off and it has been a chore to drag my sorry keister out of bed, down to the MR. Coffee in the kitchen. I have so many things to do, but I just do not have any stamina. I had to miss one day of work last week since I was so weak. I am sure that was due to a sinus infection.


Perhaps the only good to come of this is the bizzare vivid dreams I have been having lately. Last night's show involved hoisting my old computer CRT monitor on my shoulder and moving it. This big old heavy 19" monitor was dragged about a half mile and up and down several flights of steps and I became lost in the new office.


The prior night's episode featured my wife giving me a make-over ala the Queer Eye for the Straight guy show. I have to say I looked fabulous, but was embarrassed to leave the house. Stay tuned for tonight's episode featuring commercial free stories.

Albert And The Lion

This is a wonderful monologue written by and old English actor named Marriott Edgar.

Mr. Edgar spoke it in a northern English accent. His comedy partner Stanley Holloway perhaps became more famous for reciting the bit. Holloway is best known for his role in the classic film My Fair Lady. So here is the epic of young Albert and his trip to the Zoo.

There's a famous seaside place called Blackpool, That's noted for fresh air and fun,
And Mr. and Mrs. Ramsbottom , Went there with young Albert, their son.
A grand little lad was young Albert, All dressed in his best;quite a swell,
With a stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle, The finest that Woolworth's could sell.

They didn't think much to the Ocean: The waves, they was fiddlin' and small,
There was no wrecks and nobody drownded, Fact, nothing to laugh at at all.
So, seeking for further amusement, They paid and went into the Zoo,
Where they'd Lions and Tigers and Camels, And old ale and sandwiches too.



There were one great big Lion called Wallace; His nose were all covered with scars,
He lay in a somnolent posture, With the side of his face on the bars.
Now Albert had heard about Lions, How they was ferocious and wild,
To see Wallace lying so peaceful, Well, it didn't seem right to the child.





So straightway the brave little feller, Not showing a morsel of fear,
Took his stick with its 'orses 'ead 'andle And pushed it in Wallace's ear.
You could see that the Lion didn't like it, For giving a kind of a roll, He pulled Albert inside the cage with 'im, And swallowed the little lad 'ole.


Then Pa, who had seen the occurrence, And didn't know what to do next,
Said " Mother! Yon Lion's 'et Albert," And Mother said " EEEEE, I am vexed!"
Then Mr. and Mrs. Ramsbottom, Quite rightly, when all's said and done,
Complained to the Animal Keeper, That the Lion had eaten their son.


The keeper was quite nice about it; He said " What a nasty mishap.
Are you sure that it's your boy he's eaten ? " Pa said "Am I sure ? There's his cap! "
The manager had to be sent for. He came and he said " What's to do ? "
Pa said " Yon Lion's 'et Albert, And 'im in his Sunday clothes, too."


Then Mother said, " Right's right, young feller; I think it's a shame and a sin,
For a lion to go and eat Albert, And after we've paid to come in."
Then off they went to the Police Station, In front of the Magistrate chap;
They told 'im what happened to Albert, And proved it by showing his cap.


The manager wanted no trouble, He took out his purse right away,
Saying " How much to settle the matter ? " Pa said " What do you usually pay?"
But Mother had turned a bit awkward, When she thought where her Albert had gone.
She said " No ! someone's got to be summonsed", So that was decided upon.


The Magistrate gave his opinion That no one was really to blame,
And he said that he hoped the Ramsbottoms , Would have further sons to their name.
At that Mother got proper blazing, " And thank you, sir, kindly," said she.
" What, waste all our lives raising children, To feed ruddy Lions? Not me!"

------------

You've 'eard 'ow young Albert Ramsbottom, In the Zoo up at Blackpool one year,
With a stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle, Gave a lion a poke in the ear.
The name of the lion was Wallace, The poke in the ear made 'im wild ;
And before you could say " Bob's your Uncle," 'E'd up and 'e'd swallered the child.



'E were sorry the moment 'e'd done it, With children 'e'd always been chums,
And besides, 'e'd no teeth in 'is noddle, And 'e couldn't chew Albert on t' gums.
'E could feel the lad moving inside 'im, As 'e lay on 'is bed of dried ferns,
And it might 'ave been little lad's birthday, 'E wished 'im such 'appy returns.



But Albert kept kicking and fighting, Till Wallace arose feeling bad,
And felt it were time that 'e started to stage A come-back for the lad.
So with 'is 'ead down in a corner, On 'is front paws 'e started to walk,
And 'e coughed and 'e sneezed and 'e gargled, Till Albert shot out like a cork.


Old Wallace felt better direc'ly, And 'is figure once more became lean,
But the only difference with Albert Was 'is face and 'is 'ands were quite clean.
Meanwhile Mister and Missus Ramsbottom 'Ad gone 'ome to tea feeling blue ;
Ma says " I feel down in the mouth like," Pa says " Aye! I bet Albert does too."

Said Ma " It just goes for to show yer That the future is never revealed,
If I thought we was going to lose 'im I'd 'ave not 'ad 'is boots soled and 'eeled."
" Let's look on the bright side," said Father, " What can't be 'elped must be endured,
Every cloud 'as a silvery lining, And we did 'ave young Albert insured."

A knock at the door came that moment As Father these kind words did speak,
'Twas the man from t' Prudential, E'd called for their " tuppence per person per week."
When Father saw who 'ad been knocking, 'E laughed and 'e kept laughing so,
That the young man said " What's there to laugh at ?" Pa said " You'll laugh an' all when you know."

" Excuse 'im for laughing," said Mother, " But really things 'appen so strange,
Our Albert's been ate by a lion, You've got to pay us for a change."
Said the young feller from the Prudential, " Now, come come, let's understand this,
You don't mean to say that you've lost'im?" Ma says " Oh, no ! we know where 'e is."

When the young man 'ad 'eard all the details, A bag from 'is pocket he drew,
And 'e paid them, with int'rest and bonus, The sum of nine pounds four and two.
Pa 'ad scarce got 'is 'and on the money When a face at the window they see,
And Mother says " Eeh ! look, it's Albert," And Father says " Aye, it would be."

Young Albert came in all excited, And started 'is story to give,
And Pa says " I'll never trust lions again, Not as long as I live."
The young feller from the Prudential To pick up the money began,
And Father says " Eeh ! just a moment, Don't be in a hurry, young man."

Then giving young Albert a shilling, He said " Pop off back to the Zoo.
'Ere's yer stick with the 'orse's 'ead 'andle, Go and see what the Tigers can do ! "

A German's View On Islam

My area of the world at one time was a large settling place for citizens of the Deutshland that immigrated to the New World to start their live's anew. Jews, Protestants and Catholic all arrived for various reasons and settled in Cincinnati and the surrounding suburbs.

I still am familiar with folks that return to Germany once a year to visit their kin. Here is a view from an older German regarding the current state of the world.

The fellow whose family was German aristocracy prior to World War II owned a number of large industries and estates. When asked how many German people were true Nazis, the answer he gave can guide our attitude toward fanaticism.

"Very few people were true Nazis" he said, "but many enjoyed the return of German pride, and many more were too busy to care. I was one of those who just thought the Nazis were a bunch of fools. So, the majority just sat back and let it all happen. Then, before we knew it, they owned us, and we had lost control, and the end of the world had come. My family lost everything. I ended up in a concentration camp and the Allies destroyed my factories."

We are told again and again by "experts and 'talking heads' that Islam is the religion of peace, and that the vast majority of Muslims just want to live in peace. Although this unqualified assertion may be true, it is entirely irrelevant. It is meaningless fluff, meant to make us feel better, and meant to somehow diminish the specter of fanatics rampaging across the globe in the name of Islam.

The fact is that the fanatics rule Islam at this moment in history.

It is the fanatics who march.

It is the fanatics who wage any one of 50 shooting wars worldwide.


It is the fanatics who systematically slaughter Christian or tribal groups throughout Africa and are gradually taking over the entire continent in an Islamic wave.

It is the fanatics who bomb, behead, murder, or honor kill. It is the fanatics who take over mosque after mosque.

It is the fanatics who zealously spread the stoning and hanging of rape victims and homosexuals.

The hard quantifiable fact is that the "peaceful majority", "the 'silent majority," is cowed and extraneous.

Communist Russia was comprised of Russians who just wanted to live in peace, yet the Russian Communists (Karl Marx and assoc.) were responsible for the murder of about 20 million people. The peaceful majority were irrelevant.

China's huge population was peaceful as well, but Chinese Communists managed to kill a staggering 70 million people.

The average Japanese individual prior to World War II was not a warmongering sadist. Yet, Japan murdered and slaughtered its way across South East Asia in an orgy of killing that included the systematic murder of 12 million Chinese civilians; most killed by sword, shovel, and bayonet.

And, who can forget Rwanda, which collapsed into butchery. Could it not be said that the majority of Rwandans were "peace loving?"

History lessons are often incredibly simple and blunt, yet for all our powers of reason we often miss the most basic and uncomplicated of points: Peace-loving Muslims have been made irrelevant by their silence. Peace-loving Muslims will become our enemy if they don't speak up, because like my friend from Germany, they will awaken one day and find that the fanatics own them, and the end of their world will have begun.

Peace-loving Germans, Japanese, Chinese, Russians, Rwandans, Serbs, Afghanis, Iraqis, Palestinians, Somalis, Nigerians, Algerians, and many others have died because the peaceful majority did not speak up until it was too late.

The Hollywood Left would lead us to believe the Islamic revolt in Iraq and Afghanistan is another Viet Nam. That we are only fighting for control of oil. They are hoping that President Bush is Nixon. They are longing for those old days of protests and civil disobediance. They are clueless. The current war, the current situation has everything to do with religious fanaticism, the oppresion of all who do not follow Islam and the forcing of Islamic rule on the world.


As for us who watch it all unfold; we must pay attention to the only group that counts; the fanatics who threaten our way of life.






Lastly, at the risk of offending, anyone who doubts that the issue is serious is contributing to the passiveness that allows the problems to expand. This is really why our troops are overseas protecting our shores.

The Worst Boss

When I was 18 years old I went to work at a hospital. I had applied at several large institutions and the best choice was at The Jewish Hospital. I was offered a job as an orderly. Little did I know that in order to get this job I would have to have my self esteem and will trampled flat and taken out for trash day.



It was 1971 when I was introduced to Joan Meachem.

Joan was fifty-ish, her stature was small and it was held together by tight-fitting undergarments that made her look like she had a suit of armor under her white nurses uniform. She was firm in the right places, but bulged from the wrong places. She had to be very uncomfortable. Did I mention this was 1971?

Joan was a registered nurse that had been a graduate of The Jewish Hospital School of Nursing. She like to remind you of this and did so three or four times a day.


There were five young men in the class and most of us needed the job. So as we learned to make up beds with hospital corners, take blood glucose readings and bath old men we put up with her intimidation tactics, her military-like evaluation and her over-the-top seriousness of the most mundane subject.

I graduated after the four week course and went on to be assigned to the Extended Care Unit, where my self-esteem completely disapated and my psyche erroded. It was there that I learned, as Dr. Suess put it, old age is not for sissies.

After a year plus of working as an orderly, there was an offer to apply for a position as an Operating Room Technician. The pay was at a higher level. The work did not entail wiping butts or lifting large unresponsive people in and out of bed. I took the test, passed it and was on my way to the class which was led by none other than Joan Meachem.



The course was to be a six month preparation with hands on training. After it was over we would be prepared to take the national certification course. Joan was in her glory.


She had fifteen brave souls that were locked in a hospital training room under her thumb for 8 hours on a daily basis. This was not simple, make the bed, bath the patient, feed the patient chores. We would be assisting doctors by passing instruments, holding retractors and setting up operating rooms. We also had to study anatomy and physiology, know what medications were commonly used during procedures, learn about sterilizing instruments and maintaining operating room protocol. We also had to learn about different types of surgeries and what would be expected to happen during the procedure.


Joan made it a point to note that her training method was diadactic training. In other words, she read from the book, we listened. As a bonus feature she used all of her training in intimidation techniques and psyche breakdown. Although there were no thumbscrews, racks or waterboarding, none-the-less spending 8 hours a day with her was cruel and unusual mental torture.


We were continually evaluated by her and her cronies in so-called "private" conversations that were meant to be heard by the class. Occasionally one of the members would not be at class and we would be told they had been dismissed due to their bad attitude. In other words, they spoke up or did not cow-tow to her mental cruelty and were shown the exit door.

I need to let you know that The Jewish Hospital was a wonderful facility. It still is, although it has moved to a new location. The quality of care was excellent and the staff was supberb. However at the time, the Nursing department was run by a clique of ladies that called the shots. Joan was second in command and her best friend was the head of nursing. One time Joan had the head of nursing's son fired and the two women still remained friends. These were ladies that had a tighter bond than the Skull and Bones society.


Joan's dower demeanor gave way to her only pleasure, smoking cigarretes, which she consumed by the carton on a daily basis. During my tenure, this habit caught up with her as she had to have a lobe of her right lung removed. I recall that during our physiology training she showed us a cigarette burn on her left hand. This was as a demonstration of wound healing. Her burn was two weeks old and would be totally healed in another two. None of us wanted any show and tell.


It is hard to believe it was over thirty-five years since I worked as a certified operating room technician. Yes, I did pass the national board despite Miss Meachem' training. Joan's six month course turned into a one year course. My remaining classmates and I caught on shortly into the course that Joan Meachem never had any training in an operating room and her diadactical approach to teaching was not fooling anyone. Eventually someone higher up ordered her to end the class and make appointments for us to take the certification.

Teaching methods and employee retention have advance to a science. But I am sure there continue to be examples of Miss Meachem throughout nursing and many other businesses. Bless her heart, Joan Meachem will always stand out as an example of mental cruelty and how not to teach.

I hold no resentment toward her or her memory. This era is a part of my life story and it bears telling.