Musical Wanderer

Baseball is all about statistics.  Hits, strikeouts, errors, on base percentage, earned run average.  These revealing numbers cause a fan to smell a beer, hot dog, and pretzel and feel the sun on their skin in a June afternoon in a ballpark.  But some statistics sooth owners: team value, revenue, profit. Forbes Magazine puts out a report of valuations of baseball teams every year before opening day.  As baseball has no real shareholders other than the owners, it is not as much data for the investor as fuel for those who consider baseball a greedy monopoly and enjoy getting up a good head of steam about it.  I suppose I'm one. The magazine estimates the value of every team based upon four basic categories: the value of the team's stadium: are there lots of ways to sell beer, hot dogs, and expensive seats? the value of the team's brand: how are the t-shirt sales? the value of the team's market: how much money do the locals have to blow on beer, t-shirts, and expe

Who doesn't love a political sex scandal?  Certain staples define the genre.  Headlines of foolishness and infidelity, most delicious when served as an example of hypocrisy.  A contrite politician explaining away his stupidity with his loyal wife at his side.  This week's fool is Anthony Weiner, and the wife is Huma Abedin. People are almost excusing his almost funny stupidity (Carlos Danger!) while slamming her for standing by him.  She has a high profile career as an aide to former senator/secretary of state Hillary Clinton, herself a veteran of political sex scandal involving her husband. Many would say she is cynically riding the storm of politics for future glory.  Conservatives resent her for her beauty or intelligence or Muslim heritage, or a combination of the three.  Liberals accuse her of Stepford-wife loyalty to a jerk. Many point to the example of Jenny Sandford, who left her husband for his actions, saying Abedin should "Dump the bum."  Other w

The as yet unnamed son of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge has already racked up an impressive list of accomplishments.  Though the future royal heir will not likely assume the throne for a few decades after his grandfather and father serve as King of the Realm, in his first few hours he has been busy: he inspired researchers in laboratories around the world to think a little harder and thus find cures for several fatal forms of cancer, unified field equations combining the basic forces of the universes, and, best of all, an explanation of why a cat purrs he encouraged Pakistanis and Indians to join in a great conga line of over a billion people snaking across the South Asian subcontinent in celebration of the birth of a future king of the nation that oppressed their forefathers for over a century but gave them the English language, flush toilets, and toilet paper to clog them he led an expedition to Mars to create a new empire which the British can be proud of again and re

I have an identity problem.  I share my name with someone else.  Yes, almost everyone shares his or her name with someone somewhere.  But I share my name with the lead singer/guitarist of a hair band, RATT, popular in the 80s.  Thanks to him I am utterly ungoogleable, as my now wife discovered when we met 10 years ago.  Dating due diligence bore no fruit when she tried to find out whether I had been arrested for rape, murder, or outstanding parking tickets thanks to the deluge of fan-sites, forums, and photo galleries of THE Stephen Pearcy.  My meager accomplishments are swamped on the internet by his music and libertine lifestyle.  It has taken time, but I have finally accepted this. I first learned of his existence when I was a teacher in the late 80s.  Students would put up drawings on my classroom door of a rat with a beard, glasses, and floppy hat that were my trademarks alongside articles about the band.  In the early 90s I would occasionally find reviews of his records in free

Since the early 80s I've been reading and rereading the Tales of the City books by Armistead Maupin. Left on the formica topped dining room table in our group house that one housemate grew up with back in PA--we joked that she was born and, when we were very drunk, even conceived on the very table--I picked the first book and found it a page turner, as it was written as a serial in a newspaper. Lots of drugs, sex, witty characters. We devoured the books because they were fun and, living in a group house in DC, reminded us of our paths in some ways.  People in DC are always from somewhere else (well, except for me, a native). They come for careers often, but sometimes just to get away from the provincial mores and intellects of their hometowns. Reading stories of the occupants of 28 Barbary Lane reminded us of our own departures from home and finding new friends in a new city. Over the years I read and reread them, particularly the first one. Ten years after

In the movie "Casablanca", when a tuxedo wearing banker at Rick's learns that another banker from his city is now pastry chef in the kitchen, he observes "We have something to look forward to."  Though he was being ironic, he was eventually literally correct, as the war eventually ended, probably without his resorting to culinary crafts to get by.  Compared to the other memorable lines in the movie, it's not a gem, but it works in the situation. He could be speaking for all of us now, as my experience the last few years spending time in assisted living and rehabilitation centers with my parents has shown me.  We don't think about that last part of our lives, how it affects us living our lives now, but it is worth considering.  I've learned a couple things the last couple years, listed below in order of increasing importance. Enjoy spicy food now.  Your digestive system will want calm foods when you're older and will have ways of making l

I found my  dad in someone's blog in California.  A woman was going through her recently deceased mother's diary and old letters.  Among them were letters as well as a picture my dad sent her 70 years ago during the war.  I ran across her blog when idly googling my dad's name.  Just as I am ungooglable because my name is the same a famous hairband guitar player , he is instantly googlable because he is the only person ever with his name.  Interesting coincidence:  the blogger's mom and my parents all died within four weeks of each other. It was a shock to see letters written by him to someone other than me and my family.  It had his kind, somewhat unsure tone that he still spoke with to the day he died.  I had seen a story in an online archive of a wartime GI newspaper called CBI Roundup about him writing letters to two girls and mixing up the addresses so that each got the other's letter.  I never mentioned finding it to him or mom.  Who needs that sort of thin

In 1996, Congress passed legislation creating boards to grant charters to schools in DC to provide choices for students in struggling schools.  Charters were seen as a more accountable alternative to vouchers, as charter schools receiving public funds were subject to review by the city unlike private schools that received funds via vouchers.  If a charter failed to produce results it could be closed (and a number are closed every year.  A public school that doesn't produce results can stay open for decades).  When created, charter schools were supposed to be an alternative for students to failing public schools. Enrollment in charters have grown remarkably.  In 2002, there were 10,679 students in charter schools.  In 2012, there were 31,562.  Many families found the charters a viable alternative to neighborhood schools for a variety of reasons: quality of education, school climate,  convenience of transportation and child care services.  Most schools were created in m

Didn't think putting a picture on a the blog header would be that complicated, but you have to make the picture fit, there's no handy tool. What are those guys in the picture? They are  W. Britain's Eyes Right Band figures.  The top row are from the US Army Yellow Jacket band and the bottom row are from the Marine Band in red jackets.  They were made in the 80s, I think, and are available in various conditions on ebay.  The arms move and therefore fall off, the heads are replaceable and, yes, fall off, and the instruments tend to break.  On top of all that, the plastic is somewhat brittle after a few decades.   I have 13 Army bandsmen and 17 Marine bandsmen from the eyes right series.  Below is all the bandsmen in a little display box I found in the street.  My wife even thinks they're sorta cool. The Army uniforms have a strange history.  The Army Band in Washington, DC had to deal with the great red uniforms the Marine Band had been wearing for years and decid

I posted this ad on craigslist a couple weeks ago: ------ Singer Available Male singer for paying gigs only.  $50 per hour would be pretty good.  $100 per hour would be better.  I only sing in major keys, as minor keys are sad.  I sing well, but no leaps greater than a third.  Whole notes, half notes, and quarter notes only.  Eighth notes will cost $2 per cumulative beat, but no syncopation, as I am an artist, not a machine. And no foreign languages, only American.  Would prefer if you provide transportation, as my smartrip card died.   Contact me soon, as my calendar is pretty full with gigs. ------- I've gotten a couple responses.  I'll update this as I receive more: --- From a guy named Jesse: Send me some links with some of your work From a guy named Roger: is this ad of yours a joke ?? From a guy named Joshua: I wanted to thank you for this craigslist gold which I screenshot and made available on my facebook for all my musician/vocalist frien

We went to a concert as part of the Serenade festival put on by a music ensemble tour promotor that had  a mix of choral groups, including two children's choirs, an a capella quartet, a Polish mixed voices choir.  The stand out revelatory sound was that of  Latvian Voices .  The seven women had well trained voices that joined fluidly, especially in the acoustic of the Church of the Epiphany downtown near Metro Center.  The  Post review  was similarly impressed by the Voices, though a little smarmy about the a capella quartet. Most of their repertoire was in Latvian, arranged by a member of the group.  The demonstrated great affinity for the music, letting the solo lines soar of the lush chords of the ensemble.  They reminded me a little of the Bulgarian Women's Choirs that were popular 20 years ago, but this group's sound was more polished and clean. They did an arrangement of the Elizabethan madrigal All Creatures Now are Merry Minded by John Bennet which worked nicely

Another thing I wrote years ago that I found on my computer   California surfers and sun bunnies were startled on Tuesday as several warships flying the Chinese flag approached the shore, well within American territorial waters. While on maneuvers in the Pacific Ocean, several ships of the Chinese Task Force veered off course from the rest of the ships practicing an invasion of Taiwan.  The errant ships failed to answer worried communications from their sister ships and from Chinese Naval Headquarters in Peking. Several ships from the US Navy were sent to intercept the Chinese ships, thought to be surveillance craft on spy missions similar to the US Navy reconnaissance aircraft that crashed on Chinese territory on Sunday.  Reports from the American vessels confirmed their actual mission. “They’re checking out the chicks,” was the simple explanation offered by Cmdr. William Johnston, captain of the USS Boise. “There are several secret radar stations twenty miles up the coas

Wrote this years ago.  Found it on my computer Running in the Park Putting on the running shoes and going for a jog used to be a chore.  The only justification was “my health,” which is not a driving impulse for me or for many (witness sales of cigarettes, alcohol, and krispy krème donuts).  As my time on the paths increased, running has become a pleasure for a single guy for a typical reason: scoping.  I now go out for babe-runs. Most of my panting compatriots on the paths are women.  I have wondered whether there was an explanation for the overwhelming hordes of women running and the relative lack of men on the trails.  Men were on the trails, but usually on bikes, alone or with significant others.  I have to jump off the path frequently for biking couples. The couples seemed to be in that doing-things-together-other-than-sex phase that arrives when a woman’s kind impulse to fake orgasms becomes so much a habit that she loses interest in sex that has no reward f