BOO?

I do long for the good old days. That's one of the things that us "men of a certain age" do well. The appeal of those "days" is their familiarity, their simplicity.

Take Halloween. Thankfully I grew up in the time before religious fundamentalists decided that all of our Halloween traditions were inherently evil and whether you intended any actual dabbling in the dark side or not, simply putting on a black pointy hat or a cape and wax vampire teeth, was the equivalent of walking your soul on the precipice of an abyss.

Now with the help of church-hosted Fall or Harvest festivals, and non-occult related costume selections we can partake and stay on the bright side. But I have to wonder, which is scarier-- throwing a sheet over your kid's head with a couple of eye holes cut in it, or having them dress up like Justin Bieber or Miley Cyrus.

If you look closely you'll see a precious little girl in that pumpkin patch picking out her first pumpkin. That's Karlee: grand girl #1.

Back in the day, we celebrated Halloween full-on and we yet we had a wonderful innocence. Even our TV stars like Ricky and Lucy, Ozzie and Harriet, June and Ward Cleaver slept in twin beds. (Oooo, Cleaver--there's a scary name for you.) Maybe I'll be "Ward The Cleaver" for All Hallows Eve; you know kind of like Winnie The Pooh, or John The Baptist. And just think about June and Ward's baby boy, Beaver Cleaver! There's an image that would scare; well, beavers.

Don't get me wrong. I love that churches still provide a venue for little princesses and power rangers, if not little ghosts and goblins. I guess all I'm saying let's not throw the baby out with the witches brew, or look for a demon behind every bush.

In C.S. Lewis's masterpiece, The Screwtape Letters, which is written as a collection of advice given to a young devil in training from an experienced, teacher-type devil, you'll find thought-provoking nuggets like this:

“It is funny how mortals always picture us as putting things into their minds: in reality our best work is done by keeping things out.” 

 One thing I do know for sure, our culture is starving for childlike imagination, creative play and even the fun of pretending. My childhood memories of Halloween were all of those things. And that made me better not darker.

Karlee: a few years later, with her superhero friends. 

Quotable: G.K. Chesterton

G.K. Chesterton

“It is terrible to contemplate how few politicians are hanged.”

G.K. Chesteron

In Case The House Burns Down

I ran across a really cool website: theburninghouse.com

It offers this challenge:

If your house was burning, what would you take with you? It's a conflict between what's practical, valuable and sentimental. What you would take reflects your interests, background and priorities. Think of it as an interview condensed into one question.

I'll admit this was a lot harder than I thought it would be. The first things that came to mind I quickly realized didn't fit the challenge. They were things that I could replace--things like:

MacBook Pro

Nikon D90

Ukulele

Favorite books

I had to remind myself that this was not about what would you gather up and take if the apocalypse was impending; as if I would worry about dragging a bag full of stuff into the ruination. But wait; maybe I could use some of that stuff to barter my way in to the bunker of some delusional doomsday prepper. Let's be real--I don't really know anyone that would want to share their pork 'n' beans with me for eternity.

So, in the interest of the burning house challenge, here's my list:

My Burning House / End of the World As We Know It Kit

• Little elf doll. I bartered this little guy away from a French-speaking hippie in Montreal, Canada in 1967. I was there playing drums with a tour band (not running from the draft). The hippy was wearing the elf on a piece of leather lace around his neck.
• The little green apple is actually a USB drive containing the files of all The Beatles recordings and album art. An unbelievable collection--a gift from my Amazing Missus.
• My Grado Headphones.
• My bookplate stamp.
• A camera.
• My passport in case I need to travel abroad to escape from the fray.
• A snack. I learned from my mom that you never go into the unknown without a snack.
• The complete collection of Karlee & Harper photo books--priceless.
• Drumsticks and pad.
• My Bible. It is drama, mystery, and poetry all in one beautiful book.
• A few journals. I don't journal like I used to. A few years ago someone broke into my vehicle and stole a bag containing my laptop and some journals I had written and highly valued. Jerks!
• A few items with sentimental back stories.
• A book of Mother Goose nursery rhymes. You've got to remember innocence in the midst of all-hell-breaking-loose.

How about your list?

Come on, share it. I won't judge you... Oh, okay, in the interest of end-times honesty, I will probably judge you. See why nobody would want me in their bunker?

POPS on Pop

Three things shook my foundation a bit. I was reading an article in the October 14, 2013, issue of The New Yorker entitled, "The Doctor Is In" by John Seabrook.

Normally you would assume that a 60s-something guy being shaken a bit by an article about the doctor being in, it must have something to do with prostate cancer or the like. Not so.

If you don't know who these people are this post is probably going to be off-putting to you. 

Foundation shaker #1: The New Yorker has been one of my main reads for years. Recently they rolled out a design tweak. Normally I'm all for an aesthetic reinvention, but this is The New Yorker! WTH? (what the heck). But here's what really worries me: this article seems to suggest the magazine has decided they need to attract a younger, hipper audience. Don't they know that young hipsters don't read anything longer than 140 characters, including hashtags and take pictures of themselves.

Pops Picks

[Oh BTW (by the way), if you'll follow About POPS on Twitter, Pops will send you a very cool, white pearl guitar pick with the About POPS brand on it. www.twitter.com/AboutPOPS.] How's that for shameless, hypocritical self-promotion? 

Here's the opening paragraph of The New Yorker story:

Unlike Dr. Dre, that other faux-medical badass beatmaker, Dr. Luke is a white guy. He lives in Los Angeles now, but he talks like the New York City hustler he once was. He “vibes” well, an invaluable skill in the song-making trade, where the writer needs to connect with the artist as soon as she walks in the room. Dr. Luke is slight of build and dresses in T-shirts and beltless jeans that hang low on his backside, exposing colorful briefs. His blue-green eyes droop at the outer corners, giving his face at rest a melancholy cast.

Is this really The New Yorker? Word for word.

Foundation shaker #2: Remember when "jeans that hang low on the backside" were so cartoonish that it made for a hilarious Saturday Night Live skit that still stands today as a classic. I did a little research to get the facts straight. It starred Gilda Radner as Lisa Loopner, Bill Murray as her boyfriend Todd DiLaMuca and Dan Aykroyd as the refrigerator repairman. The skit was called "Nerds & The Norge" and aired October 7, 1978.

The jist of the skit was Todd and Lisa having great laughs at the expense of the repairman kneeling into the old refrigerator exposing his crack. Back then it was funny, today it apparently "vibes well."

Yes I realize I'm sounding like an old geezer. But hang in there.

Oh, by the way, the musical guests on SNL on the night of this great skit: The Rolling Stones.

Here's the bridge:

"Dr. Luke" began his pro career as the lead guitarist in the SNL house band. Since then he has gone on to produce and co-write songs for Kelly Clarkson, Avril Lavigne, Pink, Britney Spears. Notice a theme?

Foundation Shaker #3: Again from The New Yorker article:

Lukasz Gottwald—his given name—has co-written or co-produced more than thirty Top Ten singles since 2004, a run to rank with the greatest hitmakers in pop-music history: Phil Spector, the Beatles, Michael Jackson. At forty, he’s still going strong: last week’s No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100, Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball,” and the previous No. 1, Katy Perry’s “Roar,” are both Dr. Luke songs.

I'm sure Dr. Luke is creative and intensely talented. Not questioning that. But I wonder if even the good Dr. himself is comfortable with his tunes, sung by airy, auto-tuned, diva-ettes really ranks with the "greatest hitmakers in pop-music? After all it was the author of the piece that made that distinction and not the Dr. himself. And maybe all the author is saying is that simply by the numbers of Top Ten singles he compares.

Surely he is not comparing this discography to the final musical contribution of The Beatles and Michael Jackson!?

Yes, again I'm aware all of this makes me sound like an old geezer. Sometimes the truth hurts. Oh, and by the way, because I do so want to "vibe well", today's choice of drawers are not briefs, they're boxers; but they are very colorful, and the only way you're likely to see them is if you invite me over to work on your fridge.