EVERYONE IS ENTITLED TO MY OPINION

My Life – So Far!

2011-08-24T18:56:00.000-07:00

I was a midlife surprise for my dear parents, two of the most ethical and conscientious people you could ever find. Having rejected the religious training of their youth, they joined the Congregational Church long enough before I was born to have me baptized there. This holy sacrament tethered me to my Lord and Savior in ways wondrous and glorious. I absolutely believe this is why I have always known every single time I failed God and my parents with my willful misbehavior.

After years of successful contraception, I was conceived coincidentally – wink, wink, nudge, nudge – when my maternal grandfather died quite soon after a shocking diagnosis of advanced stage leukemia. Oops! When I arrived within hours of the 1956 Republican convention adjournment, my first but not last political act, my parents thought their family was plenty complete already with 16-year-old Richard, 10-year-old Donna and 8-year-old Bob. My grandmother, who continued to live with my family after Grandpa’s death, was determined to spoil me useless and she was joined in that pursuit by my mother and doting sister. Donna was a profound influence on my life as an example to follow and sometimes to reject. She instilled in me my lifelong enthusiasm for music, dance and merriment.

I had an active, tomboyish childhood, suffering multiple concussions and life-threatening accidents. The worst was at age 3 when my brothers were playing baseball in our Van Nuys backyard and Richard, rendered deaf at birth by a harsh forceps delivery, hit me when I ran behind him as he was swinging at one of Bob’s pitches. Poor Richard was traumatized, thinking he had killed me. Richard and I have always been close and he lives with me and my son, Chris. The first maternal feelings I ever experienced were as a teenager overwhelmed by protectiveness of Richard and awareness of his vulnerability as a deaf man with learning disabilities. He can be a handful and is still teaching me patience and tolerance.

Donna always suffered from hormonal irregularities that made her extremely tall and slender until she gave birth to her first of two sons, when she put on excess weight she spent the rest of her life trying to shed. To shame her into dieting, her husband warned her in a misguidedly joking way that he was waiting for me to grow up, which prompted her to start informing me of my every flaw, physical and otherwise. At age 13, after childhood fluctuations between quiet introversion and obnoxious extroversion, this made me horribly self-conscious and socially shy for the next decade. I know Donna didn’t mean to inflict such damage and we remained the closest of sisters and friends. After her husband’s shocking murder, I helped Donna and my parents raise her young sons. I developed a genuine appreciation for boys that enriched all my relationships with men.

I adored my smart, cultured, gifted mother and came later to value my father’s natural intelligence, incredible work ethic, and admirable moral code. I thank God every day for such amazing parents. From my strong, stubborn mother, I inherited a passion for food, reading, politics, and knowledge in general. From my father, I learned humility, honor and humor in abundance. They both instilled in me convictions of steel, which kept me safe and self-respecting as I grew more independent from their cozy shelter. What unique and unforgettable characters they both were.

When I finally shed my awkward adolescence and the selfish childhood patterns set by my grandmother, mother and sister, I became a reformed do-gooder, committed to helping others and making them happy. Fresh out of college, I wanted to have a baby in the worst way – so I married one. I had never been in love and sadly wasn’t with my first husband. He was my first big altruistic project, a man-child broken by abuse suffered at the fists of an angry alcoholic father. When my beloved Chris was born, I wanted a better life for him than his dad could provide. After one disappointment too many, I took my 6-month-old son and moved back with my parents until he started Kindergarten. Those early years with Chris before I returned to work full-time were the absolute happiest of my life.

My intense mother love for Chris placed him firmly at the center of my universe, which was finally in balance. Our bond has always been unbreakable and unshakeable – and a threat to any men in my life. When Chris was five, I fell in sublime storybook love for the first and only time in my life. He was the first man who didn’t want to share me with Chris, which led to a premature breakup while we were still deeply mired in the potent throes of attraction and longing. The romantic spell endured for another decade until I met the man who became my last husband.

My second marriage was the biggest risk I have ever taken and I have never been one to gamble. He was much younger, different from me in every visible way, but we clicked quite unexpectedly. I remember clearly the precise point-of-no-return moment when I decided to proceed, accepting that this handsome young man full of remarkable potential would likely outgrow and discard me. In the most momentous act of blind mortal faith outside of my God love, I committed myself whole-heartedly to my husband and our life together.

I have known great love and great disappointment. My relationship with my son is the joy of my life and he honors me immeasurably. My second marriage tested me and I gave everything to make it the exceptional success it seemed to be for 9 years. We were the envy and inspiration of everyone who knew us. He was the only man I ever trusted completely apart from my dear father and my Savior. He stood by me with near perfect loving support when I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2003, had disfiguring surgery and began the first of many treatment regimens that have brought me to this special day. His constant devotion finally stripped away my fears of his inevitable abandonment.

When I began my cancer adventure with all of its unexpected blessings and detours, I asked God to please let me live until my 50th birthday to see my son reach adulthood. That was five years and two additional cancer recurrences ago. I have seen my clever, handsome son fall in love and develop his God given talents. I watched my Christian husband, who began studying for the ministry after I received a miraculous remission in 2007, change into a wicked stranger who tried to convince me to stop chemotherapy and die for his financial convenience two years later. Aside from not getting cancer, I honestly don’t know what I could have done to prevent the slow motion train wreck he made of my family’s life. God granted me the gift of acceptance, which has made my life easier and more deeply contented in countless ways. I recognize that I may never fully understand what happened to my husband, but I have long since moved on. If you want the gory details, you can read more here and here.

I have enjoyed a fabulously full and varied life, which is not defined by any single chapter in my story. Friends encourage me often to write my autobiography and I have several drafts of a fictionalized version that I never seem to finish. There are too many strange and unlikely events and people to fit them all into one book. Since childhood, I have experienced prophetic visions and dreams. On the day my father died, an anonymous woman followed me around a supermarket before handing me the Bible tract from Psalm 23: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." I have assorted accomplishments that I keep in perspective, but the greatest of these is my faith.

I can state without ego that I was an excellent wife and mother. I have loved and been loved as every human desires. Until my second marriage in 2000 and diagnosis of cancer in 2003, I used to catalog my daily regrets at bedtime. Until I reached middle age and lost both of my parents, I deferred gratification of my personal happiness because of my innate sense of unworthiness. Cancer forced me to stake my faith in God first and foremost, bringing me peace and joy and hope that sustained me through what could have been my wilderness years.

Since December 2008, I have survived through five chemotherapy regimens, all of which worked for a substantial period of time before losing effectiveness as they all do. The current drug was approved by the FDA less than a year ago and is derived from sea sponges. I have been taking Curcumin supplements since 2006, which I know have extended my life and allowed me to live with cancer in my liver for the past three years. I have lost old and new friends to cancer and I don’t know why they were not as blessed. Clearly, God is not quite done with me here yet.

Today I celebrate my 55th birthday and a lifetime of cherished memories. I love my life, my family, my friends, my job, and above all He who gave everything to me and who waits for me with a perfect new body and a perfect new life. But I’m still here, so we are going out to party – but not anywhere that offers a senior discount.

Look at me – I made it!

Alles Gute Zum Geburtstag, Grandma Rosina!

2011-05-15T23:04:00.000-07:00

My German Grandma Rosina was born 125 years ago today, the same birth date as her first born granddaughter, my cousin Gail. My maternal grandmother exerted a powerful influence over three generations of Kramer family, as my cousins and I have been sharing recently on Facebook.

Grandma was born on May 15, 1886 in Buchbrunn, Germany and died in Garden Grove, California on December 14, 1970. In the last few months of her life, my mother had to move her into a nearby assisted care center with great reluctance and a heavy sense of dereliction of daughterly duty. The facility was located where the infamous Islamic Society of Orange County now stands, known as the mosque where homegrown terrorist Adam Gadahn, aka Azzam the American, converted to radical Islam.

Duty to family and God was the defining attribute of my grandmother’s life and legacy. The eldest of 11 children born to poor Bavarian parents, young Rosina helped raise her ten siblings, learned to cook and manage a large household, and developed the indestructible character that carried her through a lifetime of often overwhelming challenges. Barely an adult, she left the comfort of family and familiarity to become cook and nanny for a German couple residing in New York who sponsored her emigration in the early years of the twentieth century. It was an enormous personal sacrifice in a strange new world to provide financial support to her beloved family utilizing the only marketable skills she possessed.

When World War I erupted in August 1914, our grandfather Wilhelm (later Americanized as William) was a chef aboard a German ship that was interned by the U.S. government, which at the time was still a neutral party, for a brief period in Boston Harbor. After being released as a detainee, he made his way to New York in search of a culinary position. Grandpa was the adored son of a devoted mother who encouraged him to pursue his passion for food. My grandmother, an accomplished cook herself and symbol of the Teutonic female strength of his mother, must have seemed a much safer, more welcoming harbor.

After they married, they had their first two children in short order: my uncle Eitel (aka Bill) and mother Elisabeth (aka Lee), with my uncle Willie following several years later. Despite all the responsibilities caring for a young family, Grandma worked closely at Grandpa’s side to fulfill his dream of opening his own restaurant, which later expanded to a grocery market and real estate holdings. From their separate arrivals with empty pockets and substantial cultural disadvantages, together they built a business empire so successful that it was highly rated by Standard & Poor’s.

Grandpa was an extremely creative force of nature, an extrovert who loved to name drop and an alcoholic with enormous appetites and ambition. He was a writer, a poet, and a frustrated musician who had some of his own compositions performed in New York theatre. Grandma was the quiet, reserved architect of his loftiest plans. The family of five enjoyed the rewards of wealth and hard work, even my modest, unassuming grandmother. The children’s clothes were handmade by private designers and they received a well-rounded education fostering a love of learning and the arts. They lived in a large house covering two normal lots on Long Island and socialized primarily with other emigrants in their close knit German community.

Grandma was a quiet stoic, never comfortable with physical affection, but she expressed her love by constantly serving her family and handling all their needs. Although she was completely devoted to all three children and her demanding husband, she permitted herself the pleasure of overindulging her youngest, my Uncle Willie, who enjoyed special perks including music lessons.

My mother and uncles spoke their parents’ native language at home, but they were American kids through and through. When Adolf Hitler rose to power, Grandpa received a letter from the new regime inviting him to bring his talents back to the motherland. The three children immediately vetoed the move, thank God.

The Great Depression eventually took its toll on the family businesses. Tender-hearted Grandpa could not bear to charge customers or evict tenants whom he counted as friends and inevitably the restaurant, market and real estate holdings were lost. One renter gave him a genuine Gutenberg Bible as payment, which was later stolen from the foyer where my grandparents displayed it. Deeply ashamed and devastated by the greatest failure of his life, Grandpa left the family for a distant job as a cook, sending home the money he didn’t spend on drinking binges. Grandma and Mom told me they had no assurance he would ever return. The money my grandmother counted on for my Uncle Bill’s college launch was gone, along with the family dreams for him to explore his uncommon intelligence and personal gifts. It was one of Grandma’s greatest disappointments, as she confided to me near the end of her life. Grandpa finally came home to the comfortable, low maintenance life Grandma created in his extended absence.

Fortunately for all their spouses, for my first cousins and for me, the parents who married into the first American Kramer generation provided their children with plenty of affection to balance what I must describe as some very peculiar traits we inherited from both of our German grandparents. Uncle Bill wed fun loving, high spirited Aunt Esther and they started their own family of seven children. Uncle Willie found in Aunt Joyce the feminine strength and unselfish devotion his father immediately recognized in my grandmother, plus all the affection and adoration that two generations of Kramer men craved. Like Grandma, my mother married an alcoholic and they had a son, my brother Richard who lives with me. Despite his family’s financial assets, Richard’s father insisted the baby be born in a charity hospital, where a forceps delivery led to congenital deafness and learning disabilities. Soon fed up, Mom hit her first husband over the head with a heavy frying pan during one of his daily drunken rages and moved back home with her parents.

When World War II called the most able-bodied men of her generation to distant shores, Mom left Richard with her parents in New York and moved to Detroit to work in the factories that supplied the tools of war. She made the most of the experience, befriending the other young women whose patriotism and diligence lifted the nation out of economic and political catastrophe. When homesickness overwhelmed her, she returned to New York, the stability of her mother’s constant support, and her young son.

On a New York City outing with a girlfriend, Mom was gaily window shopping when a young sailor pulled on the back of her curly auburn locks. It was my father on Navy leave in the middle of the Great War, falling in love at first sight with the tall beauty, her ready laugh and her long, gorgeous legs. After their wedding, which took place 5 months after his involvement in the Normandy invasion of 1944, he shipped back out to the European front.

After the war, my parents bought their first home adjacent to my grandparents’ on Long Island and near my Uncle Bill’s family. My sister Donna and brother Bob were born soon after and my father lovingly raised Richard as his own. Grandpa was still working as a chef and Grandma enjoyed the extra time with her growing family so conveniently close. When Bob was born in 1948, my grandparents took the short walk to greet the baby’s homecoming. Apparently Grandpa was expecting a special drink to celebrate the occasion but was offended by what he was offered. “Water I have at home,” he sulked before walking down the street to his private reserve.

Dad, a self-taught man with a surplus of common sense, natural intelligence and an impressive work ethic who could fix anything, struggled to establish a stable career in the new economy as did many returning soldiers. After Bob's birth, my dad reluctantly decided to move his young family to the southwest in the hope that Texas and New Mexico would provide the financial opportunities so scare in the northeast. Soon Grandma and Grandpa joined them, turning over their large Long Island house to my Uncle Bill’s family. Dad found jobs as an electrician, plumber, and skilled maintenance worker but not the career he sought to secure his family’s future. He enlisted in the Army early in the Korean War, leaving his wife, three children and two parents-in-law to live in a tiny, single wide, desert hot, overcrowded mobile home, to which he returned at the end of his second military service.

Dad had come to love the California he discovered on long Indian motorcycle rides during his bachelor Navy years and purchased a home there for his Kramer-Herrick family in Lakewood, one of the first planned residential developments in SoCal. Soon he began a steady, successful career in the burgeoning aerospace industry and was hired at the Douglas plant in Santa Monica, where his talents attracted the attention of Sandy Douglas who later personally selected Dad to be the first lead quality control inspector to open the new Huntington Beach plant in 1964.

In November 1955, Grandpa sustained a painful fall at home and was hospitalized, where he was diagnosed with end stage leukemia. Within 2 weeks he was dead and, despite whatever birth control practices that worked so well for my parents during the preceding 8 years, I was conceived as a mid-life surprise. During my teenage years as a nonbeliever investigating astrology and alternative pseudo sciences, I wondered whether I was the reincarnation of my late grandfather. Certainly I helped fill the void he left in my mother’s and grandmother’s lives. Grandma spoiled me rotten just as she had Uncle Willie decades earlier and soon a competition between them ensued, abetted by my sister Donna, to smother me with attention and all the goodies my family could not afford during those earlier years spent on the brink of poverty.

Mom inherited Grandma’s willful stubbornness and aversion to initiating physical affection. I later learned quite happily that Mom loved to receive affection and lavished it freely on young children, but she feared rejection as we all grew older and more independent. I can only imagine that Grandma was the same way, because I have no memory of her ever voluntary hugging or kissing me. I never had the opportunity to meet my grandfather or observe his marriage to my grandmother, but I understand the secret to my parents' connubial contentment was my father's immediate acceptance that all disagreements were entirely his fault, despite any evidence to the contrary. My parents were well matched in the uncompromising ethical code they learned from their mothers, which they followed even to their own detriment.

Grandma and I shared a bedroom at various times during my childhood. She took amazing care of me when Mom returned to work briefly when I entered Kindergarten. Every day after school, we would stroll north to the Sav-On drugstore at Fallbrook Square in Canoga Park to get ice cream cones and exercise, instilling in me a lifelong love of walking. On rainy days she played hide-and-seek with me and came to my swift rescue when I had attacks of claustrophobia under the beds. She practically ordered my parents to give me dance lessons beginning at age 5.

Grandma loved to tend to her garden of pansies and roses. She and Mom shared kitchen duties and mealtime was always a culinary delight, but my mother never rebelled against Grandma’s preferences, which must have been frustrating for a maturing woman in her own home and with her own family priorities.

When we moved into a brand new house in Orange County in 1964, Grandma bought me my own piano after hearing me spontaneously play some popular songs by ear on a neighbor’s keyboard and then paid for 5 years of weekly lessons. This led to one of the most shameful episodes of my childhood. I was a tomboy who vastly preferred outdoor fun to daily piano practice. In defiance, I staged one of my frequent trantrums, stubbornly refusing to waste another minute on the piano. My stubbornness was nothing compared to Grandma's, who hastily marched to our shared bedroom, packed some belongings into a large bag, and announced she called a taxi to move her to my Uncle Bill’s house in Canoga Park. Duly horrified and firmly reminded of who exactly was in charge, I raced to the piano bench and played as perfectly as my shaking fingers would allow.

Grandpa craved success and verbal validation, which he supplemented with a habit of name-dropping that his sons inherited. He lacked Grandma’s steely self-discipline, humility and introspection. Grandma was a loyal friend and matriarch, but she enjoyed solitude vastly more than socializing. My Uncle Bill seemed to share her pensive thoughtfulness and resembled her most among the three siblings. Uncle Willie was a lot like Grandpa and Mom was a more verbal, Americanized version of Grandma.

My grandmother’s long silences were quite imposing, but often her words were unexpected and unusual. Some of her habits were strange and strangely amusing. In her last decade, she liked to sit in the kitchen and snack alone on favorite treats like pumpernickel and liverwurst. When there, she would pass gas quietly and then suddenly utter the word “poop” in an elongated, drawn-out, sing-song way with her voice rising several notes to stretch it into “poooooop” so that everyone in the house could share her experience. My brother Bob, a typical Herrick smart aleck, enjoyed teasing our seemingly humorless grandmother and in response she enjoyed kicking him hard with her reinforced orthopedic shoes. At family gatherings, Mom always made a delicious wine-club soda punch with frozen strawberries and pineapple chunks. When Grandma would retire to her beautiful wooden rocking chair to sleep off the alcohol, Bob or Donna or Richard would place the empty wine bottles next to her chair and snap incriminating photos.

Somehow Grandma’s idiosyncrasies never detracted from her spine-stiffening pride or her air of authority. She was ever graceful as she aged, reminding me of an Indian warrior goddess. She had waist length silver hair that fell into glistening waves as she brushed it nightly at bedtime. She had a quiet faith and incredible inner peace with her life and her God. When I chose to become a Lutheran the year before her passing, she was so pleased. It was difficult to know when you received her approval, but there was no mistaking her disapproval.

I was incredibly blessed to have such exceptional, ethical role models in my parents and grandmother. Regrettably, I contributed so little to my grandmother’s life except for my mere existence in her last 14 years in proportion to everything she did for my benefit. One of her greatest gifts was something she endowed unintentionally. In the aftermath of her death, my mother reappraised her spoiled teenaged daughter and finally tired of my prolonged juvenile self-absorption. In truth, I was ahead of her in my self-loathing by many years. I worshipped my mother and for years cried myself to sleep after I was old enough to understand mortality and life cycles, which Mom later confided she had done as a child over her own mother. When as a young adult I developed the Kramer passion for food and cooking, she was deeply gratified and thoroughly relished all the new dishes I prepared for her. Before she died in 1994, I spent the last weeks of her life kissing her feet and pouring out all the affection and adoration she secretly yearned for.

At age 14, I was long overdue for fundamental personal changes that were far from easy to implement, but Mom and I survived to establish the kind of mutually loving and respectful relationship I would wish for every parent and child. She gave me her often unspoken love, her mother’s timeless values, and an enduring example of indomitable strength to overcome all adversity. I could not ask for more.

Happy Valentine's Day 2011!

2011-02-14T14:29:00.000-08:00

I posted dozens of videos of what I think are the best, albeit little known, love songs at my Facebook page. You can find them here.

Happy Birthday, Uncle Ronnie!

2011-02-06T11:17:00.000-08:00

Ronald Reagan wasn't really my uncle. He was, however, the greatest president of my lifetime and the only man under God whom I didn't really know but truly loved as if he were a family member.

My parents were born in the same decade as Reagan and of the same history that forged their similar characters. Like Reagan, they were FDR Democrats who reluctantly came to accept that their party and its political values failed them. In the 1950s, my parents became Republicans and embraced the new conservative movement articulated by William F. Buckley.

I was born and raised in California where Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan were colossal figures of immeasurable influence. As a young child, my mother took me to meet Nixon at the Van Nuys Airport when we lived in the San Fernando Valley during his unsuccessful 1962 gubernatorial campaign. My parents wanted to believe that Nixon was conservative, but he disappointed them repeatedly.

In 1964, we moved to famously conservative Orange County. That year Reagan officially entered politics when he campaigned passionately for his friend Barry Goldwater. My parents had Goldwater campaign buttons and a Barry bobblehead doll. Here is Reagan's legendary speech for Goldwater in which he established himself as a conservative heavyweight, "A Time for Choosing."

My mother had observed and admired Reagan's parallel path from liberalism to conservatism. She was a stay-at-home mom, a political news junkie who routinely talked back to the liberal radio and TV commentators. I started reading her National Review magazines before the 1964 election, always with a dictionary at my side, but Reagan communicated the same principles in language that an 8-year-old could more easily comprehend. During the Goldwater campaign, Ronald Reagan became more than an actor to us. Always the smart aleck, I started calling him Uncle Ronnie because there were more pictures of Reagan adorning the walls and furniture of our new home in Westminster than of family members. When he decided to run for governor, it was a turning point in Republican politics, in American history, and in my life.

On a stereotypically sunny and warm California day in 1966, Ronald Reagan had a campaign bus stop in front of a shopping center in Garden Grove a mere 3 miles from our house. There my parents got to shake his hand and tell him how much he meant to them. He flashed that perennially optimistic smile and patted me on the shoulder in passing. Later that afternoon, we joined thousands of supporters at a rally featuring Buddy Ebsen, Irene Ryan, Donna Douglas, and Max Baer Jr., aka the Clampett family from TV's "The Beverly Hillbillies." The rally was held at Santa Ana Stadium, which is adjacent to the Orange County courthouse that was renamed in Reagan's honor in 1992.

I turned 18 shortly after Nixon resigned and it was a devastating time for a young Republican. That year I volunteered in a Congressional campaign for a former POW whose bracelet I had worn throughout my teenage years. The candidate had been rushed into politics before he was ready and while he was still dealing with personal trauma from Vietnam. As a candidate, he was MIA and the local pols were not always kind to him. But for the heartening example furnished by Reagan, my naïveté about the idealism of politics would have hardened into cynicism.

In 1976, the year of the American bicentennial, I cast my first presidential vote for Uncle Ronnie in the California primary. That August Mom and I were glued to the Republican convention, hoping against hope that Reagan would emerge triumphant as the GOP nominee. As in 2008, it was painfully obvious in 1976 that a moderate Republican would lose to a Democrat who offered little but personal assurances and the result would be a national and international calamity.

During the disastrous Carter years, Reagan honed his message through radio commentaries in which he displayed his deep understanding of economics and world affairs. He also enjoyed dabbling in show business on his own terms. Here he displays his irrepressible wit and gift for public speaking at a Dean Martin TV roast of George Burns.

More often than not, I vote with one hand while holding my nose with the other. But my 5 votes for Uncle Ronnie as presidential candidate and nominee were a privilege and an honor. Once elected, Reagan did not always act as I expected or preferred. But I trusted him and the unprecedented success of his record defends itself. After two terms as leader of the free world, he left it more prosperous and peaceful than he found it. His implementation of tax rate reductions became such a national fixture that not even the Obama era Democrat majority dared to undo them. His dedication to individual liberty and unshaken faith in American exceptionalism dominate his unique legacy. His alliance with Margaret Thatcher and Pope John Paul II freed millions of hostages from communism and socialism without a single bullet being fired.

My only child Christopher was born in 1983 and I would have named him Reagan had I not been inspired by an even higher authority. During the 8 years of the Reagan presidency, it was an exhilarating time for this young conservative woman to be alive. My most severe disappointment is that, in George H.W. Bush, Reagan selected a successor who was not a keeper of the flame. Neither Bush nor any of the GOP presidential nominees since 1992 has been a genuine Reagan conservative. None defended Reagan when Democrat opponents made outrageously false claims about his record.

Ever since Uncle Ronnie retired to his California ranch, conservatives have searched in vain for The New Reagan as though the experiences of his lifetime that forged his character can be duplicated. When I remember my dear mother and father, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, Pope John Paul II, I know we will never see their like again. Reagan remained humble, gracious and wise throughout his public life. He said in one of my favorite quotes, "There is no limit to what you can accomplish if you don't care who gets the credit."

Conservative values endure and are making a comeback in the wake of spectacular liberal failure. Today conservatism has its best opportunity to revolutionize the world since the Reagan era successes. But it will take a more enduring commitment from the political class than words of tribute on the occasion of Uncle Ronnie's 100th birthday.

2010 in Review: My Favorite Videos of the Year

2010-12-31T21:37:00.000-08:00

Marco Rubio: A Generational Choice

In his flawless campaign ad titled A Generational Choice, Senator-Elect Marco Rubio showed why he is the most promising and exciting conservative politician in a generation and shot to the top of the list of 2012 GOP vice presidential candidates.

24 Series Finale

Like his loyal sidekick Chloe, I blubbered as we bid a sad farewell to Jack Bauer and the must-watch experience that was 24. The film version of 24 won't come soon enough for me.

Red Eye Favorite Intros of 2010, Part 1

Red Eye became my favorite TV show in 2010 thanks to its unique blend of humor, political irreverence, libertarian sensibility, and entertaining cast of panelists. Host Greg Gutfeld controls the mayhem with such a light touch that it is easy to underestimate his contribution to the show's success and growing popularity. As of this writing, Red Eye is the third most discussed TV show on Twitter.The cheeky guest intros must test the limits of the Fox News Channel censors.

Red Eye Favorite Intros of 2010, Part 2

Bedbugs Take Over the USA

The clever Taiwanese animators from NMA World Edition are plugged into American news and culture. They seem to be watchers of Fox News and fans of Red Eye as evidenced by the bedbugs video below.

Dennis Miller on Jimmy Carter's Presidency

Dennis Miller's regular segments on The O'Reilly Factor provide the funniest TV moments outside of Red Eye. Miller finally made his first Red Eye appearance on my birthday in August.

Best Commercial of 2010: Jack in the Box

This Drummer Is at the Wrong Gig

Wrong gig and the wrong band. Dude.

Favorite Pet Video #1

A singing parrot? If you don't recognize the song, it is Let the Bodies Hit the Floor.

Favorite Pet Video #2

A talking cat? Is this video real or fake?

Favorite Pet Video #3

A talking dog? Maybe.

Favorite Pet Video #4

Cats are easily amused as are cat lovers like me.

2010 in Review: My Favorite Songs of the Year

2010-12-31T21:16:00.000-08:00

Here are my favorite songs of 2010.

Beautiful, Beautiful by Francesca Battistelli

Quite simply, my favorite new worship song of 2010.

Sweet Disposition by the Temper Trap

I fell in love at first listen. My love burned brightly for weeks until it suddenly flamed out. The album was disappointing, but this is still a great song.

All of Creation by Mercy Me

Mercy Me has become my favorite Christian contemporary band. Lead singer Bart Millard is one of the most charming personalities in all of CCM.

Crossfire by Brandon Flowers

On his first solo single, Killers' lead singer/songwriter Brandon Flowers eschewed his trademark New Wave quirks for a straightforward melody and vocal that are just lovely. With his charisma and talent for drama, Flowers could have a career in film or TV. The camera loves him.

Born Again by the Newsboys

Michael Tait, formerly of DC Talk, made a strong debut as the new frontman for the Newsboys.

Solitude Is Bliss by Tame Impala

Tame Impala is the third act from the Australian continent to appear on this list. Unlike the Temper Trap, Tame Impala's debut album was well crafted and memorable, sounding at times like the Beatles in their psychedelic period. Like the album, this video is also memorable and well crafted.

Our God by Chris Tomlin

Chris Tomlin remains the most prolific composer of worship music and this new song is already becoming a staple in churches that favor Christian contemporary songs.

Forget You by Cee Lo Green

Clean version or profane, Cee Lo Green is an infectious performer of insanely catchy tunes that appeal to a variety of radio markets. As half of Gnarls Barkley, he helped create my favorite song of 2006, Crazy.

Blink by Revive

It happens in a blink. True dat.

Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine

Florence sounds like a cross between Siouxsie Sioux of the Banshees and Johnette Napolitano of Concrete Blonde.

Merry Christmas 2010: He Is Come

2010-12-24T11:22:00.000-08:00

Have you ever received a gift so generous that it humbled you, made you feel unworthy? You have. All you need to do is accept it and let the Lord do the rest.

Here are my favorite versions of two exquisite worship songs that fill me with joy and gratitude.

I Wonder As I Wander performed by Jubilant Sykes at Grace Community Church

Breath of Heaven by Amy Grant set to The Nativity Story

Here is my favorite secular Christmas song. Enjoy!

This Christmas by Donny Hathaway

Geoduck: Neither Gooey Nor Duck

2010-10-10T21:33:00.000-07:00

If you are a regular viewer of the Food Network or the show Top Chef, you may be familiar with geoduck, a large saltwater bivalve in the clam family that has become an exotic delicacy. Mysteriously, geoduck is pronounced "gooey duck" and can be found in the Pacific waters off of Washington and British Columbia.

Geoducks have a long tube-like siphon that performs a variety of functions. The siphon gives the geoduck its phallic appearance and, as my son says, proves that God has a sense of humor. Although geoduck is popular in Asia, its name is derived from early Native Americans of the northwest coast. You can see and learn everything you ever wanted to know about geoduck in this humorous video from Mike Rowe's Dirty Jobs.

Sean Duffy for Congress

2010-09-29T21:15:00.000-07:00

I wish I could vote for Sean Duffy, the Ashland County DA running for Wisconsin's 7th congressional district seat held for 40 years by retiring representative David Obey. He is a very appealing candidate with conservative values.

You might remember Duffy from the 1997 Boston season of MTV's The Real World in which he stood out for his normality and lumberjack handsomeness. Duffy is married to Rachel Campos of The Real World: San Francisco and they have six children.

Duffy has a terrific new commercial titled Get America Rolling Again!.

Top 10 Tearjerkers: Songs That Make Men Cry

2010-09-28T22:07:00.000-07:00

According to a survey reported by the British tabloid The Sun, here are the top ten songs that make men cry:

1. Everybody Hurts - REM
2. Tears in Heaven - Eric Clapton
3. Hallelujah - Leonard Cohen
4. Nothing Compares 2 U - Sinead O'Connor
5. With or Without You - U2
6. Drugs Don't Work - The Verve
7. Candle In The Wind - Elton John
8. Streets of Philadelphia - Bruce Springsteen
9. Unchained Melody - Todd Duncan
10. Angels - Robbie Williams

I'm not a guy and I won't limit myself to ten songs when I can pick twenty, but that won't stop me from compiling my own list. Grab a box of tissues and a pint of gelato.

In no particular order:

I Just Wasn't Made for These Times - The Beach Boys

Don't Dream It's Over - Crowded House

Just Once in My Life - The Righteous Brothers

The Last Goodbye - Jeff Buckley

Alone Again Or - Arthur Lee and Love

Black - Pearl Jam

This Old Heart of Mine - The Isley Brothers

Monkey Gone to Heaven - The Pixies

A House Is Not a Home - Dionne Warwick

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead - Stars

Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me - The Smiths

A Song for You - Donny Hathaway

No Blue Skies - Lloyd Cole

Daisy Jane - America

God Give Me Strength - Elvis Costello

Cold Morning Light - Todd Rundgren

Miss Texas 1967 - The Colourfield

This Woman's Work - Kate Bush

Pearly Gates - Prefab Sprout

'Til I Die - The Beach Boys

Orange County Restaurant Week, Take 2

2010-09-27T20:12:00.000-07:00

Orange County Restaurant Week is back to give local diners a break and businesses a much needed boost. We are having a record-breaking heatwave, which makes it especially tempting to enter an air conditioned restaurant and leave the cooking to professionals.

You can enjoy a scrumptious lunch for $10 or multi-course dinner for $30. This is a rare opportunity to sample some truly fine dining at world class establishments like the Anaheim White House, Antonello Ristorante, The Catch, Mr. Stox, The Ritz, and Sage. You can stimulate the economy and your tastebuds at the same time!

Psst, Establishment! Be Very Afraid of the Tea Party

2010-09-26T20:05:00.000-07:00

Many media analysts struggling to contextualize and marginalize the Tea Party movement misunderstand its genesis. By repeatedly describing the rally attendees as almost exclusively white and racist, which is demonstrably false, they are trying to cast the movement as an extreme reaction to a president of color. However, this tea was brewing far longer than Barack Obama has been destroying the economy.

Office holders and other establishmentarians who feel threatened by the movement comprehend at least that the Tea Party rebellion is about power – their power. But they seem to ignore that grassroots anger is a long simmering repudiation of unearned and unelected power. Tea Partiers are not content to merely replace those currently in power. They seek to transform the halls of power until they are accountable to the American people and faithful to the founding principles of our once great nation.

For decades, activist judges have interpreted the law based on their own political and personal preferences – in short, they legislate from the bench, which is not their mandate. Congressmen have enacted laws that defy the will of their constituents and betray the campaign positions on which they were elected. On the great issues of our time – most notably, the economy, health care and illegal immigration – the elites in power are out of touch with the American people who have to live with the consequences of their actions and they are flagrantly disdainful of us.

President Obama, House Speaker Pelosi, and Majority Leader Reid are not the only politicians to deceive voters, misrepresent their mandate and impose their unelected agenda on an unwilling electorate. However, they chose to do so at one of the most conspicuously perilous moments in American history. Obama ran as a post-racial, post-political moderate, but he is ruling as an old-fashioned big government liberal – and an incompetent, indifferent leader.

Liberalism thrives in the media, academia, judiciary, and government bureaucracy – all unelected institutions of power where practitioners of liberalism rarely if ever have to defend their ideology. Jimmy Carter was the last openly liberal presidential candidate to win and his policies were so discredited after one disastrous term that an entire generation began to call themselves progressives to distance themselves from liberalism. Reagan is attributed with giving liberalism a bad name, but truly the label was self-inflicted by the unpopular programs of Carter and now Obama in action.

Republican voters of a certain age, me included, took the measure of Barack Obama in 2008 and predicted that he would be Jimmy Carter redux. With our prophecy tragically fulfilled, it is tempting to compare the Tea Party coalition of Democrats, Republicans, libertarians and independents to the Reagan Revolution and count the similarities. But there is one fundamental distinction – vive la difference!

Ronald Reagan was dubbed the Great Communicator for his ability to explain his policies and persuade the electorate. He transcended his mentor, William F. Buckley, to become the leader of late 20th century conservatism. Reagan’s presidential accomplishments were impressive and far reaching. In 1980, Reagan ran against the unelected institutions of power and began his first term confronting the air traffic controllers. Despite all of his executive authority and political gifts, he failed to change the entrenched bureaucracy that dominates Washington, D.C. or the Republican Party establishment, which is arrogant and entitled in its own right. By selecting George H.W. Bush as his running mate, Reagan insured that his own conservative agenda would be term-limited. Such are the limits of top-to-bottom leadership.

Yet fans and critics of the citizen revolt still wonder, “How can the Tea Party succeed without a leader?” That question ignores political history and the first Tea Party movement that wrested control of thirteen colonies from the most powerful nation of the 18th century despite the absence of one unifying leader. The question is also a product of the organization chart mentality with mandates emanating from the top down to the bottom.

The political ruling class abused their power to impose their insulated Beltway values on the American people, thus changing our culture incrementally against our will for decades. The players, parties and policies may vary from election year to election year, but the sense of entitlement remains the same.

The Tea Party is a bottom-to-top, side-to-side movement with every citizen as a leader. The agenda is formed at the grassroots level and spreading in every direction throughout fifty states. The Tea Party is redefining the culture and the halls of power by citizen consensus and its policies flow from the will of the people. This is the promise of the movement – and its biggest threat to the status quo.

Solitude Is Bliss by Tame Impala

2010-09-21T22:09:00.000-07:00

Tame Impala is a new band from Australia with a sound inspired by psychedelic rock. Solitude Is Bliss is the first single from their debut album, Innerspeaker. Me likey.

Amazon has the import CD for a whopping $41.49 as of this writing, but you can purchase it on iTunes for $9.99.

My favorite lyric:

There's a party in my head
And no one is invited.

Oh, yeah. I've felt that way most of my life.

The video is interesting, too, especially the dancing. I trust that no animals were actually harmed in the production.

One of my favorite songs from the 1960s psychedelic era is Open My Eyes by Todd Rundgren's first successful band, Nazz. Enjoy.

Christine O'Donnell vs. Karl Rove: Statistics Don't Lie

2010-09-20T22:06:00.000-07:00

After last Tuesday's primary election victory by Christine O'Donnell over Mike Castle in Delaware's senate race, Karl Rove appeared on the Fox News Channel to offer his analysis. Rove shocked viewers and the blogosphere with his derogatory comments questioning O'Donnell's character.

Since Rove continues to criticize O'Donnell in language usually employed by political opponents, conservatives have been asking whether Rove had a personal stake in the Castle campaign or a grudge against O'Donnell. What we do know is Rove's track record in Delaware.

In the 2000 presidential election, Rove's most famous client, George W. Bush, lost Delaware to Al Gore by a 13.1% margin of victory. In 2004, Bush lost Delaware to John Kerry by a 7.6% margin of victory.

Two days after her primary upset, Rasmussen Reports published poll results showing O'Donnell trailing her Democratic opponent, Chris Coons, by 11%. In short, O'Donnell is beginning her Delaware senate race closer to victory than Bush was at the end of his Rove-guided 2000 presidential campaign in Delaware. If O'Donnell narrows the gap or scores a win, she will have outperformed Rove in Delaware.

Heh.

Baby Got Book

2010-09-12T11:11:00.000-07:00

Makes me so holy.

Get down wit yo good book.

Glenn Beck: Amazing Grace, Amazing Chutzpah

2010-08-29T08:53:00.000-07:00

Radio and TV show host Glenn Beck organized a rally held yesterday near the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., the same site where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. gave his "I Have a Dream" speech 47 years earlier to the day. The stated purpose of the rally, which Beck promised would remain apolitical, was "restoring honor" to the United States.

The size of the crowd, estimated at upwards of 300,000, indicated a hunger for the Judeo-Christian values on which American was founded. A succession of speakers, including ministers and other evangelical leaders, invoked God and His authority. The rally included prayers and concluded with a rendition of Amazing Grace. Had there been an altar call, the Christian revival would have been complete.

Beck, advising the attendees to "trust divine providence," described how he challenged God when the rally funding fell short and received $600,000 within two days. You can view the video here. Beck attributed this windfall and other rally-related blessings to God. To understand Beck's God-centered agenda, we need to understand what Beck means by God.

Glenn Beck is an avowed Mormon and here is a video of his conversion testimony.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is named after Jesus, but the church does not believe in the Biblical doctrine of Jesus and salvation by grace, which are the foundation of Christianity. Many Christians consider the Mormon church a cult.

This was not the first time Beck led a gathering dominated by Christians in singing Amazing Grace, a sinner's grateful ode to the gift of salvation by God's grace that, to repeat, is rejected by Beck's Mormon faith. That takes amazing chutzpah.

Phil Johnson of Grace Community Church explains how Mormonism differs from Christianity here and as follows:

1. The issue of authority. Christians believe the Bible is God's authoritative, inerrant, unchanging and complete self-revelation (Jude 3). Scripture is the touchstone to which all other truth-claims must be brought (Isaiah 8:20). The sole and sufficient authority by which all controversies in spiritual matters are to be determined is none other than God's Spirit speaking through Scripture. By contrast, Mormons consider The Book of Mormon, The Pearl of Great Price, and Doctrine and Covenants as additional authoritative revelation, thereby undermining the true authority of Scripture and violating the principle of Revelation 22:18.

2. The doctrine of God. Christians believe there is one God who eternally exists in three co-equal Persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Mormons reject the doctrine of the Trinity, believing that there are many worlds controlled by different gods.

3. The supremacy of Christ. Christians believe Jesus Christ is pre-existent God who became a man in His incarnation while maintaining His full deity. Mormons claim Jesus was a "spirit child" of Mary and Elohim (and the brother of Lucifer) who has now been elevated to the level of deity.

4. The means of justification. Christians believe justification is by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. Mormons believe a person's works in this life will determine his or her status in the life to come, and that "salvation" is actually a progression toward godhood.

The reason Christians evangelize is that we are called by God to spread His word so all mankind can accept the gift of salvation, which cannot be earned. Salvation by grace is given freely by God out of love and not as a reward. Christians believe that good works and good values are the fruit of faith, not the path to salvation.

The reason that Mormons evangelize is to perform good works to earn their "salvation" and, of course, to convert non-Mormons to Mormons. Mormons believe that good works are necessary to earn their eternal reward.

The LDS church has devoted its vast resources for decades to blur the differences between their unusual beliefs outlined above, which are rejected by the mainstream, and the widely accepted principles of Christianity outlined in the Bible. Recently they launched a media campaign to brand Mormons as regular people "just like you."

You may have been approached by a Mormon on a good works mission at your home or in public. These Mormons are always well-behaved, wholesome and clean-cut in appearance, ready to help Grandma cross the street or carry your groceries to your front door for you. They seem to embody good, old-fashioned family values. Who can possibly object to that?

Christians can and must object to Mormonism, no matter how unobjectionable Mormons may be personally. Without exception, Mormons can worship as they please and partake of the blessings of democracy without discrimination. However, to market their religion for mass consumption, they are forced to deceive the unknowing by claiming that there is more that unites Christians and Mormons than divides us. I have heard a variation of that claim from every Mormon I've ever met. If we as Christians believe that salvation is freely given by the blood of Jesus alone, we must believe that every person who is confused by a Mormon is jeopardizing their salvation.

Glenn Beck's rally was a national call to perform good works that, according to his rally speeches, will restore honor, faith, hope and charity to America. What role does the Mormon agenda play in Beck's pivot from the political to the spiritual?

According to the Deseret News, a Utah newspaper owned by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, Beck wants to achieve unity. To what purpose? In July 2010, Beck told the Deseret News:

"I'm trying to get the message out that there's more that unites us than divides us," Beck said. "And what unites us is the content of our character."

That sounds eerily familiar.

The wonderful Christian blog Defending Contending published an article by Brannon Howse that explains why it is so dangerous for Christians to give the Mormon church credibility, even in the political arena. Howse, who during the campaign against Beck's advertisers started a website to support him politically, expressed my concerns in the closing paragraph:

Yes, I would like to see the progressives defeated and the original intent of America’s Founding Fathers restored, but that certainly will not happen if the true Bride of Christ compromises on Biblical truth. This is no time to be committed to pragmatism because the end does not justify the means. The means simply declares our priorities and Whom we really serve.

You can read reactions and analysis by other Christians at the blog links below.

Caffeinated Thoughts defined what Beck as a Mormon means when he uses the phrase "divine destiny" here. Standing for God examined who Beck thinks Jesus is.

All of Grace analyzed an August 2010 episode of Beck's show in which he shared his Mormon faith. Apprising Ministries and Herescope criticized evangelical leaders for giving Beck theological cover.

In a series of episodes of his Wretched TV show, host Todd Friel summarized the Christian perspective about Mormonism as it pertains to Glenn Beck.

Not Your Typical Negro suggested that Beck is a Mormon proxy for Mitt Romney to make their common faith politically acceptable.

The Way of the Master, a TV program featuring Kirk Cameron and Ray Comfort, presented the origins and teachings of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints in the videos below.

Dr. John MacArthur of Grace Community Church preached the blunt Biblical truth about Mormonism in this sermon jam.

Jenny Sanford and Me: Christian Women Confronting Adultery

2010-08-25T22:10:00.001-07:00

I don't know Jenny Sanford, the ex-wife of South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford, but I admire her public statements regarding her husband's betrayal and their divorce. She has been criticized by so-called feminists for considering a reconciliation with her husband of 20 years, with whom she raised four sons. Now the online edition of Harper's Bazaar has published Sanford's explanation for trying to salvage and then ultimately terminate her marriage.

I sympathize with and strongly relate to Jenny Sanford. During the same approximate time frame, both of our husbands, purportedly devout Christians, committed adultery and exhibited bizarre, seemingly uncharacteristic behavior as they sabotaged our respective marriages and refused to take steps to repair them. My secular friends could not fathom why I let my husband stay in our home after months of his lies and begging me to stop chemotherapy to die for his convenience. In a marriage in which God was a partner and the Bible the user’s manual, I was not the highest authority.

Matthew 18:15-17 is considered to be the Lord's guide to conflict resolution among believers. A husband and wife are also brother and sister in Christ. As paraphrased by Warren E. Berkley, the four steps to conflict resolution when a brother or sister in Christ has fallen from grace are as follows:

Step #1: Go and tell him his fault between you and him alone.

Step #2: If he will not hear, take with you one or two more, that, "by the mouth of two or three witnesses every word may be established."

Step #3: If he refuses to hear them, tell it to the church.

Step #4: If this effort fails, “let him be to you like a heathen and a tax collector.”

Jenny Sanford declared that she is not a victim. In fact, she modeled Christian values that her husband abandoned to temptation. If you want to understand the Christian commitment to God, family and marriage, please read her essay at Harper's online. Don't look to Mark Sanford, who used his wife and family as political props in a series of strange press conferences to confess not his sin but his alleged love for another woman. Instead, look closely at Jenny Sanford, whose private pain was put on public display and she chose to glorify God with her compassion, mercy and grace. In doing so, she reaffirmed her love for God, for her husband and for her family.

Slow Fade by Casting Crowns is a cautionary tale about the price of adultery.

Dennis Miller on Red Eye Tonight!

2010-08-24T14:10:00.000-07:00

Only a week ago I made a wish and today it is coming true. Is it because it's my birthday? Heh. I don't have that much influence even at work, much less in the universe.

Tonight Dennis Miller will finally appear on my favorite secular TV show, Red Eye, for the entire hour. You can catch Red Eye on Fox News Channel at 3:00 am Eastern Time, 12:00 midnight Pacific.

Red Eye is nominally a news program and predominantly a comedy show that stretches the limits of what Fox considers news and will tolerate under the guise of humor. More accurately, Red Eye is a frat house where the smart boys you ignored in high school get their revenge. There is even a "legs chair" where the stunningly attractive female guest du jour perches in a short dress that shows off her gams. I wonder just exactly how that stipulation is tendered, but it must not be too offensive because the chair is always filled as billed.

Host Greg Gutfeld, a long-time political writer and blogger, opens the show and the second half with introductions of the guest panel that are filled with raunchy double entendres, sometimes written by viewers. Bill Schulz is Gutfeld's sidekick and comic whipping boy. Frequent guest Mike Baker is the cool, witty and handsome former CIA operative the Red Eye boys wish they could be. Baker even has his own recurring segment, Meet Your Baker.

For me, the show's MVP is TV's Andy Levy, ostensibly the ombudsman who fact checks the panel and reports corrections at the half-time point and conclusion of the show. According to Greg, he met Levy through the clever comments he left at the Huffington Post when Gutfeld's column was published there.

Here are some recent guest introduction videos rated PG-13 and an Andy Levy highlights reel for your amusement. Enjoy the clips and then check out Dennis Miller on Red Eye tonight.

April 27, 2010 Red Eye intros

May 6, 2010 Red Eye intros

Some highlights from TV's Andy Levy

Happy Birthday to Me!

2010-08-24T06:32:00.000-07:00

Before my father first held and beheld me, my Father created and knew me. In a sense, I was not born 54 years ago today, but born again.

Earthly birthdays even among Christians are often filled with worldly treasures given out of love or obligation. I like to spoil those I love, but I am extremely uncomfortable receiving lavish presents and attention. The loyal and loving people who light up my life are gifts aplenty.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2003, I asked God if I could please live to age 50 to see my son become a man. No one in my life will be celebrating my survival today more than my son and he plans to spoil me rotten. So we will feast tonight on seafood and scrumptious dessert. I will cry with happiness and gratitude for the extra time spent with my dearly beloved.

I was born and am born again in Christ. Today is as good a day as any to rejoice.

Here is the video of Born Again by the Newsboys with new lead vocalist Michael Tait.

newsboys "Born Again" *Official Music Video* from newsboys on Vimeo.

Here is a bonus video of Between You and Me featuring Michael Tait from his DC Talk glory days.

Life Is Beautiful and Eternal

2010-08-23T20:06:00.000-07:00

Someday I hope to meet Job in heaven. Job was a faithful servant and yet God allowed Satan to test him in extraordinary ways. He lost his possessions and his children were killed, but Job said, "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord."

I am a sinful wretch. I have lost many things this world values. Because of my Lord and my Savior, my life is beautiful beyond description and eternal beyond measure.

Francesca Battistelli wrote and performed a song that describes some of the love and gratitude I feel. Please enjoy the video of Beautiful Beautiful below.

It's Miller Time: Dennis on the August 17, 2010 O'Reilly Factor

2010-08-17T21:11:00.000-07:00

Dennis Miller's regular appearances on the O'Reilly Factor are the funniest TV segments outside of the best bits on Fox News Channel's Red Eye.

Here is Dennis with O'Reilly today waxing satirical about recent headlines.

A whole host of Fox regulars, including Bill Kristol and Mike Huckabee, have risked their reputations to guest on the deliberately outrageous Red Eye. Dennis Miller, where art thou? If like me you can imagine the comedy magic such an appearance would conjure, check out Miller's interview with Gutfeld and Red Eye regular Steven Crowder captured on audio early this year.

Enjoy!

Dennis Miller Solves the Border Problem

2010-08-04T20:16:00.000-07:00

On today's Miller Time segment of the O'Reilly Factor, Dennis was in rare form. By rare, I mean ready to take names and put them on headstones.

Beginning at the 4:20 mark, Dennis presents his second of two solutions to the Mexican border problem. Dennis proposes that we move the obstacle course from the TV show Wipeout and place it all along the border so illegal immigrants cannot cross without completing the humiliating and nigh impossible challenge. It's so crazy it just might work!

My summary doesn't do Dennis justice, so do yourself a favor and watch the whole thing.

Bobby Hebb: R. I. P.

2010-08-03T23:03:00.000-07:00

After God and my loved ones, music has been my most enduring source of pleasure, emotional satisfaction and occasional profundity. Singer Bobby Hebb, who passed away today from lung cancer at age 72, indirectly provided a monumental life lesson that I will never forget. As a performer, Hebb was famous for his self-penned 1966 chart topper, Sunny.

One day in 1966 when I was 9 or 10, we were shopping at the White Front, my mother’s favorite discount department store, near Disneyland. I was a badly spoiled child and Mom would always buy me anything my wicked, willful heart desired. That day I started to panic as we approached the checkstand because I hadn’t found anything I wanted and I certainly was not leaving the store until I did. Looking around in desperation, I grabbed the only item on display that I recognized or even remotely related to – the Bobby Hebb vinyl LP featuring Sunny.

On the strength of Sunny, Hebb toured that year with the Beatles, whose music was much more pleasing to the unsophisticated palate of a prepubescent child. I doubt that I listened to my Bobby Hebb album since 1966. Nevertheless, his record has survived six residential moves in 44 years and is currently stored in my garage. I kept Sunny as a tangible reminder of what a selfish, miserable brat I could be – and as a catalyst for change. The constant cycle of overindulgence and guilt filled me with self-loathing from a very young age and I was always making resolutions to be a better person. After my grandmother, who started the competition with my mother to see who could spoil me the worst, died when I was 14, Mom seemed as tired of our dysfunctional dynamic as I was. It took most of my teenage years before I fully liberated myself from the unhealthy patterns of childhood and then I shifted to the opposite extreme of compulsive unselfishness. When my beloved son Chris was born, I finally discovered the right balance of necessary selfishness and service to others.

Sunny is a fine jazz-tinged record with a catchy beat and Hebb’s smoothly soulful vocal. The song has been covered by a diverse array of artists such as Cher, James Brown, Mary Wells, Jose Feliciano, Ella Fitzgerald, Johnny Mathis, Del Shannon, Marvin Gaye, Dusty Springfield, Wilson Pickett, the Four Seasons, the Four Tops, the Electric Flag, Jamiroquai, Nick Cave, and actors Robert Mitchum and Leonard Nimoy.

Hebb later co-wrote A Natural Man, a 1971 hit for my mother's favorite singer, Lou Rawls, with the late comic actor Sandy Baron and continued to compose music into his final years. Coincidentally, Baron appeared on a comedy album my subversive Uncle Willie, a professional musician himself, gave me in 1965 or 1966 titled Sick Along With Us that became a childhood favorite. Fortysomething years later, I can still quote verbatim from some of the sketches like Sick Sound Waves and You'd Better Believe It.

“Are you a ditch digger?”

“No, I’m a brain surgeon.”

“Then why are you digging ditches?”

“Well, I’m not a very good brain surgeon.”

Here are the two songs for which Mr. Hebb is being remembered today. Enjoy his legacy.

Life Is Better Than I Deserve

2010-07-20T23:02:00.000-07:00

One year ago in July 2009, I was battling breast cancer that metastasized to the liver and many months into a chemotherapy regimen whose effectiveness inflicted severe anemia. For no discernible organic reason as my transfusions had stopped working, God granted me a sudden supply of energy that keeps me functional to this day. I would need that energy plus His blessings of peace, love, joy and strength as the life I knew and counted on to carry me across the threshold into heaven was unexpectedly torn asunder. As I have documented elsewhere, my husband of nine years was leading a double life and became a cruel, wicked stranger.

I am not a victim. I am a redeemed Christian. What I survived this past year is not my grievance against any man. It is my testimony to God's faithful promises. On the extremely rare occasions that I look back, I still do not understand everything I endured. My faith was tested as never before, but God empowered me to show my husband His compassion, mercy and forgiveness. I did so because I love God and I loved my husband.

My husband did not show me any compassion or mercy because he does not love God and he does not love me. He wanted me to stop chemotherapy and die for his convenience. After he confessed his complete fall from grace to me, he tried to convince me and others that I was crazy so that no one would believe my account and to justify his shocking descent into unrepentant sinfulness. That is all I really remember now and it is enough. My pain healed as swiftly as my love for him died.

This past year I lost a beloved husband who deceived everyone but God, financial solvency and stability, my hair and eyelashes, my ability to taste the food that gave me so much pleasure, and the illusion that my cancer would likely be cured. It was my own personal Great Depression, but I was never depressed and life is greater than ever.

The lyrics of this song describe why I am so happy and smiley faced all the time.

Good Life - Audio Adrenaline

It Was 22 Years Ago Today

2010-07-18T23:10:00.000-07:00

The supervisor who hired me 22 years ago today did so, she said, because I exuded stick-to-it-iveness. I sure stuck to this job, proving her prescient, although truthfully I was a single mother just looking for a steady paycheck. I’m definitely not a quitter and enjoy solving problems.

One of my favorite quotes is attributed to Thomas Edison: “Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.” In my case, opportunity has looked a lot like a library. I have worked in libraries – academic, public, and corporate – for all but two years of my career. I am naturally drawn to books, organized systems, and service. My job entails multiple duties in addition to operating a library and, although frequently overwhelming and crazy-making, I enjoy every last minute of it.

I am thankful to God for a job that enabled me to raise my son by myself, for remaining employed in this embattled economy and during this personally challenging year, and for feeling well enough to keep working throughout my 7-year cancer odyssey. Here are a few of my favorite work-related videos. Enjoy!

Welcome to the Working Week – Elvis Costello

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

Morning Glory, Evening Grace: A Decade of The Hugh Hewitt Radio Show

2010-07-11T23:09:00.000-07:00

Ten years ago this week, the Hugh Hewitt show was launched over the greater Los Angeles airwaves and I was in the audience. Although it was immediately apparent that Hewitt is an accomplished and exceedingly smart man, it was not as clear on July 10, 2000 that I was listening to what would become the second most important talk radio show of the modern era and arguably the most influential platform for new media in its formative years of the new millennium.

In July 2000, the call sign for 870 AM was KIEV, a lesser light in the southern California market made notorious by local firebrand George Putnam. The addition of Hewitt was a critical first step toward building a stable of talent worthy to challenge KFI, the LA home of Rush Limbaugh, and KABC, which carries the Sean Hannity show. Within six months, KIEV would be rebranded as KRLA 870AM, formerly the call letters of a seminal, beloved rock station in the 1960s and 1970s.

Both of his aforementioned competitors, Limbaugh and Hannity, honor Hewitt's contributions to political discourse. Limbaugh has cited Hewitt's work on several occasions and Hannity invites him to appear on his TV show frequently. Like Hannity, the Hewitt radio show follows the familiar format featuring more interaction with guests than with callers. What distinguishes Hugh's show is the caliber of the guests and the conversation. Hewitt honed his interview skills as an attorney, law professor and TV co-host on the weeknightly Life & Times, a public affairs series on the Los Angeles PBS channel. His style is tenacious and erudite but never disrespectful or condescending.

As William F. Buckley did with his groundbreaking National Review magazine and Firing Line TV show, Hugh Hewitt has been a generous advocate of the new media of his day, sharing his microphone with writers and thinkers who populate the blogosphere's center-right, his preferred terminology to describe conservatism's place in the political spectrum. Many bloggers who once toiled in pajama-clad obscurity are dressing a lot more nattily after regular promotion on the Hugh Hewitt show.

Professor Hewitt was kind enough to read one of my silly posts aloud on his radio show during the 2004 presidential campaign, which earned my eternal gratitude if not my blind allegiance. I disagreed strongly with Hugh when he aspired to be a kingmaker for Mitt Romney in 2007-2008 and stubbornly defended President Bush's nomination of Harriet Miers far beyond the call of party loyalty. But here I am, ten years later, still keeping my boom box close when Limbaugh and Hewitt come on during my workday.

Last week Glenn Beck was added to the KRLA schedule in the morning time slot formerly reserved for Mike Gallagher, who now begins his delayed broadcast during what was Hugh's third afternoon hour. Hour three of the Hewitt show airs locally at 11:00pm, far too late even by SoCal standards to attract many listeners. Granted, that third hour of the Hewitt show is a replay of the first hour whenever Hugh has a public or TV appearance or other outside commitment, but I think this is piss poor programming that may well backfire when listeners like me switch stations at the conclusion of Hewitt's second hour. Gallagher, who may be a fine fellow, cannot hold my interest and strikes me as a Limbaugh wannabe instead of a thought-provoking original like Hugh.

Since Beck's arrival began to be heralded ad nauseam on KRLA, Hugh seems more passionate and engaged in his radio show than ever. I hope this change was consensual and redounds to Hugh's benefit. In my opinion, two consecutive hours of Hugh Hewitt are more illuminating than three hours of any other radio talker except Rush Limbaugh.

Congratulations to Hugh Hewitt and his esteemed producer, Generalissimo Duane Patterson, as they embark on another decade of broadcast excellence!

Philadelphia Freedom

2010-07-11T20:49:00.000-07:00

My son Chris is on vacation this week, visiting a female friend while exploring historic Philadelphia and the tri-state area. Todd Rundgren, one of my all-time favorite musicians and a son of Philadelphia, wrote, performed and produced a song that humorously describes Chris's mission. This is the more interesting of the two homemade videos available and I presume this version is a tribute to mankind's devotion to pet dogs.

We Gotta Get You a Woman by Todd Rundgren

Whatever Happened to John Waite?

2010-06-26T23:23:00.000-07:00

The Babys was a British power pop band initially marketed to Bay City Rollers fans at a time when punk and new wave were revolutionizing the music industry. Their 1977 single Isn't It Time? charted on the U.S. top 40. Although the quartet led by singer John Waite looked the part of Bowie era rockers, the catchy song was a throwback to the Motown and Stax sound of the 1960s.

In the 1980s, the telegenic Mr. Waite embarked on a successful international career boosted by ample exposure of his videos on MTV. Although Missing You, a soundalike of Every Breath You Take by the Police, was a monster hit, I count Change as one of my all time favorites. Patty Smyth provided the backing vocal.

John Waite scored another 1980s hit with the power ballad, When I See You Smile, as the vocalist for Bad English. According to Wikipedia, Waite lives in my neighboring city, Newport Beach, and continues to perform and record.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

2010-06-22T23:40:00.000-07:00

Today my father would have been 95 years old and I was so blessed to be his daughter. He died before Field of Dreams was released, but this poignant scene in his home state of Iowa reminds me of what I lost and what I would give to have him back, however briefly.

Soundalikes: Cheap Trick vs. the Stone Temple Pilots

2010-06-14T18:21:00.000-07:00

Here are two of my favorite power pop soundalikes. Enjoy!

On the Radio by Cheap Trick (1978)

Big Bang Baby by the Stone Temple Pilots (1996)

The Rhythm Method

2010-06-13T20:25:00.000-07:00

Last week Allahpundit posted the video below at Hot Air, helping it to go viral across the vast internets. Keep your eyes on the Mad Drummer, Steve Moore.

A lively discussion about rock drummers ensued. I was the first to nominate Stewart Copeland of the late, lamented Police as the greatest of all. Neil Peart of Rush seemed to be the top choice among the thread's commenters. It is no coincidence that two power trios, Rush and the Police, succeeded on the strength of their distinguished drummers.

Here Copeland explained to Jools Holland the unique reggae downbeat he popularized with the Police.

In Driven to Tears, one of my favorite Police performances, Copeland demonstrates the rhythm method that spawned a generation of devoted fans.

Sweet Child o' Mine

2010-06-13T19:37:00.000-07:00

God blessed me with a mother who was dedicated to her family, erudite, strong, independent, and gifted. As much as I adored and respected her, my life really began with the birth of my son, Chris, nearly 27 years ago.

I was never comfortable being the overindulged youngest child spoiled by three generations of family. I knew my life was off kilter and out of balance from an extraordinarily early age. The only time I ever experienced true euphoria was after giving birth to Chris. I never expected or needed him to change my life. He just did.

I left my first husband when Chris was 6 months old and I realized he would never be the father Chris deserved. We moved in with my parents and I worked part-time until Chris entered Kindergarten. We had little money and few possessions, but those preschool years were the most idyllic of my life. I would put Chris in his stroller and we walked to every park and place of interest within a 3-mile radius. He was always bright, inquisitive and quick to learn. He started talking early and often, spouting charming jibberish before he could walk. I would promise to give him a dollar if he could remain silent for just one minute and I never had to pay up. He is still the noisiest person I know!

My dad, who was bed-ridden with multiple myeloma, read to Chris daily from age 6 months and taught him to imitate animal sounds. Before his first birthday, Chris was overheard entertaining a small crowd in a busy mall with his precocious vocabulary and animal imitations one summer day, which led to an offer from an agency specializing in child actors and models. I never seriously entertained the notion as I had seen too many crying babies on TV soap operas to want my son to be paid for his misery. Some well-meaning relatives encouraged me to mold him into an overachiever and one of them gave him a wooden puzzle map of the United States for his second birthday. Not long afterward, my father and I were watching a televised game featuring the San Francisco 49ers. Hearing the quarterback’s name, Chris ran out of the room and returned immediately with the map piece for Montana. That day I decided he would attend Harvard, whatever the cost – not! I always appreciated his intelligence and never talked down to Chris. But I wanted him to be the best version of himself, not a flattering reflection of me, with the right core values, good character and the capacity to fulfill his purpose in life.

I was completely consumed and redeemed by motherhood. With Chris at its center, my universe was finally in balance and perspective. I’m not saying that being the object of such intense feelings was always the healthiest environment for a child, but Chris has never had a moment’s doubt that he was loved and accepted just as he is. I was a single parent for most of his childhood. The experience forced me to develop the self-sufficiency, strength and assertiveness of my German foremothers.

Eventually I fell deeply in love with a man who didn’t want to share me with my son. The inevitable breakup hurt and confused Chris, so I vowed to keep my social life separate from my son thereafter. I spent most of my dates wishing I were home with Chris instead. Eventually I gave up on men and romance. Naturally, that’s when I met the man who became my second husband. By that time, Chris was 16 and had not seen his father for five years.

Through no fault of his own, Chris never bonded with his father, who had poor relationship skills and progressively debilitating personal problems. His dad lost everything, including his ability to function as a rational adult, by the time Chris was 11. He was 16 the next and last time he saw him again when his father was hospitalized for a heart attack.

My sister was my childbirth coach and present at Chris's birth. Chris nicknamed her Auntie Cloud when he was 2 years old because she was big and fluffy. He was always extremely close to her, to my mother whom we all called Grammy after her first grandchild was born, my handicapped brother who lives with us now, and my sister's sons. When Chris was six, they moved to a neighboring county and we usually visited them at least once a month. Despite our special mother-son closeness, my sister and her family exerted a lifelong influence that still manifests in his favorite hobbies and interests. His appreciation for technology was formed at my sister's first computer circa 1990 and his cousins' video games. He played an electronic version of Family Feud and created unique team names, including the imaginary Arbyockaseegadays family.

Chris enjoyed staying with Grammy and Auntie whenever I worked during his school holidays and recesses. They took him on special day trips and sometimes lengthier vacations. He loved my mother and sister dearly and was sentimental about even the minute details of family life. When the inevitable moment came to drive home, Chris would become very sad and emotional. As I would buckle him up in his seat belt, he always turned to me and said with his voice all aquiver, "Do you miss Grammy already?"

Understandably, Chris was a little wary when I began dating Luis after we had been a self-contained duo as far back as he could remember. But they bonded on a Thanksgiving trip to visit relatives a month after our wedding. My sister and brother were living in Florida and the large family that I married into was a huge bonus for Chris. I thought my new husband was the best male role model I could find apart from my father, who died before Chris turned three. Regrettably, my husband did not want to share me with Chris or anyone else, either. He insisted on always coming first and catering to his childish demands was a lot of work. He tried to control my space and my time to make me completely dependent on him. We spent six of our nine years of marriage dealing with my breast cancer, which took a toll on all of us. Chris sensed the dark changes in his stepfather before I did.

Chris and I have been through a lot together, never more so than in the past year-and-a-half. My breast cancer metastasized to my liver and my chemotherapy regimen caused chronic anemia, rendering me weak and helpless too much of the time. My husband chose that particular moment to abandon God, me and my family. The collapse of our marriage spanned four tortuous months that shattered Chris’s comfortable life as a college student with a part-time job.

My husband took the last of our money and stole my credit, leaving us stuck with a house payment we couldn’t afford and no way to get out from under it. My brother collects Social Security, which falls far short of covering his living expenses. After using all my sick days and vacation leave, I was getting docked for every visit to my doc, reducing my salary by hundreds of dollars per month. After maxing out the only credit card I own, we spent several months living on the verge of homelessness. Yet I never lost the assurance that God would provide everything we needed. He always has and He always will.

Over the past decade, I concentrated most of my energies and hopes on a man who was not at all the person he wanted everyone to think he was. For example, he presented a loving façade to Chris while mocking him openly behind his back. Meanwhile, my son was becoming the man I always prayed he would be. My husband certainly deserves credit for teaching Chris to be more responsible and considerate, until he unlearned his own lessons. Understandably, Chris cannot help but focus on the fact that his stepfather begged me to die for his convenience with absolutely no consideration for what Chris wanted or needed. At the end, he also manipulated Chris to make him react in anger so he could justify leaving because he was not man enough to take responsibility for his own actions.

In short order after my marriage imploded, Chris began looking for a full-time job and committed to take over the care of his bruncle, the word I coined to describe his brotherly relationship with his handicapped uncle, in the event of my death. In April I had a PICC line inserted for my chemotherapy treatments and Chris flushes the line for me daily.

Chris searched for a job combining his two passions: technology and Japanese language. The hunt was frustrating and prolonged but still an illuminating experience – one that inspired newfound virtues including patience and perseverance. Chris competed against dozens and sometimes hundreds of other applicants for every job, many of them overqualified professionals forced to lower their salary expectations. Finally, in April Chris was one of six finalists out of 300 candidates for a job he felt confident about getting. They never called him back and for the first time he felt discouraged. Of course, that is when he finally obtained his dream job utilizing his Japanese and technology skills for a company that is thriving and expanding internationally. Working full-time would have been an adjustment under the most favorable circumstances. God steered Chris to a position that requires – and pays – 55 to 65 hours per week over six days – and he loves it! He claims it is actually less stressful than his old part-time job.

I always believed in my son’s potential. He is extremely smart, an original wit and creative thinker. He is truly the funniest person I have ever known. I have lived long enough to see that he possesses an admirable work ethic and an unselfish heart. The challenges, setbacks and loss we shared over the past year were all the opportunity Chris needed to blossom – and did he ever!

In Praise of . . . Praise Music

2010-04-18T11:49:00.000-07:00

Within the community of believers are traditionalists who consider praise and worship music an unnecessary medium that should be limited to centuries old hymns whose lyrics are plucked from the King James Bible. I respectfully disagree and think that is a personal preference, not a commandment. When we pray, are we limited to only those words that appear in His word? Of course not. When David and Solomon composed their songs, their inspiration was God and they were working without a script. Any language that honors our Lord and expresses our faith is sufficient for Him to understand our meaning.

Among the purists are some who believe all secular music should be shunned. Should the Song of Songs be rejected as sacrilege? The love between a man and woman is celebrated throughout the Bible while marriage is compared to the union of Jesus and His church. Many of the words we use to describe our feelings for our Creator and Savior are the same we use to describe our deepest worldly loves.

I think of my communion with God as a completely perfect song with two necessary parts. The lyrics are the inspired word of God and the music is the Holy Spirit. Some people know the words but don't feel the music.

Paul McCartney wrote Maybe I'm Amazed for his first wife, Linda Eastman, early in their marriage and at the end of his career with the Beatles. McCartney had broken his engagement of several years to actress Jane Asher. He and his longtime friend and collaborator, John Lennon, were becoming estranged personally and professionally. The lyrics candidly convey the humility of a man whose life and self-image were in crisis.

Bryan Duncan is a Southern California-based gospel singer, musician and author who put his own distinctive Christian contemporary spin on Maybe I'm Amazed for his 2001 album Joyride. His blue-eyed soul interpretation features a brief but powerful detour into Amazing Grace. This song expresses my gratitude for God's unfailing love and fills me with the Holy Spirit.

He Is Risen - We Are Saved!

2010-04-04T13:26:00.000-07:00

If you have read the Gospel of our savior Jesus Christ or seen the film "The Passion of the Christ," you know how Jesus suffered the most painful, humiliating death imaginable during His life on earth. He did it to take the punishment for our sins and He will present us before the Father in heaven on Judgment Day.

As you watch the video clip below, ask yourself if you would endure every moment of His suffering for millions of people not yet born. He gave everything for us and to us and expects so little from us.

The Temper Trap: Sweet Disposition

2010-03-28T21:23:00.001-07:00

The Temper Trap is a newish band from Australia with an old New Wave sound. Their single, Sweet Disposition, is gaining airplay after being featured in the film 500 Days of Summer. The song's pulsating rhythm and jangly guitar recall some of the best 1980s bands including early U2 and The Sound UK.

Lead vocalist Dougie Mandagi's pure, haunting and yet joyous falsetto is reminiscent of Jimmy Somerville of the Bronski Beat and Communards, Jeff Buckley and Brian Wilson. The kid can dance, too, as though his spirit can't not dance. I know that feeling of being possessed by the music and his irrepressible moves look strangely familiar.

What's not to love?

sweet disposition
never too soon
oh, reckless abandon
like no one's watching you
a moment
a love
a dream
aloud
a kiss
a cry
our rights
our wrongs
a moment a love
a dream
aloud
a moment a love
a dream
aloud

so stay there
cause i'll be coming over
and while our blood's still young
it's so young, it runs
and won't stop til it's over
won't stop to surrender

songs of desperation
i played them for you
a moment
a love
a dream
aloud
a kiss
a cry
our rights
our wrongs
a moment a love
a dream
aloud
a moment a love
a dream
aloud

so stay there
cause i'll be coming over
and while our blood's still young
it's so young, it runs
and won't stop til it's over
won't stop to surrender

Here is the original video:

The Temper Trap - Sweet Disposition

The Temper Trap | MySpace Music Videos

And here is the brand new video with just a tease of Dougie's dance moves:

Temper Trap - Sweet Disposition (NEW OFFICIAL VIDEO) from Daniel Eskils on Vimeo.

American Idol: Season Nine or Nein?

2010-03-07T19:42:00.000-08:00

Is it just me or has American Idol stopped being must-see TV? Are you saying "nein" to season nine?

That’s a rhetorical question since I know several fans who have watched the Fox juggernaut since season one and recently become casual or lapsed viewers. Clearly, it’s not just me. But I wonder how widespread this phenomenon is. The ratings will tell.

Due to a particularly busy life, I am catching up with the first two week’s semifinal episodes on Sunday afternoons. I find the contestants to be very likable, talented and varied. The vibe this season is mellow, even among the judges. Ellen DeGeneres, in my opinion, is a welcome addition and substantive critic. I am encouraging my friends to give this season a chance before becoming attached to a new Tuesday night favorite. But I understand the reasons they got burnt out after season 8 and there are exactly two: Kara DioGuardi and Adam Lambert.

A fourth judge is superfluous. The panel’s reactions and interactions with Ryan Seacrest eat up precious air time better left to the performers. Kara in particular talks too much and doesn’t offer anything unique enough as a judge to justify her presence. She and Paula Abdul were redundant last year and she and Ellen are redundant this year – not because they are females per se, but they both fill the role of the constructive, nurturing critic. One is enough and Ellen at least brings much needed humor of the self-effacing type blended with pinpointed criticism that judges not named Simon Cowell tend to pussyfoot around. Kara and Simon also share the same top 40 pop/rock sensibility, but Cowell is still the judge to please and impress. Randy Jackson’s value is as a rock musician and producer, which I have come to appreciate even more as the show has attracted rock musician contestants. That leaves Kara as the unnecessary fourth leg on the stool.

I don’t dislike Kara and give her credit for improving tremendously this year, but she has one idiosyncrasy that bugs. Often when she is talking to a black performer, she becomes a character I like to call Ghetto Barbie. Suddenly she gets this distinctly urban accent, her neck swivels and she uses exaggerated hand gestures. What is up with that?

We’re stuck with four judges for another season and so far the time crunch, coupled with Abdul's absence, has made Simon a more succinct and precise critic, which is a net plus. But the Adam Lambert circus is over. Anti-Adamites, it’s safe to come back to your TV on Tuesday nights.

Look, I was an early Lambert lover – in a purely platonic way, of course. Based on his videos prior to the show, I thought he was the most gifted vocalist in the franchise’s history and was thrilled by his potential. I still do and am. But Adam aspires to be more - or less - than a great singer. He mounted each performance as though he was submitting it to the Oscars as a short form video nominee. The intensity with which he attacked and complicated each song, rather than inhabited and interpreted it, was ultimately exhausting. I adored Adam’s version of Ring of Fire, but each successive week I started to miss a certain dread headed troubadour from season seven more and more. Jason Castro understood and understands the beauty of a song sung from the heart with respect and honesty. I knew from the start that Adam was a performance artist, but I was disappointed when he consistently prioritized performance values over vocal artistry, preferring to emulate the personality-driven success of Madonna and Lady Gaga instead of the musical legacy of artists like David Bowie, Freddie Mercury and Matt Bellamy of Muse, who contributed a song to Adam's debut.

It’s not news that Adam was a polarizing contestant due to the AI crew’s inability to curb their manipulations to benefit their favorite. Adam’s sexuality became controversial, but I believe it was his sexually charged performances probably more than his choice of offscreen partners that alienated a larger share of AI fans. The people I know who had a “problem” with Adam were similarly turned off by Constantine Maroulis four years earlier for skeevy behavior they found inappropriate on a family-oriented TV show. Furthermore, I did not see any campaigns online to attack Adam for his sexuality and in fact saw the opposite - vicious attacks on Danny Gokey's faith by Lambert fans. Adam is not responsible for the drama caused by his fans, but the drama he manufactured onstage is gone. Meanwhile, the show’s inherent machinations remain the same.

The judges have their favorites and they are never subtle about promoting them. My favorites are Crystal Bowersox, Andrew Garcia, and Michael Lynche, followed by Lilly Scott, Siobhan Magnus and Alex Lambert. I’m concerned that Andrew Garcia is getting the Danny Gokey frontrunner-turned-threat-to-the-chosen-one treatment. I haven’t voted for any contestant since Jason Castro, although I am tempted to vote for Andrew. Of course, I’d have to actually watch the show on Tuesday nights again, but Andrew is sucking me in with his sandpaper smooth vocals and touching backstory. He reminds me of another underdog, Elliott Yamin, but with more confidence and instrumental talent to boot. You can catch the entire season five cast of memorable characters, including Elliott, on American Idol Rewind.

Speaking of Danny Gokey, did you see him performing on Thursday’s results show? Last season I got fed up with the crass and sometimes scary ugliness permitted to fester on some major AI fan sites, including an especially big blog where I used to be a regular. The hate and intolerance unleashed against Danny was appalling. I defy you not to enjoy the infectious optimism of My Best Days Are Ahead of Me.

Sunday Worship Music

2010-03-07T09:07:00.000-08:00

I have been busy with family, friends, work, church, and time sensitive projects, which is the reason for my spotty blogging. My health is still stable and I certainly didn't mean for my absence to panic my prayer warriors out there. I will post more faithfully whenever I have time.

Jesus Lover of My Soul by Kara is a worship song that resonates deeply within me. A different composition from the 1700s with the same title is one of over 6,000 hymns credited to Charles Wesley, including the popular Christmas carol Hark the Herald Angels Sing. The greater legacy of Charles Wesley and his brother, John, is a rejection of the Calvinist movement adopted by some of their contemporaries in the English speaking clergy.

Deathbed Dating: A Valentine to Hope

2010-02-08T20:42:00.000-08:00

Do these jeans make my butt look single? Maybe it’s my deceptively youthful hairdo.

When I married for the second time nearly 10 years ago, I happily bid adieu forever to dating, which I never really enjoyed. Dating was invented so young people could choose the best spouse-for-life available. Over the decades – my teens, twenties, thirties and forties – dating seemed like a series of interviews for a job I probably didn’t want in a workplace where sexual harassment is a socially acceptable perk.

Now, at age 53, I find myself on the verge of a divorce I never expected and the recipient of male attention I never solicited. Men from my past and men who want a piece of my future - or a piece of something, anyway - are forcing me to recycle my trusty old polite refusals when I yearn to say, "I vant to be alone." I was unforgivably rude to the first gentleman who asked me out last fall after my marital collapse. I stared at the poor guy, horrified and completely unprepared to respond, squelching an inappropriate outburst of laughter. I quickly apologized and explained my complicated situation, but he was justifiably offended. Months later I saw him on The Millionaire Matchmaker.

My marriage may feel like a legal technicality that I can blissfully ignore until forcibly reminded of it, but I am assured that it is quite real in the eyes of God, whom I seek to please above all. My STBX (soon to be ex-husband) Luis has provided ample Biblical grounds to justify divorce, but the Bible makes clear that I may not remarry until he does and I'm fine with that. Nothing personal against the nice, attractive men I have met recently and I am flattered by their invitations, but dating is near the bottom of my list of Things to Do Before I Die, slightly above bungee jumping, worm eating and sword swallowing. I would be a very contented spinster if I had a companion as sweet and loving as my late, lamented, legendary Tigerlily. Unlike my STBX, my Maine Coon remained loyal to the end and never tom-catted around on me.

I met Luis several years after avowing that I had given up on men. I had been a single mom for a long time and was - still am - perfectly comfortable in that niche. I joked to friends that, if I tripped over a diamond, I would probably pick it up - which is figuratively how I met Luis, who came to work where I lived. I was so committed to avoiding another mistake that I put him through every conceivable premarital test of his maturity and character. My sister believed that God had sent him to me and, although I was well aware of his vanities and weaknesses, I considered myself the luckiest woman in the world.

I have been living with breast cancer for seven years and in stage 4, when it is considered incurable, since 2006. Luis deserves credit for being as loving and supportive as any woman battling cancer would want her husband to be - at least, he was during my first two episodes of cancer. He committed his life to Christ after my 2006 recurrence and presumptuously took credit for the miraculous remission that followed as though he had paid my debt to God and I was healed forever. When I was diagnosed at the end of 2008 with additional metastases that invaded my liver and thoracic region, Luis began to change in ways not outwardly apparent even to me, the person who knew him best.

During the course of my cancer treatment, I have grown several large tumors and seen them disappear as though they never existed. When Luis started to exhibit strange, scary, sadistic behavior toward me last July, I felt like I was watching the formation of a terrible malignancy that gobbled up all his good cells until he was unrecognizable and finally gone. Although he apologized for it before he moved out, he systematically and relentlessly tried to convince me to stop chemotherapy to die for his convenience. Like the tumors in my breast, on my hip and throughout my liver, Luis had become a thief and a murderer - and I would not wish him back. I will not let my STBX steal any of the blessings God has granted me, even if my peace and joy continue to confuse some men drawn to a smiling face.

I dare not second guess God and His plan for me, but I cannot imagine signing myself up for another experiment in romantic love. On a strictly superficial level, I would dread getting to that point in my relationship with Tom or Harry – I’m done with Dicks – when I am forced to reveal the physical battlefield of cancer. My body is like a topographic map of the doomed trail immortalized by the Donner party. This is where we slaughtered our oxen. There is the camp where we faced imminent death and agonized over our options to forestall it. Oops! Don't look here.

If I tried to write a personal profile for eHarmony, it would read like that old joke about a newspaper ad for a lost pet described thus: “Three legs, blind in one eye, tail broken, missing right ear, recently castrated. Answers to the name Lucky.” Nevertheless, I believe it is possible to find a kind, caring man who would accept me and my collateral damage. According to a new biography, Warren Beatty was more than willing to satisfy the desires of a woman whose husband rejected her after a mastectomy. But it is the invisible scar tissue holding my battered heart together that I don't want anyone to see or touch.

I learned a lot from my first divorce and vowed never to repeat it. I had wanted a baby in the worst way, so I married one. My first husband was emotionally paralyzed after childhood physical abuse and completely devoid of any relationship skills. When we actually had a son together, I foolishly expected him to be transformed into a devoted father. When I packed up and left, it was more habit-breaking than heartbreaking.

My STBX Luis, whom I loved and trusted more than anyone under God, stopped loving me because he finally acknowledged I was going to die and leave him alone. In a virtual instant, his tender feelings, his years of devotion, his humanity, his Christianity vanished. What lesson can I derive from this experience that would improve my next relationship? Don't get cancer? Don't die?

I helped raise two nephews. I adore my son and we have always been close. I'm not a man hater. I love and appreciate and sympathize with men. But it took me sixteen years before I would commit to another husband. During those single years, I was guided by the words of a wise friend and former in-law who told me, "Only a good man is better than no man at all." For eight years, I thought I found the very best man, but in truth my STBX was just as damaged as my first husband. He simply hadn't been tested yet.

My oncologist cannot guarantee me another sixteen months, much less years, to figure out what the hell happened. Frankly, I am so relieved after months of chaos and wickedness that I do not want to waste sixteen days analyzing my second marriage or my second husband. I have, as they say, moved on. I count as a blessing that Luis's mask dropped when I was still around to help my family adjust to the truth.

I have always been envious of the resilient optimism displayed by elderly couples who find last love in their twilight years, especially since cancer forced me to reassess my own measurement of time. I get misty-eyed thinking of all the people in this impatient world with so much to offer except the promise of longevity. I pondered and I wondered: Is there a dating service that caters to their needs? And does it have a drive-thru window?

As any Super Bowl quarterback can tell you, it takes uncommon courage to hear the 2 minute warning as a call to action when the temptation to run out the clock must be overwhelming. I seriously want to help these brave souls overcome fear and defy the odds - as seriously as any broke, terminally ill, determined spinster can be.

I already have a name, One Foot on a Banana Peel™, but I need a business model and some startup funds, thank you very much. If interested, please inquire within. That is one proposition I would gladly welcome!

SB Sunday 2010

2010-02-07T16:08:00.000-08:00

We're having a Super Bowl partay at our house catered by the Shingle Belle. That's just a silly nickname I'm using as I recover from a recurrence of the shingles probably caused by stress over finances and job instability. Apparently, shingles can strike twice, although God has blessed me with a much milder case than I had twenty years ago.

What's on the menu? Nothing on a shingle, I can assure you. The theme, if there is one, is clean-out-the-pantry-and-freezer-and-shake-down-the-avocado-tree. It's good stuff. Are you itchin' to come over?

Hot Spinach and Artichoke Dip

Crab Cocktail Dip

Layered Mexican Dip

Guacamole

Tostito Scooops

Ruffles Potato Chips

Cheese and Crackers

Deviled Eggs

No Bean Chili

Baby Back Ribs

Barbecue Beans

Bacon and Cheese Potato Casserole

Cheddar Scalloped Corn

Espresso Irish Cream Bundt Cake

Seriously, who objects to the Tim and Pam Tebow commercial from Focus on the Family? Wusses!

Here is another adorable ad that celebrates life - plus it has a song I can't get out of my head.

Listen to the Rhythm of the Pounding Rain

2010-01-20T22:24:00.000-08:00

This afternoon I was watching the local news during my chemotherapy treatment to track the progress of the third storm system invading southern California this week, which thankfully did not wreak massive damage today as predicted. My inner jukebox began playing a series of rainy day songs, mostly treasures from my childhood. With a big nudge from Mr. Jukebox, I created a list of my favorites whittled down to thirteen, which follow in chronological order.

Long before he was a convicted killer, Phil Spector was the most influential record producer of the rock and roll era. He single-handedly revolutionized studio craft, which had been the domain of record label executives, and emboldened other pioneering artists, most notably Brian Wilson, to take greater control of their own product.

Spector was not a performer, but he developed a stable of talent whose recordings were bound by his trademark "wall of sound." The Ronettes, perhaps the most famous of Spector's girl groups, were named after lead singer Ronnie Bennett, who became Mrs. Spector and whose ballsy vocals are echoed by Chrissie Hynde of the Pretenders and Shirley Manson of Garbage.

Walking in the Rain by the Ronettes (1964)

The career of Scott Walker is the cautionary tale of one man defying the odds, industry expectations and conventional wisdom. The Walker Brothers were an American trio, neither related by blood nor born with the surname Walker. During the 1960s British rock invasion of the U.S., they migrated against the tide to England where their chart success and fan club rivaled the Beatles'. Scott Walker remained in the U.K. but left the band for a solo career, embracing progressively more experimental styles and genres over the next four decades.

Walker was an early interpreter of Belgian troubadour Jacques Brel, introducing selections from his often risqué repertoire to the British audience on his first solo albums. David Bowie, who admits to emulating Scott's distinctive baritone and avant-garde sensibility, produced 30 Century Man, the acclaimed 2006 documentary about the reclusive Walker that is available on DVD.

Among his many achievements, Scott and the Walker Brothers recorded one of the very first music videos for their breakthrough single, The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore. At the age of ten, when my friends were still debating whether Paul or George was the cutest Beatle, I had my first serious crush on Scott Walker based on one album my sister left behind when she moved out.

The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore by the Walker Brothers (1966)

I owe my love of rock and roll to my sister, Donna, who was a decade older and had an eclectic music collection, which she generously shared with me despite the many vinyl records that I scratched and warped. She did some go-go dancing and modeling of sorts in the mid-1960s on the periphery of the burgeoning Hollywood rock scene when the East Coast folkies arrived to become the next big thing. Of all the folk rock groups she met, the Lovin' Spoonful and Buffalo Springfield were her favorites.

Rain on the Roof by the Lovin' Spoonful (1966)

The Cowsills were a real family, unlike the Partridge TV prototype they inspired, who were perhaps the first pop practitioners of what was later dubbed the bubblegum genre. Sugar in large doses can rot your teeth and overstimulate your pancreas, but who can resist a tasty, homemade confection like this?

The Rain, the Park and Other Things by the Cowsills (1967)

My sister enjoyed an amazing variety of music, none more than soul and R&B for which she had an undeniable mojo. I remember dancing with her in our den as a preschooler to the Brook Benton duets with Dinah Washington. Back in the early 1960s, she was often one of the few white girls at an Ike and Tina Turner Revue, but she was always a rebel and never let color lines inhibit her.

Brook Benton was an underrated talent with a fluid voice as smooth as ice cream melting on your tongue and prolific songwriting chops. When I was in junior high school, I thought his comeback hit single Rainy Night in Georgia was the most bittersweet romantic song I'd ever heard. In retrospect, I realize that my pubescent hormones were responding to the wistful, world weary sensuality of his vocal, especially his baritone range which he used ingeniously to punctuate his lyrics. Like Lou Rawls, when I listen to a Brook Benton record, I have a hard time imagining a better singer.

Rainy Night in Georgia by Brook Benton (1970)

Elvis Presley was a seminal rock and roll artist blessed with more charisma and soulful magic than was good for him. Regrettably, he was cursed with a greedy manager, Colonel Tom Parker, who attached his client to a long string of tacky movies and albums that tarnished the franchise. By the late 1960s, the King defied the Colonel to assert control over his languishing career. This redemptive era began with the milestone TV special, The '68 Comeback, followed by a series of Memphis recordings marked by great writing and production values that catapulted Presley back to his throne on the music charts, including If I Can Dream, Suspicious Minds and Kentucky Rain.

Kentucky Rain by Elvis Presley (1970)

I would have liked the Carpenters even if I hadn't met them repeatedly due to their close, longtime friendship with my high school chorus teacher. They seemed too normal and middle class to keep me in awe for long. Richard was an innately smart songwriter and arranger with a gift for picking the right cover song. Karen, a standout female alto crooner in an industry long dominated by sopranos and a competent drummer besides, was simultaneously the non-threatening girl next door and a unique musical presence. Her forlorn voice turned every melody into an ode to unrequited love, which paralleled her heartbreaking personal life.

Rainy Days and Mondays by the Carpenters (1971)

I am not really a John Mellencamp fan except for the brilliant Rain on the Scarecrow. Music is more compelling to me than lyrics and Mellencamp is foremost an unapologetic message artist, but his guitar lines hooked me immediately. Even my then two-year-old son Chris rocked out to the record.

Rain on the Scarecrow by John Mellencamp (1985)

Matt Johnson wrote and performed many wonderful songs that you probably never heard of but you should. After he disbanded The The, which was essentially Johnson backed by his session musicians du jour, he collaborated with revered artists including Johnny Marr and Sinead O'Connor, with whom he shared lead vocals on Kingdom of Rain. Johnson's incessant gum chewing distracted me from the romantic subplot of the video, but it's still a great song.

Kingdom of Rain by The The (1989)

Adrian Belew has carved out an interesting career as the singer and guitarist for the progressive rock group King Crimson, who recorded one of my all-time favorite songs, Heartbeat. Belew was also in great demand as a musician for hire by cutting edge artists - like David Bowie, David Byrne and Laurie Anderson - and a producer of two tracks on the Jars of Clay's debut album, including their crossover breakthrough hit Flood. I saw JOC at the Disneyland House of Blues in October 2007 and it was a completely satisfying concert experience.

Flood by the Jars of Clay (1995)

Shirley Manson of Garbage is one of my all-time favorite chick singers, the others being Roni Spector and Chrissie Hynde. I don't think Shirley would mind that description or being in such legendary company.

Only Happy When It Rains by Garbage (1995)

Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head was written by the inestimable Burt Bacharach and originally recorded by B.J. Thomas for the Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid soundtrack. For his TV special One Amazing Night, Bacharach asked the Ben Folds Five to perform the 1960s classic. Ben Folds never fails to entertain and I especially enjoyed Bacharach's smiles of unabashed delight when the trio tweaked the original arrangement.

Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head by Ben Folds Five (1998)

Day of Fire recorded an amazing debut, Fire, with well-crafted, hook-laden songs. Their successive albums are not as accessible nor, in my opinion, appealing. I don't understand why artists such as DOF and JOC who are so gifted and soar in Christian contemporary music would prefer to sound ordinary and uninspired like the world.

Rain Song by Day of Fire (2004)

It Never Rains in Southern California? Hah!

2010-01-18T20:24:00.000-08:00

Here in sunny southern California, we have been in the throes of a dry El Niño until yesterday, when the first of four "epic" storms anticipated to last all week moved across our region. Thus far the sandbags are holding and the fire-damaged areas are free of mudslides.

We live in Costa Mesa, which is Spanish for "coastal table." It is a wonderful town, literally a flatland by the sea with a history of epic flooding. Our neighborhood was so waterlogged today that the Orange County Register dispatched a photographer who captured the daring boy below canoeing on an adjacent block.

These pictures show the damage on our street, but our home is fine.

24 Debuts Tonight: The Beginning of the End?

2010-01-17T14:27:00.000-08:00

The season 8 premiere of 24 debuts tonight on Fox at 9:00pm Pacific Time (check your local listings). Entertainment Weekly has a brief preview of the cast and characters, including an update about future seasons.

Asked about season 9, director Brad Turner told EW, “We can tell you one thing for sure: we’re not picked up yet. What I’ve been saying to everybody is that if the audience shows up, that’s a very good possibility. Because people – Kiefer and Howard [Gordon] – want to do it again. Which is good for our fans. But our fans have to realize that waiting for the DVD is not gonna help us. We gotta mobilize and watch the show.”

24 Season 8 Trailer

A Tale of Two Videos: Brown vs. Coakley

2010-01-13T21:10:00.000-08:00

This week two videos illuminated the character of the major party candidates in the special Senate election on Tuesday, January 19, 2010, in Massachusetts. Which video will have the greater impact on voters?

Some are calling this Republican Scott Brown's "Reagan moment."

Reporter John McCormack was pushed down and around by Obama appointee Michael Meehan as he accompanied Democrat Martha Coakley, who witnessed the incident on a public sidewalk in Washington, D.C. and later misrepresented it to the press. You can see Meehan coming up quickly behind McCormack and his arms thrusting forward just before McCormack fell. After helping McCormack back up, Meehan tried to block him from following Coakley to join other reporters asking the candidate innocuous campaign questions.

Jason Castro Debut EP Now Available

2010-01-13T20:20:00.000-08:00

Jason Castro's debut, The Love Uncompromised EP, is finally available for purchase. If you use this Amazon link to download the MP3, you will help Jason and his loyal friends at Castrocopia, which is a site devoted to the daydreaming boy who captured and enraptured us on American Idol, along with Jeff Buckley and great music in general.

Here is the official video of Jason performing Let's Fall in Love Again. How can you resist buying the EP? At the bargain price of $4.95 for 5 charmingly sincere folkie songs, Jason will only steal your heart, not your hard-earned cash.

Haiti Earthquake Caught on Video

2010-01-13T20:07:00.000-08:00

CBS News acquired a video of the earthquake from a camera stationed next to some homes, which you can watch collapse (h/t Hot Air). I guess the ersthwhile Tiffany network isn't completely worthless as they also posted this list of charities to aid Haitian victims. I am praying and donating to Calvary Chapel Costa Mesa's relief fund.

None of us knows how much time we are allotted on earth. Death is an inevitable transition into eternity and the cutoff point for you to be assured of God's grace by salvation. I beg you to stop squandering precious time to begin a beautiful ending with our Savior, Jesus Christ.

Beautiful Ending by Barlow Girl

Talking Turkey, Trader Joe's Style

2010-01-05T21:13:00.000-08:00

Even in southern California, where grocery stores are plentiful and diverse, it is difficult to find really good turkey breast. Deli cases are stocked with multiple choices of sliced turkey meat, which usually fall into two basic categories. The turkey comes from a real or rolled roast plumped up with broth, imbuing it with an unnatural flavor, or else the turkey is so processed that it looks like white ham and tastes like generic lunch meat.

The best sliced turkey breast I have found is available at the Katella Deli-Restaurant-Bakery in Los Alamitos. My mother, born in the Bronx and raised by German chefs, was thrilled to discover the Katella Deli when we moved to the area in 1964 and shopped there twice a month as long as she lived in Orange County. Their turkey breast tastes just like Thanksgiving leftovers if you had a professional meat slicer at home, but you can eat it year-round. You will pay for the quality - plus all the goodies from the adjacent bakery that you won't be able to resist.

Packages of sliced turkey breast from Trader Joe's are much more budget friendly and darn close to the homemade goodness of Katella's. You can buy regular or smoked turkey breast (pictured below) in slices that perfectly fit Katella Bakery's amazing long loaves of Jewish corn rye bread with carraway seeds. Just add Best Foods mayonnaise and your favorite fixin's - and you have a match made in sandwich heaven.

My New Year's Resolutions for 2010

2010-01-01T11:27:00.000-08:00

New Year's Day 2009 found me back in chemotherapy for my third battle with breast cancer, which had invaded most of my liver and my thoracic region. Before I committed my life to Christ earlier in my cancer odyssey, I was guided by a moral compass inherited from my parents that was based on deferred gratification as a reward for good works. I would devise and then revise resolutions habitually until cancer and, more significantly, faith liberated me from the illusion that I am in control.

One year ago today, I looked into the future, saw a huge question mark and was perfectly content. I trusted God to provide everything I need and I trusted my husband, who was studying for the ministry, to stand beside me as His plan unfolds. Halfway through the year, my husband began to fail God and fail me. But my Savior fulfilled all His promises to love me in sickness and in health.

My life is a series of surprises and 2009 was no exception. In January I was closer to death than ever and wondered if I would see another birthday. By December my cancer - although not considered by medical science to be curable - was beaten back to almost undetectable levels. For the first six months of the year, my husband remained the steadfast soulmate who made my life worth fighting for. For the last six months, he was a sadistic stranger who demanded that I stop chemotherapy and die for his convenience.

I have seen the Lord's handiwork in countless blessings showered upon me during the darkest days of 2009. I survived to see my son becoming the man I prayed he would be. I have been living with cancer for seven years and am as content as ever. I have no idea what God has planned for me next, but I can't wait to find out.

The only resolutions I made for 2010 are contained in the lyrics of a song from my youth. To paraphrase Day by Day from the movie musical Godspell, I will strive:

1. To see God more clearly.
2. To love Him more dearly.
3. To follow Him more nearly.

I wish you and your loved ones faith, good health and contentment throughout the new year.

My Top 10 Favorite Songs of 2009

2009-12-31T22:24:00.000-08:00

I always enjoy reading those best-of-year lists and used to compile my own back in the day, but I have become so removed from secular pop culture that most of the names on those lists are unfamiliar to me. Music still holds my interest and Christian contemporary is my preferred genre.

I have enough favorite songs, sacred and secular, from 2009 to compile a top 10 list. In no particular order, here they are.

Carolina Liar: Show Me What I'm Looking for

Selah: Hosanna

Silversun Pickups: Panic Switch

Plumb: God-Shaped Hole (2010)

Bat for Lashes with Scott Walker: The Big Sleep

Steven Curtis Chapman: Heaven Is the Face

Phoenix: Lisztomania

Lifehouse: Broken

Doves: Kingdom of Rust

Chris Tomlin: I Will Rise

JibJab Retrospective: Never A Year Like '09

2009-12-30T17:02:00.000-08:00

The funny folks at JibJab have created an animated video compiling the most memorable public moments of 2009. Did they miss anybody?

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Pastor Chuck Smith Suffers "Mild Stroke"

2009-12-28T18:34:00.000-08:00

Pastor Chuck Smith, founder and pastor of Calvary Chapel Costa Mesa, reportedly suffered "a very mild stroke" yesterday morning. According to the Orange County Register, spokeswoman Laura Jackson said, "He's recovering well. The doctors want him to have a chance to rest. That's all the family wants to say right now." Smith is 82 years old.

I first attended CCCM during the Jesus People movement of the 1970s, which Pastor Chuck is widely credited with fostering, and returned to the church in 2008. During the intervening 35 years, Calvary Chapel grew into an international fellowship of more than 1,000 evangelical churches, Bible colleges, and radio stations.

Smith is a beloved, iconic, enormously influential figure whose ministry continues to focus on expository preaching of the Scripture as it did when he established Calvary Chapel in 1965. On Sunday evenings, he still teaches a study of the Bible verse by verse and in October 2009 started Genesis anew after completing Revelation for the umpteenth time, in addition to leading weekly Sunday morning worship services. He has tirelessly inspired and supported generations of ministers, including Greg Laurie, Raul Ries, Mike Macintosh, Pancho Juarez and Skip Heitzig, among countless others. But there is only one Pastor Chuck.

Here is Pastor Chuck Smith delivering a recent sermon on the topic "Are You Ready to Meet God?"

John Pinette: I Say Nay Nay

2009-12-27T10:15:00.000-08:00

When I desperately needed to laugh this fall, blogger, patriot and Tea Partier extraordinaire Colonal Manly Rash introduced me to the comic stylings of John Pinette. Pinette is that rare comedian - hysterically funny without being mean, physically graceful while simultaneously chubby and cherubic, and thoroughly entertaining without relying on profanity.

John Pinette is headlining the Irvine Improv on New Year's Eve and a few dates afterward. I will be otherwise occupied with lots of delicious food and loved ones, but I'm sure it will be a hoot. Here is the best of Pinette in six parts. Don't hurt yourself!

He Has Come and He Will Come Again

2009-12-25T10:40:00.000-08:00

Thank you, dearest Lord, for your precious Son, our Savior, and for the gift of this and every day to celebrate His birth. Let us praise Him with our voices, our hearts and our lives!

Mercy Me has become one of my favorite bands from any genre. Enjoy in good company and great health!

Muppets Christmas 2009: Ring Them Bells

2009-12-23T13:25:00.000-08:00

After their viral Bohemian Rhapsody video, the Muppets are back to help us ring our Christmas bells.

Here is a more traditional version of Carol of the Bells synchronized to Christmas house lights.

And here is the Ray Conniff Singers version from my childhood performed with the original ostinato, a four-note repetition alternating between the bells and "ring ring ring ring" lyrics throughout the song.

Breath of Heaven: ASL Interpretation for the Deaf

2009-12-22T21:07:00.000-08:00

Among all of Amy Grant's Christian recordings, my favorite is the exquisite Chris Eaton composition Breath of Heaven, which has been covered although never surpassed by dozens of other vocalists, in my opinion. The song is written from the perspective of Mary, the mother of Jesus.

According to Scripture, Mary was a girl used by God who trusted His plan and remained obedient to Him throughout her life. She was neither a deity nor an object of worship, but she provides an example of faithful submission that we can emulate regardless of the nature of His calling to us. The same can be said of her husband, Joseph, who doesn't inspire the same historic fascination or creative intensity as Mary. As far as I can discern, the primary difference that distinguishes Mary from Joseph and explains the disparity in the attention each receives is the mystery of immaculate conception and the virgin birth.

The video below features one American Sign Language interpretation of Eaton's lyrics. My brother Richard is deaf since birth and enjoys "singing" with his hands in church. God is merciful.

Jason Castro Sings Feliz Navidad

2009-12-21T07:11:00.000-08:00

In anticipation of the March 31, 2010 release of his debut album on Atlantic Records, Jason Castro continues his tour of small venues throughout the U.S. Recently he added some seasonal favorites to his repertoire, including Feliz Navidad, originally made popular by José Feliciano.

Jason is of Colombian heritage and his father René was a singer before him. Jason's performance style and public persona are defined by a soft, natural sweetness that seems especially heartfelt and authentic when he sings in Spanish, the native language of his parents. During his season of American Idol, Jason performed an underrated bilingual version of Sting's Fragile. I really enjoy the organic way he integrates his family's culture and faith into the music and hope he continues.

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time

2009-12-20T12:49:00.000-08:00

While I am out simply having a wonderful Christmas time, enjoy these versions of the song that celebrates, well, simply having a wonderful Christmas time.

Paul and Linda McCartney

Jars of Clay

Birthday Etiquette, Divorce Style

2009-12-17T21:45:00.000-08:00

How does an abandoned wife properly commemorate a very special celebration of an estranged husband who wanted her dead by his next birthday? Well, this wife has a warped sense of humor that refuses to die, coupled with an incorrigible jukebox in her head stocked with an endless supply of music for every idle thought and occasion.

Several weeks ago, I performed a grand sweep of my documents, emails and calendars to purge them of all reminders of my STBX (soon to be ex-husband). One deleted reminder was of his upcoming birthday. Guess which song began to play in a continuous loop on my inner jukebox?

Was it the Beatles' Happy Birthday?

We may be going to a party party and I hope we have a good time - at different addresses forever more, of course.

How about a new wave Happy Birthday by Altered Images?

This song elicits memories of early KROQ radio when they overplayed this frivolous little record quite simply because new wave was still in its toddler years and there weren't a lot of better options. It's far happier and poppier than my jukebox selection, though.

Happy Birthday by Concrete Blonde?

You'll never catch Johnette Napolitano jumping out of a birthday cake. This isn't the right song, but we're getting warmer.

Happy Birthday Guadalupe by the Killers deserves at least an honorable mention.

The Killers' birthday offering is also a Christmas song, at least marginally, and it honors the Mexican culture from which my Guanajuato born STBX likes to distance himself. But, no, this ain't it, either.

I'll spare you the birthday tributes by the Chipmunks, Michael Jackson and Marilyn Monroe to reveal the one song out of dozens available that my inner jukebox, quite independent of my personal preference to take the high road here, decided was the perfect selection to cue up for this occasion. Mr. Jukebox is clearly more vindictive than I, but I'm up for any excuse to promote Morrissey's lyrical excesses and Johnny Marr's sublime guitar work.

For the record, so to speak, I am not wishing anyone named Luis or Rosas an Unhappy Birthday - and it's not today, anyway. Every day since he left has been a happy unbirthday for me and my family, so I am in a forgiving, charitable mood. Unlike my STBX, I don't wish my spouse dead or ill. I actually wish him to be regenerated and reconciled with God.

Any resemblance between the lyrics and my personal circumstances is just a lucky guess by Mr. Jukebox. My conscience is perfectly clear and I can enjoy the Smiths' snarky humor without guilt. Join me, won't you?

Ben Folds: Singer, Songwriter, TV Judge?

2009-12-16T21:58:00.000-08:00

First, a shout out to Nick, my fellow Ben Folds fan. Ben's been classing up NBC this week. Have you seen him?

The best reason to watch the newest talent show The Sing Off is the multi-talented Mr. Folds, my all-time favorite piano rocker and now my favorite TV panelist. His judging flows as whimsically from his distinct musical perspective as does his catalog of personal, ironic and sometimes twisted songs. He instantly elevates a program that would otherwise be just another forgettable singing competition.

You can catch up with missed episodes at Hulu and enjoy his music videos on YouTube.

Here is a sampling of the many moods of Ben Folds, which are often sweetened with a bowl of sugar spiked with salt.

Vengeful: One Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces.

Self-effacing: Army.

Bitter and bilingual: Song for the Dumped.

Mockingly envious: Battle of Who Could Care Less.

Mocking his southern heritage: Your Redneck Past.

Wistful and wishful: Where's Summer B?

A romantic cynic: Fair.

A poetic romantic: The Luckiest.

O Come, Emmanuel

2009-12-15T21:12:00.000-08:00

I first saw Amy Grant on MTV in her 1985 Find a Way video. She radiated a wholesome, winsome innocence that was as rare as it was appealing. Her coltish dance moves only added to her authenticity. By the making of this video, Grant had already recorded seven albums and formed a successful songwriting collaboration with Michael W. Smith, whose heavily synthesized keyboards - typical of 1980s pop music - dominated their hit singles.

Emmanuel from 1986 is one of my favorite Christian contemporary and Christmas songs. The lyrics consist of a simple, repetitive praise to Jesus.

Emmanuel, Emmanuel.
Wonderful, Counselor!
Lord of life, Lord of all;
He's the Prince of Peace, Mighty God, Holy One!
Emmanuel, Emmanuel.

This Christmas by Elliott Yamin

2009-12-13T21:20:00.000-08:00

In the history of the American Idol franchise, there has never been a more memorable character or more soulful singer than Elliott Yamin. Elliott was the poor, down-on-his-luck kid turned overnight star based strictly on pure, raw talent. In a contest dominated by veteran performers grasping for one last shot at the brass ring, Elliott came the closest to fulfilling AI's purported search for undiscovered talent.

Just seeing Elliott makes my heart melt. Hearing him jam on a Donny Hathaway classic like A Song for You or This Christmas lifts my spirits and restores my hope.

If you missed season 5 the first time or just miss Elliott like I do, you can relive the magic on American Idol Rewind.

The Friendship Waltz Inspired by Brian Wilson

2009-12-10T22:45:00.000-08:00

I don't blog; therefore, I have a social life.

Well, I haven't blogged for a week - and what a busy week it's been. I have been blessed by wonderful friendships, some of them enduring since childhood, some forged by our young children and aging fitfully like our now adult children, some with Christian brothers and sisters sent by God to hold me up during my marital trauma. One advantage of separation from Mr. Jealous Controller is that I can renew my friendships without fear and feel free to socialize again on work nights - even three work nights in a row. Gasp!

More than six weeks ago, I made a Declaration of Independance - and now I am waltzing with angels again, Brian Wilson style.

Here's to my faithful friends, whom I love, and Brian Wilson, who wrote so many cherished songs that formed the soundtrack of my life, including the following - although he doesn't appear in the video recorded during his infamous reclusive years.

T Party Express: Time Is Running Out

2009-12-03T21:48:00.000-08:00

My T Party Express has finally arrived at its destination. My STBX (soon to be ex-husband) is out of the house forever and I sure don't want to run away from home any more.

I have more cool videos to post than I have grievances, so this format minus the gimmicky title will continue until I tire of it. Time is running out for the T Party Express and my STBX. I have a fun bus to catch.

Muse - Time Is Running Out

Fallin Angel | MySpace Video

Previous stops:

Drive That Fast by Kitchens of Distinction (1991).

Vapour Trail by Ride (1990).

We Gotta Get You a Woman by Todd Rundgren (1970).

I Saw the Light by Todd Rundgren (1972).

Hello It's Me by Todd Rundgren (1972).

Cold Morning Light by Todd Rundgren (1972).

It Wouldn't Have Made Any Difference by Todd Rundgren (1972).

Can We Still Be Friends? by Todd Rundgren (1978).

Time Heals (1981).

Weather with You by Crowded House (1991).

No Blue Skies by Lloyd Cole (1990).

Wicked Game by Chris Isaak (1989).

Blue Skies by Eva Cassidy (1996).

What a Wonderful World by Eva Cassidy and Katie Melua (2008).

Pick Yourself Up by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers (1936).

Special by Garbage (1998).

The Whole of the Moon by the Waterboys (1985).

Empty Me by Chris Sligh (2008).

So Long Self by Mercy Me (2006).

Here's Where the Story Ends by the Sundays (1990).

Broken by Lighthouse (2009).

God Shaped Hole by Plumb (1999).

The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King (1970).

Love and Regret by Deacon Blue (1989).

Real Gone Kid by Deacon Blue (1989).

My Book by the Beautiful South (1990).

A Little Time by the Beautiful South (1990).

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars (2005).

This Woman's Work by Kate Bush (1989).

Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division (1980).

Reptile by the Church (1988).

Accidents Will Happen by Elvis Costello (1979).

Tears Run Rings by Marc Almond (1987).

Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen (1984).

Love Lies Bleeding by Elton John (1973).

Last Time Forever by Squeeze (1985).

Conjure Me by the Afghan Whigs (1992).

Debonair by the Afghan Whigs (1993).

Hallelujah by Jason Castro (2009).

Total Recall by the Sound (1985).

Fly by Jars of Clay (2002).

Train in Vain by the Clash (1980).

It's My Life by Talk Talk (1984).

T Party Express: Kitchens of Distinction

2009-11-30T20:04:00.000-08:00

The T Party Express has a question for you. Do you remember where you were the first time you heard the band Kitchens of Distinction?

Maybe right here, right now, this is your introduction to the alternative trio from South London that recorded four albums from 1986 to 1996. If it is, then I have done my job.

Perhaps you have heard of Patrick Fitzgerald? No, not that Patrick Fitzgerald, but the bassist and lead singer of KOD. His voice sounds familiar, especially if you listen to modern rock radio. There is an uncanny aural resemblance to Paul Banks, the lead singer for Interpol.

I remember the first time I heard KOD's 1991 single Drive That Fast. I was in Bogart's, a cool little club in Long Beach, California, that hosted artists on their way up the wobbly ladder of success and on their way down the swift slide to oblivion. Nirvana played there in 1990 just before Smells Like Teen Spirit broke big. I missed that concert, but enjoyed seeing Concrete Blonde, Screaming Trees, Evan Dando, Julianna Hatfield, Poi Dog Pondering, Steve Kilbey and Marty Willson-Piper of the Church, Material Issue and - last but not least - Jellyfish in such an intimate venue.

Bogart's would show music videos in between live sets - the sort of videos that played randomly on MTV's 120 Minutes but never during the channel's prime time rotation. When the first images of Drive That Fast appeared on the monitors, my interest was immediately caught by the chord-driven guitar lines and Fitzgerald's dry, astringent vocals.

During the 1980s, the rock music industry seemed like a factory for mass-produced hair bands with loud amps that wanted to emulate Van Halen - Eddie, that is. Meanwhile, Johnny Marr of the Smiths single-handedly resurrected the Roger McGuinn school of jingly, jangly lead guitar licks. The Smiths' 1987 breakup left a void that clamored to be filled. KOD never became the second coming of the Smiths, but Drive That Fast has been a cherished favorite for 18 years - and counting.

The lyrics advocate free love between consenting adults as long as it's mutually convenient in the "I like you, but hey I don't want to tie you down or make you uncomfortable" way that never seems to produce long-term happiness. Kids, free love ain't free. Somebody always pays.

Drive That Fast by Kitchens of Distinction (1991).

Previous stops:

Vapour Trail by Ride (1990).

We Gotta Get You a Woman by Todd Rundgren (1970).

I Saw the Light by Todd Rundgren (1972).

Hello It's Me by Todd Rundgren (1972).

Cold Morning Light by Todd Rundgren (1972).

It Wouldn't Have Made Any Difference by Todd Rundgren (1972).

Can We Still Be Friends? by Todd Rundgren (1978).

Time Heals (1981).

Weather with You by Crowded House (1991).

No Blue Skies by Lloyd Cole (1990).

Wicked Game by Chris Isaak (1989).

Blue Skies by Eva Cassidy (1996).

What a Wonderful World by Eva Cassidy and Katie Melua (2008).

Pick Yourself Up by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers (1936).

Special by Garbage (1998).

The Whole of the Moon by the Waterboys (1985).

Empty Me by Chris Sligh (2008).

So Long Self by Mercy Me (2006).

Here's Where the Story Ends by the Sundays (1990).

Broken by Lighthouse (2009).

God Shaped Hole by Plumb (1999).

The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King (1970).

Love and Regret by Deacon Blue (1989).

Real Gone Kid by Deacon Blue (1989).

My Book by the Beautiful South (1990).

A Little Time by the Beautiful South (1990).

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars (2005).

This Woman's Work by Kate Bush (1989).

Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division (1980).

Reptile by the Church (1988).

Accidents Will Happen by Elvis Costello (1979).

Tears Run Rings by Marc Almond (1987).

Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen (1984).

Love Lies Bleeding by Elton John (1973).

Last Time Forever by Squeeze (1985).

Conjure Me by the Afghan Whigs (1992).

Debonair by the Afghan Whigs (1993).

Hallelujah by Jason Castro (2009).

Total Recall by the Sound (1985).

Fly by Jars of Clay (2002).

Train in Vain by the Clash (1980).

It's My Life by Talk Talk (1984).

T Party Express: Vapour Trail by Ride

2009-11-29T09:57:00.000-08:00

Today I woke up in a lovely, smiley, serene mood. It's been less than two weeks since my STBX (soon to be ex-husband) left, taking with him the chaos and emotional violence my family had lived with for four months. When we changed the locks that same day, there was an immediate sense of safety, but peace can be a bit harder to find among the rubble and memories he left behind.

Right now almost anything different than what I associate with him is good and healthy. I have been listening to old mix CDs that hold favorite songs from the time before I knew him - an audio only version of some of the videos I've been posting. I reorganized our bedroom and am now working on other areas of the house. We are broke but far from broken - and fixing to build a stronger life.

One of the songs I am listening to is Vapour Trail by Ride. It's a lush, ethereal, forlorn sort of song, but it doesn't make me sad. I am heartened by the reminder that my STBX is finally gone, leaving only a vapor trail that is already dissolving.

Ride - Vapour Trail

.:Çésar:.™® | MySpace Video

Previous stops:

We Gotta Get You a Woman by Todd Rundgren (1970).

I Saw the Light by Todd Rundgren (1972).

Hello It's Me by Todd Rundgren (1972).

Cold Morning Light by Todd Rundgren (1972).

It Wouldn't Have Made Any Difference by Todd Rundgren (1972).

Can We Still Be Friends? by Todd Rundgren (1978).

Time Heals (1981).

Weather with You by Crowded House (1991).

No Blue Skies by Lloyd Cole (1990).

Wicked Game by Chris Isaak (1989).

Blue Skies by Eva Cassidy (1996).

What a Wonderful World by Eva Cassidy and Katie Melua (2008).

Pick Yourself Up by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers (1936).

Special by Garbage (1998).

The Whole of the Moon by the Waterboys (1985).

Empty Me by Chris Sligh (2008).

So Long Self by Mercy Me (2006).

Here's Where the Story Ends by the Sundays (1990).

Broken by Lighthouse (2009).

God Shaped Hole by Plumb (1999).

The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King (1970).

Love and Regret by Deacon Blue (1989).

Real Gone Kid by Deacon Blue (1989).

My Book by the Beautiful South (1990).

A Little Time by the Beautiful South (1990).

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars (2005).

This Woman's Work by Kate Bush (1989).

Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division (1980).

Reptile by the Church (1988).

Accidents Will Happen by Elvis Costello (1979).

Tears Run Rings by Marc Almond (1987).

Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen (1984).

Love Lies Bleeding by Elton John (1973).

Last Time Forever by Squeeze (1985).

Conjure Me by the Afghan Whigs (1992).

Debonair by the Afghan Whigs (1993).

Hallelujah by Jason Castro (2009).

Total Recall by the Sound (1985).

Fly by Jars of Clay (2002).

Train in Vain by the Clash (1980).

It's My Life by Talk Talk (1984).

T Party Express: Todd Rundgren Relationship Song Cycle

2009-11-28T11:18:00.000-08:00

When I was a teenager, I was blessed with several career options from which to choose and parents who never pushed me in a predetermined direction, including toward matrimony - which was all the more remarkable considering that they were conservative traditionalists in their late 50s. I always enjoyed reading and writing to clarify my thoughts, which developed into a creative writing hobby. I won my share of student author awards, but my first love was music.

After many years of dance and music lessons, I knew for certain that I didn't want to be a public performer. I was fascinated with the behind-the-scenes aspects of studio craft - production, songwriting and arranging. My idols were the exceptional few artists who produced and composed their own work, like Brian Wilson. Lacking confidence in my ability to break into the male-dominated music industry of the 1970s, I chickened out and opted for a safe college major instead. My window of opportunity to follow my dream closed, but music remained the constant companion of my life.

Todd Rundgren was one of the 1970s rock pioneers who most influenced my musical sensibility. A well-rounded prodigy, he produced, composed, arranged and performed his own material and sometimes played all the instruments himself. He embraced technology in the studio and brought it to the stage without sacrificing the emotional intimacy of his often intensely personal lyrics.

A song cycle is a musical sequence unified by a common theme. For example, Brian Wilson's exquisite Pet Sounds is a self-contained song cycle that documents the phases of a relationship from its early promise to disillusionment and heartbreak. Over the course of several albums and decades, Rundgren recorded a series of songs that fit into a similar cycle.

We Gotta Get You a Woman from the album Runt (1970) begins with romantic advice from a worldly wise friend - or so it seems.

In I Saw the Light (1972), two pairs of eyes meet and magic ensues.

Doubt, complacency, fear of being changed by a relationship and a fashion homage to Ziggy Stardust show up in Hello It's Me (1972) to dampen the romance. I blame Liv Tyler's mom, Bebe Buell, for the 1970s gender bender makeup.

In the Cold Morning Light (1972) comes a dawning realization that there will be no happy ending ...

followed by recrimination and regret in It Wouldn't Have Made Any Difference (1972).

The 1978 album Hermit of Mink Hollow asks the musical question Can We Still Be Friends? The Magic 8-Ball says, "Outlook not so good."

During the anger or revenge phase of a breakup, a quote attributed to Groucho Marx may temporarily bring some grim satisfaction: "Time wounds all heels." But Time Heals from the 1981 album Healing offers hope to the resilient heart, as well as some nifty early 80s dance moves. Is there anything that Todd Rundgren can't do?

If you were present at the birth of MTV music television, like me you may have a fond remembrance of Todd's video, which played in heavy rotation with the likes of Billy Squier, 38 Special, REO Speedwagon, Rainbow, plus a whole lot of Pat Benatar and Rod Stewart.

The sudden, swift disintegration of my marriage has been more traumatic and disturbing for me than heartbreaking. It makes me almost nostalgic for the poetic angst and uncomplicated pain of lost love. Almost.

Previous stops:

Weather with You by Crowded House (1991).

No Blue Skies by Lloyd Cole (1990).

Wicked Game by Chris Isaak (1989).

Blue Skies by Eva Cassidy (1996).

What a Wonderful World by Eva Cassidy and Katie Melua (2008).

Pick Yourself Up by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers (1936).

Special by Garbage (1998).

The Whole of the Moon by the Waterboys (1985).

Empty Me by Chris Sligh (2008).

So Long Self by Mercy Me (2006).

Here's Where the Story Ends by the Sundays (1990).

Broken by Lighthouse (2009).

God Shaped Hole by Plumb (1999).

The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King (1970).

Love and Regret by Deacon Blue (1989).

Real Gone Kid by Deacon Blue (1989).

My Book by the Beautiful South (1990).

A Little Time by the Beautiful South (1990).

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars (2005).

This Woman's Work by Kate Bush (1989).

Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division (1980).

Reptile by the Church (1988).

Accidents Will Happen by Elvis Costello (1979).

Tears Run Rings by Marc Almond (1987).

Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen (1984).

Love Lies Bleeding by Elton John (1973).

Last Time Forever by Squeeze (1985).

Conjure Me by the Afghan Whigs (1992).

Debonair by the Afghan Whigs (1993).

Hallelujah by Jason Castro (2009).

Total Recall by the Sound (1985).

Fly by Jars of Clay (2002).

Train in Vain by the Clash (1980).

It's My Life by Talk Talk (1984).

I Am So Thankful

2009-11-26T21:28:00.000-08:00

All my blessings begin and end with God. Thank you, my Alpha and Omega.

Thank you to all my angels - the family, friends and helpers who have redeemed a difficult year and make my life worth fighting for. I love you.

Thanksgiving Day Menu

2009-11-26T15:57:00.000-08:00

This is the Thanksgiving feast I am feeding my family of foodies.

Brunch:

Creme brulee french toast with raspberry maple syrup

Niman Ranch ham steak

Dinner:

Roast turkey (Trader Joe's organic brined turkey)

Homemade cornbread stuffing with chicken apple sausage and fresh sage

Mashed potatoes with turkey gravy

Sweet potato soufflé with hazelnut praline

Green bean casserole with bacon

Fresh cranberry sauce

Peach champagne

Dessert:

Chocolate pecan pie

Pumpkin mousse pie with white chocolate whipped cream

T Party Express: Rockin' the Climategate Scandal

2009-11-25T22:17:00.000-08:00

We at the T Party Express - meaning moi - might be preoccupied with prepping for our Turkey Day feast tomorrow. But I'm never to busy to blog a storm as potentially damaging as the Climategate scandal. Hackers broke into confidential emails generated by the University of East Anglia’s Climatic Research Unit, an organization that promotes global warming policies based on knowingly faulty data.

The Herald Sun in Australia published excerpts from hacked "emails suggesting conspiracy, collusion in exaggerating warming data, possibly illegal destruction of embarrassing information, organised resistance to disclosure, manipulation of data, private admissions of flaws in their public claims and much more. If it is as it now seems, never again will 'peer review' be used to shout down sceptics."

Weather has been employed by songwriters and other poets as a metaphor for changeable romantic conditions - and their approach is just as subjective, arbitrary and emotional as the aforementioned tactics of the manipulative climate change scientists. At least songwriters are generally less inclined to insist that their opinions are indisputable facts - except for the voluble few who prefer the soapbox to the stage.

I heart Neil Finn like few other modern day musicians. He followed older brother Tim into the charmingly ironic and iconic 1980s band Split Enz and soon eclipsed his sibling. Then Tim joined Neil's nearly incomparable quartet-turned-trio-turned quartet, Crowded House, to collaborate on their superlative third album, Woodface, that spawned the single Weather with You.

Always remember and never forget these lyrics: everywhere you go, you always take the weather with you. It's your choice if you rain on somebody else's corn flakes. This video features the brothers Finn backed by drummer Paul Hester, who supported them in Split Enz and Crowded House. Hester was an incorrigible joker who hid the tears of a clown. He hanged himself in a park near his home in 2005.

Another prodigiously gifted yet insufficiently heralded singer-songwriter is Lloyd Cole. I always thought he resembled a younger Tim Finn, but his moody music was more like a folkier guitar-driven take on Jimmy Webb. The lead guitarist is Robert Quine who earned his legend playing with Richard Hell & the Voidoids and Lou Reed. I still don't understand why No Blue Skies wasn't a monster hit. The label won't let me embed the official video, which you can view here, but below is a live version fairly faithful to the recording.

As a bonus, I'm posting the infamous video of Chris Isaak's Wicked Game, which was a contemporary sound-alike of No Blue Skies. Cole's tune was released the year after Wicked Game but actually charted before David Lynch's film Wild at Heart relaunched Wicked Game as Isaak's breakthrough hit. Both songs soar on atmospheric guitar lines that flirt with flat notes in a surprisingly appealing way.

This video always frustrated me a little. Chris Isaak never wavered from his focus on Helena Christensen, but she was way more into the camera than into him. I know which of the two I would choose. Chris Isaak and I were born the same summer, but he is aging beautifully. Back in the early 1990s, my girlfriends and I concert-stalked him, but darned if he wasn't a repeat no-show. We concluded that Chris Isaak is merely a TV and film character and there is no one cool enough to play him in real life.

I saved the best message for last. Eva Cassidy, another underappreciated singer-songwriter, died of cancer in 1996 at the age of 36. She excelled at every genre she attempted, including the 1926 American classic by Irving Berlin, Blue Skies. I hope you will take the undeniably hopeful lyrics set to a deceptively forlorn melody to heart. I do. If you are so inclined, remember to thank He who created the weather and is the only power who can destroy the planet.

I was blue, just as blue as I could be
Ev'ry day was a cloudy day for me
Then good luck came a-knocking at my door
Skies were gray but they're not gray anymore

Blue skies
Smiling at me
Nothing but blue skies
Do I see

Bluebirds
Singing a song
Nothing but bluebirds
All day long

Never saw the sun shining so bright
Never saw things going so right
Noticing the days hurrying by
When you're in love, my how they fly

Blue days
All of them gone
Nothing but blue skies
From now on

I should care if the wind blows east or west
I should fret if the worst looks like the best
I should mind if they say it can't be true
I should smile, that's exactly what I do

Previous stops:

What a Wonderful World by Eva Cassidy and Katie Melua (2008).

Pick Yourself Up by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers (1936).

Special by Garbage (1998).

The Whole of the Moon by the Waterboys (1985).

Empty Me by Chris Sligh (2008).

So Long Self by Mercy Me (2006).

Here's Where the Story Ends by the Sundays (1990).

Broken by Lighthouse (2009).

God Shaped Hole by Plumb (1999).

The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King (1970).

Love and Regret by Deacon Blue (1989).

Real Gone Kid by Deacon Blue (1989).

My Book by the Beautiful South (1990).

A Little Time by the Beautiful South (1990).

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars (2005).

This Woman's Work by Kate Bush (1989).

Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division (1980).

Reptile by the Church (1988).

Accidents Will Happen by Elvis Costello (1979).

Tears Run Rings by Marc Almond (1987).

Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen (1984).

Love Lies Bleeding by Elton John (1973).

Last Time Forever by Squeeze (1985).

Conjure Me by the Afghan Whigs (1992).

Debonair by the Afghan Whigs (1993).

Hallelujah by Jason Castro (2009).

Total Recall by the Sound (1985).

Fly by Jars of Clay (2002).

Train in Vain by the Clash (1980).

It's My Life by Talk Talk (1984).

Video Faceoff: Muppet Guitar Hero vs. Hand Farts

2009-11-24T23:51:00.000-08:00

The Muppets Studio recently posted a YouTube video featuring their colorful cast of critters performing Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. It's their best work in ages (h/t Allahpundit).

Then Hot Air commenter Chickyraptor contended that this is a better version.

I watched one of them repeatedly and found it brilliant every time. Then I struggled to finish the other. However, I've got to hand it to Gerry Phillips, the so-called manualist. He earns bonus points for level of complexity.

Which do you prefer?

T Party Express: What a Wonderful World

2009-11-24T22:42:00.000-08:00

On my worst day, God is more gracious to me than I deserve and I have more blessings than time to count them. Today was a good day - my brother Richard's birthday.

As is our family tradition, Richard picked the venue where he, my son Chris and I dined. He chose Old World in Huntington Beach, a German restaurant in a faux village of apartments, shops and other businesses that is best known for its annual Oktoberfest celebrations. Our maternal grandparents were German chefs and we grew up on recipes from their homeland.

Grandma Rosina was the oldest of 11 children from an impoverished Munich family. She boarded a ship for New York in her teens when she was sponsored by a German-American couple to be their cook and governess - and she never returned. She was the toughest person I have ever known, but she spoiled me rotten - buying me a piano and paying for my lessons. As an 8-year-old tomboy, I infinitely preferred the great outdoors. One day I balked at my daily keyboard practice, on top of rigorous dance lessons. With silent haste, Grandma packed a suitcase, called a taxi and made a grand show of moving out until I was compelled to offer an apology and very specific promises.

I never knew our Grandpa William (né Wilhelm) who died 9 months before I was born. Apparently, whatever birth control that worked for nearly 8 years after my brother Bob was born was forgotten in the fullness of grief. Grandpa was a highly successful chef, no doubt with enormous help from his sous chef, Grandma. Together they established a family-run restaurant that catered to the German community in 1920s New York, plus a store and assorted real estate enterprises. For a short time he owned a Gutenberg Bible, which was stolen after he displayed it in the foyer of their large home. He was also a playwright who produced German musicals and an alcoholic whose sense of shame led him to briefly abandon his family after all the businesses failed during the Great Depression. After Hitler rose to power, Grandpa received a letter from the German government asking him to come home and help the cause. My mother and two uncles vetoed the move.

At dinner tonight, we were the only party in the restaurant. Our waitress was warmly friendly and talkative. We discussed her German heritage and ours, how Richard became deaf and disabled, our shared appreciation of Ronald Reagan and concern about President Obama, and anything else that caught our interest. She brought Richard a complimentary slice of Black Forest torte with a candle. My son Chris, our lovely waitress and I serenaded Richard as I signed the Happy Birthday song for his benefit. Before we left, there were lots of photos and hugs all around. It was a special experience. Here is a picture of the birthday boy and your humble blogger at dinner. Chris prefers not to have his photo published.

Richard and I have different fathers and his sire was a raging alcoholic. The marriage was doomed after Richard's dad, whose family was comfortably well off, forced our mother to give birth in a charity teaching hospital. The attending doctor, a student really, used forceps to deliver Richard, thus damaging his brain and killing his auditory nerves - rendering him deaf and disabled at birth. Shortly thereafter, Mom hit Richard's father over the head with a frying pan and fled.

Richard came to live with Luis, Chris and me in 2003 after our sister Donna died unexpectedly. Although he is 16 years my elder, we were always very close. From the time he moved in with us, Richard rebelled against Luis's numerous rules. Like Richard, Luis and my son Chris are also children of alcoholics, so we kept almost no drinkable alcohol in the house except for mouthwash and vanilla extract. Richard was also 75 lbs. overweight. We put him on a series of diets that worked at least temporarily and Luis would weigh him randomly and, in retrospect, not very respectfully.

I believe that he had Richard's best interests at heart for the most part, but Luis can be a controlling tyrant who disdains subtlety and tact. There were several confrontations and Richard, who can become frustrated but has mastered his temper considerably, even head-butted Luis once. Richard also used to mime the moves of a prisoner, acting like Luis was handcuffing and even hanging him. Luis, Chris and I would laugh about it, but it always made me uneasy. Richard's objections were not unfounded and I am sorry I gave Luis so much leeway over him, over Chris, and in numerous other ways. Since Luis left, Richard has been visibly relaxed - very relaxed - and much happier. Chris is blossoming, too.

Tonight I let Richard slowly enjoy one glass of dark German beer with his entree after he already had Diet Coke, bread and a salad. I made it clear that this was an exception tied to a rare occasion. I monitor how much money Richard carries and where he goes, so it would be practically impossible for him to go on a bender.

This was our first outing as a new threesome. During his Christian phase, Luis never let us listen to secular music as a family. Although these days I truly prefer Christian Contemporary radio, music in all its ear-tickling glory has been an essential ingredient in my life since before Grandma forced me to play the piano. Chris is a fan of the classic hard rock from my youth, so I tuned into his favorite FM channel. Together we sang along raucously with the Doors, AC/DC and Foreigner. Our only regret was that Richard could not join in, but he never complains about his deafness and certainly doesn't think of himself as handicapped or different.

God gave us a world seeded with small wonders and life affirming joys. Listening to the lovely Katie Melua duet across time with the late, lamented Eva Cassidy, I can almost forget its vast wickedness.

Previous stops:

Pick Yourself Up by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers (1936).

Special by Garbage (1998).

The Whole of the Moon by the Waterboys (1985).

Empty Me by Chris Sligh (2008).

So Long Self by Mercy Me (2006).

Here's Where the Story Ends by the Sundays (1990).

Broken by Lighthouse (2009).

God Shaped Hole by Plumb (1999).

The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King (1970).

Love and Regret by Deacon Blue (1989).

Real Gone Kid by Deacon Blue (1989).

My Book by the Beautiful South (1990).

A Little Time by the Beautiful South (1990).

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars (2005).

This Woman's Work by Kate Bush (1989).

Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division (1980).

Reptile by the Church (1988).

Accidents Will Happen by Elvis Costello (1979).

Tears Run Rings by Marc Almond (1987).

Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen (1984).

Love Lies Bleeding by Elton John (1973).

Last Time Forever by Squeeze (1985).

Conjure Me by the Afghan Whigs (1992).

Debonair by the Afghan Whigs (1993).

Hallelujah by Jason Castro (2009).

Total Recall by the Sound (1985).

Fly by Jars of Clay (2002).

Train in Vain by the Clash (1980).

It's My Life by Talk Talk (1984).

T Party Express: Start All Over Again

2009-11-21T13:09:00.000-08:00

Finally, my SBTX (soon to be ex-husband) is oot of the hoose, as our Canadian friends might say. That is cause for some kind of celebration and the only one I can afford until payday is the party in my head featuring deceased VIPs. Y'all come now.

For my money, which is mostly of the coin variety right now, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers were two of the most entertaining, talented performers ever to grace cinema. At a time when generations devastated by the Great Depression needed hopeful diversion, they danced and romanced our collective troubles away.

There has never been a dancer more gifted than Astaire, but he doesn't get near enough credit for his vocal skills. The most successful composers of his time chose Astaire to introduce many songs that became American standards and classics. Fans are quick to point out that Rogers did everything Astaire did but backwards and in high heels, and she did such an admirable job keeping up with him that they seemed evenly matched.

Until they were teamed by RKO, Astaire was a Broadway star with an appeal more aesthetic than sexual. Rogers spent much of her career playing down-on-her-luck heroines. Katharine Hepburn famously observed of them, "Astaire gave her class, and Rogers gave him sex."

The premise of their 1936 collaboration, Swing Time, is that Rogers is a dance school instructor and Astaire a hoofer who pretends he isn't. At the beginning of our song du jour, we find Rogers giving Astaire a pep talk in Pick Yourself Up.

In part 2, Astaire realizes he is risking Rogers' job and decides to show her boss what a great teacher she is by breaking out his moves.

The lyrics serve as a reminder that we might get knocked down, but we get up again and you're never gonna keep us down - unless we choose to be victims.

FRED:

Please teacher, teach me something.
Nice teacher, teach me something.
I'm as awkward as a camel.
That's not the worst.
My two feet haven't met yet.
But I'll be teacher's pet yet,
'Cause I'm going to learn to dance or burst.

GINGER:

Nothing's impossible, I have found.
For when my chin is on the ground,
I pick myself up, dust myself off,
Start all over again.

Don't lose your confidence if you slip.
Be grateful for a pleasant trip,
And pick yourself up; dust yourself off;
Start all over again.

Work like a soul inspired
'Til the battle of the day is won.
You may be sick and tired,
But you'll be a man, my son.

Will you remember the famous men
Who had to fall to rise again.
So take a deep breath;
Pick yourself up;
Dust yourself off;
Start all over again.

FRED:

I'll get some self assurance
If your endurance is great.
I'll learn by easy stages
If you're courageous and wait.

To feel the strength I want to,
I must hang onto your hand.
Maybe by the time I'm fifty,
I'll get up and do a nifty.

Pick yourself up; dust yourself off;
Start all over again.

Previous stops:

Special by Garbage (1998).

The Whole of the Moon by the Waterboys (1985).

Empty Me by Chris Sligh (2008).

So Long Self by Mercy Me (2006).

Here's Where the Story Ends by the Sundays (1990).

Broken by Lighthouse (2009).

God Shaped Hole by Plumb (1999).

The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King (1970).

Love and Regret by Deacon Blue (1989).

Real Gone Kid by Deacon Blue (1989).

My Book by the Beautiful South (1990).

A Little Time by the Beautiful South (1990).

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars (2005).

This Woman's Work by Kate Bush (1989).

Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division (1980).

Reptile by the Church (1988).

Accidents Will Happen by Elvis Costello (1979).

Tears Run Rings by Marc Almond (1987).

Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen (1984).

Love Lies Bleeding by Elton John (1973).

Last Time Forever by Squeeze (1985).

Conjure Me by the Afghan Whigs (1992).

Debonair by the Afghan Whigs (1993).

Hallelujah by Jason Castro (2009).

Total Recall by the Sound (1985).

Fly by Jars of Clay (2002).

Train in Vain by the Clash (1980).

It's My Life by Talk Talk (1984).

T Party Express: Good Riddance to Bad Garbage

2009-11-19T22:02:00.000-08:00

The T Party Express just passed its last toxic dump site and now the terrain ahead is clean and smooth. My STBX (soon to be ex-husband) took possession of his new home on Tuesday and I changed our locks the same day.

His contemptuous disregard for me and my family reached its nadir this past week. Nothing can compete with his daily campaign to convince me to stop my chemotherapy so I would die sooner, thus enabling him to start his new life faster and easier with his new family and my pension. But on his way out of our lives he emptied our bank account, expected me to continue paying his bills, came home every night between 11:00pm and 1:00am only to awaken me to his verbal abuse, showed up immediately after my chemo treatment with one of his future stepsons to collect some furniture after I specifically asked him to let me rest quietly that day, left a big mess in his wake, and yet still paused long enough to mention for the umpteenth time how happy I seem that he is leaving. My son and I cannot help noticing that he who appears to be getting everything he declared he wants is acting pissed off, tormented and restless.

Yeah, I am happy or relieved or serenely grateful. As I was leaving work tonight, I thought about how not so long ago - although it feels like another lifetime - I looked forward to his nightly phone call as we sped home to be with each other again. And now I leave work with a new sense of contentment, knowing that I won't see or hear from him henceforth unless it's on my terms, too.

In July my life took an unexpected, bizarre turn. My beloved husband became a wicked stranger. After I realized that his metamorphosis was not a temporary meltdown, my feelings adjusted fairly quickly. Pain evolved into anger and a need to comprehend what was happening. Only a fool or a masochist would tolerate such behavior and I am neither.

I was fortunate to be dumped only once before, but the circumstances were completely different. That gentleman never completely let go and spent much of the next 10 years trying to keep me tied to him. I let myself remain in a state of emotional limbo, which was deeply hurtful and unsatisfying in its own way. But, oh, what bittersweet romantic angst we generated.

I loved Luis more than anyone in this world. I was not unaware of his faults, but I teased him about them and found them charming. I am far from perfect myself and thought he loved me just as unconditionally. But every awful thing he has said and done in the last four months now recasts the previous 9-plus years in a light marred by shadows and hints of trouble to come. There is nothing romantic or bittersweet about my feelings now.

He shocked everyone with his 180 degree turnaround, not just me, so I am not beating myself up over being blindsided by it. It's nigh impossible for me to remember the good times and maybe someday I will mourn their passing, but I don't trust those memories any more.

I still can't find just the right song to fit my situation. Maybe I will have to compose it myself. Tomorrow is garbage day and this week I said good riddance to bad rubbish, so Special by Garbage is appropriate enough for today.

Besides, Shirley Manson is one of the best female rock vocalists ever in the ballsy tradition of Roni Spector and Chrissie Hynde. Enjoy.

Previous stops:

The Whole of the Moon by the Waterboys (1985).

Empty Me by Chris Sligh (2008).

So Long Self by Mercy Me (2006).

Here's Where the Story Ends by the Sundays (1990).

Broken by Lighthouse (2009).

God Shaped Hole by Plumb (1999).

The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King (1970).

Love and Regret by Deacon Blue (1989).

Real Gone Kid by Deacon Blue (1989).

My Book by the Beautiful South (1990).

A Little Time by the Beautiful South (1990).

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars (2005).

This Woman's Work by Kate Bush (1989).

Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division (1980).

Reptile by the Church (1988).

Accidents Will Happen by Elvis Costello (1979).

Tears Run Rings by Marc Almond (1987).

Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen (1984).

Love Lies Bleeding by Elton John (1973).

Last Time Forever by Squeeze (1985).

Conjure Me by the Afghan Whigs (1992).

Debonair by the Afghan Whigs (1993).

Hallelujah by Jason Castro (2009).

Total Recall by the Sound (1985).

Fly by Jars of Clay (2002).

Train in Vain by the Clash (1980).

It's My Life by Talk Talk (1984).

T Party Express: Moon Day, Moon Day

2009-11-16T06:41:00.000-08:00

The T Party Express has been on auto pilot while I attend to housekeeping issues. Things are looking up - and so am I. Behold the moon, for which the first day of our traditional work week was named.

In the storied history of rock music, there are epic songs that hold an almost supernatural power to command our attention. Typically, their special or momentous qualities were acknowledged by contemporaneous popular acclaim, but some of my most cherished musical treasures were and are largely unheralded.

In the 1980s, the Waterboys sprang from the Celtic folk rock tradition and achieved moderate chart success in the U.K. Their full-bodied sound, augmented by strings and horns, soared aloft the poetic lyrics of band founder Mike Scott. The Whole of the Moon from 1985 remains their signature achievement. Reportedly inspired by C.S. Lewis, the song is a lament about two people perpetually at cross purposes and works as an ode to romantic regret.

Previous stops:

Empty Me by Chris Sligh (2008).

So Long Self by Mercy Me (2006).

Here's Where the Story Ends by the Sundays (1990).

Broken by Lighthouse (2009).

God Shaped Hole by Plumb (1999).

The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King (1970).

Love and Regret by Deacon Blue (1989).

Real Gone Kid by Deacon Blue (1989).

My Book by the Beautiful South (1990).

A Little Time by the Beautiful South (1990).

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars (2005).

This Woman's Work by Kate Bush (1989).

Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division (1980).

Reptile by the Church (1988).

Accidents Will Happen by Elvis Costello (1979).

Tears Run Rings by Marc Almond (1987).

Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen (1984).

Love Lies Bleeding by Elton John (1973).

Last Time Forever by Squeeze (1985).

Conjure Me by the Afghan Whigs (1992).

Debonair by the Afghan Whigs (1993).

Hallelujah by Jason Castro (2009).

Total Recall by the Sound (1985).

Fly by Jars of Clay (2002).

Train in Vain by the Clash (1980).

It's My Life by Talk Talk (1984).

T Party Express: So Long, Mr. Selfish

2009-11-11T21:30:00.000-08:00

The T Party Express is chugging through the Valley of Deep Thoughts. Don't worry - we'll be out of here in no time.

The act of denying yourself or dying to self is necessary for submission to God's will. Putting your partner first is also an important element in a happy marriage. My marriage deteriorated so quickly since July because one spouse plunged willfully into an extremely selfish fantasy phase, thus renouncing every pledge he made to God and to his wife, leaving said wife with a bad case of spiritual and emotional whiplash. I can only imagine how God feels.

The good news is that, after I engaged in what politicians call opposition research, I got my STBX (soon to be ex-husband) to admit what he is doing in his parallel universe. I am by nature a dogged troubleshooter and problem solver. Exhausted by his lies, I finally put all the clues and tidbits of information together to understand why my STBX changed 180 degrees in such a short time and where it is leading him.

Can you say plop-plop-fizz-fizz? Oh, what a relief it is. I have done what I can to safeguard his soul, albeit with no apparent success, and am no longer transporting his numerous burdens on the T Party Express. I dumped them at the intersection of Mommy Issues and Self Delusion.

My faith in the act of denying yourself is steadfast as ever. Two of my favorite Contemporary Christian Music songs explain the concept better than I can.

Chris Sligh is the most talented American Idol contestant in 8 years never to make the top 5. He was my season 6 favorite and is building a solid career as a singer/songwriter in the Christian, country and pop crossover genres. His composition Empty Me explains how even the perks of fame are no substitute for God.

So Long Self by Mercy Me is a hopping, rocking tune that covers the same territory, but it contains one of my favorite lyrics that applies to my situation. Heh.

Don't feel so bad (don't feel so bad)
There'll be better days (there'll be better days)
Don't go away mad (but by all means)
Just go away, go away

Previous stops:

Here's Where the Story Ends by the Sundays (1990).

Broken by Lighthouse (2009).

God Shaped Hole by Plumb (1999).

The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King (1970).

Love and Regret by Deacon Blue (1989).

Real Gone Kid by Deacon Blue (1989).

My Book by the Beautiful South (1990).

A Little Time by the Beautiful South (1990).

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars (2005).

This Woman's Work by Kate Bush (1989).

Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division (1980).

Reptile by the Church (1988).

Accidents Will Happen by Elvis Costello (1979).

Tears Run Rings by Marc Almond (1987).

Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen (1984).

Love Lies Bleeding by Elton John (1973).

Last Time Forever by Squeeze (1985).

Conjure Me by the Afghan Whigs (1992).

Debonair by the Afghan Whigs (1993).

Hallelujah by Jason Castro (2009).

Total Recall by the Sound (1985).

Fly by Jars of Clay (2002).

Train in Vain by the Clash (1980).

It's My Life by Talk Talk (1984).

T Party Express: Sundays on Sunday

2009-11-08T21:14:00.000-08:00

It's Sunday and it's too Novemberish to eat a sundae, so let's listen to the Sundays instead.

Here's Where the Story Ends transports me back to 1990 and a relationship that supposedly ended the previous summer, except that a certain someone wouldn't commit to leaving or staying. I cranked it up whenever he was around.

He got the message but chose to ignore it.

Still, this is a lovely, forlorn little song from the transitional period between New Wave and Alternative. Enjoy.

Previous stops:

Broken by Lighthouse (2009).

God Shaped Hole by Plumb (1999).

The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King (1970).

Love and Regret by Deacon Blue (1989).

Real Gone Kid by Deacon Blue (1989).

My Book by the Beautiful South (1990).

A Little Time by the Beautiful South (1990).

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars (2005).

This Woman's Work by Kate Bush (1989).

Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division (1980).

Reptile by the Church (1988).

Accidents Will Happen by Elvis Costello (1979).

Tears Run Rings by Marc Almond (1987).

Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen (1984).

Love Lies Bleeding by Elton John (1973).

Last Time Forever by Squeeze (1985).

Conjure Me by the Afghan Whigs (1992).

Debonair by the Afghan Whigs (1993).

Hallelujah by Jason Castro (2009).

Total Recall by the Sound (1985).

Fly by Jars of Clay (2002).

Train in Vain by the Clash (1980).

It's My Life by Talk Talk (1984).

T Party Express: Broken but Not Broke Down

2009-11-07T21:58:00.000-08:00

Broken is the latest single by Lifehouse. I prefer the original below to the official radio version.

Lifehouse has a knack for penning lyrics that have crossover appeal, working in the secular as well as sacred sense. My SBTX (soon to be ex-husband) relates to the story of a wretched sinner who lost his way. We are all like Humpty Dumpty after the fall. If we are lucky or wise, we understand that the world cannot put us back together again.

The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time
I am here still waiting though i still have my doubts
I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain is there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on
I'm barely holdin' on to you

The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead
I still see your reflection inside of my eyes
That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
with a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain is there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on
I'm barely holdin' on to you

I'm handin' on another day
Just to see what you will throw my way
And I'm hanging on to the words you say
You said that I will be ok

The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone
I may have lost my way now, haven't forgotten my way home

God Shaped Hole by Plumb mirrors Broken in its message and availability in alternate versions, albeit in a snappier, bouncier way. The song was first featured on the soundtrack of Bruce Almighty, but a 2010 retake is getting some radio airplay. Here is the original.

Previous stops:

The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King (1970).

Love and Regret by Deacon Blue (1989).

Real Gone Kid by Deacon Blue (1989).

My Book by the Beautiful South (1990).

A Little Time by the Beautiful South (1990).

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars (2005).

This Woman's Work by Kate Bush (1989).

Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division (1980).

Reptile by the Church (1988).

Accidents Will Happen by Elvis Costello (1979).

Tears Run Rings by Marc Almond (1987).

Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen (1984).

Love Lies Bleeding by Elton John (1973).

Last Time Forever by Squeeze (1985).

Conjure Me by the Afghan Whigs (1992).

Debonair by the Afghan Whigs (1993).

Hallelujah by Jason Castro (2009).

Total Recall by the Sound (1985).

Fly by Jars of Clay (2002).

Train in Vain by the Clash (1980).

It's My Life by Talk Talk (1984).

T Party Express: The November 2009 Election Edition

2009-11-04T07:36:00.000-08:00

The T Party Express question of the day: What do Obama and I have in common?

We will return to our regular programming tomorrow.

Previous stops:

Love and Regret by Deacon Blue (1989).

Real Gone Kid by Deacon Blue (1989).

My Book by the Beautiful South (1990).

A Little Time by the Beautiful South (1990).

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars (2005).

This Woman's Work by Kate Bush (1989).

Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division (1980).

Reptile by the Church (1988).

Accidents Will Happen by Elvis Costello (1979).

Tears Run Rings by Marc Almond (1987).

Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen (1984).

Love Lies Bleeding by Elton John (1973).

Last Time Forever by Squeeze (1985).

Conjure Me by the Afghan Whigs (1992).

Debonair by the Afghan Whigs (1993).

Hallelujah by Jason Castro (2009).

Total Recall by the Sound (1985).

Fly by Jars of Clay (2002).

Train in Vain by the Clash (1980).

It's My Life by Talk Talk (1984).