Steve Winwood & The Doobie Brothers!

 Steve Winwood is a legend. His stints as a 16-year-old kid in the Spencer Davis Group, the lead singer in Blind Faith and Traffic and then his 1980's hit machine put him in rare company. Both an FM and AM superstar is hard to do. But he did it and I had the honor of seeing him open (open?) for The Doobie Brothers last night in Omaha. The voice is still there, the setlist is wonderful and full of Top 40 hits AND the FM staples you heard in the 60's and 70's as you contemplated how many fingers you had after indulging in banned substances.

Winwood started off with Traffic and Glad. They got right into it. Then came Can't Find My Way Home, the Blind Faith staple (oh that album cover!). The Spencer Davis Group's I'm a Man, written by the 16-year-old Stevie. The 80's hits came in with Roll With It (which I for years thought was To Hell With It baby), Back in the High Life Again and Higher Love. Ending the show was Dear Mr. Fantasy and Gimme Some Lovin. God he was good. I wish I could have heard The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys and Valerie but I am ecstatic at what I DID hear. The crowd loved it. This was a solid A performance.

The Doobies have finally been let into the Rock Hall of Fame, which should have been done years ago, and they are still out there busting ass. Patrick Simmons, Tom Johnston, John McFee and of course, the man who ruined the Doobie Brothers, Michael McDonald. I kid, though that belief sustained me in the late 70's. I've come to accept the McDonald stuff and even enjoy in in my later years. 

Starting with Take Me in Your Arms and Rocking Down the Highway, the Doobs got right into it, and the crowd went wild. Then, to me, it lulled. I'm not sure what happened after those opening hits, but the next 45 minutes quite frankly bored me. They did a song about motorcycles, a song with Lilly Winwood, Steves' 28-year-old daughter and some other new stuff. Then Eyes of Silver brought it back on track and the remaining 30 minutes was joyous again. Ending with Jesus is Just All Right With Me, What a Fool Believes, Long Train Runnin and China Grove all the while with a video board showing old video of the 70's band in concert. It was a solid B.

Johnston's' voice is still there, Simmons voice is still there, and McDonald's baritone is still solid. But that middle part of the show baffled me. 

Now for the personal. We had tickets in the upper bowl of the CHI Center (it's an arena not a hospital) and they had closed it off because it was not well attended. Ok, so where shall we sit. We, and a few others in a similar situation, went to the end of the arena to the side of the stage on the lower level. We enjoyed Winwood and the first couple of Doobie Bros songs when a jack-booted fascist usher came over and informed us in a rather surly manner, YOU CAN'T SIT HERE. What? We've been here for 2 hours, dude. We aint bothering anyone. You shut off our peasant seats and we had no idea where to go. So, we left under threat of security and stood in the back watching the show. It made me surly.

Because I hate with a passion the Doobie hit, Black Water, we left as that song began during the encore to beat the Boomers and their canes to the parking lot. Yeah, I'm a boomer and someday soon may need a cane or worse, but I don't now so there. I have noticed more and more how people of a certain age (me) have become more and more decrepit. It bugs me because it's close to home. I'm in decent shape so far but some of these younger than me boomers are not. It hits close to home.

In conclusion if you get a chance, Steve Winwood is worth the time and money to see. The Doobies are too. Just make sure you have the right seat.

Hope!

 The DNC is over and the many highlights of Americans talking positively and having fun, in direct comparison to whatever the hell that was in Milwaukee, are out there. Michelle Obama, rejecting we go high stuff to attack the Felon and joke about the "black job" Trump seeks to stay out of jail. Hillary Clinton showing why 2016 was such an error in American judgement that we may never recover from. A great speech that ended with that horrid Fight Song that I believe cost her the election. Damn, that song sucks. We say Bill Clinton show why he's still among the best, winging it after his teleprompter went out. We saw Barack Obama, tearing the hall up with the rhetoric he is best known for. And we saw the Veep nominee, Tim Walz, give a speech that was highly personal. His daughter, Hope, best known for riding that state fair ride with her Dad and staying alive, was overcome with emotion as was his son Gus, who leapt to his feet, crying in happiness, to exclaim "Thats My Dad!" And because MAGA is who they are, the ridicule of a 17-year-old boy with neurological disorders became the norm. Revenge for Barron per the louts. Disgusting.

Kamala Harris knocked her speech out of the park. Putting out a blueprint of the differences between us and them was masterful. "They are out of their minds?" Well yes, they are.

The convention was fun, joyful and a celebration of positive vibes. The other guys had a bunch of old prunes holding Mass Deportation Now! signs. The other side had speaker after speaker trashing immigrants, brown people, and transgenders. The other side had an old man staying on point for about 10 minutes before he launched into the night after night 75-minute rally bullshit.

I don't know what's happening, but I haven't seen this kind of hope since the late 60's and early 70's. Even Obama's campaign based on Hope was held in the backdrop of a horrible global financial crisis that threatened global stability. But this, this hope and realizing possibilities joy, is the result of one event. Joe Biden leaving the race. Whether he did it out of concern for the nation or if he was pushed out by the boogie woman remains to be seen. Nevertheless, it happened, freeing up a spot for a younger woman with endless energy and an appealing laugh and dance style. 

She gonna win? Hell, I don't know. I have faith that Americans are sick of this MAGA chaos and will reject it in November. But I also had faith that Americans would reject a reality show blabberer in 2016 also. I severely underestimated the racism and misogyny that permeates this country. But I have hope again. Hope that Kamala can take this guy out back and kick him in the nuts. It has to be done.

We Aren't Going Back.......I hope

Day 4 Road Trip! Kansas City Again!

 I've come to love Google Maps. From Springdale to Kansas City sent me thru rural Kansas again. More Trump flags, another one in front of a convenience store which lost me when I saw it because I needed gas. Sorry, I know 95% of your neighbors think Trump is the cat's meow, but some of us passers thru don't and you lost revenue for a tank of gas and some drinks.

Well, it was a good 4 hour drive along rural roads and frequent turns before I came into Kansas City, home of marijuana dispensaries on every corner and lots of BBQ joints. I like Kansas City, it's a cool city with lots to do so i decided to tour Kauffman Stadium, home of the Royals. This tour not quite as popular as the Arrowhead tour as it was me and a father with his 8-year-old son being the only participants. The tour took you to the suites, the clubs and the press box where actual dents in the wall remain from foul balls that made their way thru the open windows. 

We went down to the dugout where we sat and watched the ground crew lay sod. Then into the visitors' locker room. Jesus, its just glorious so imagine what the Royals locker room must be like.

The tour was fun. Then that night watching the Monarchs lose to the Milwaukee Milkmen (yes thats the actual name) and to the hotel.

Oh the hotel. Since I was just there for literally a few hours to sleep, I didn't want to spend a lot. Boy did I get what I paid for. A dump is being kind. Now I've slept in worse places in my life but not for a while. This one took me back to the infamous Wyoming Hotel where both Max and Max' Mom slept on top of the comforter while I, a veteran of shitholes, slept like a baby under the comforter. This place wasn't that bad though the hallways reminded me of a horror movie. And again, yes, I slept like a baby under the cigarette burned comforter because I have no fear any longer. Or taste I guess.

Another year another road trip. Next time I'm heading north to avoid the hell on earth called the Midwest in August. Hello Canada

Road Trip Day 3! Springdale Arkansas!

 

Waffle House is the single greatest place to go if you live in a state without one. Just ask the late Anthony Bourdain. It is truly a place for all kinds. After an All Star Breakfast, I was off to Arkansas to see the NW Arkansas Travelers, the Double A affiliate of the Kansas City Royals.

Killing time by driving down to Fayetteville where I suffered PTSD as it was move in day on the University of Arkansas campus. Lots of Dads moving in the kids, lots of bros sitting on frat steps checking out their future sexual assault victims, and lots of cars and roundabouts. Again its 98 degrees and I decided to park in a garage and walk around. Brilliant! I was half dead when I came upon a small house on Clinton Avenue. It was Bill and Hills first house after they got married and began teaching law. It was open and I went in, some for the reason of getting out of the heat. The museum is free, and its basically just a tiny house with a ton of memorabilia in it. It was interesting and I had the honor of peeing in the same toilet as Bill and Hill. So worth the time.

After barely surviving the walk uphill to the garage (a young student directing traffic asked the old man if he was ok after I sat down on a retaining wall to keep from passing out) it was back up to Springdale, the lucky stop of the night.

Arvest Park is easy to find. But what the hell, a Double A team with a line of cars trying to park an hour before game time? Then a line of people stretching a good 50 yards back from the gate to get in. What the hell is happening? The guy in front of me explained it was not only Vinnie Pasquantino bobble head night, but that Justin Verlander was making a rehab start. Ok then. There were nerds galore getting their bobbleheads and then immediately leaving without as much as one pitch. So, these Poindexters all paid $5 to park, another $11-20 to get a ticket and got a bobblehead and went back home to play video games or some such shit. Think Comic Book Guy with a bobblehead in his hand walking by you over and over.

I got in, got my bobble head, and settled into a single seat in the shade where I remained and would only move if thrown out. The line for $2 Miller Lites was long and longer and it stayed that way the entire game. For Miller Lite? Ok then. Another hot one as the temp was 95 degrees.

Verlander pitched 4 innings of baseball as Astros fans applauded his every pitch. When he left after inning 4 and tipped his hat to them, you knew he was done for the night leading 9-2. At this point as Verlander was replaced by an anonymous pitcher the stadium began clearing out. The concession lines dropped to nobody, but the Miller Lite line continued. Also, after 2 1/2 hours of error prone Double A ball it was only the 6th inning. For chrissakes imagine if there was no pitch clock. I took off at the start of inning 7, the game ended up 16-5 and ended at 10:30. Too hot for me.

Day 4 tomorrow back to KC.

Road Trip Day Two! Rural Kansas and Tulsa!

 Driving south thru rural Kansas is a chore. Two lane highways and lots of trucks to pass. I needed gas in Osawatomie and saw the above mural reminding me that John Brown the abolitionist was from there. Brown is one of my American heroes, so I had to find something relating to Brown. There's a John Brown Park, and there's a John Brown cabin in said park. It's free and I had to tour it. It won't take you a half hour to go thru it but it is very informative for us museum geeks. It's an original cabin from 1854, some of it restored after some nut setting it on fire years ago. Well worth it .

Back on the road and as I get more south it started. Trump flags, Trump signs, Trump this and Trump that. One farm had a Trump flag flying above the upside-down American flag. What the fuck is wrong with these people? What threat do they perceive that an orange felon is their only hope? These people are nice, they are friendly, yet they feel so oppressed that a so-called billionaire who wouldn't let them in his private golf clubs is their savior? It became a goddamned joke once you get into Oklahoma and Tulsa and you see a Let's Go Bradon billboard? Very timely I say.

The Double A Tulsa Drillers, an affiliate of the hated Dodgers, play at Oneok Field. I was lost, saw a parking lot for $6, paid the fee and then realized I was a half mile away. It's 100 degrees and I'm walking half a mile to watch a minor league baseball game. Yes, I'm nuts.

The concessions are standard fare, there really was nothing unique but I do have one tip. Get the pizza before the 5th inning because when I bought a slice it was so dried out it was like eating some dried-up tomato sauce on a piece of Styrofoam. Not good. It was too hot for me to drink beer and dehydrate myself but there are lots of choices of craft beers and domestic cans.

The Drillers wore some hideous unform that looked like an orange life jacket and called themselves the "Raft Racers". I was baffled but it must mean something in Tulsa. I sat behind a group of players wives with babies (who brings a baby to a game in 100-degree heat) and at one point a Driller walking out to the bullpen stopped, looked at his wife, and gave the uni a thumbs down.

The baseball was good. The heat was not. The stadium planners, when they built this ballpark, knew what they were doing because at 7 pm, virtually the entire stadium was in the shade. Only the poor folks on the outfield berm with their dogs (it was Bark in the Park) were in the sun. But it was 100 freakin degrees and I could only last into inning 7 before I had to get out of there and take the trek back to my car walking past the homeless folks living under a bridge.

Day 3 awaits in Arkansas. 

Road Trip Day One Kansas City!

The annual Road Trip to see minor league baseball began on the road to Kansas City where the independent league Kansas City Monarchs play. But first to kill time lets take a tour of Arrowhead Stadium, officially known as GEHA Field (gotta get that money) at Arrowhead. I don't like the Chiefs at all, but I love stadiums and must tour them if possible.

Arrowhead tours are well attended apparently. A group of at least 25 of us waited for the start of the tour which began in the "clubs", where the beautiful people go to be seen at the game. Then up to the suites and the boxes where the beautiful people go to actually watch the game riding in the same elevator that Tay Tay used to get upstairs. OMG! The Swifty in me went wild. The suites are nice and the windows open (see Jason Kelce last fall climbing in and out). Back down to see the Chiefs locker room where the ladies were warned to not leave their numbers in Travis Kelce's locker. I think it was a joke. Then onto the field (don't touch the grass) to holler and hear the echo explaining why it's so goddamn loud there. All seats are tilted to face the 50 thus the noise. It was kind of cool. Eventually through the bowels of Arrowhead where they are preparing pallets of beer for an upcoming game and back to the Pro Shop where you can buy stuff or leave. I left.

Go Bears!

Field of Legends over by the Kansas Speedway is the home of the Monarchs, a member of the independent American Association, a league where the players who cannot give the sport up play. It's a nice place with a wraparound concourse and plenty of seats. Now on this particular night there was an hour and a half rain delay. They keep you entertained with videos and games. By the time the game started at 8 pm, very few people remained. 

The baseball is better than you might think as some of these players are not in shape. It's competitive though. The Chicago Dogs (what a great name) prevailed and the Monarchs were done. The stadium itself has plaques and banners celebrating the great Monarch Negro League stars of the past. Buck O'Neill, Jackie Robinson, Cool Papa Bell are just some you can read about. The concessions are standard ballpark fare but I gotta say, the KC BBQ brisket is fantastic. 

It was a fun experience.

Off to Tulsa.

Graham Nash!

 Look on my Mount Rushmore of music and you find 8 people. The Beatles of course and Crosby Stills Nash and Young. Spotify can attest to the fact my most listened to groups are those two. Yeah, childhoods are difficult to shake.

Graham Nash stopped his tour in Omaha last nite to play to a large crowd of olds like us. Nash is 82, looks much younger and sounds like he did in 1972. Nash was always the levelheaded one of the 4 men in CSN&Y. While they fought, he seemed to be the peacemaker who somehow would always smooth things over with the troubles that the other 3 ego maniacs had with each other and more great music would be made. Tours would come to be, until the inevitable explosion of egos would occur, and years would pass before the peace would be achieved again. Well, Crosby is dead now and any reunion is a pipe dream.

Nash came on stage and immediately stated he was in a great mood, the last 3 weeks at least. He gave a shout out to Nebraska born Tim Walz to huge cheers. Yes, these are my peeps. Let the show begin.

Nash launched right into Wasted on the Way, then began a series of stories before every song. Marrakesh Express, written on a train with dogs and pigs, heading for Marrakesh. A series of deep cuts, all with a story that made the song even more fascinating before The Hollies Bus Stop. The story of the 15-year-old kid they got the song from made it even better. Immigration Man, Love the One You're With ended the first set before the intermission. 

The second set began with a series of solo songs with Nash at a piano singing about relationships with Joni Mitchell and Rita Coolidge. The guy is a genius. Something happens to him and a song pops into his head. It's amazing to hear these stories and then get a whole new perspective on music I've listened to for 50 some years. 

The concert ended with an old hippie sing along. All of us belting out Our House, Teach your Children, Chicago and Ohio. It was grand!

The musicians Nash brings with him are amazing as well. Keyboard player Todd Caldwell seems like the conductor onstage. He's Nash's Nash. Keeping things rolling. Zach Djanikian played guitar, drums, saxophone, mandolin and bass. Adam Minkoff was also the jack of all trades, playing drums, guitar (a great solo on Ohio) and bass. They all blended their voices with Nash so that if you closed your eyes, you'd swear it was CSN&Y up there.

Go see him if you get the chance. The stories alone make it worth it. 

The Election Vibe!

 1992 is happening all over again. This election has that vibe. Once the Democrats jettisoned the old guy and Trump became the old guy, this whole race flipped. The concern over Biden's age (which I had come to cringe when I saw him walk down stairs) was real. Though I really just wanted it over one way or the other, the selfless decision of Joe to step down was the decision that had to be made. And now that it's made, and Kamala Harris bounds up and down stairs, sometimes talking at the same time, this whole thing is giving us hope. Hope! 

In 1992, a young 46-year-old Bill Clinton was nominated and ran against George Bush, though only 68, but who looked old side by side. Clinton and his running mate. Al Gore. a 44-year-old man, hustled and wore themselves out outperforming Bush, who thru the power of incumbency had the built in advantage. But age is a killer. And age never loses. Bush lost. This year has that feel. The younger Harris, 59 years old, and Trump, a bitter trash taking old man of 78, face off. Remember age never loses. Trump is old, Harris is young.

The Veeps are not going to help, they never do. Trump took J D Vance, a 39-year-old flip flopper who went from thinking he might be gay, to trashing his hillbilly roots, to calling Trump "America's Hitler" to calling childless women "cat ladies" and kissing Trump's ass. A single couch joke about him has gone from twitter joke to a derisive non-fact that somehow has become a fact. How's it feel, Republicans? Lies become "facts" if you see it often enough. Bite on ass achieved. Vance may end up being an actual liability, an impressive feat.

Tim Walz isn't going to help. Do no harm, right? Well, Walz does no harm thats for sure despite the MAGA efforts. The racists bring up Somalia and the Floyd disturbances. The assholes bring up the horrific policies of feeding children, protecting abortion rights and for some reason, tampons in high school bathrooms. Children, once born, are a burden to them. Feeding them is "Marxism" (a term none of them understand). Codifying abortion rights is just infuriating because fetuses are sacred while hungry children are leeches. And the whole tampons thing is just "weird". Angry men, clueless as usual about women and girls, trashing this policy. Oh my gawd, a tampon in a bathroom, a men's bathroom to boot, might make them gay. Grrrrr. It just makes them mad as hell. I once saw a tampon dispenser in a men's bathroom at a progressive movie theater here in Omaha (Film Streams rocks) and ya know what. Yeah, it was interesting. Then I left the bathroom and went into the movie. Didn't even need any medication to help me cope with that "trauma". These people are weird.

Tim Walz is everybody's goofy Dad. He's everybody's goofy uncle. He's a guy you actually look forward to seeing cuz you know it's gonna be fun. Joyous and positive. Walz is just like my Dad. A Western Nebraska born liberal who can be buds with anybody. My old man was in the stocks and bonds business from 1948 to 1994, hardly a liberal bastion. Yet, he thrived through the ups and downs of the market, had many conservative clients, and got along with all of them. He was fellow Chadron State Eagle and was born in Alliance, Nebraska. Chrissakes, my Dad IS Tim Walz. My Dad's political hero was the Happy Warrior, Hubert Humphrey of Minnesota. Walz is Humphrey without the Vietnam baggage. I love this guy. Plain speaking Democrats could dominate this current climate. There are just too few of them because Democrats want to be right rather than connect to regular people. Walz is one of those guys who would rather connect than be right. He is perfect. Do no harm again.

This race is tight. You'd be a fool to not think so. But the whole younger person beating up the old fighter who's lost all but the bluster is here. Kamala and Walz are the younger boxer and Trump is the old fighter who hasnt realized its time to go. His enormous ego and narcissism will never allow him to stop. Only a good haymaker will do him in. Let's hope Kamala and Walz are the haymaker.

Down goes Trump!

Imploding Trump!

 Wow what happened only a week ago seems like forever. This is the craziest campaign I have ever seen, and I was around for 1968. 

The Olympics. Love the Olympics. Every 4 years I learn a new sport to obsess over and then ignore for 4 more years. This year it's women's rugby. The US women's team had me enthralled. The toughness of these women was breathtaking. Ilona Maher and her fuck the haters 'tude was the best. 

Simone Biles. The GOAT. Back after the twisties and mental health problem in 2021, she told the haters to fuck off as she dominated the women's gymnastics with a good portion of America rooting against her because she refused to entertain them in Tokyo. She owes nuthin to nobody. She can do what she needs to do and its none of your damn business. Congrats to the best ever. Definitely Earned It.

The opening ceremony. Conservative America proving just how ignorant they are. A salute to Dionyses, a tribute to French author Pierre Boulle's 60's novel Planet of the Apes featuring a destroyed Statue of Liberty and the latest, a hysterical sudden outrage over a biological woman busting an Italian women's nose by calling her a man and using it to further their transphobic obsession while being so damn dumb to think an Algerian woman is trans. Unbelievable. No not really.

Meanwhile back here, the campaign just gets weirder and weirder because let's face, MAGA, with their weird devotion to a Mad Weird King is just, well, weird. Trump, the weirdo cult leader himself, really hates being called weird. He is such a middle school bully, the term weird makes him crazy. Instead of just ignoring it, like a normal 78 year old man, Trump goes straight to the I have no defense defense of  I know you are but what am I . It's just, well, weird.

Trump went to a black journalist conference for which I guess he deserves some credit and set himself on fire. Ranting like a Klan Wizard whose robe turned pink because some idiot put the red robe in with his white one in the laundry, Trump started a bum fight right off the bat when called out by Rachel Scott, a well-respected ABC news reporter. Straight to the nasty woman card. Rude he said. Claimed immigrants were taking "black jobs" as if the only job blacks have is garbage men, tree service workers, field pickers and shoeshine men. He went to the I am Abe Lincon card. He attacked Kamala Harris for suddenly "turning black", Trump is such a moron he has no idea what "biracial" is. This from a man who has called himself Irish, English and German depending on the opportunity. It's like Trump never knew he could get extra crispy AND original recipe in one order. Tacos AND burritos in one order. The man is a buffoon. But what really showed is what a racist he really is, despite his black reporter Harris Faulkner, making excuses for him on Fox the rest of the day. Pathetic.

Trump is imploding. He's a one note Donnie at his rallies, Even the dopes who worship him are bored with his routine. Yeah, they show up all excited and then realize, uhhhh, this is boring. Like me going to a Husker football game expecting a win and the same old shit happens and I think why did I come here? To watch Trump burn is truly fascinating. He's getting more and more desperate as America tires of his chaos. Kamala Harris has broken him. J D Vance has broken him. He realizes he is heading for bad bad things when he loses this election. And as he fades, he will become more and more desperate. MAGA will become more and more desperate. Who knows how long before Trump and his surrogates start in with the N bombs, the Jewish slurs, or plain old violence.

The sudden desperation is leading to the inevitable attempt by the GOP to steal the election by submitting fake electors in swing states, corrupt state secretaries of state refusing to certify the election, and throwing it to the House where the gerrymandered reps vote Trump in. The plans are there. Project 2025 is right there also. Trump denies he participated writing it and he's right, he technically didn't, his scumbag puppet masters did but he WILL implement it if he is installed via skullduggery.

America is at a crossroads. A scumbag criminal and a former prosecutor and a good portion of America roots for the criminal. It's sad.

As Taylor Swift says, Hi Its me, HI I'm the problem... it must be exhausting always rooting for the Anti-Hero. Save us, Swifties!