“Capitalism is a necessary condition for political freedom.” —Milton Friedman
“Our economy rests on a three-legged stool—political freedom, economic freedom, and moral restraint.” —Michael Novak
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Guitar Collection
This post is probably long overdue. Here's the collection today. Starting in the upper left and going down the first collumn, we have:
Hamer Stellar 1 (HH) Korean
Kramer Striker 422 (Quad and 2 dual rails) Korean
Kramer Focus reborn as a Strat parts-o-caster (SSS) Korea and parts unkown
Peavey EVH Wolfgang Special (HH) MIA
Hamer SATP90 (P90s) Chinese (my number one)
Second Column, top to bottom:
Hamer Standard (HH) Korean
Xaviere xv800 Tele (SS) Korean?
Ibanez Roadstar II rs135, (SSS) Japan. It is required that I say it has a nice neck.
Nelsonic Starliner LP Clone (HH) Korean?
Gretsch Rambler (S, neck) MIA 1958
Not pictured: Daughter's pink Squire, Taylor 514ce Acoustic (on loan to me brother so he can soak in the goodness, then buy his own acoustic), and the obligatory Squire Precision Bass. Oh, and Four, under construction in Miramar FL. Come on, Birger!
At some point, I'll blog about each of these as, like children, they're all unique.
Throwing me for a Curve
This was one of those "well, duh!" moments which be came a "way cool!" moment. Here's what led up to that moment.
I don't drive much but around town. When I take a business trip, however, I'll drive to the airport in Portland, Manchester, or Boston, trips of one to three hours depending on traffic and rest stops. In those long drives, I like to catch up on music or audio books. More specifically, I'll batch up a whole bunch of Dave Ramsey podcasts and then listen to them.
My car has a great stereo- 6 disk cd in the trunk, am/fm/cassette, volume/seek controls right on the steering wheel. With my Zune mp3 player, I just plug into a cassette adapter, choose the music or podcast I want to play, and off I go.
But I've also got a Blackberry Curve cell phone. For Christmas, Santa left behind an 8gb memory chip for it, and I've loaded it up with a few thousand songs. Without the best in usability and maintaining content, the phone does an acceptable job of being cell phone, music player, and a poor-man's GPS (way to go, Google Maps!). But my driver's seat becomes a spider-web of cables, headsets, and small media serving devices filling every cup-holder and storage bin.
When an email or phone call comes in, if I catch it it's because of the interference it sets up with the radio- you know, the buzzing deet-da-deet-da-deet static . Then I've got to kill the radio or mp3 player, fish out the phone, answer it, play cat's cradle with the phone's ear phone/mic combo, and pray that the volume is loud enough to cover the road noise.
Last night, on the long swim back home from a customer demo in the Boston area, I went through that whole exercise on a call with Mrs. Toadroller. My headset was unfortunately buried in my computer bag, so I was trying to do the neck craning/hold the phone up thing. I'd turn the volume up to hear her, and then my boy Jack would scream on her end, piercing my ear drums. After a while, I fumbled for the tinny, tiny speakerphone capability and then snuggled the phone into my sun-visor above me. Ahh, hands free. But still, hard to carry on the conversation.
And then it occured to me, "well, duh!"
My Zune had been playing through the cassette adaptor; the headset out on the Blackberry Curve is a standard 1/8" stereo plug, with an extra ring for microphone in. I might not have a mic-in, but it was worth a shot. I yanked the cassette adaptor from the Zune, plugged it into the Blackberry Curve, and carried on the conversation.
Mrs. Toadroller (and my boy Jack) were now being broadcast in crystal-clear stereo through the car radio. And I mean clear- you could hear him playing with the faucet in the background. With the phone sitting on my lap, she could hear me just fine. Boom, like that. My voice into the phone's built in mic; her voice through the headset out jack and into the car stereo, with volume control on the steering wheel.
Way cool! No blue tooth borg-assimilation head units with blinking lights or expensive installs needed.
The best thing is that I can do the iPhone scenario with it. I can be jamming along with my Blackberry Curve playing the tunes through the cassette adaptor, and when a phone call comes in, it will pause the music, play the ringer tone, and I can accept the call and carry on without switching units or fussing with cables. When the call is done, hit the phone's end button and the music starts up again. Ta dah! I'm a PC and I'm rocking like a teenager, but with a nicer car.
Now if I could find an all you can eat music subscription service like Zune's Marketplace and a better media player/synchronization toolset for the Blackberry, I can leave the Zune behind and remove yet another device from the travel kit. It used to be CD player, Noise Cancelling Headphones, spare AA batteries and 10 of your favorite CDs for long trips. Now it can be cell phone, headset, and an adaptor cable.
By the way... In the dark, the Curve's LCD display makes for a handy near-field flashlight, lighting up the front seat quite well for 15, 30, or 60 seconds at a time, depending on how you have your backlight settings configured.
I don't drive much but around town. When I take a business trip, however, I'll drive to the airport in Portland, Manchester, or Boston, trips of one to three hours depending on traffic and rest stops. In those long drives, I like to catch up on music or audio books. More specifically, I'll batch up a whole bunch of Dave Ramsey podcasts and then listen to them.
My car has a great stereo- 6 disk cd in the trunk, am/fm/cassette, volume/seek controls right on the steering wheel. With my Zune mp3 player, I just plug into a cassette adapter, choose the music or podcast I want to play, and off I go.
But I've also got a Blackberry Curve cell phone. For Christmas, Santa left behind an 8gb memory chip for it, and I've loaded it up with a few thousand songs. Without the best in usability and maintaining content, the phone does an acceptable job of being cell phone, music player, and a poor-man's GPS (way to go, Google Maps!). But my driver's seat becomes a spider-web of cables, headsets, and small media serving devices filling every cup-holder and storage bin.
When an email or phone call comes in, if I catch it it's because of the interference it sets up with the radio- you know, the buzzing deet-da-deet-da-deet static . Then I've got to kill the radio or mp3 player, fish out the phone, answer it, play cat's cradle with the phone's ear phone/mic combo, and pray that the volume is loud enough to cover the road noise.
Last night, on the long swim back home from a customer demo in the Boston area, I went through that whole exercise on a call with Mrs. Toadroller. My headset was unfortunately buried in my computer bag, so I was trying to do the neck craning/hold the phone up thing. I'd turn the volume up to hear her, and then my boy Jack would scream on her end, piercing my ear drums. After a while, I fumbled for the tinny, tiny speakerphone capability and then snuggled the phone into my sun-visor above me. Ahh, hands free. But still, hard to carry on the conversation.
And then it occured to me, "well, duh!"
My Zune had been playing through the cassette adaptor; the headset out on the Blackberry Curve is a standard 1/8" stereo plug, with an extra ring for microphone in. I might not have a mic-in, but it was worth a shot. I yanked the cassette adaptor from the Zune, plugged it into the Blackberry Curve, and carried on the conversation.
Mrs. Toadroller (and my boy Jack) were now being broadcast in crystal-clear stereo through the car radio. And I mean clear- you could hear him playing with the faucet in the background. With the phone sitting on my lap, she could hear me just fine. Boom, like that. My voice into the phone's built in mic; her voice through the headset out jack and into the car stereo, with volume control on the steering wheel.
Way cool! No blue tooth borg-assimilation head units with blinking lights or expensive installs needed.
The best thing is that I can do the iPhone scenario with it. I can be jamming along with my Blackberry Curve playing the tunes through the cassette adaptor, and when a phone call comes in, it will pause the music, play the ringer tone, and I can accept the call and carry on without switching units or fussing with cables. When the call is done, hit the phone's end button and the music starts up again. Ta dah! I'm a PC and I'm rocking like a teenager, but with a nicer car.
Now if I could find an all you can eat music subscription service like Zune's Marketplace and a better media player/synchronization toolset for the Blackberry, I can leave the Zune behind and remove yet another device from the travel kit. It used to be CD player, Noise Cancelling Headphones, spare AA batteries and 10 of your favorite CDs for long trips. Now it can be cell phone, headset, and an adaptor cable.
By the way... In the dark, the Curve's LCD display makes for a handy near-field flashlight, lighting up the front seat quite well for 15, 30, or 60 seconds at a time, depending on how you have your backlight settings configured.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Nice Stockings
Here's a photo I'm proud of. (click for full size)
I noticed (it's hard to miss) the sun on my daughter Bridget's legs, so I took a few different shots. The picture is as framed, without any cropping or post processing. I suppose a little cropping wouldn't hurt, but I give thought to the framing of a picture when I take it and am generally pleased with the results.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Practice pays off with an insight
Over the last month or so, I've been practicing scales. Sitting with a metronome and running up and down different modes of a scale might sound boring (and it can be), but ten to twenty minutes at a shot is bearable and builds a solid base for the future.
Besides, I'm not crazy. I'd change it up: I'd make up little games like one finger on the left hand, jumping all over the fretboard- up the scale at this position, down the scale at another, cross over on the 2nd string. Always on the beat. I'd ramp the tempo up and down. Switch from 8th notes to 16th notes. Hammer hard on a transition that was hard. Work on it until I got it and then switch to a different mode and work in its hard transitions. Do three note step runs, five note step runs. Run a bar at 16th notes and then pause and ping for a few notes before digging back in. With some imagination (and a wee bit of gin) you can make up new games to entertain you for a while.
Playing with a metronome is good, but a drum machine is even better. It helps you count the beat and you can focus on hitting the note with the snare, adding accents and character to the note rather than just hitting it on time. Muffle, pinch harmnonic, clean, soft, hard. And playing clean through your amp reveals the misses that an overdriven sound can hide.
Regardless, when warmed up I'm capable of working the metronome with plucked 16th notes at a tempo of 90 beats per minute which, when you do the math, is six notes a second. Kind of a milestone. I'm no shredder, but that, to me, is pretty darn good for actuallly picking each note, not just hammering on and off through a scale run.
Its the kind of foundation that will let me, in a real playing situation, pull myself up to the tempo of the band and surprise myself with a clean run.
Which brings me to the insight and the payoff. I came across this simple lesson earlier today and it made perfect sense.
I couldn't wait to experiment though I had to (work, errands, dinner). My month of ramping up had left me with nothing if not an ability to take a snippet of a scale and consider it a lick. I've played along with blues songs before, and even felt decent about staying close to the boundaries of the pentatonic in the appropriate key, and the notes I would play would be harmonic- sometimes even emotional- and I could go up the neck and play them here, and I could go down the neck and play them there. But heck, I sounded like a computer program. Play up the scale. Now do it fast. Go down to another mode slowly. Play scale notes. Do it fast then slow.
blah.
But tonight, with the insight, it was different. I was able to take a small piece of the scale and center around it, repeat it and change it, reach out to another note on either side, come back; play the same thing up a string and come back, trill around with different emotions, play part of it. Repeat! Hold a note for a long time and make it talk again.
HOLY COW! THIS PO-BOY HAS THE BLUES!
No, I didn't record it.
Suddenly I knew which pickup I wanted because I was trying to get an emotion through. I knew that I needed to crank down the tone knob on the bridge but keep some saturation. I was a boogie-woogie monster. I'd throw it on the neck and clean. I knew my place in the twelve bars. I'd throw in a minor chord along with the rhythm and hen jump back into a solo. I'd go a few beats without even playing a note just to add to the feeling of what I was doing. I got lost in it and was giving Tab Benoit a little bit to handle- certainly not on the skill side, but man, can't anyone deny we were feedin' off each other. As much as an mp3 can feed of someone, that is.
Bottom line, I was feelin'it. Breakthrough.
Oh, and that Hamer Stellar is Stellar.
Besides, I'm not crazy. I'd change it up: I'd make up little games like one finger on the left hand, jumping all over the fretboard- up the scale at this position, down the scale at another, cross over on the 2nd string. Always on the beat. I'd ramp the tempo up and down. Switch from 8th notes to 16th notes. Hammer hard on a transition that was hard. Work on it until I got it and then switch to a different mode and work in its hard transitions. Do three note step runs, five note step runs. Run a bar at 16th notes and then pause and ping for a few notes before digging back in. With some imagination (and a wee bit of gin) you can make up new games to entertain you for a while.
Playing with a metronome is good, but a drum machine is even better. It helps you count the beat and you can focus on hitting the note with the snare, adding accents and character to the note rather than just hitting it on time. Muffle, pinch harmnonic, clean, soft, hard. And playing clean through your amp reveals the misses that an overdriven sound can hide.
Regardless, when warmed up I'm capable of working the metronome with plucked 16th notes at a tempo of 90 beats per minute which, when you do the math, is six notes a second. Kind of a milestone. I'm no shredder, but that, to me, is pretty darn good for actuallly picking each note, not just hammering on and off through a scale run.
Its the kind of foundation that will let me, in a real playing situation, pull myself up to the tempo of the band and surprise myself with a clean run.
Which brings me to the insight and the payoff. I came across this simple lesson earlier today and it made perfect sense.
I couldn't wait to experiment though I had to (work, errands, dinner). My month of ramping up had left me with nothing if not an ability to take a snippet of a scale and consider it a lick. I've played along with blues songs before, and even felt decent about staying close to the boundaries of the pentatonic in the appropriate key, and the notes I would play would be harmonic- sometimes even emotional- and I could go up the neck and play them here, and I could go down the neck and play them there. But heck, I sounded like a computer program. Play up the scale. Now do it fast. Go down to another mode slowly. Play scale notes. Do it fast then slow.
blah.
But tonight, with the insight, it was different. I was able to take a small piece of the scale and center around it, repeat it and change it, reach out to another note on either side, come back; play the same thing up a string and come back, trill around with different emotions, play part of it. Repeat! Hold a note for a long time and make it talk again.
HOLY COW! THIS PO-BOY HAS THE BLUES!
No, I didn't record it.
Suddenly I knew which pickup I wanted because I was trying to get an emotion through. I knew that I needed to crank down the tone knob on the bridge but keep some saturation. I was a boogie-woogie monster. I'd throw it on the neck and clean. I knew my place in the twelve bars. I'd throw in a minor chord along with the rhythm and hen jump back into a solo. I'd go a few beats without even playing a note just to add to the feeling of what I was doing. I got lost in it and was giving Tab Benoit a little bit to handle- certainly not on the skill side, but man, can't anyone deny we were feedin' off each other. As much as an mp3 can feed of someone, that is.
Bottom line, I was feelin'it. Breakthrough.
Oh, and that Hamer Stellar is Stellar.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Wood moves
Just as rust never sleeps, wood moves. Right in step with the spring equinox, in the last week I've noticed some of the doors around the house emerging from their winter sticknicitude* while others are reverting from winter freedoms to their summer catchy stations. A sort of changing of the guard for the doors.
It also reveals itself in my guitar necks. As fall sets in and leaches humidity, the wood in the necks of the guitars slowly dries out and start to raise the tension on the strings and straighten their necks out as if they could approximate good posture. What to do but tune them down a bit and give the truss rod some relief- loosen it. At ease, gentlemen.
But now it's spring, and the humidity rolls in, reversing the winter's arid effects. Day by day now I've noticed the action turning into a trapeze wire. The tuning slumps low. And so the truss rod is given a tweak in the opposite direction. Straighten Up! Look Sharp! Attention!
Is this significant? Well, yes and no. As with all things minute in nature, the movement can be undetectible to those not paying close attention until finally it crosses a threshhold and -whoomp, there it is.
Yes, that's an analogy for the typically subteranean shifts in our daily political lives. I beg of you to pay attention to the seismic tremors big and small happening in our country these last six months, because we've gone way past that threshhold of visibility and are entering into critical stresses.
Yes, wood moves. Back and forth, back and forth with the seasons. But you can't fold a guitar- you'll break its neck.
It also reveals itself in my guitar necks. As fall sets in and leaches humidity, the wood in the necks of the guitars slowly dries out and start to raise the tension on the strings and straighten their necks out as if they could approximate good posture. What to do but tune them down a bit and give the truss rod some relief- loosen it. At ease, gentlemen.
But now it's spring, and the humidity rolls in, reversing the winter's arid effects. Day by day now I've noticed the action turning into a trapeze wire. The tuning slumps low. And so the truss rod is given a tweak in the opposite direction. Straighten Up! Look Sharp! Attention!
Is this significant? Well, yes and no. As with all things minute in nature, the movement can be undetectible to those not paying close attention until finally it crosses a threshhold and -whoomp, there it is.
Yes, that's an analogy for the typically subteranean shifts in our daily political lives. I beg of you to pay attention to the seismic tremors big and small happening in our country these last six months, because we've gone way past that threshhold of visibility and are entering into critical stresses.
Yes, wood moves. Back and forth, back and forth with the seasons. But you can't fold a guitar- you'll break its neck.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
"Vote Democrat, get free stuff"
It might just be okay to leave a child behind once in a while...
There are so many things I could say... but I think Julio speaks volumes by himself.
There are so many things I could say... but I think Julio speaks volumes by himself.
Quote of the day
"More than any time in history mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness, the other to total extinction. Let us pray that we have the wisdom to choose correctly."
-Woody Allen
Monday, March 23, 2009
The many faces of Jack
Mrs. Toadroller (I can call you that, can't I Cheryl? I don't want people knowing your real name) put up a post with pictures of my boy Jack's sundry expressions over at her blog.
I thought I'd better respond with one of my favorite collage of the Pteryjacktal:
Ain't he something?
I thought I'd better respond with one of my favorite collage of the Pteryjacktal:
Ain't he something?
Yes, quite Stellar indeed
She's a Hamer Stellar 1, probably 99/00 time frame, with a crimson hued burst to black with some great lines and carves. It's unique and will fight its way into rotation with my other Hamers- a China goldtop P90 and a Korean Standard. It's got two nicks on the front edges, a little rash and some bumps on the back, but overall, a great looking guitar. And it's a Hamer. You know it plays just fantastic- beefy neck, not heavy, balanced, and resonant.
I didn't quite realize it when I hit the "buy it now" button at $150 (delivered), but upon arrival today I realized that I must be rescuing this fine piece from what can only be considered guitar abuse. A friend selling for a friend, so the story goes; regardless it made it here, luckily in one piece. Here's what greeted me opening the rather large shipping container:
How can one do this to a beautiful guitar? It's neglect, I tell you! Criminal neglect! Come here, little Hamer, I've got a home for you.
Here's a "before" photo. Notice the overall haze on the body and all the gunk around the pickups:
Here's an after:
I waited until after all this cleaning and restringing to plug her in . I couldn't bring myself to even touch the strings it came with. Bloom-floom, beautiful music from the neck pickup. Swapped over to the old SD bridge pickup to see what she could do and phlaaat-spizz. Super thin and a ton of noise/hum...
Opened up the cavity and whoa! Spaghetti!
That ain't right. I followed leads, scratched my head, did a little research on basic wiring patterns for a 3 way switch with only one volume and one tone, scratched my head some more, looked up Seymour's advice, and identified what was likely the problem. The wrong leads from the bridge pickup were soldered to the wrong stub of the pickup selector switch. Five minutes with a soldering iron and fat as shat she's alive!
I'm having a blast here because I rescued a beauty of 24 fretter, dual hummer, oak/lacewood mystic lava lamp topped, fine Korean built Hamer for the princely sum of a buck-fifty and it's a keeper. Can you believe the character in this top? It changes in the light from different angles. Like I said, it's a lava lamp.
Here are some shots of it"
and
and
and
I didn't quite realize it when I hit the "buy it now" button at $150 (delivered), but upon arrival today I realized that I must be rescuing this fine piece from what can only be considered guitar abuse. A friend selling for a friend, so the story goes; regardless it made it here, luckily in one piece. Here's what greeted me opening the rather large shipping container:
Umm, why is it only one third filled with packing peanuts? Thank you, UPS, for treating it with care or it could have been a disaster.
Scissoring through the mummy-wrapped bubble plastic, it let out a whiff. "Smoker," I warned Cheryl. This thing was grimy, slimy, with rusty strings and, for some reason, black magic marker on the back. One knob was missing, the other was hanging on at an angle that made me worry about the shaft of the pot, but not a problem- the knob was an oversized mis-fit and the shaft was fine, the pickup switch tip was nowhere to be seen. There was a huge chunk on the edge of the fretboard. Crap! No, wait, it came off. Dirt. Whew!
I was pleasantly surprised that it contained a genuine Seymour Duncan (TB 4, it turns out) bridge pickup and a no name "Patent Applied For" neck pickup.
I stripped it down and spent the next 2-3 hours clearing the grime, cleaning off the magic marker, polishing the body to an incredible luster (this thing glows, you know?), oiling the neck, graphiting the nut, restringing with 10s, adjusting the truss (the neck was like a canoe until I snugged it up- straightened right out), adjusting the action, and setting the intonation which was, no surprise here, waaaay off.How can one do this to a beautiful guitar? It's neglect, I tell you! Criminal neglect! Come here, little Hamer, I've got a home for you.
Here's a "before" photo. Notice the overall haze on the body and all the gunk around the pickups:
Here's an after:
I waited until after all this cleaning and restringing to plug her in . I couldn't bring myself to even touch the strings it came with. Bloom-floom, beautiful music from the neck pickup. Swapped over to the old SD bridge pickup to see what she could do and phlaaat-spizz. Super thin and a ton of noise/hum...
Opened up the cavity and whoa! Spaghetti!
That ain't right. I followed leads, scratched my head, did a little research on basic wiring patterns for a 3 way switch with only one volume and one tone, scratched my head some more, looked up Seymour's advice, and identified what was likely the problem. The wrong leads from the bridge pickup were soldered to the wrong stub of the pickup selector switch. Five minutes with a soldering iron and fat as shat she's alive!
I'm having a blast here because I rescued a beauty of 24 fretter, dual hummer, oak/lacewood mystic lava lamp topped, fine Korean built Hamer for the princely sum of a buck-fifty and it's a keeper. Can you believe the character in this top? It changes in the light from different angles. Like I said, it's a lava lamp.
Here are some shots of it"
and
and
and
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Oops, sorry, TODAY is a very bad day for America
How successful has Obama's first 100 days been?
very
He's made us and our great grandchildren wards of the state with the debt he's enacted. Oh Dennis, you silly, our great grandchildren? Come on! This will be ancient history by then! Oh really? I'm a great grand-child of the depression and I know its effects on my life. This is roughly the same time-cycle as the great depression to now. And a significant portion of our country's history.
He's brought banking into the fold of government responsibility; dare I say nationalized them. Who's next? The core of manufacturing.
He's just defined how much is too much. 250K and then 90% tax rate. Don't forget what the tax burden is for someone making 250k. Oh Dennis, that's just for those companies mismanaged by the evil greedy who deserve such a punishment! Why yes, yes it is. For now. In the industries suckling at the pig. But it's not fair that one group should be allowed to make more than 250k and others not. Why, that makes them Rich with a capital R and that's not fair. As promised in the campaign, the rich are those making over 250k, and this is just the first tug on the noose to put an end to such unnecessary over-abundance.
Congress floated the idea yesterday... I do believe it was our favorite schlepp Barney Frank that did so... that he'd tax those bastards 90% if he could. And sumbich if the house didn't act in less than 24 hours. Astonishing.
Healthcare is going to be a cakewalk. Especially when the retiring boomers start whining about how their retirement funds disappeared (if they had ever actually been responsible enough to create them, which many, many weren't) and they simply can't afford it; someone's got to take care of them, they're the old and infirm.
Sorry. I'm pissed, I'm embarassed, and most of all, I'm dissapointed in the American people for still believing these things are good. I want to run every stinking Subaru and Prius with a liberal bumper sticker (which is, last check, all of them) off the road right about now.
A very successful first 100 days indeed.
Beyond any liberal's wildest dreams. A multi-orgasmic 100 days of liberal achievement whose first wave was at the coro-nomination, second surprising gasp was on election day, and whose third throbbing peaked during the sickening whorefest of the inauguration. The filthy fourth can easily be found over at Barney's playhouse this evening.
Tomorrow's hangover is gonna suck for America.
I'm anticipating something Stellar
Don't let cash burn a hole in your pocket. No sir.
My solemn vow was to stash cash for a genuine USA Hamer Studio. They can be found on Ebay or Craigslist or a few other guitar oreinted forums for under a grand and, at such prices, are well worth it.
But dang if this Hamer Stellar 1 didn't show up with a Buy it Now for $150 delivered.
This is the guitar from its crappy listing photo. It looks like at least a good polishing and a replacement knob are in order. Probably more. Notice, in comparisson to the photo below, the moire patters on the finish due to the low resolution.
Here's a much better photo I found of the same model. When I get mine, expect a review and better pics:
Courtesy of this flickr album.
It took five minutes of hard research and googling of this rather unique bird (which also yeilded the same guitar's previous listing at $250 Buy it Now) and the fact that I actually had $150 stashed away and, well... It's supposed to be here tomorrow from UPS. So that's a reset button on saving for the genuine Hamer USA Studio.
What has this thing got going for it? It's a Korean Hamer. That doesn't suck. More intriguing is its theoretical through-body maple neck and its oak/lacewood top, a transluscent red burst finish, a 24 fret, 25.5 inch scale length, and what will probably be decent if not great Duncan Designed humbuckers. I doubt that it's a through-body; it's probably a maple core body with a maple set-neck and oak/lacewood veneer. Many of the on-line reviews seem to be confused about this. I know what a through body neck actually is and promise to set the record straight.
So what? Well, its oak/lacewood finish caught my attention as that's exactly what is on Four, the custom guitar my good friend Birger is making for me. See the mini-slide show to the right. And Four has a maple (and mahogany core) through neck. And it's the same scale length.
Bottom line, if it's in any kind of decent condition, I've got the confidence to clean it up and get it playing great. I can experiment with pickups till the cows come home. Or resell it for a profit. I'll also probably throw the old Kramer Striker up for sale.
While the Striker is one of my first electric guitars and was what I first sought- humbuckers, pointy hockey stick neck, Kramer name- I've never really bonded with it. It plays great, it's light, looks cool, the pups scream "Ratt," and the Korean fit and finish is exemplary. But it sits in a case in the closet. To me, it's $200 or so back into the Hamer USA fund or whatever else sidetracks me.
Like building a small tube amp. Stay tuned...
My solemn vow was to stash cash for a genuine USA Hamer Studio. They can be found on Ebay or Craigslist or a few other guitar oreinted forums for under a grand and, at such prices, are well worth it.
But dang if this Hamer Stellar 1 didn't show up with a Buy it Now for $150 delivered.
This is the guitar from its crappy listing photo. It looks like at least a good polishing and a replacement knob are in order. Probably more. Notice, in comparisson to the photo below, the moire patters on the finish due to the low resolution.
Here's a much better photo I found of the same model. When I get mine, expect a review and better pics:
Courtesy of this flickr album.
It took five minutes of hard research and googling of this rather unique bird (which also yeilded the same guitar's previous listing at $250 Buy it Now) and the fact that I actually had $150 stashed away and, well... It's supposed to be here tomorrow from UPS. So that's a reset button on saving for the genuine Hamer USA Studio.
What has this thing got going for it? It's a Korean Hamer. That doesn't suck. More intriguing is its theoretical through-body maple neck and its oak/lacewood top, a transluscent red burst finish, a 24 fret, 25.5 inch scale length, and what will probably be decent if not great Duncan Designed humbuckers. I doubt that it's a through-body; it's probably a maple core body with a maple set-neck and oak/lacewood veneer. Many of the on-line reviews seem to be confused about this. I know what a through body neck actually is and promise to set the record straight.
So what? Well, its oak/lacewood finish caught my attention as that's exactly what is on Four, the custom guitar my good friend Birger is making for me. See the mini-slide show to the right. And Four has a maple (and mahogany core) through neck. And it's the same scale length.
Bottom line, if it's in any kind of decent condition, I've got the confidence to clean it up and get it playing great. I can experiment with pickups till the cows come home. Or resell it for a profit. I'll also probably throw the old Kramer Striker up for sale.
While the Striker is one of my first electric guitars and was what I first sought- humbuckers, pointy hockey stick neck, Kramer name- I've never really bonded with it. It plays great, it's light, looks cool, the pups scream "Ratt," and the Korean fit and finish is exemplary. But it sits in a case in the closet. To me, it's $200 or so back into the Hamer USA fund or whatever else sidetracks me.
Like building a small tube amp. Stay tuned...
I think it was asking for help...
Yesterday was a day of significance for Americans.
I drove from Augusta, Maine to my regional corporate office in Burlington, Mass through mid-day for a meeting, dinner, and a late night return. The farce of Obama's outrage against AIG's executive bonuses was playing itself out in real-time on talk radio and I caught before, during, and after perspectives from a variety of sources.
Sigh.
A huge American flag unfurled into the wind and into my view as I rounded a corner. The sight of it there- large, alone, billowing, evoked in me an emotion I've never, ever, EVER before experienced about our flag, our home. I don't know if it was shame, disappointment, fear, regret, or guilt, this strange stew of anxiety. But when have you ever looked at our flag with anything but a positive or supportive emotional response?
I listened, crestfallen, as Obama railed away at the injustices and the greed and the evil ways... as he borrowed tired cliches from his political ancestors ("The buck stops with me"? Come on!)... and floundered despite his great oratory prowess ("...and" "but let us recall..." "I want to make... one... thing.. clear") and finally made his power-grabbing point- that this was all just proof and evidence of the need for more regulation and control in this and all capitalist industries. Let's tick them off together, shall we? Banking, Insurance, Health Care, Automotive, Investments... What's left?
Obama and Congress sanctimoniously, righteously, soullessly had the gall to crucify a pawn to satisfy the masses screaming for Barabbas. To quote Captain Renault in Casablanca:
Captain Renault: I'm shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on in here!
[a croupier hands Renault a pile of money]
Croupier: Your winnings, sir.
That's right, Barney. I'm talkin' to you. You hypocrite.
Late at night, swimming north into the darkness that is I95 through the Kennebec Valley of Maine, my MP3 player glowed with an image of Ronald Reagan as he delivered, single-handed and boldly, a defiant challenge at Brandenburg gate to "Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate. Mr. Gorbachev... Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!"
My day started with the shameless shameful and ended with liberty's successful stand at the gate of tyranny. I pulled over and cried.
Our flag stood there yesterday, huge and proud in the wind. I saw it. I don't know who else did.
I think it was asking for help.
I drove from Augusta, Maine to my regional corporate office in Burlington, Mass through mid-day for a meeting, dinner, and a late night return. The farce of Obama's outrage against AIG's executive bonuses was playing itself out in real-time on talk radio and I caught before, during, and after perspectives from a variety of sources.
Sigh.
A huge American flag unfurled into the wind and into my view as I rounded a corner. The sight of it there- large, alone, billowing, evoked in me an emotion I've never, ever, EVER before experienced about our flag, our home. I don't know if it was shame, disappointment, fear, regret, or guilt, this strange stew of anxiety. But when have you ever looked at our flag with anything but a positive or supportive emotional response?
I listened, crestfallen, as Obama railed away at the injustices and the greed and the evil ways... as he borrowed tired cliches from his political ancestors ("The buck stops with me"? Come on!)... and floundered despite his great oratory prowess ("...and" "but let us recall..." "I want to make... one... thing.. clear") and finally made his power-grabbing point- that this was all just proof and evidence of the need for more regulation and control in this and all capitalist industries. Let's tick them off together, shall we? Banking, Insurance, Health Care, Automotive, Investments... What's left?
Obama and Congress sanctimoniously, righteously, soullessly had the gall to crucify a pawn to satisfy the masses screaming for Barabbas. To quote Captain Renault in Casablanca:
Captain Renault: I'm shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on in here!
[a croupier hands Renault a pile of money]
Croupier: Your winnings, sir.
That's right, Barney. I'm talkin' to you. You hypocrite.
Late at night, swimming north into the darkness that is I95 through the Kennebec Valley of Maine, my MP3 player glowed with an image of Ronald Reagan as he delivered, single-handed and boldly, a defiant challenge at Brandenburg gate to "Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate. Mr. Gorbachev... Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!"
My day started with the shameless shameful and ended with liberty's successful stand at the gate of tyranny. I pulled over and cried.
Our flag stood there yesterday, huge and proud in the wind. I saw it. I don't know who else did.
I think it was asking for help.
Friday, March 6, 2009
I can't put the Hamer down
More than bicycling. More than juggling. More than golf, for heavens sake, I've fallen for playing the guitar.
And more than strats, teles, les pauls, wolfgangs and kramers, I've fallen for a simple, amazing guitar. A Hamer XT Sunburst Archtop gold-top with P90s.
Now, to fall for a particular guitar and have it become your favorite is expected... right after you get it. It's the honeymoon period of newness, it's difference from the others, in lavishing some love through a re-string, neck adjustments, pickup heights, playing and learning how it sounds. Eventually, however, the other guitars get a little jealous and beg you to spend some time with them and your new love begins to slowly move into its slot in your regular rotation. Just ask Woody in Toy Story. The shine can come off the relationship in a matter of weeks.
I have a number of guitars ranging from cheap to expensive; American to Japanese to Korean to Chinese and China, for all its political implications, has arrived on the manufacturing scene. People hear China and think cheap. Recall, though, that thirty years ago, people heard Japanese and thought cheap. Twenty years ago people heard Korean and thought cheap. This particular guitar is - you guessed it- manufactured in China. It made it to my house in time for Christmas last year. $300 included a TKL hard shell case, second day delivery, and the usual case candy- all brand new and unplayed. Hang tags hanging, as they are supposed to, on the peghead.
The story...
It's funny how something you at first find awkward and, even a bit ugly becomes unique and endearing to you as you gain familiarity. I felt that way about the original pocket rocket Rabbit GTI twenty five years ago. Then I bought one as my my first car and have nostalgiac memories of that little BMW wanna be; it drove like a beemer and it had the maintenance needs of one- just the cost of entry was lower. I felt the same about Hamer's paddle-like, oversized and gloss-black headstock shape merely a few months ago. But now it's a mark of distinction to me... a membership in a club where simple nods of appreciation are knowingly exchanged.
I asked Santa for this because I had a yearning for a guitar with a set of P90 pickups in it. I was back and forth between this and a flashier, lower in price Xaviere XV-560 guitar from Gutar Fetish. Flashier in that it's got GFS P90s (which a lot of people will go to as a decent aftermarket P90 at a low price), is a semi-hollow body, and has a "look at me!" maple quilt top. Look at pictures of the two side by side, and you're going to choose Xaviere's candy almost all the time. But as the saying goes, candy's dandy, but liquor's quicker. I did the usual poking about the internet, reading reviews, lurking on discussions of Hamers, and watching youtube videos. I even found a fellow with videos of the Hamer P90 and a Xaviere with the same basic design (Semi hollow with the same P90s) as the particular model I wanted. His opinion was more towards the Xaviere but...
Here I am on Christmas day:
It's got this neck, you know? Ask any guitarist with a little experience about their favorite guitars, and they're bound to say "It's got this neck, you know?" I've got a bunch of guitars. I like them all and have found all their necks to be... fine. No issues, can play, can't dislike them. And then I picked up this one and it was different. And I've stepped into the brotherhood of guitarists who get that far-off, misty look in their eyes and say things like "it's got tone, man," or "It's got this neck, you know?" The neck is thicker than most. The subsequent reading I've done indicates this was the norm on 50s era Gibson Les Pauls. All I know is that my medium sized hands just wrap around it; it fits. I can play quickly, smoothly, precisely on it. It's interesting to go from a shredder's speed guitar like my Peavey EVH Wolfgang or my slappy strat-style Ibanez Roadstar II to this. It's a different beast; easier to play and not as hard on the fingers.
It's lighter yet stronger than any of my other guitars and all day long comfortable. Its weight is a bit of a conundrum to me, as it's a mahogany body with a maple cap and a mahogany neck- it should be heavy as mahogany is generally dense stuff. But this thing is light and comfortable. Strength comes from the thick neck and with it comes a resonance, a wholesome brightness; play this thing unplugged and you can feel its vibe in your hands. This transfers directly to its amplified sound.
My boy Jack loves it.
For the electronics, the P90 pickups are Hamer branded jobbies. I don't have any other P90s around for comparison. They work and have unique character. The volume pots are nice- there's a good boost from 9-10 on the dial, making it easy to play along at 9 and have a quick touch for playing a solo. Said the dunderer who's been able to accomplish almost half of the simplest of solos, e.g. Judas Priest's "Livin After Midnight," but hope springs eternal that some day... this nice feature will be of value to me. The fun thing about the P90s is that they are so much more forceful than typical single coils, yet they have a tight, tight bass. Cleans are full of character. They're fun to do bouncy blues strumming. I'm learning how to overdrive them- they're very sensitive to amp equalization and gain- and since they're so different from regular single coils and humbuckers, I'm still on the learning curve. But if you want something that just starts to breakup the pre-amp into distortion when you push it, these babies are for you. I'm sure I'll get the tweaking bug someday and replace them with a brand name P90- a Seymour Duncan as used in the Hamer USA on which my guitar is based, or some handmade BG pups or the Lollars. I don't know enough now to judge, and I'm not ready to dump $150 into a guitar when I can pick up another guitar for roughly the same price. Time will tell; until then I'm enjoying the sounds and the learning curve.
Real Hamer guitars- "Hamer USA" guitars, are hand crafted to a purists perfection by a small crew in Connecticut. And by hand made, I mean hand made. Start here:
Hamer USA's can be found on places like eBay for under a grand and that, my friends, is a bargain if quality means more to you than the name on the headstock. Though I can't imagine being embarassed with a Hamer in a room full of Fender and Gibson custom shops. Might be true the other way around... I've gone so far as to declare I'm not buying any other guitars but Hamers from here on in, and a Hamer USA at that. This is foolishness and these words I have already eaten, as I just bought a Korean Hamer Stellar 1 on eBay and am looking forward to lavishing it with love and affection. More on that one when it arrives. It's a 25.5" scale, 24 fret PRS interpretation with dual humbuckers from what I know about it. For $150 delivered I couldn't pass it up. Move over Kramer, a Hamer's about to take your place.
And more than strats, teles, les pauls, wolfgangs and kramers, I've fallen for a simple, amazing guitar. A Hamer XT Sunburst Archtop gold-top with P90s.
Now, to fall for a particular guitar and have it become your favorite is expected... right after you get it. It's the honeymoon period of newness, it's difference from the others, in lavishing some love through a re-string, neck adjustments, pickup heights, playing and learning how it sounds. Eventually, however, the other guitars get a little jealous and beg you to spend some time with them and your new love begins to slowly move into its slot in your regular rotation. Just ask Woody in Toy Story. The shine can come off the relationship in a matter of weeks.
I have a number of guitars ranging from cheap to expensive; American to Japanese to Korean to Chinese and China, for all its political implications, has arrived on the manufacturing scene. People hear China and think cheap. Recall, though, that thirty years ago, people heard Japanese and thought cheap. Twenty years ago people heard Korean and thought cheap. This particular guitar is - you guessed it- manufactured in China. It made it to my house in time for Christmas last year. $300 included a TKL hard shell case, second day delivery, and the usual case candy- all brand new and unplayed. Hang tags hanging, as they are supposed to, on the peghead.
The story...
It's funny how something you at first find awkward and, even a bit ugly becomes unique and endearing to you as you gain familiarity. I felt that way about the original pocket rocket Rabbit GTI twenty five years ago. Then I bought one as my my first car and have nostalgiac memories of that little BMW wanna be; it drove like a beemer and it had the maintenance needs of one- just the cost of entry was lower. I felt the same about Hamer's paddle-like, oversized and gloss-black headstock shape merely a few months ago. But now it's a mark of distinction to me... a membership in a club where simple nods of appreciation are knowingly exchanged.
I asked Santa for this because I had a yearning for a guitar with a set of P90 pickups in it. I was back and forth between this and a flashier, lower in price Xaviere XV-560 guitar from Gutar Fetish. Flashier in that it's got GFS P90s (which a lot of people will go to as a decent aftermarket P90 at a low price), is a semi-hollow body, and has a "look at me!" maple quilt top. Look at pictures of the two side by side, and you're going to choose Xaviere's candy almost all the time. But as the saying goes, candy's dandy, but liquor's quicker. I did the usual poking about the internet, reading reviews, lurking on discussions of Hamers, and watching youtube videos. I even found a fellow with videos of the Hamer P90 and a Xaviere with the same basic design (Semi hollow with the same P90s) as the particular model I wanted. His opinion was more towards the Xaviere but...
Here I am on Christmas day:
It's got this neck, you know? Ask any guitarist with a little experience about their favorite guitars, and they're bound to say "It's got this neck, you know?" I've got a bunch of guitars. I like them all and have found all their necks to be... fine. No issues, can play, can't dislike them. And then I picked up this one and it was different. And I've stepped into the brotherhood of guitarists who get that far-off, misty look in their eyes and say things like "it's got tone, man," or "It's got this neck, you know?" The neck is thicker than most. The subsequent reading I've done indicates this was the norm on 50s era Gibson Les Pauls. All I know is that my medium sized hands just wrap around it; it fits. I can play quickly, smoothly, precisely on it. It's interesting to go from a shredder's speed guitar like my Peavey EVH Wolfgang or my slappy strat-style Ibanez Roadstar II to this. It's a different beast; easier to play and not as hard on the fingers.
It's lighter yet stronger than any of my other guitars and all day long comfortable. Its weight is a bit of a conundrum to me, as it's a mahogany body with a maple cap and a mahogany neck- it should be heavy as mahogany is generally dense stuff. But this thing is light and comfortable. Strength comes from the thick neck and with it comes a resonance, a wholesome brightness; play this thing unplugged and you can feel its vibe in your hands. This transfers directly to its amplified sound.
My boy Jack loves it.
For the electronics, the P90 pickups are Hamer branded jobbies. I don't have any other P90s around for comparison. They work and have unique character. The volume pots are nice- there's a good boost from 9-10 on the dial, making it easy to play along at 9 and have a quick touch for playing a solo. Said the dunderer who's been able to accomplish almost half of the simplest of solos, e.g. Judas Priest's "Livin After Midnight," but hope springs eternal that some day... this nice feature will be of value to me. The fun thing about the P90s is that they are so much more forceful than typical single coils, yet they have a tight, tight bass. Cleans are full of character. They're fun to do bouncy blues strumming. I'm learning how to overdrive them- they're very sensitive to amp equalization and gain- and since they're so different from regular single coils and humbuckers, I'm still on the learning curve. But if you want something that just starts to breakup the pre-amp into distortion when you push it, these babies are for you. I'm sure I'll get the tweaking bug someday and replace them with a brand name P90- a Seymour Duncan as used in the Hamer USA on which my guitar is based, or some handmade BG pups or the Lollars. I don't know enough now to judge, and I'm not ready to dump $150 into a guitar when I can pick up another guitar for roughly the same price. Time will tell; until then I'm enjoying the sounds and the learning curve.
Real Hamer guitars- "Hamer USA" guitars, are hand crafted to a purists perfection by a small crew in Connecticut. And by hand made, I mean hand made. Start here:
Hamer USA's can be found on places like eBay for under a grand and that, my friends, is a bargain if quality means more to you than the name on the headstock. Though I can't imagine being embarassed with a Hamer in a room full of Fender and Gibson custom shops. Might be true the other way around... I've gone so far as to declare I'm not buying any other guitars but Hamers from here on in, and a Hamer USA at that. This is foolishness and these words I have already eaten, as I just bought a Korean Hamer Stellar 1 on eBay and am looking forward to lavishing it with love and affection. More on that one when it arrives. It's a 25.5" scale, 24 fret PRS interpretation with dual humbuckers from what I know about it. For $150 delivered I couldn't pass it up. Move over Kramer, a Hamer's about to take your place.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
On Our Fifteenth Anniversary
On a wintry and romantic day fifteen years ago, January 29th 1994, Cheryl and I married and committed our lives to each other and to God and placed a ring on each other’s fingers.
It is together that we have taken on this rewarding challenge of life, dedicated through sickness and health, better and worse, times good and bad, and we have managed with some success to meet this challenge. While we are all individuals, it is in recognizing that the husband and wife together, a new creation, takes precedence, that the individual melts away and transforms.
Cheryl and I have been together more than half of our lives. She is my spouse and my love, the mother of our five- soon to be six- children; she is a teacher; she loves, she gives; she is stubborn yet wise; she is dedicated to her mission of bringing her family towards heaven; she is considerate, passionate, patient and impatient; she is frustrating and yet enlightening; she is Irish and Italian; she is set in her ways and yet seeks new paths; she knows what she won’t do and damn well knows what she will.
She and I are how we have chosen to live our lives together and do our best to honor our pledge and dedication to each other:
Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. Matthew 19:6
Those rings have not been off our fingers since that day and it is not our intention to ever remove them. We have learned in the last fifteen years that Life is more precious than the world we live in can comprehend; that being open to children is not governed by your financial status or vice versa; and that a big noisy house full of children is much like a small noisy house full of children. It’s noisy. It is full of both joy and strife, order and mess, myrth and mischief, silences of anger and and love, late bed times and early mornings, sick children and barking dogs.
Our path is different than most, but we can’t imagine another. We will continue down our path together until one of us must find their way alone, supported by family, until we see each other again.
I love you Cheryl. Thank you for sharing this journey as we are Mr. and Mrs. Ruffing
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
JunkPile 005
You know those little remnants of soap after the bar has gone from brand new to working size to getting kinda small and now useless? Let's call them soap chips.
There were two of them in the shower this morning. I threw them out after my shower and replaced them with a new bar. I've got a few theories as to why these things never seem to go away:
- Frugality- It's still soap, why waste any of it?
- Laziness- I'll do it tomorrow.
- Irresponsibility- Somebody else will do it
- It's a test- Somebody is waiting to see if somebody else will do it. And each day that "somebody else" doesn't do it annoys the original somebody so much... Screwtape would love it.
- Absentmindedness- I mean to throw them out, honest I do, and then I find myself in my office with a cup of coffee, the chips of soap a distant memory. Not that distant- they're on the ledge in the shower.
- Non efficiency- Okay, here's my honest excuse. I can't stand to shower, get all clean and dried, and then reach into the shower and slime my hands all up again with soap. I'm too lazy to rewash and dry my hands, and I still haven't figured an efficient way of showering, throwing out the soap chips, then rinsing my hands, then drying off. I don't like water on the floor, so I'm not going to throw them out while the shower is running. I'm not going to reach out and drip everywhere. I'm not going to turn the shower off, drip all over the floor, throw them out, turn the shower back on... There's no efficient, simple way to do it, so it doesn't get done. That's the truth of it.
Today, for the sake of the junkpile, I bit the bullet and threw them out.
And then I washed my hands again. Phooey.
Dennis
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Truckin' on through the night
If there is any doubt of my heritage, here is proof that I am a Ruffing.Grandpa and I had a blast strapping this 28-stepper
to the roof of my car, recalling many other foolish things those with the name Ruffing have strapped, lashed, placed, welded, or otherwise moved with their vehicles.Towing a motorcycle through the back-streets of a Denver neighborhood to the repair shop. Cheryl up front driving the car and me in the back, "motor-skiing" with a rope and a complex set of hand signals. I'm no the first in my family to do this. Grandpa.
A stove lashed to the top of a 62 comet from Cleveland to Dayton. I don't remember, I was only two at the time.
An uncle, who we'll call Jim, as that's his name, driving to Florida with a few hundred gallons of gas strapped to his roof rack in the early 70s. If you think the price of gas today is causing us to do silly things...
That same uncle, with a building on top of his station wagon, driving through the Ohio late at night at a snail's pace for safety, cost, and convenience. You see, someone gave him the building if he wanted to take it apart for its materials. So he did. By hand. He'd take it apart through the evening, load up his waon and trailer, go to sleep in the building on a cot with an electric blanket and, rising at 3:00 am, would make the 2 hour drive back home with the building. He only fell asleep and drove into a corn field once.
Making a move from Federal Heights (north Denver) to Englewood (south Denver) with a 4 cylinder Chevy S-10 and a very overloaded U-Haul. I found out what the brakes were(n't) capable of. Woah!!! Woaah!! Come on, woah!!! It's hard to stop a small truck with a big load on a downhill stretch into a red light.
With the ladder, I hooked her up, gave her a good tug or two, and weaved my way northeast through the New Hampshire and Maine night, with the Red Sox and the Rays battling through 14 innings and a few naps at rest stops along the way.
Union Station, Washington DC
I'm sitting on a platform bench in the entrance atrium of Union Station in our nation's capitol, watching a slice of our country walk by. It's a calming, enjoyable experience. A class of college art students is pencil sketching the architecture about them, interrupted by their phones and flirting. I'd tease them a little, but I'm typing on a laptop with my mp3 player's headphones isolating me into my own little world, right next to theirs but not part of it.
For some reason, everyone looks happy. Everyone. Maybe travel by train is more relaxing? I'm soon to find out on the run up to Philly. But from the soldiers, politicians, grandmothers, and mennonites I've seen, it must be. This is not an airport. It's grand. People are walking slowly and, like the art students, looking around. Enjoying an ice cream or an ice coffee. Sitting for a few minutes. Looking at the others, me, the tourists, the drawings. People filter in and out of the shops, out of the staging area. It' s not hot. There's an assumption that things will run on time.
It contrasts with the anxiety and dim sweaty futile frustration of airports. They're not taking off their shoes, removing their belts, displaying their toiletries in order to pass through security. I'm going to have to leave this calm comfort soon; get up and walk to the platform and climb onto a train with my bags. But I'll be able to pick a seat, look out the window, see the countryside which exists below the clouds through a window large enough and without the shade in the up position for taxi, takeoff, and landing. It will take an hour or two, and then I'll get off, in another grand station in Philadelphia, and catch a subway line out to the airport.
Airport, I have a date with you tomorrow afternoon. I'll be there an hour and fourty-five minutes early, with my ID and my boarding pass ready for scrutiny. I'll fight for a seat in the aisle, or window, or, please no, not the middle! We'll cram into the can, wait our turn, rumble into the sky and keep seated, belted, for an hour and a half then approach and landing with tray tables up and electronics off and wait for the plane occupying our gate to pushback before we can remove our seatbelts so we can unfold ourselves from the worn contortions of our seat's debilitating curves too close to our fellow passengers and stumble out into the stank air of the jetway push past the slow walkers and the next flight's passengers blocking escape to freedom to the bathroom to the baggage claim through the gates across the peoplemovers up the elevators into the car down the exit spiral through the checkout line across the surface streets and onto the highway for home garage bed morning coffee.
Oh yes, the train will be relaxing.
For some reason, everyone looks happy. Everyone. Maybe travel by train is more relaxing? I'm soon to find out on the run up to Philly. But from the soldiers, politicians, grandmothers, and mennonites I've seen, it must be. This is not an airport. It's grand. People are walking slowly and, like the art students, looking around. Enjoying an ice cream or an ice coffee. Sitting for a few minutes. Looking at the others, me, the tourists, the drawings. People filter in and out of the shops, out of the staging area. It' s not hot. There's an assumption that things will run on time.
It contrasts with the anxiety and dim sweaty futile frustration of airports. They're not taking off their shoes, removing their belts, displaying their toiletries in order to pass through security. I'm going to have to leave this calm comfort soon; get up and walk to the platform and climb onto a train with my bags. But I'll be able to pick a seat, look out the window, see the countryside which exists below the clouds through a window large enough and without the shade in the up position for taxi, takeoff, and landing. It will take an hour or two, and then I'll get off, in another grand station in Philadelphia, and catch a subway line out to the airport.
Airport, I have a date with you tomorrow afternoon. I'll be there an hour and fourty-five minutes early, with my ID and my boarding pass ready for scrutiny. I'll fight for a seat in the aisle, or window, or, please no, not the middle! We'll cram into the can, wait our turn, rumble into the sky and keep seated, belted, for an hour and a half then approach and landing with tray tables up and electronics off and wait for the plane occupying our gate to pushback before we can remove our seatbelts so we can unfold ourselves from the worn contortions of our seat's debilitating curves too close to our fellow passengers and stumble out into the stank air of the jetway push past the slow walkers and the next flight's passengers blocking escape to freedom to the bathroom to the baggage claim through the gates across the peoplemovers up the elevators into the car down the exit spiral through the checkout line across the surface streets and onto the highway for home garage bed morning coffee.
Oh yes, the train will be relaxing.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Junkpile 004- Why do I have this?
Henry came into my office for a paperclip.
I pulled one out of my little magnetic desktop paperclip holder cup and, hanging onto Henry's paperclip, trying not to be seen, was a large, bent paperclip. Now, obviously I had bent this paperclip in the past to fish something out of somewhere, or poke through a tiny little hole, or to, well, who knows what.
Paperclips are handy little things that do a lot more than clip paper. They're very much like clothes hangers in that regard. What's puzzling me is why, whenever it was that I had bent this paperclip and put it to its bent-form-use-that-no-other-tool-could-accomplish-so-well, I then re-folded the paperclip up and stuck it back into the magnetic desktop paperclip holder cup.
It had served its purpose. I had gotten more than a paperclip's value out of it. Surely the next time I need a similar tool, I will be capable of re-bending another paperclip to the same purpose? Good-bye paperclip. Thank you for giving your life to the good. Go and clutter the landfills with your spent brethren.
What clutter do you keep in the silly hope that you'll find it convenient and economical to use again some day?
Dennis
I pulled one out of my little magnetic desktop paperclip holder cup and, hanging onto Henry's paperclip, trying not to be seen, was a large, bent paperclip. Now, obviously I had bent this paperclip in the past to fish something out of somewhere, or poke through a tiny little hole, or to, well, who knows what.
Paperclips are handy little things that do a lot more than clip paper. They're very much like clothes hangers in that regard. What's puzzling me is why, whenever it was that I had bent this paperclip and put it to its bent-form-use-that-no-other-tool-could-accomplish-so-well, I then re-folded the paperclip up and stuck it back into the magnetic desktop paperclip holder cup.
It had served its purpose. I had gotten more than a paperclip's value out of it. Surely the next time I need a similar tool, I will be capable of re-bending another paperclip to the same purpose? Good-bye paperclip. Thank you for giving your life to the good. Go and clutter the landfills with your spent brethren.
What clutter do you keep in the silly hope that you'll find it convenient and economical to use again some day?
Dennis
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