"To Do" List

Given one fewer hours of sleep last night, I took it -- waking up at my usual 5:13 am. Now in full vacation panic mode, I start my "To Do List" of things "To Do" before I leave on vacation. The list is long and complicated, but so far, I've completed one of the vital tasks, which was number one on my list: Write "To Do" List.

Here's the list ...

1. Write "To Do" List.

2. Figure out why "To Do" is capitalized and in quotation marks. Is it because I really don't want "To Do" these things? Or is it that I want to make them seem more important, vital, CAPITALIZED and "quotation marked"?

3. Have breakfast. It never hurts to have some easy things on the "To Do" list.

4. Stop capitalizing "to do" list.

5. Stop putting quotation marks around to do list.

6. Have another cup of coffee. Coffee is a good drug. Coffee is a legal drug. Why aren't other good drugs legal? Write to Jared Ainsworth and ask him if it's okay to call him Jarry. If it's okay, then ask him to legalize good drugs. He's been in Congress for several weeks already and he hasn't had a fistfight with a Republican yet. I expect more from my representative.

7. Stop thinking about Kathy Johnson's love of Neil Diamond. Stop thinking of the lyrics to Cherry, Cherry, which basically go ...

She got the way to groove me
She got the way to move me 
Cherry, Cherry.

Try not to look at Neil Diamond album cover on the left! What, in the name of all that's wholesome and godly, is going on in this picture?

8. Start thinking about Gram Parsons' lyrics. Compare and contrast Gram and Neil. Waste an hour trying to find some totally awesome and bitchin' Gram Parsons' lyrics. Finally realize the utter brilliance of ... 

There's nothing new that can be said about dirt.

Now, that's what I call songwriting!

Admire Gram Parsons' photo on right! Nice hat, Gram!


9. Realize this so-called To Do List is getting very, very old. Segue awkwardly to today's Totally Awesome and Bitchin' Word of the Day: Ineffable!

Again, I have no idea what Ineffable means, and I have no intention of looking it up. But admit it, imaginary blog reader, we've all met too many Ineffable  people. And there have been times, especially around closing time when we've had a pop or three that we'd like to meet someone a little more Effable! In a world full of Ineffable, insufferable, insomethingorother people, an Effable companion can be a good thing!


In other vacation news, Dave Hannaford emails from Kauai to inform me that it has been raining for the past two days. As Sergeant Millsap used to say at miserable Fort Bliss, this sounds like a personal problem Dave! What do I care about your rainy Kauai? I won't be there until tomorrow, when the weather will be of worldwide importance.

Until then, back to my to do list!

Planning Ahead for the Umbrella of Outrage!

Dave Ripp and I decided to take a Hawaiian vacation together, but, as usual, we had a slight disagreement. He wanted to go to the Big Island and I wanted to go to Kauai, so we compromised. He's going to the Big Island and I'm going to Kauai. This way Hawaii will be big enough for the two of us! If we were closer, say Oahu and Maui, all hell might break loose. Paradise Lost, so to misspeak.

But enough about Dave and Kauai and vacation planning. Here's what I've been thinking about day and night for the past two months: How my hatred of Neil Diamond promotes my overall happiness and well-being. I've had a natural antipathy for all things Neil since I first heard his syrupy, sickening voice warbling out of my 8-transistor Sony radio in the otherwise delightfully insane summer of 1966. Everything about Cherry, Cherry made me want to vomit. I thought this Diamond dork would be a one-hit wonder, but no, his ugly Brillo-Pad® head kept popping up, year after year, song after song, complete with a cadre of rabid, irony-free fans.

"Now how can this be healthy?" asks the Little Rhetorical Man In My Head.

"I'll tell you in a second, Little Rhetorical Man In My Head," I answer. "But first, let's review some of the hits of '66. The two bands with the greatest names of the era, Sam the Sham and Pharaohs and ? and the Mysterians, had hits. It doesn't get much better than Sam the Sham and Question Mark."

Okay, I don't really need quotation marks when I'm talking to myself. And what better example of talking to oneself is there than a blog? But I digress, regress, and all the other pernicious gresses. Other hitmakers in '66 include greats like Carla Thomas, Percy Sledge, Dusty Springfield, Wilson Pickett, and B.J. Thomas. Okay, I included B.J. just to see if you, my imaginary reader, are still paying attention.

Now, back to Neil. It all came to a head on New Year's Day 2013, when I was running with a beautiful Peruvian girl by way of Petaluma, who took umbrage when I happened to say something rude about Neil.

I have to interrupt this stirring meander to announce my Totally Awesome and Bitchin' Word of the Day™ -- umbrage. I have no idea what this word really means and I have no intention of looking it up. I'd guess that it has something to do with either an umbrella or outrage, but here's what makes this word way cool: One always "takes umbrage," but one never "gives umbrage." So this umbrella of outrage is always there for the taking, but never for the giving, although I'd like to believe that I've given a lot of people umbrage by ripping on Neil Diamond.

My beautiful Peruvian friend and her hunky boyfriend both asked me if I'd ever seen Neil Diamond in concert. What a question! Have I ever seen Sonny and Cher in concert? The Grass Roots? Johnny Rivers? Jan and Dean? Paul Revere and the Raiders? Sadly, I've seen all of them in concert, at package shows at the Cow Palace, at Monterrey Pop, and unbelievably, Neil Diamond at the greatest concert of all time: The Last Waltz at Winterland. When Neil appeared on stage after the Band and before Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, and Van Morrison, I thought I was having an acid flash-forward. There he was, a lot shorter and uglier than even I would have expected. I closed me eyes. I closed my ears. The nightmare eventually passed.

So, back to the reason that hating Neil Diamond is good for my happiness and well-being. I am, like all other living, breathing humanoids (including saints like the Dali Lama, the Pope Emeritus, and the Father John Misty), bubbling over with misanthropic feelings brought on by this blissful experience we call living. Now I could aim my anger and disgust at the moron in the car in front of me who has been driving for seven miles with the turn signal on, but I prefer to channel this vile pile of bile in the direction of Neil Diamond, who isn't an actually human being -- although he is a life form that seems to have been replicated in a rather Bizarro fashion in the personage of one Justin Bieber. What I'm trying to say is that my rants against Neil Diamond can't hurt him. Bigger fish have tried to fry Neil with absolutely no success. So, when I'm feeling the anger ready to erupt, I let it flow in the direction of Neil Diamond, that unscorchable member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Okay, back to vacation planning. Now really, why plan ahead? It's supposed to be vacation. A vacation from planning. I have a plane ticket, I think. It's sometime Monday. Oakland, if I recall. I'll just head over there on Monday and hope that Cherry, Cherry isn't playing on the terminal Muzak.