Mel Washington's Beautiful Voice

 Before my son died last year, when we'd talk on the phone, he would often mentioned his friend Mel Washington to me.  I had the opportunity to meet Mel at my son's wake, and I've listened to many of his songs on the youtubes.  He has a beautiful voice, makes excellent music, and (as my son had told me in great depth) is a wonderful person.   My son Christopher was a good judge of character and didn't tolerate fools and miscreants.  He was friends with artists, craftsmen, chefs, business owners, tons of service industry workers, and myriad good human beings.  

If you've not heard Mel's work, you should take some time out of your evening or weekend, and enjoy his music online; get to know him.  If you live in or near the Holy City, you should see him live.  I don't think you'll regret it.  

We miss our son very much, every day, and some days are better than others... some harder than others. But talking to, interacting with, listening to, and appreciating the multitudes of excellent people who knew and loved our son is one positive way to keep him in our thoughts as we continue to do our best, each day.

Signal Boost:

https://www.facebook.com/melwashingtonmusic

https://www.youtube.com/user/melwashington

https://soundcloud.com/mel-washington

https://open.spotify.com/artist/1adYfKybPGfYhTFbxnGCIX

https://www.instagram.com/melwashington/

and to see him live, while you wear a mask, and socially distance...

https://www.bandsintown.com/a/156628-mel-washington

What Makes a Good Man - 2021 Edition

 Eight years ago, I created my first iMovie that included both John Goodman and the band The Heavy.  It also had references to Goodman diagrams, Benny Goodman, and other tangents.

https://justjoep.blogspot.com/2013/12/what-makes-goodman.html

Today, there was a wonderful story about Eugene Goodman, (link here) the Capitol policeman who lured away rabid insurrectionists from the House Chamber, up flights of stairs as the racist mob pursued him.  He's now deputy sergeant at Arms for the House, and escorted our 46th President, Joe Biden, and VP Kamala Harris to the inauguration today.  I love it when someone is good at their job, and they help others.  We need more Eugene Goodmans.  Less shamans, and less angry old guys sitting at folding tables with sad drumpf flags.  

Today was also a Fantastic Day, as Haircut 100 would say, much like it was in October 2008 when I made this post while living in Phoenix:

https://justjoep.blogspot.com/2008/10/fantastic-day.html

So this is somewhat of a recycled post of two old videos, combined with one new story, that are all part of the greater big picture.

If you're a "Q anon" supporter / enthusiast / believer, and you still don't think Joe Biden is legitimately elected, you need to DO YOUR HOMEWORK (as Q adherents LOVE to shout).  No, there's no lizard people running nations.  No, the election was not stolen just because a pathological liar repeatedly tweeted and shouted that it was - observers from Both Parties, as well as neutral and international observers all agreed, and re-counts verified, that the election was not stolen and there was no wide-spread fraud.  In the very few cases of individual voter fraud uncovered, there were mostly pathetic maga adherents who voted republican twice or voted for a dead relative.  And if you don't think Covid is real, please go out and get it to "prove everyone wrong", right after you get a legal medical directive to Not Treat You for anything resembling Covid.  You WON'T be missed.

Comin Down The Mountain - Monday Morning Edition

 When my son was very little, a new band called Jane's Addiction started putting out amazing albums.  I consumed the recordings voraciously.  When we drove around in the 1975 Plymouth Valiant with more than 200K miles on it, we had a small boom box stereo on the front seat that played tapes and FM radio, since the '75's AM radio was broken.  Jane's Addiction was frequently in that boom box.  When we took our 1988 Honda Civic EX on road trips from South Carolina to OH and IN to meet relatives at holidays and vacations, Jane's was a mainstay in the tape deck (the '88 had no CD player) as well.  

Our little boy sat in his car seat in the middle of the back seat  - safest place in the car statistically - and absorbed every bit of music we played for him.  As I played drums on the steering wheel, he'd play drums on his brown car seat, and I'd smile as I'd catch a glance of him doing so in the rear view mirror.  We exposed him to a vast variety of music: hard rock, punk, classical (Chopin, Dvorak, Mozart), classical (Who, Led Z, Stones, Beatles), progressive, 70s, 80s, metal, grunge, goth, dark wave... if it was fun to dance to or had a difficult drum part or just touched the soul (as Chopin always does to me) then it got played, and Christopher drank it in, deeply.

Mountain Song, by Janes Addiction, was one of our favorites to play while driving on I-26, I-40 and I-75 through the NC, TN and KY mountains.  The '88 Honda Civic had a speedometer that went to 120 mph.  Christopher and I hit 115 going down the I-275 descent to cross the Ohio River from KY to IN while singing and drumming to this song when he about 5 yrs old.  We coasted down to 80mph as we crossed the river, protected by the bridge's steel super structure.  Unfortunately, a dozen Indiana State Troopers and a spotter aircraft saw us emerge from the bridge, and wrote us a ticket for 72 in a 65 mph zone before we could cross back into Ohio.  After the ticket, Black Flag was put into the Civic's stereo.  

Jane's Addiction "Mountain Song" from Andrew Doucette on Vimeo.

I hope you enjoy this song as much as my son and I did, whether we were in the car, or drumming with two sets in the bonus room above the garage in South Carolina, or just hanging out in the living room.

I'm also attempting to use this song as a way to Jump Start my Monday morning... which appears to be suffering from significantly lethargic inertia.

It's OK, Had a Bad Day...

 

This has been running through my head a lot lately... and it's quite fun to play on my new massively expanded drum set.   Christopher, RIP.   I miss you son.

Put on your red shoes...

 I was on my way home from getting some pet food on Wednesday night, when Sirius XM played David Bowie's Let's Dance on my car stereo.   It was the first time I sang along to any song with any amount of joy since Sunday morning, August 16th, when the coroner called me to tell me my son had died.  Put on your red shoes and dance the blues... 

Talking NIN Heads, Only Blind

For about a week now, two songs have been running through my head, mashed together rather seamlessly, and blending into each other smoothly.  Talking Heads, "Blind" and Trent Reznor's NIN "Only", are not yet in a published Mash-up, but in my head they are already merged.  Several of my close friends and my son have been asked about this via text message, and most of have responded that they hear the similarities.  My buddy Rick even stated that it makes perfect sense because not only the 2 and 4 hi-hat, but the basic "Da-Da, da-Dah, da-da-da, dah-duh-da-da..." repeats merge nicely.


And Reznor's "Only":



Two very different songs, that came out many years apart.  I might be only of the few Americans who enjoy both bands passionately... but maybe there's more people out there with excellent musical taste.  =P   Being a father, (and Father's Day is approaching) I am delighted I could positively affect my son's musical repertoire and appreciation in exposing him to some of the Best music from the 80s and 90s as he grew up, both of these bands inclusive.

It's a fun blending of tunes in my head.   I hope you enjoy it as well.

Top 22 Drummers 2019 Update

Eleven years ago, I created a post about my favorite top 22 drummers.  I tried updating it recently, and apparently Google Blogger doesn't want anything older than a few years to be updated, because all I get is "sign in" when I try to edit it, regardless of how many times I am already signed in.  So it's time to update it.

Removed is Carl Palmer...  since he was very sloppy, and not a role model for precision drumming.  Also removed is Alex Van Halen, since he's part of a family that are rather douchey to anyone who are not Van Halens by birth.  Added are my childhood drum teacher Larry Mysliwiec and Vinnie Paul (RIP) from Pantera who played millions of beats every week faster and more precise than I could ever hope to play.  Also, swapped are Neil Peart and Danny Carey, since Neil's more recent work is not 1/2 as good as his 70s and 80s work, and Danny... well... Danny is precise, mic'ed well, appropriate, intense, creative, and one of the hardest drummers to imitate / replicate.

Joe's Top 22 Drummers

1. Danny Carey
2. Stewart Copeland
3. John Bonham
4. Neil Peart 
5. Bill Bruford
6. Mike Giles
7. Gene Krupa (...and he was Polish!)
8. Terry Bozzio
9. Chad Sexton
10. Larry Mysliwiec
11. John Dolmayan
12. Tim Alexander
13. Alan White
14. John Densmore
15. Stephen Perkins
16. Keith Moon
17. Anton Fig
18. Tre Cool
19. Dave Hartman
20. Dave Grohl
21. Matt Cameron
22. Vinnie Paul

And almost made the list:
Chic Corea but he's a Scientologist, so he falls off.
Buddy Rich, because he personally was an asshole to me at River Oaks in 1985 when he played a free concert there
Aynsley Dunbar; yes he played for Zappa, but he also played for Whitesnake, Hagar, and others of less than stellar repute.

I've amended the list, due to vocal criticism, but I shall have to endure the fatwa.

The 99%'s Favorite Drinking Spot in Carlsbad

So last December, Dr Desert Flower and I moved from our home in Carlsbad that had no view, no breeze, and was on a fairly busy street, with a 2 car garage, to another home in Carlsbad that had a canyon and ocean sunset view, a consistent breeze nearly every morning and evening, a pool, a wine cellar, and a 3 car garage - instead of a Tetris Packed 2 car - and was on a cut de sac with very little traffic each day.  At the previous home, from June 2015-Dec 2018, we had a fair number of hummingbirds visit our yard, possess our feeders, and provide visual amusement to both the humans and our feline familiar who'd look longingly out the window at the hummingbirds, and salivate.  We were not sure if the hummingbirds would warm up to our new location, exposed on a canyon rim with a 200 foot drop into the valley below, without the lush vegetation in which they previous hid at the first Carlsbad house.  We set out the feeders, and waited.

No need to "share a straw" when you bring your own

It didn't take long.  We soon had dozens of hummingbirds vying for positions, perches, a place at the free-drink happy hour bar.  The feeders along the western fence at the canyon's edge were THE MOST popular.  10 holed nectar feeders that consistently draw 10, 11, or 12 birds (where they share the same hole with the beaks side-by-side), began to be drained at the rate of 1 quart each day, or 1000 mls per day.  At a 4:1 water to sugar ratio, that meant that I was going through a 4 pound bag of sugar every 4 or 5 days, washing mold and fungus from the feeders every 2 or 3 days (using warm water and a tiny bit of Dawn dishwashing liquid), and never getting tired of seeing the swarms of birds enjoying the free nectar.


At the old house, a single mature dominant male would try and "own" a specific feeder, and chase off all other birds in a futile attempt to hoard the whole pint or whole quart of nectar to himself.  Sometimes a mature male would let a female of the same species drink at "his feeder" but that was really only during mating season (in the late Winter and early Spring), and rarely ever in mid-day when sunlight was plentiful and visual acuity (to see if the birds were male, female, adolescent [not yet plumage differentiated] and which species was visiting) was much clearer.  At "humming bird happy hour", AKA an hour before sunset as the shadows grow longer and ambient light substantially decreases, "tolerance" of other birds at a feeder increased and one might see 1/2 a dozen birds drinking at the same time from the same feeder.  It was mostly 1 dominant mature male, several females, and a handful of adolescents who were trying to appear as if they might be females of mating age... but it was often more than just one hummingbird at a specific feeder at happy hour.


In the new canyon rim home, the fence adjacent feeders are now remarkably successful beyond our wildest dreams.  There are often 10 birds perched, drinking from 10 holes, as 2 to 4 more birds hover nearby, waiting their turn.  Sometimes there at 11 or 12 birds drinking from 10 holes.  Occasionally there's a feisty Rufous or Anna's mature male who tries to drive off other birds, but the mature females Generally Ignore such trouble makers.  "We have nests to feed!" "Can't a lady get a drink?" and "No thanks, I already mated" are chirped phrases I imagine (project) are stated at every happy hour where the majority of the hummingbirds are mature females and adolescents, with just one or two males trying to get a drink alongside as well.

Um, I think I left my ID back at the nest... (12 birds on a 10 holed feeder, some of them undoubtedly nest mates)

We have at least 5 species of hummingbirds who visit our feeders.   I will state them here by rank of "most plentiful" to "least plentiful, more rare" as seen in our backyard.  Thanks to Cornel's All About Birds site, (and Audobon's site... since Cornel's is not loading in many instances today) you can learn more about them as well, if you follow the links:
Anna's:  https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Annas_Hummingbird/id  The NBA players of the hummingbird world; 20% bigger than everyone else.
Costa's; https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/costas-hummingbird
Rufous; https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/rufous-hummingbird ; small but pugnacious
Allen's; https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Allens_Hummingbird/overview
Blackchinned;  https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Black-chinned_Hummingbird/id



When I inquired to Cornel as to how much nectar a single hummingbird (using an Anna's as an example) consumes in a day, I was given the following answer:
Anna's Hummingbirds weigh on average about 1.95 grams.
Hummingbirds consume 1/2 their body weight each day on nectar, gnats, spiders, and small insects.  The nectar provides carbs while the insects provide protein.

...so if I am making At Least one quart a day (or 1000 milliliters) of nectar for the feeders along the fence, and each bird drinks a maximum of 1 ml each day (as 1 ml of water - 1 gram... the beauty of metric measure), then I am feeding 1000 birds every single day in my backyard.  Some hotter days, when we have Santa Anna winds, the birds are consuming 2 quarts per day.


Dr Desert Flower and I know this has led to a significant increase in the local hummingbird population, as well as helping to sustain mutations and variations that otherwise would probably rapidly perish "in the wild" without a government run, free nectar for the 99% program, such as we are providing.  We've seen beak mutations (bumped beaks, split beaks, frayed ends of beaks, broken beaks) at both the previous home's backyard and our current canyon rim home.  We've watched a severely bumped beak "male" try and take over a backyard feeder and dominate it, only to molt the next year (with the same bumped beak) into a female with muted plumage - perhaps a hermaphroditic XXY or androgen desensitivity mutation?  It's no longer "survival of the fittest" in our backyard, but the prospering of the most social, least combative.  And all it costs me is 4 pounds of sugar every 4 or 5 days.  A social safety net well-worth sustaining.

The Balkun Brothers' Beautifully Blended Devil on TV

Dr Desert Flower and I recently visited our son in beautiful Charleston South Carolina.  While we there, my son gave me a CD by the Balkun Brothers Devil on TV.  Our son's company had helped facilitate a recent live show by the Balkun Brothers, and he was impressed by their music that he snapped up a CD for his old father who is not on Spotify, iTunes, Pandora, or any other platform that monitors what a human listens to and then tries to market to them; my son knows his father.  He also knows great music when he hears it, as he's a remarkable drummer in his own right (with a faster bass drum foot and more speed metal stamina than his dad, but I've still got him on the 26 standard NARD rudiments. ... and I do miss having bonus-room-over-the-garage drum set duels with him, as we used to do when we lived in South Carolina).

As I was installing window blinds this morning here in California in our new house, I put the Devil on TV CD into the home sound system's CD player, not knowing WHAT to expect.  It might be good, it might not be my thing, but keeping an open mind.  I was blown away.

If you wanted to create the Balkun Brothers music in a laboratory, this might be one recipe that would approximate their sound:
- Start with The Heavy, used as the base stock, but remove the UK and make it home grown American (open track "Don't Be Afraid" is VERY The Heavy like in many ways, as is So Hi, So Lo)
- Add in the following bands in different amounts, based upon your own palate:  RHCP (Flea and Chad), Rollins Band, a healthy dose of Muddy Waters, Lenny from Motorhead, old Yes, a teaspoon of Primus, a few drops of Morphine, an extract of the Black Keys without the mainstream commercialization, essence of Rob Zombie without the shock value, a touch of Mike Giles from King Crimson crossed with John Dolmayan from SOAD mixed with Matt Cameron from Soundgarden, steamed and condensed STP without the heroine, and the soul of Chris Cornell's voice.
- Then, and this is the truly amazing part that I still cannot understand... remove ALL the band members except for the two brothers, Steve and Nick, since they produce all the sound.

I'm impressed, and hooked (listening the the CD on repeat for the 4th time as I write this).  I will seek out the other works as well.  The Balkun Brothers are currently playing in New England and will be headed to Europe at the end of the month.  You would not be wasting your time nor money to go see them.  Highly recommended.

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=blakun+brothers
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5xnLNTlhRcU
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YRZmXKhUzSk

SpaceX Falcon Heavy Boosters Return Safely Simultaneously

When I was a kid, I remember sitting in front of the 25 inch tube TV in my parents' living room watching Apollo space capsules splashing down in the ocean and US Navy divers jumping out of helicopters in wet suits to attach lifting cables to the outside of the floating capsules.  It had always fascinated me, and I've seen Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo re-entry capsules in Chicago at the Museum of Science and Industry, in Washington DC at the Smithsonian, at the San Diego Air and Space Museum in Balboa Park.  Those capsules exited the atmosphere, and returned, carrying live astronauts, and surviving re-entry through he atmosphere, and the heat and pressure scars on the surface of the capsules was always jaw dropping to me as a kid, as a teen, and as a young adult that we, as puny humans, could design and build and launch something that was so tough it could survive re-entry and return the astronauts back to terra ferma safely.

Then today, South African immigrant Elon Musk's company SpaceX launched the Falcon Heavy as a test flight for future Mars missions, making it the largest rocket (3 million pounds) launched since Apollo moon missions more than 40 years ago.  Yes, SpaceX has launched and recovered boosters before. Sometimes on remote controlled barges, sometimes on land. But they had not done a double booster return yet, and watching today's double simultaneous landing was... amazing... jaw dropping... awe-inspiring... remarkable.  See here:


Sure, the rocket's  "payload" was Elon's personal Tesla Roadster convertible, being driven by a mannequin in a space suit, and outfitted with 3 cameras that have been giving fantastic views of the car and the Earth as it heads into orbit around the Sun and a rendezvous with Mars in about 6 months... and that's cute, and stylish, and amusing, and FAR BETTER than launching a dummy payload of bricks or steel or something really boring (but safe).  Elon had given the launch a '50 to 66% chance of success', setting realistic expectations.  The boosters came back safely, and beautifully.  The main core malfunctioned after separating from the payload at MACH 15, and did not make it to the remote controlled barge in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean as planned... but 2 out of 3 safe returns for usable rockets is not bad. And I anticipate, it will only get better with more practice.

Going into space is hard.  It's not easy nor simple, and few nations have done it successfully.  Fewer companies have done is successfully, and Only One has returned two booster rockets, simultaneously, to a precise launch pad, without using heat sheilds, the ocean, US Navy divers, or parachutes... very impressive indeed!

Balboa Park Botanical Garden

On Sunday, Dr Desert Flower and I had zero interest in watching the Superbowl since it was the New England perennial cheaters against the Philadelphia obnoxious fans underdogs.  [Note: I clearly state "cheaters" not because of just 'deflate-gate', but because of the pattern over years of coach Bellicose's reign, where he sent spies to opposing teams' training camps to video tape their practices, hired professional lip readers to spy on opposing teams' offensive and defensive coaches to gather intel on what plays were coming next, and generally played very dirty, making every under-handed, sneaky, below-board move possible].  Not wanting to spend time in front of the TV watching the glorification of two teams we despised, we decided to go somewhere that normally would have many people, but hopefully would have Much Fewer persons and be far less crowded than than usual.  We decided upon Balboa Park's Botanical Garden, as we'd never been there before and it was less than an hour's drive away.

Much Smaller than Phoenix's Desert Botanical Garden, the Balboa Park garden is cute, compact, a pretty little spot to visit.  It's perhaps 5% the size of Phoenix's botanical garden, but of course much cooler.  The weather was in the mid-to-upper 70s (Fahrenheit), with low humidity in the 30% range, with gentle breezes of 5 mph every now-and-then.  Quite pleasant.  Crowd-wise... it was a different story.  We arrived around noon, and could only find parking in the vast lot behind the Air and Space Museum in Balboa Park.  Not a long walk, but a good 1/2 mile or so to get to the Botanical Garden.  By the time we left 90 minutes later, that large parking lot was jammed full with cars circling like sharks looking for parking spaces.  The crowds were international.  I heard Spanish, Italian, Russian, Czech, Hindi, Mandarin, Japanese and Thai being spoken as we walked through the park and passed various families; International visitors who Also could not care less about the Superbowl spectacle.  We tried eating at 2 of the cafes inside the park and found 30 and 45 minute waits... and not being British, I don't queue very well, so we headed over to Banker's Hill and had a delicious leisurely brunch at Parc Bistro.

Next year, when two teams are playing that we are equally apathetic about, we'll head out to a remote national park and enjoy the serenity and tranquility, devoid of human interference.  = )

Three Billboards

Last night, Nathan Jr, Dr Desert Flower and I went to the old La Paloma theater in Encinitas where they were showing Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing, Missouri.  We'd heard it was good.  Mistakenly thought it was a Coen Brothers movie, as Francis McDormand is it in the lead role,  and the 90 year old La Paloma was somewhere we'd never been, so we bought our tickets in cash at the old time box office (they don't take credit cards), sat in the dilapidated non-reclining seats (circa 1928), and breathed the chilly air of the theater, waiting for the show to being.

It is a somber, moving film.  It is a Very Violent film.  It is a sad film.  It's a well acted and well directed film.  And, as someone who lived in semi-rural the South for 16 years of his adult life, I'd say it is a fairly accurate depiction of life, prejudices, and culture in rural American "fly-over" country.   Beautiful country-side combined with a deep, thick, undercoat of lawlessness and a loose-sense of imposed community that often times runs no deeper than superficial pleasantries.

Francis McDormand should win an Oscar or Golden Globe for her role.  Woody Harrelson is great in it, throughout.  Sam Rockwell - who admittedly is NOT one of my favorite actors as he often plays a goof (Hitchhiker's Guide), clown, a fool, a cocky & flawed playboy (F is for Family) - makes you Hate him, viscerally in the first 2/3rds of the film.  Clarke Peters (Lester, from The Wire) is under-stated in the movie.  I don't want to spoil it, but it was both a great movie and very disturbing at the same time.

After the movie, we were all somewhat down, silent, depressed, retrospective... pondering life & existence... akin to how my buddy Ryan and I were after seeing Schindler's List in Atlanta back in 1993, but without the genocide.  So we got a good meal and some strong drinks at the Encinitas Bier Garden, before driving back up to the homestead.

Humming Bird Happy Hour Bouncer

6 Hummingbirds drinking together in my yard (1 mature Anna's, 2 juvenile Rufous, and 3 Anna's females)

30 minutes before sunset this evening, I sat down in my backyard to enjoy watching hummingbird happy hour.  Hummingbird happy hour is the bet time of the day to observe hummingbirds in a group setting.  The dimming of the sun's natural day light, combined with the abundant availability of established food (11 nectar feeders around the yard) and the inevitability of the arrival of total darkness, draw all the neighborhood hummingbirds together for one long, deep drink of high energy sugar water before the long night's embrace.  The diminished light makes the Brilliant plumage that the dominant males of all hummingbird species develop look much less spectacular, mottled, dull, which puts ALL the hummers -  the dominant males, the fearful juveniles who sport just a goatee, the confident mature females (who are the same size as the mature males, but look they a lot like juveniles) and the immature new fledglings - on nearly equal footing.

Mature Rufous Male Hummingbird

I've enjoyed dozens of hummingbird happy hours here in California.  In Arizona, I saw 2 Anna's hummingbirds at a feeder, once.  Here in California, I've relished dozens of twilights that included a dozen or more birds all sharing resources, before going into their semi-catatonic sleep for the night high up on a secluded branch that's strong enough to barely hold their own weight (less than 21 grams, in most cases).  Tonight was the First time that I observed a vociferous, possessive, pugnacious male Rufous dominant male who continued to chase all other thirsty birds from the 2 feeders right outside the living room window.  One of the 2 feeders is a 4 holed solar PV lit feeder without any perches, so the birds have to hover as they drink.  Six feet away is 10 holed feeder that has a circumferential perch where I've counted as many as 9 hummingbirds drinking at one time (but I've not been able to take a picture of them in this way, yet), sharing resources, peacefully, and making me a very happy & satisfied human that I could create such an environment where I could 'bring the hummingbird community together', and be lucky enough to see them sharing.

A yellow jacket trying to get into one of the 10-holed feeders

Generally, the 2 feeders outside of Dr Desert Flower's office's window in the front yard are dominated by Rufous hummingbird males.  They hang out in the palm trees looming above, or in the oleander bushes a few feet away, or on the top of a skyward pointing succulent frond, observing the 2 front yard feeders, chasing away any other bird who comes to drink, With The Exception of mature females who the males are trying to woo, court, convince, and then with whom they want to copulate for all of 2 seconds while in free-fall from 200 feet in the air.  So Much testosterone and energy goes into the male hummingbird's daily routine, to bully away, ward-off, intimidate all other males and all other species, and try to romance only the mature females of their own species... it makes the plumage and prancing and jousting of a male peacock look blasé in comparison.  The Rufous males don't normally intrude into the back yard... or so I thought.

This evening, I listened to a proud dominant male Rufous sit up in my neighbor's tree above my backyard, chirp and whistle, claiming his dominance over 3 feeders that could be seen from that high vantage point.  I watched as this proud dominant male Rufous would swoop in, and chase away single birds, groups of females who were sharing the feeder, any creature who came near to the fears he now claimed.  This was ruining my happy hour observations.  Twice, I got up from my chair, glass of wine in hand, and stood near to the feeders.  The mature female visitors, who have been around the block and understand better how the world works, did Not see me as a threat, and they drank nearby, almost within arm's reach.  They were wary of the large hairless ape drinking from a wine glass, and they would have flown away if I had made sudden movements, but the pugnacious Rufous male would still come swooping in, Past My Head, and scare them all off.  This could not stand.  No little Rufous male is going to ruin my evening.

2 hummingbirds enjoying the feeder under my suppressing cover-fire

I thought quickly... how could I ward off this mis-guided cretin who never learned how to share, or get along with any other birds?  I remembered a recent Luther episode where a killer wielded a large orange squirt gun full of acid and blinded witnesses around London.  I recalled I had a large un-used squirt bottle in my laundry room that I'd not filled with anything, and ran into the house to fill it with water (no, not acid...  I am not a monster).  I'd used squirt guns to dissuade naughty house cats in the past, before I realized I'd become intensely allergic to them.  I hurriedly rushed back outside to sit with my wine glass and squirt bottle.  My wait didn't take long.

The dominant male Rufous swooped down almost immediately to ward off a dominant male Anna's and an Anna's female, in the dwindling twilight.  His angle of attack took him around the back of the feeder where I did not have a direct line-of-sight, but after he ran off the two other birds, he tried to get a drink from his coveted feeders.  My aim was exact, and the first squirt of water sent the Rufous off the feeder and back up into his tree observation post.  Two more female hummers came in to drink, and as the male Rufous dove down from the tree, I blocked his descent with a barrage of squirts that the gave him pause, and he perched in the jasmine about 8 feet behind the feeders.  More females arrived, and joined their sisters drinking.  5 visible birds at the feeder... but the Rufous male couldn't contain himself, he tried to drive them off.  I sent a salvo of 5 or 6 squirts that sent him into retreat.  2 of the drinking females rose off the feeder to note what was going on, But Then Resettled onto the feeder to resume drinking!  A dominant male Anna's, the NBA players of the hummingbird world due to the fact that they are generally 20% larger than any other hummingbird, settled down at the 10 holed feeder along with the bevy of females and juveniles.  "Hello ladies!" was the look in his little black eye, as he figured he'd hit the happy hour jackpot.  But it was short lived.

A fully mature, dominant Rufous male, perched outside my office, who thinks he "owns" the feeder there.

A moment later, the stubborn Rufous male Again dove at the feeder.  All the birds scattered, and I zeroed in on the bright white collar the mature Rufous male wore and hit him at least once, got close 2 or 3 times, and he fled again.  3 of the 5 females Returned and resumed drinking, under my cover fire.  The Rufous took up station back in his high tree branch, and I aimed upwards towards the little miscreant, arching far over the top of the feeders where the girls were enjoying happy hour, and the mature Rufous found this rebuff to be "too much" and flew elsewhere.  Finally, success!

So if you're a female hummingbird, regardless of species, you're more than welcome to come drink in my yard at hummingbird happy hour.  If you're an Anna's, Blackchinned, or Costa's mature male or a Rufous juvenile, and you know some boundaries and how to act publicly and behave at happy hour, you're also welcome to enjoy delicious high energy, fresh nectar in my yard.  However, if you're a trouble maker, you will be ejected, and refused re-entry into my yard's airspace.  If you persist, you'll be targeted with squirted tap water, which will make flight more difficult, frustrate your petty attempts to monopolize the abundant nectar in the feeders.  The unexpected wetting at dusk, combined with being chased away form the public feeders, may make it more difficult for you to remain warm over-night, but having a warmer, more friendly demeanor will be in your favor going-forward (over-come your instinctual programming, little punk!)  ... or just stick to the front yard, where the Rufous battles are pretty much perpetual.  The backyard feeders have a happy hour bouncer, who is more than 4000 times your mass, and who enjoys having a peaceful, sharing, community atmosphere at dusk.

Fresh Fish for Lunch

As long-time readers of JustJoeP are aware, I have an affinity for ospreys (links here and here).  They're the biggest raptors one can find at the beach here in southern California.  They successfully fish in both calm and rough seas, and they are as comfortable in the water as they are in the air, "shaking off" excess sea water after they've snatched an unsuspecting fish from the ocean.  While I've seen the occasional harrier hawk, red tail, and kite hunting at / near the beach and Batiquitos Lagoon, it's the ospreys that capture my attention and fascinate me.

Last April, when I had been notified that I was getting laid off after 20 years of devoted service, just so that Evil Corp could try and appease activist investors who demanded lower fixed over-head costs by letting go all of their experienced remote workers like myself, I had just finished practicing yoga at South Ponto Beach when I spotted this impressive osprey heading from the beach towards a high voltage utility poll near La Costa & the PCH, just next to the South Ponto parking lot.  Camera in hand, I took pictures for a solid 20 minutes as this successful apex predator enjoyed its lunch of fresh fish.  The fish was more than a foot long, and weighted enough that the osprey had to Really Exert Effort to fly with it to the pole.

I slowly walked up to within 100 feet of the base of the pole, snapping digital photos along the way.  A magnificent bird, eating a fresh meal.  Likely a juvenile who has not yet mated and built a nest to raise a family, or the meal would have been at the nest and not on the pole, above a busy intersection.

My hope is to resume yoga practice at the beach once my post-elbow- bursa-dissection surgery wound is fully healed.  That Might be December... but it also might be later in 2018 some time.  I do hope to see my neighbor the osprey again soon.

Run Like Hell

Not only is Run Like Hell a great Pink Floyd song from their amazing album The Wall, it is also what Tormund Giantsbane shouted to all of his comrades at East Watch on top of The Wall that had guarded Westeros from the dangers of the north for more than eight thousand years, in that fictional world.
(again, spoiler alert... if you have not seen the season finale of Game of Thrones, season 7, read this post after you've seen it)

The season finale was epic, dark, beautifully done.  I won't go through everything here scene by scene, but it IS Worth watching, for all of the ends it ties up, and the new circumstances it presents to the viewer.  Jaime does the right thing. Daenerys still knows how to make a Grand entrance.  Cersie remains one of the largest forces of selfish evil in the world, perhaps equalled by The Night King?  The Hound becomes more likable.  Arya is lethal with her blade. Sansa embraces her family before sycophants.  Sam enlightens the all-seeing three-eyed raven, who needs to get better at predicting things and warning his family about them, instead of just looking all white-eyed in his wheel chair.  The door was held closed for you, FFS!  Do something useful with your new super power Bran flake!

Now, in a physics based world, The Wall was made out of indestructonium since it stuck out into the Narrow Sea at East Watch, and yet after 8000 years of the sea water buffeting against it, The Wall  Never eroded.  Therefore, indestructonium must be one of The Hardest, Most Erosion Resistant, Most Corrosion Resistant, Most Crack Resistant initiating & propagating substances to ever be written about, in any book.  Indestructonium has to be magic... created by magic... shaped by it... maintained by it... However, with such formidable strength and durable properties, there comes a price.  Action / reaction.  If a magic dragon, hatched from an egg that had turned to stone long ago, but when that stone egg was heated in a funeral pyre back in the season 1 finale... and then that magic dragon gets killed by a magic ice javelin... and the thrower os said javelin then resurrects the dead dragon as an undead dragon...  then the magical power of that weapon of mass destruction apparently can over-power 8000 years of ice masonry and indestructonium's use as a long-standing barrier.

As I watched what remained of Viserion repeatedly blast the architectural marvel that was The Wall on Sunday night, I thought to myself:

- is this hot blue fire?
- is this ice coming out of the dragon (like a Gygax dragon)
- is it some kind of psionic blast or energy beam?
- perhaps it is plasma, like that of a white dwarf star?  (but then the undead Viserion would have its own gravitational pull, since it would be far too dense)
... and it wasn't until I talked to my buddy Ryan when he explained to me that it was "magic" and that only magic could defeat magic...  um... ok.  Sure.  I won't think this through any deeper than I already have.

If it is magic breath from a magic beast that was impossibly hauled out of a semi-frozen lake north of the wall by the magical ruler of the magically animated and magically commanded undead, then why not let all that magical confluence take out a long-standing 8000 year old wall?  Sure. Indestructonium be damned!  There's magic at work here!

In that case, Daeneryrs and Jon Targaryen (yeah, He's not a Snow nor a Sand) and their remaining two dragons will likely / should likely be magically destroyed by the Night King and his undead Viserion WMD, and all the steel wielding soldier of Westeros be swarmed by the +100,000 horde of white walkers heading South.  Cersie and all of King's Landing should be wiped out by the undead horde, and all of Westerosy civilization should end as we know it.  I know that doesn't make for a good story or series finale... but if an undead Viserion can destroy an 8000 year old formidable piece of magical creation in less than 1 minute, then it won't take that much longer to kill both siblings, their riders, and let the ground army swarm anything that is still warm-blooded.  I am 99% certain that season 8 and all of GoT won't end that way... but if I was writing it, and I included The Wall coming down as it just did... then that's how I would end the series next season.  3 episodes at best... and then everyone is now part of The Walking Dead.

The Wire's Lester Freamon

Over the last month I watched all 5 seasons of HBO's The Wire (music post here: link) and really enjoyed it.  Each season focusing on a different aspect of life in and around Baltimore.  Written, vetted, acted, filmed, directed really well, with an excellent pace, rhythm, focus; I highly recommend watching it, and not just saying "I love the wire... but I don't know any of the episodes" as most Umerikuns have stated at some time in the past.  I'd only seen bits and pieces when staying in hotel rooms, disjointed, I could not appreciate the magnitude of the series.



In retrospect, when I look across all the 100s of characters presented throughout the 5 seasons, the one character who stands out as the most likable, most relatable, least flawed, in my perspective is Lester Freamon, played by the excellent actor Clarke Peters.  Lester was one of the oldest & least appreciated detectives on the BPD.  Politically incorrect, doing "what was right" before considering how it would damage his career's trajectory, Lester's steady hand and clear mind was refreshing in each scene in which he appeared.  Fastidious, meticulous, tenacious, passionate, determined, driven, mentoring, patient, enduring, curious, insightful, intelligent, level headed (usually), deductive, adept, and righteous.  He was "good police".  As the 2nd oldest member of the last engineering team I led (with most of the other team members being 20 to 25 years younger than me, who looked up to me) and mentored, it makes sense that Lester is the one I could identify most closely with and with whom I could empathize.

Yes, in The Wire, Lester sometimes drank too much, but who doesn't drink too much sometimes? (Ben Franklin always said not to trust the man who drinks water when everyone else is drinking ale... and I do not disagree with old Ben).  Lester had quite an R rated vocabulary and tone, especially when he was justifiably incensed, but again, that's a common human trait.  I know I have from time to time.

The other character I could closely relate to, ironically was also played by "a Clark" - Clark Johnson played the city desk editor Augustus (Gus) Haynes.  Gus worked for metric driven stuffed suits who placed morality & honesty on a much lower priority than glowing recognition and public perception.  Sadly, I've worked in roles like that as well, far too often in the past.  Gus was only in the final season, and not throughout the entire series, so I didn't have enough time to relate to him, and how he dealt with tools like Scott Templeton... but I have a personal appreciation for Gus's daily struggle.

If you've not watched The Wire, you really should.  Especially if you are stuck in a airplane, a hotel, or on a couch recovering from an orthopedic injury that limits your mobility.  It'll be time well spent, eye opening, enlightening, and informative.

Anatomy of a Volvo Headlight Assembly

Last month I was driving to Pep Boys in Encinitas, when all-of-a-sudden, my Volvo C70 dashboard told me that one of my head lights was out.  I'd never had a car tell me, as the driver, that the head lamp was burnt out.  Convenient and serendipitous that it happened on the way to the auto parts store.

I purchased (2) replacement lamps, figuring that if one burnt out, the 2nd one would likely burn out sometime within the next year, and headed home to figure out how to change it.  Volvo was Way Ahead of me, and had already designed in an extremely simple & straight-forward mechanism "designed for maintenance".  Unlike most engineers, I took out the instruction manual (age has proven to refer to the directions first, before breaking something additional in ignorance) and found that Volvo had implemented a 3 sided alignment pin that was a small aluminum spike.  Withdraw the spike, and viola, the entire head lamp assembly easily slid forward to allow bulb replacement.



On Hondas, Chevrolets, Infiniti, Fords and Mazdas, I've struggled and strained to get head light bulbs out of blind or hidden assemblies, by feel.  With the Volvo C70, it was incredibly simple.  So simple in fact, that when I had to return to Pep Boys (because they sold me the wrong model head lamp the first time... from a counter person who didn't understand the specificity of exact part numbers... but the manager corrected the error on my return) ... I was able to replace the head lamp In The Parking Lot, easily.


I was very impressed.  If only all car makers and all consumer goods manufacturers had thought this through as thoroughly as Volvo has done... servicing their products when parts need to be replaced would be So Much easier!  Now.. if the same care could have been applied to the location of the oil filter... instead of being buried behind the engine and above the hot exhaust manifold, then That would have been awesome!

He's Got the Fire & the Fury

Back on July 2nd, while on a flight from LAX to Covington Kentucky, I jammed my elbow tween the arm rest and the fuselage in a Delta coach flight (link here) and through the rest of July and the beginning of August, my left arm (elbow, bicep, triceps) has been fairly useless.  I've been icing it, elevating it, trying to stretch it.  Physical therapy began this week, and today was my 2nd PT session, and there's been some increase in mobility, decrease in pain, and I can almost use the left arm for things like shampooing my hair, driving a car and turning a steering wheel, etc... all good things, all good progress.

While icing my arm and keeping my elbow elevated higher than my shoulder, for several hours each day, I caught up on most all of my DVR recordings, and I set out determinedly to watch the entire HBO series The Wire, on my legal HBO To GO account (since Amazon wanted to charge me to watch season 5, after letting me watch seasons 1-4 for "free" with my Amazon Prime account.  Netflix recommended Luther... which I may watch in August, as I still have 2 or 3 more weeks, at least, of PT & icing ahead of me.

When I heard the farsical child who is the 45th President say that the DPRK will face "Fire & Fury", I thought of the opening music for The Wire.  Each season had a different artist (or set of artists) perform their version of the 1990 Tom Waits song Down In A Hole:
Season 1 - The Blind Boys of Alabama (Spirit of the Century, 2001)
Season 2 - Tom Waits (Franks Wild Years 1990)
Season 3 - The Neville Brothers (...and all the pieces matter, 5 years of Music from The Wire)
Season 4 - DoMaJe (Beyond Hamsterdam, 2008)
Season 5 - Steve Earle (Washington Square, 2007)
Season 5, last episode, finale recap - The Blind Boys of Alabama (...and all the pieces matter, 5 years of Music from The Wire)

I like Tom Waits original the best, I think.  They're all good, in their own interpretations.  "He's got the fire and the fury, at his command".  Full set of Waits lyrics here: link


I certainly hope the know-nothing, impetuous, 2-minute-attention-span, Obama-obsessed spoiled child who never got his Daddy's approval doesn't cause massive fissile fallout to rain down over the Western Pacific, and in the process, kill millions of Koreans, Japanese, and Chinese, while taking the US economy, stock market, and West Coast real estate prices; il faut voir.

CA Drought Almost Over

Living in Southern California, I am keenly aware that the pleasant climate and attractive environment are really just an artificially irrigated desert that was never meant to have millions of humans living here (more than 1/2 of California's nearly 40 million - yes, forty million [39.8 million as of 2017] live in the Los Angeles and San Diego metropolitan areas).  For thousands of years, there were less than 1/2 a million people inhabiting what is now California.  Today's population is massively disproportionate in a longitudinal comparison to what the natural resources can sustain.

So while being aware of the resource limits, I try to not waste water, sewage, electricity, and natural gas accordingly, and use as little synthetic chemical solutions and pollutants around the house, minimizing my footprint as much as possible.  It makes good environmental sense, as well as good financial sense, since Dr Desert Flower and I don't use $100 bills as toilet paper nor are we passing gold bricks when we use the rest room.

The recent inundation rain fall that blanketed the state in January, February, and early March 2017 have apparently reversed the 149 year record drought that the state had been experiencing.  Rain water reservoirs are full and over-flowing, and the snow pack in the Sierra Nevada mountains is at 200% of normal levels. Streams and creeks that have been bone dry for many years are now freely flowing.  All that being said, San Diego county is still "abnormally dry" and the eastern part of the county is in "moderate drought" ... a condition that is really isolated to the US / Mexico border currently.

Dr Desert Flower and I went to Borrego Springs in the southern California portion of the Sonoran Desert, just to the East of Anza-Borrego Desert State Park last weekend, to see the record desert bloom of wild flowers.  There was a plethora of yellows, white, blue, magenta, orange, and red flowers blooming in a desert that is normally brown, gray, and tan.  It was remarkably beautiful.  Granted, there were 10s of thousands of other visitors who normally are not there in the desert, but our four wheel drive Volvo XC70 helped us to drive down significantly eroded dirt roads and get out to places where most of the other flower tourists could not reach.

The infrastructure in Borrego Springs is designed to take care of the 3000 or so residents, but was completely overwhelmed by the 10s of thousands of visitors who drove their cars there.  Bathrooms, restaurants, cafes, all totally swamped with lines of humanity.  Dr Desert Flower and I DID speak with a very nice elderly volunteer at the Borrego Springs visitor center who told us about the off road excursion since we had a four wheel drive vehicle (thanks to the experienced docents!).

The area has not seen this much rainfall in 2.5 months for more than a century.  The wild flowers were in full spectacular bloom.  The bees were busy trying to pollenate everything.  The lizards and rodents were all busy scurrying about in the under-brush, filling their stomachs and feeding their families.  Sadly, we saw no snakes... but we did see several raptors.  The ambient temperature was in the mid 90s, but there was a merciful light breeze that felt pleasant on exposed skin (exposed skin slathered with SPF70).  It was a great way to spend the day in nature.

108 Year Drought Is Over

2 minutes ago, the Wall Street Journal stole my blog post headline... but that's OK WSJ.
Link here:  http://www.wsj.com/articles/chicago-cubs-win-the-world-series-ending-108-year-drought-1478149589

A 10th inning rain delay last night didn't dampen my spirits, as I watched in disbelief that the Chicago Cubs finally won a world series, after enduring a 108 year drought.  It was a great game, and a great series.  Sure, Cleveland has waited 68 years since they last won a world series... but I hope they win again in the next 40 years so that the Cub's epic loss record can remain.  I only wish my Dzia Dzia who died almost 30 years ago didn't have a chance to see his beloved Cubs win a world series before he left this mortal coil (he was alive for the 1908 win, as a very young child).

The videos at this early hour are not the most comprehensive or captivating, but I am sure better ones will be posted later today and this week.



Cleveland fought a good series, with very talented players.  I won't say anything disparaging here, though I often shouted less than positive comments at my television over the last week and a 1/2.  While Akron and Canton are two of my least favorite places neighboring Cleveland, where I have spent far too much time for work purposes, Cleveland itself is not a bad place, and Clevelanders (or Clevelandites?) are generally nice people, from the dozen or so who I have met.