Nobody Flashes Happy Homework

Nobody Flashes: It's a full moon, and I just wanted to send out a fun video for everyone to enjoy! I also expect each and every one who sees this video to memorize the dance steps for the next time I see them...we will dance. Better learn both parts just in case.

It's the dance we'll be doing when the democrats are gone!

Baptism or Water-boarding...What's the Difference?

Baptism OR Water-boarding…What’s the Difference?

Nobody Knows:

Water boarding: Push someone under the water and hold him there.
Baptism: Push someone under the water and hold him there.

What’s the difference? One is done as “torture.” One is done for “benefit.” But the actual physiological “damage” or stimulation to the brain…if measured…what does that tell us? What happens scientifically to that ball of funny-looking blubber in our heads after the fact?

Nobody wants to know, but it does have me wondering.

One of the reasons that Scott Brown won the hearts of Americans in his race for Ted Kennedy’s seat in Massachusetts was his stance on water-boarding: he supported it. It’s no secret that these guys want to kill us all…so what’s a little “nudge” under the water? Many sane Americans agree.

It’s not like any of them suffer permanent damage from water getting into the brain---like some wacky science fiction movie. I can speak from experience when I say that ear wax alone makes a pretty good plug. As for the lungs…they are very careful.

But ‘President’ Obama ran on the notion that this terrible practice, done to elicit important information, was so barbaric of a practice, that he wanted it outlawed forever.

Nevertheless…I had a crazy thought: Can water-boarding be compared to baptism? Could we be doing the “tortured” soul that we water-board an actual favor, according to the latest psychiatric research?

There is now new evidence that not only could water-boarding save lives, as many CIA agents along with Dick Cheney have insisted, but it could mean a whole new life for the person who goes through it and comes out alive on the other side!

Think I’m crazy?

Not according to Dr. Frank Lawlis. In his book, Retraining the Brain, he sites that over the years, psychiatrists have used lots of different methods to help mental sufferings, and dunking a person under water has been successfully used throughout history as a very effective maneuver, in order to…heal.

They don’t know why it works, but it does.

He notes that in Egypt and Ireland a method called “purposeful ritual” was a sure help to many a suffering mind. Unlike the damage of the frontal lobes that comes with electric shock treatments, the person who underwent the “drowning” treatment would be placed underwater and come up…transformed---

In a better way. (He doesn’t suggest we do this, mind you, but makes the point.)

Here’s how it works: “In reaction to possible drowning, the brain shunts blood into different parts of the brain, based on a priority system of immediate needs. The first area is the need for survival. This is where the person does a life review. Once the brain believes that death is inevitable, it reserves the remaining energy for relaxing and preparing for a transition---some see angels.”

(Or Elvis, but that’s another blog.)

“In the last phrase you get a message that since you probably are not going to survive; you start to think of just what you might have done to benefit the world and those you love. If you are then brought back to this reality and escape death, this last phase appears to have a lasting effect.”

Therefore, if you were just about to blow up a million people in the name of Allah, you might come to see that this really doesn’t benefit humanity at all, let alone your own family, and you would give up the plans of your cousin bin Laden, and tell what you know.

Dr. Lawlis also notes that many who come out of this “drowning “dramatically reinvent their lives as missionaries or messengers of spiritual truths.”

So, this nobody wonders… just how LONG did John the Baptist hold Jesus underwater when he was baptized? Long enough for him to kick in his, “I want to really save the world!” neurons and come out the Messiah?”

If so, thank God for John the Baptist. He did humanity a wonderful favor. He kicked -started a great movement that saved much of the world, and continues to this day.

And if holding a person underwater can deliver such a miraculous tendency for that person to want to come back to reality and devote their lives to helping humanity…I say we put in a clause in the Constitution that all members of Congress have to be baptized…

And if they refuse then we water-board them on their first pork-barrel project.

We might not get any messiahs, but maybe they would stop acting as if their heads are filled with… dish-water soapy greedy sap.

The 111st Congress…Stop the Torture! Water-board or Baptize?

It’s all the same to me.

Nobody Rmemebers: The Pundit, Earl Jent

Nobody Remembers the day I got his e-mail...

My little "Snowball" had passed away---my dear parakeet whose death I had written about on my blog just to help my own grief.

After all, one is not suppose to grieve about the death of a bird...but this tough old soldier named Earl Jent, (that famous pundit) sent me his heartfelt condolences.

Imagine...a x-Marine understanding the mourning of what seemed to be such, in the scheme of things, especially in the light of all the deaths of the recent loss of life in Haiti, such an insignificant creature.

But Earl loved animals, especially cats. When you visited his site, there were always funny and endearing pictures of cats. And music. He loved music, and posted a wide variety for us all to enjoy. And he loved the best writers of the day. Earl had excellent taste!

If I wanted to find out the best articles written about America and our country, I went to Earl's site, called...Another Pundit. He would post it, and then save us all a lot of time. For this, he had an enormous following around the world.

Earl and I shared a love for Doug Powers, Ann Coulter, and Thomas Sowell, and also I found out, the desire to hide our foreheads. He sent me this recent picture and said, "I wore that hat in the photo because I have too much forehead and the reflected light might hurt someone's eyes."

Earl had hats, I still have my bangs.

Everyday I would look forward to his e-mails, which many times would uplift my day. He worried about his wife Bea, who had suffered health problems, and never ONCE mentioned the fact that he was not well himself.

Typical of a soldier---men who so often bear the pain for the rest of us.

Anyway...I didn't know him long, but long enough to know, that he will be missed by many around the world.

I will always think of Earl as the tough guy with the heart of a kitten. He once sent me this photo of a parakeet and a kitten, and every time I look at it, I will try not to cry, but there you go...I make no promises on that account. I'm not a Marine.

I kiss you goodnight, dear sir, and may God be with you now, your Bea, and the ones that loved you. I'm sure I speak for the many who say, the world is a little less bright without Another Pundit....there will be no other, Earl---you hold the title.

Nobody Muses on Missing Music

Nobody’s Opinion: I don’t know what the matter with me is …I really don’t…but, I think it’s the music--- I miss it.

Everybody should have a big dose of whatever their favorite music is every day. Music is the human’s way of expressing that which even words have trouble doing. Sometimes just a note can resonate a deep feeling. A single note, played in the hands of a Jeff Beck, can take you back to your first love, or a lost one.

The baby boomer’s “sounds of silence” have been transformed into a raucous and meaningless, “I got a big gold necklace and you have a big shaky bootie, and I have a big what you want, baby.” dance rap songs---a far cry from “I Want to Hold Your Hand.” or even, “I’ve Got You, Under My Skin.”

Many of us are just figuring out that very few things are a coincidence. Most “cultural” phenomenons are hashed out in think tanks and introduced into the market for our “control.” Yes--- that even includes our music.

For instance: Rapping is an easy way to get kids to praise Obama, and learn his government lessons of complete mindless obedience to all his “topics” as we all have recently seen. So, it’s no wonder rappers are all over the place.

Coincidence?

Do you really think some of these guys, made it to the top by their incredible talent?

Between the internets, talk radio, and cable news channels, most of the news is so horrible I feel like I’m hearing some bad version of Moonlight Sonata being played in the background, over and over again.

I’m beginning to suspect that Beethoven was watching Glenn Beck having conversations with Nostradamus, in-betweens Sonatas.

And when did the music get so….empty? When Michael Jackson died, a lot of us felt like we’d had a bucket of water poured onto our heads….oh yeah…we had forgot all about him…and for good reason.

But…Tom Hanks brought the music back tonight with his HBO special on the 25th Anniversary of the Rock and Roll Hall of fame. Tom wanted to remind us that hey--America did one thing right.

There they were in New York, all the famous musicians of my generation: BB King playing “The Thrill Is Gone” for the 48th trillionth time, and it still sounds like the first.

Crosby, Stills, and Nash putting the sweetest harmonies to Paul Simons’ simple rendition of, “Here Comes the Sun.”

Bonnie Rait, burning our hearts with a love song, like only she can.

Then the masters--- Jeff Beck, Stevie Wonder, Aretha Franklin, Dion, Smokey, Springsteen, and that ever so silly Ozzie, who can’t make up his mind if he wants to bless you or cuss at you.

Garfunkel was still reaching out to save us all with his “bridge.”

(Somebody throw me a couple of bridges, I could use them.)

My favorite part was when Mick Jagger started dancing and singing rings around that Globalization Whore of Babylon, Bono Bucket. (Okay, I admit. I’m not a big fan.) I once saw Tina Turner due exactly the same thing to Mick.

The man learned.

And in case you haven’t noticed, the talented musicians of the baby boomers generation are suddenly being dusted off and rolled back out into the mainstream. The Beatles have once again “made a comeback” and you can now play them on a video game. I suspect this is a very deliberate attempt on the government to put us baby boomers, who are mad because they are about to be cut short of a decent healthy life, in a better mood.

There are only so many times you can rip people off before they go nuts. Maybe they figure if we sing “She’s Got a Ticket To Die” enough, we will go quietly into the muddy fields of Woodstock, and get lost in the parking lot to Macy’s, and spend a few more bucks before we croak off, clutching our Universal Health Care cards in our bloody texting hands.

What the hell happened to us? The baby boomers---the hippies, the Woodstock generation of Joni Mitchell’s “going back to the garden.”?

Michelle Obama wants to take us all back there, and why? (As if Monsanto would let us…) They want us to remember the hippie philosophy of “do nothing, live on nothing, money is bad, mom and dads are dangerous, and women can do everything a man can, especially earn a paycheck.”--- Good old progressive ways.

The trouble is, my generation was “in” the garden, and most of us were too stupid or too stoned to know it. Now, we are just figuring out, that the “garden” has been hoed and the field is being abandoned.

What we need now is a rousing chorus of “Hold On, I’m Coming.”

As Billy Joel once said, “We didn’t Start the Fire” Good music never dies.

Buddy Holly might be dead, but “When You Wish Upon a Star” is still a big hit in my nobody heart, how about you?

Nobody Got E-Mail 100 Years Ago

Nobody Gets E-Mail---100 Years ago...Obama was just a thought in his mother's Burke

Hey, we all survived black Friday right?

As you might guess, I'm the last person you would find standing in line for over 4 hours just to get $25.00 off a microwave.

Of course they SAY there are sales, but... they lie. You know they do. It's almost become a national addiction....lying, and shopping. So thank god for beer.

Anyway, I had the BEST thanksgiving,(I learned there was such a thing as Polar Bear Crack from a 7- year old, bet you didn't know that.) So this week, I'm posting one of those common e-mails that everyone gets, and just for fun, added my own "opinions" in red...
________________________________________

Show this to your children and/or grandchildren
That is, if Al Gore lets you.

1909 FORD Model R

My grandmother had one! Really!

THE YEAR 1909

The year is 1909.�
One hundred years ago.�
What a difference a century makes!�
Here are some statistics for the Year 1909 :
************ ********* ********* ******

The average life expectancy was� 47�years.
Life expectancy in 2009? Whatever they decide, which if left up to them would be right around nine weeks.

Only 14 percent of the homes had a bathtub.
Only 14 percent of humans use them now, so not much of a difference.

Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone.

Tell that to your daughter when she doesn't get the latest I-phone.

"When I was your age, we walked to the phone!!"

There were only 8,000 cars and only 144 miles
Of paved roads.

Give us just ten years, and we'll be right back there.

The maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 mph.

We don't even drive in the cities now, for fear of being shot.

The tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower!

The tallest structure in the world is now in Dubai, and no thanks due to George Bush, (why of course, you have to blame somebody) it will never be finished. But hey, that's at least taller than the "not ever built" World Trade Center.

The average wage in 1909 was 22 cents per hour.

Which is what most Americans will be making after taxes in 2011.

The average worker made between $200 and $400 per year .
Show-offs.

A competent accountant could expect to earn $2000 per year,

Now, a dishonest accountant can expect to make 347 million per year. Finally, improvement.

A dentist $2,500 per year, a veterinarian between $1,500 and $4,000 per year, and a mechanical engineer about $5,000 per year.

Dentist make $2,500 every time they say the words "open."

My Vet makes enough to buy sponsor his own elephant herd in Kenya, and I suspect that's exactly what he does.

And the positions of mechanical engineer no longer exists in the U.S. They all live in Sing-a-pore and drive yellow vipers.

More than 95 percent of all births took place at HOME.

What a mess!

On the other hand, we will be getting back to that noble tradition soon. Our government is training Mexican women as we speak to come into the United States and deliver their own babies at home, so that they can grow up to work for ACORN! Saving all of us taxpayers from having to pay any doctors!

Ninety percent of all doctors had NO COLLEGE EDUCATION!
Instead, they attended so-called medical schools, many of which
Were condemned in the press AND the government as 'substandard. '

And nobody ever got sick. Now they just look at you...and give you a pill, which kills you quicker. The government had already started on getting that Universal Health Care passed, back then. It took them a 100 years, but it looks like it's finally coming...let's hope India really likes us.

Sugar cost four cents a pound.

Which means, we don't get enough sugar, because everyone was thinner then. Pass the pie.

Eggs were fourteen cents a dozen.

Now their fourteen cents an egg.

Coffee was fifteen cents a pound.

So, what was the price of cocaine?

Most women only washed their hair once a month, and used
Borax or egg yolks for shampoo.

Now, we have dreadlocks covered in gook, and you can go for at least three months without washing...an improvement.

I once washed my hair in beer...it works pretty good.

Canada passed a law that prohibited poor people from
Entering into their country for any reason.

Now, I am getting sick. Yes, let's just kick out the poor, and save ourselves some money on our taxes. Let's send them to Canada.

Five leading causes of death were:
1. Pneumonia and influenza
2. Tuberculosis
3. Diarrhea
4. Heart disease
5. Stroke

Now, it's food poisoning, from China, and the upcoming new U.H.C. (Universal Health Capers)

The American flag had 45 stars.

According to Obama, we now have 57 stars...it's looking up.

The population of Las Vegas, Nevada, was only 30!

This is a lie. There were at least 31, counting Frank Sinatra.

Crossword puzzles, canned beer, and ice tea
Hadn't been invented yet.

Neither had the New York Times, Taco Bell, and Diet Coke...which explains the dumbing down of the entire nation.

There was no Mother's Day or Father's Day.
BUT, there was a George Washington Day, and you didn't have to buy him a present.

Two out of every 10 adults couldn't read or write.
Only 6 percent of all Americans had graduated from high school.

Okay, tell me how this has changed?

Marijuana, heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at the local corner drugstores. Back then pharmacists said, " Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind,
regulates the stomach and bowels and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health.
( Shocking? ) No.

Well, we...foolish nation...will soon the the Utopia of George Soros' wet dream...a nation where all marijuana is sold over the counter, morphine will be administered on request, and heroin, will be given to hyperactive kids in school.

This will also mean that they will have to outlaw guns, due to too many stoned people getting mad when they don't get their governmental drugs...on time.

Eighteen percent of households had at least
One full-time servant or domestic help.
This one is true...once upon a time, even the middle classes could afford household help. My middle-class grandmother always had an Irish maid..and then they came along with liberating women...they had the peachy idea that women should not only do their own housework, but do a full day's real work at the same time! Thanks Gloria.

There were about 230 reported murders in the ENTIRE U.S.A.!

Now, there are that many on a Saturday night in Chicago. Don't worry, they put a serial killer on TV to help us get those numbers up.

Try to imagine what it may be like in another 100 years.

In another hundred years, we will, according to the latest reports...be chipped, live in energy efficient homes where we will work for the government, and watch big screen 3-D T.V.s most of the day. We will have camera's in our TV to make sure we are doing our morning exercises, and eating right. George Orwell, will be double speaking commands, and we will have a Global "President" and a global army, and no one will be allowed to reproduce, unless they go to Harvard.

If we get out of line, we will be forced to wear ankle bracelets, and listen to old reruns of Bill Clinton, Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama, and Rosanne.

Nevertheless, we will still be allowed to watch reruns of the Three Stooges on holidays.

IT STAGGERS THE MIND

Yes...my mind was staggerd just thinking about why they failed to mention, that NOBODY had to take up half their day, getting through their e-mail box.

And soon, it will cost you the price of a stamp just to send one. That's one prediction you know will come true. You can bet on that one.

100 years from now, your e-mail will cost you a small fortune. So, think about that next time you read YOUR favortie e-mail.

Happy Puppies, Happy Turkeys

Nobody Cares: Everyone and their mother-in-law has been preaching all week about how we should all just count our blessings...you know, forget 2012, or go see the movie so you can prepare yourself for the end...and when it doesn't come, you will be oh-so-grateful that WHEN or IF you lose your job, you will remember that you did NOT die in 2012, therefore...you will just be thankful to accept that wel-fare check...or something like that.

In all in the new Mind Control...just ask Barney Frank.

And like most Americans...I can't WAIT to see the movie! A place where cell phones never lose their connections, even in the event that the whole world is destroyed...the cell phones would still be working, and someone will have a car accident because they were talking on the cell phone and did NOT dodge that telephone pole.

But, when I get down and out, (which sometimes happens on holidays, and bad body days) I just think of my adorable American Eskimo...Zippy. (That's her on her back. She likes the cool air coming in through the door.)

I've had a lot of dogs in my lifetime, but Zippy, is just about the happiest creature walking on the planet. She keeps my soul up, wakes me with a big sloppy kiss every morning, and there is nothing in life that gets her down.

I figure she's my instant Karma.

Not even 2012...would dampen this little spirit.

And this other picture is one of my most favorite pictures...

Just look at those little faces!

"Okay, what are we gonna do now?"

"How'd you get out there?"

"What did you say? There's dog treats?"

"Hey, where's mom?"

Okay, thank God for my dogs. And if Disney kills another dog in a film I think I'm going to sue them for emotional reparations.

(As you can tell, Zippy is sleeping at the moment)

Everyone have a wonderful Thanksgiving! And I'll see you after Black Friday!

Nobody Reports on a Monday: THE Star

Nobody Reports on a Monday:

Here it is--the star you have all been waiting for.

You know that moment when you start putting up your Chrismas decorations, and you and your neighbor try to out do each other every year?

Well...top this.

This 550 pounds Swaravski crystar star is going on top of the Rockefellar Center Chrsitmas tree...very soon.

The girl on the side is going to put it there---at least, she would if she lived in MY neighborhhood.

I don't know about you, but...I'm tempted to fly to New York just to see the tree. I think we can all agree, New York deserves it.

(see more info here)

Nobody's Perfect: Brittany Spears

Nobody's Perfect: Brittany Spears


NOTE: MEN...I know it's hard..but please, let me as a female, who is not distracted by the obvious that most men notice first...those loving eyes..let me point out that never have I ever seen a "dimple" on an elbow.

Have you?

So, if the dimple is "fake." then realize that what you are seeing...MAY not be real. This could be what that new and sometimes expensive sensation...called...body-synching.

I'm just saying...****I know it's a mute point..

Nobody’s Perfect: On my “Nobody’s Perfect” day, I’m finding it hard to stick to just one person…especially after having just witnessed the biggest bunch of morons who ever walked the Halls of Congress on a Saturday night.

So, I’ll just stick to one: Brittany Spears, wins the “Nobody’s Perfect” award of the week.

It seems that many thousands of people walked out of Brittany’s concert in Australia recently when they figured out she was lip-synching her songs. The article didn’t say just how long it took the audience to figure this out, but I’m guessing probably within the first ten minutes, or when she couldn’t see her teleprompter, because her hair got in the way.

I first saw this phenomenon of lip-synching about 20 years ago at my first and only Stones concert. I witnessed Keith Richards literally fall down…completely off the stage, and his guitar went down too. Mick went after him…and then I noticed—the song went on! Even though neither one of them were at a microphone or a guitar!! It took them both quite some time to get up.

“Look! Look! GOD! Did he break his leg?! Is he dead! How come he is still playing the guitar? Wait, his guitar fell over…there! He’s still on his face! Is he going to get up? Oh, no…he’s dead. ”

Nobody of course was listening to me.

There was not a crash or a skip in “Jumping Jack Flash”…no big electronic feedback, (guitars usually make a LOT of noise when dropped.) nope…

This nobody was astounded---not at the fact that the great Rolling Stones were lip-synching, I mean, come on…Mick Jagger has to be on some kind of amphetamine endorsed coma--- Nobody can dance and sing for four hours without running out of breathe…and Mick Jagger never, ever, ever, runs out of breath.

At least, I’ve never seen it.

No, I was astounded that they were so bloody well good at it! Lip-synching!

Since I spent half my life in bands, I actually KNOW what happens and how it sounds when the guitar player falls down and remains unconscious. It’s pretty much like a 747 taking off backwards. I mean, in LIVE music, everyone onstage goes--.”ahhhhh” and then starts another song…

”Okay, folks, looks like our guitar player had just a little too much, wax on his shoes…so…he’ll be back, we’re taking a short break, we need to pick him up…so.…don’t you go away!”

I also witnessed a saxophone player once play with a broken jaw the whole night because he had been beaten up on the way to the job and robbed, so therefore, he needed the money. (I witnessed this because, I as the leader of the band, (playing drums) was in sheer mortal fear the whole night that he might fall down any second from his injuries and loss of blood, and the whole BAND wouldn’t get paid !)

We needed the money just to get back to town. None of us wanted to spend the night in the van, in the middle of winter.

(Sorry about getting off the title…band memories just happen…like bad gas.)

Anyway, because I was actually the only person at that concert who was NOT stoned and who realized that the Rolling Stones were just playing along with their own recording--I really didn’t care. I’m thinking at least half the acts do it now. Especially if there is a lot of dancing, you can bet they do. They just turn up the mikes when they talk…it’s all rehearsed.

Still, the Aussies have an excellent point. If you are going to pay that much money, then you deserve to hear the singer actually sing! Right?

So, Brittany’s Not Perfect. She can’t dance and sing at the same time. She also likes to go bald headed. But, I will cut her some slack here. After all, Drew Barrymore once stood up on Dave Letterman’s desk and boob-flashed him. Someday, Brittany will admit that she really is a Lesbian, and we’ll all feel better about the whole thing. I also suggest she get that dimple fixed.

Okay, that made no sense…what can I say? Nobody’s Perfect.

So Here We Are: The Bus Boy

Nobody’s Opinion: Sometimes in life, when you’re just sitting there not bothering even your own mind, your own mind decides to bothers you, with a memory…a memory that is so strange and unfathomable that it sits in your banks of “weird” experiences of “What the hell just happened?” in hopes that someday you will get an answer to an unanswerable question, that you know will never be answered.

Therefore the problem.

It’s like a pesky fly that just won’t buzz–off. It keeps coming back and popping up, until finally, you’ve had enough. You cannot swat away a brain-fly, especially with most medical plans at the moment.

So, I’ve decided to dump it here. Well, why not? The political arena is pretty predictable at the moment.

It’s a memory about a girl drummer, a sick bass player, and a bus boy.

********

I think I was about 21, (or nineteen, I’m not sure) and it was the early 1970’s. Okay, I may not remember the year, but the day this “strange” event happened was July 9th...I’m sure of that. Don’t ask me how.

It happened in the middle of a hot blistering day in Missouri---the kind of day when the hot air sucks the oxygen right out of your lungs.

By the way, if you’ve never had the pleasure of experiencing summer days in Missouri, then you will never know why you see more people in Missouri walking around with dark tans in the summer than on the southern beaches of Florida.

It’s true.

Well, unless of course, you’re Jewish, over 86 years old, and got money to burn on Miami Beach.

Actually, I don’t know if there still are a lot of Jewish people in Miami, it’s been so long since I’ve been there…but in the 1960’s, Miami Beach was covered with old Jewish people everywhere…sitting around looking like alligator purse commercials, they were all so dark. They would smoke and play canasta; on every corner you’d see them. The Jewish men had their cigars, their flowered shirts, with their skinny legs sticking out… and the old Jewish ladies would wear their big sunbonnets while they walked around the sidewalks, hunched over walking with canes, smelling of thousand-dollar perfume.

And all the hotels, for miles and miles down the beach, were just one color---white.

Sometimes I used to think that the white hotels were some sort of poetic justice for the Jewish people's suffering and horrible memories. Each hotel was like a huge marked white tombstone, all built as future graves of the Jewish families that had survived the holocaust. They could just die in their luxury hotel rooms, with huge diamond rings on, entombed till their last breathe in their air conditioned splendor.

Why else were all the hotels white? At least that what I thought when I was a kid.

Now, I hear it’s much more diversified…but I’m off the story…

That summer I was the leader of my own band, mainly because whoever owned a “PA” system was always the leader of the band. The band could not function without a “PA” to sing through, because, well, you try singing over an electric guitar, bass, keyboards, and drums, playing “Summertime Blues.” (You have to be “old” to remember that song-- my mother told me about it.)

Back then, PA systems were not cheap. My PA had four 4560 JBL speaker cabinets, which took two big guys who were willing, to carry them. I say willing because when it came time to carry them, all the guys in the band would disappear and it was usually me and some bus boy barely getting them off the U-Haul.

But they were worth it.

Those old JBL’s cabinet’s had so much power they could launch a jet takeoff, or a Ted Nugent football party, or break a few Donald Trump luxury windows, if turned up to ten.

Unfortunately, you had to keep the volume on one or two, so that the people in the restaurant could at least talk. That’s because bands back then, worked in what was called “lounges.” People could “lounge” around and pick up other “loungers” and get drunk and dance.

It was good money for a girl with no college education, and no “government” handout to get one. I was the drummer, and there weren’t too many girl drummers at that time, so I had the market covered on ‘strange and weird phenomenon’ in the local area.

So—freaky being an advantage---I got the gigs, I handled the money, the paychecks, I controlled the song lists---and in this group of misfits, appropriately named “Coconuts” in honor of the Marx Brother movies (which no one else in the band had seen but me) I was also officially…the “mom.”

And mom had to handle the “boy” fights---especially when it came to hotel rooms.

Coconuts was on the road for six months at a time. We played Ramada Inns in the Midwest, and I can tell you first hand that at that time, all the Ramada’s look the same. They had red carpets….with white country fringe…everywhere. Every room, every lobby, every state, every hotel, was exactly the same. And this Ramada was just off the highway, in a little town of nowhere called Marion, Illinois.

Not much happening there at the time. We were pretty much it.

As my brain-fly is buzzing me, the night before the “event,” the lead singer in the band (Who was a black guy named Charlie) pleaded with me for at least an hour, to take his roommate of the band (who was the bass player named Rick) into my room, so that he and his pretty hot looking girlfriend could spend the night alone.

If I had said no….the following would not have happened.

Now, before you all go into…”Did you guys have wild and crazy sex? Bass player and drummer, oooooo...what rhythm!” Well of course! Go ahead and imagine it!

I must tell you, that first of all, I did not mess around with my co-workers. Second of all, Rick was sick. Really, really sick in fact. (Yeah, he even looks sick in the picture.)

He had some kind of fever that just wouldn’t go away. So, being the “mom” that I am, I nursed him all night, feeding him soup, wiping his forehead down with cold rags.

When his fever got up to 103, going on 104, and he seemed to be going into some kind of lethargic state of stupor…I ordered us room service.

Well yeah, I was hungry. I had been on a diet of M&M’s for about a month, and taking care of sick bass players can drain you.

Besides, I knew Rick didn’t have any money, so I would have to pay for a doctor. I didn’t have any money either, but when you’re sick, you’re sick.

I placed the order to the kitchen at about nine o’clock. And I remember that it seemed to take forever for our breakfast eggs and bacon to arrive. I wanted to get Rick to the hospital, and I wanted to get some food in us before we went, and I kept looking out of the pulled curtains…there was not one cloud in the sky, and even at that time in the morning, it was already around 98 degrees outside.

I remember thinking “Man, it is HOT, maybe we should just stay here, Rick might melt.”

And then, it happened…

Like an unexpected tax increase…Death walked right into that room.

Of course, I did not recognize him right away. He was a tall boy, about nineteen, at the prime of his male life…handsome in every way. And when he entered the room, holding a tray of food, the most frightening thing happened.

The whole room turned solid black. I’m not kidding, solid black.…especially around him. From head to foot he was covered in some sort of thick, black, fog that radiated out filling up the whole room.

The first thing I said to him was, “Doesn’t it seem really dark in here? Weird.”

No answer.

I went and opened the curtains, it was the brightest day I had ever seen… but it was still dark.

That’s when I got really spooked. Off the scale. Whoa...pay attention girl.

“Well, just set it over there,” I said. “I have to get my purse.”

The boy didn’t say a word. He just stood there, in a vapor of black.

Now, by this time I could tell by the look on his face the kid was in the ozone somewhere. I wondered at the time if he was just stoned. He didn’t smile. He refused to talk or answer anything I said. And I asked him about ten questions…like “How long have you worked here?” and “Do you live around here?” and “Do you go to school?” etc.

Not… one…word.

And he had the most fearful look that I have ever seen then or since, on his face. It was as if he knew something terribly was going to happen, any minute. And he didn’t believe it, didn’t want it. He was paralyzed by this unknown black force that was in that room.

It had a powerful grip on him, and it scared him to death. Hey, it was scaring me to death and I was just standing next to it.

Any other time I would have considered the boy’s silence as just being rude, and would not have tipped him. But I remember giving him a big tip, because I felt so sorry for him…I just couldn’t explain it. Something was really wrong…something was in that room with us both…and it was worse than any boogey man.

The boy finally left after his tip. The room very slowly became normal again. The spookiness was gone.

I told Rick about it, but he was out of it. I took his temperature one more time---104 degrees…time to go. My “mom” instincts kicked in and I told Rick I was taking him to the local emergency room. So we ate, got in the car, and I drove him there.

The hospital was only five minutes away, and the emergency room looked like a small doctor’s office. It was empty…and Rick was slumped over feeling pretty shitty, and I was bored. So bored, that I was counting water stains in the ceiling tiles. I kept looking at my watch wondering why we were sitting there so long, and why they couldn’t get better chairs than the metal ones we were sitting on. And then I heard that horrible, sound---a sound that I still hear to this day…a sound from hell itself.

The sound of a mother’s screams.

It was a scream that I have never heard before or since. A voice from a body I couldn’t see was saying, “No, No, No, No…She was screaming her boy’s name at the top of her lungs. …Jimmy is NOT dead…Jimmy is NOT dead…no, no, no, no, no, no, NO, NO…OH NO God, NOOOOO!!

Rick and I looked at each other. Now his fever seemed like a little finger cut.

Out of nowhere we saw about five burly men in white scramble up stairways to retrain her. I saw a glimpse of her…a heavyset woman collapsing, arms flaying, swinging at everyone even near…the men couldn’t hold her, her body was uncontrollable. It flung up towards the ceiling, fists hitting at the arms of the men trying to contain her.

They wouldn’t let her see him….his body.

They tried to hold her. She continued to scream.

A nurse came down the stairs. The woman’s son had just died she told us, it was her only child.

Nobody could tell us much more at the hospital. But, it was obvious “death” had touched a mother. And to this day, I still sometimes hear her screaming deep in my soul. In the winter, when it’s cold…when the clouds are dark, before the snow.

Everything good that had happen to me up until that point in time, seemed irrelevant compared to this woman’s pain. Depressed is not the word I felt for this poor lady. I was never so glad to get out of there. Rick got some antibiotics, and we were gone.

When we pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, around about eleven-thirty, lots of the service people were running all over the parking lot. Young girls, busboys, desk clerks, and maids were all walking around in a daze outside the hotel. The parking lot was full of zombies, as if they didn’t know where to go.

I thought maybe there was a fire in the hotel, and that’s why everyone was outside.

I rolled down my window as I pulled into the hotel parking lot, and asked a young girl what had happened--”Was there a fire?”

“Didn’t you hear?” she said. “Jimmy’s car just got hit by a huge truck on the freeway. He was killed instantly. He was just mangled. There’s nothing left of his car. And he had just left his shift.”

“What does he look like?” I asked.

Well, he’s tall…blond…he just delivered some room service and left.”

“Does he talk, I mean---he wasn’t mute was he?”

“Jimmy, oh no, yeah, sure he could talk. He talked a lot. Oh God, we can’t believe this. He was such a sweet guy.”

I couldn’t either. I realized at that moment that I was the last person to see that boy alive. I also realized that the mother at the hospital was his mother.

And I swear to this day, that my busboy knew he was going to die, or something terrible was going to happen to him.

This “dark event,” this unexplained black presence I felt on that hot summer day full of light…has bothered me to this day. If I had only recognized death, could I have warned him?

Would anything I could have said made any difference? Was it just his time?
Does Death have a cloak? Does it have some sort of physical presence?

And why? Why the young, the innocent, the deeply loved?

Well, it’s a nasty brain fly…but I do know one thing. I know that I did not hallucinate that whole “event.” I really did see and feel death come through that hotel door. I saw a vibrant human being at the peak of his young life, who knew something terrible was going to happen to him. And even his tremendous life force was no match for this dark creature. It scared him so much that he didn’t even talk.

He took him to his death.

There are things in this world that cannot be explained, damn it.

But some things can. Rick found out he had Mono from his doctors at home, and so that pretty much ended The Coconuts. He was bedridden for six months and he told me his mother wondered where he had gotten it. She was mad.

Frankly, I did too, but I was also very glad to have his own mother take over as nurse.

All these years later, I don’t think about the guys in that band much. I do know Charlie is still singing around the area, and I’m proud that I helped give him his “start.” Everyone loved Charlie, and I imagine they still do.

But I do still think about that boy, and his poor mother, and the questions we all think about when some people do not survive unexplained “accidents”--- whether by tornados, disease, gunshot wounds, or car accidents.

What can you do?

J.K. Rowling sums it up nicely in one of her books. A man is speaking to Harry Potter, and remarks how sad it was that his parents died.

“And yet, here we are.” He says, and looks around at the trees in amazement. And that’s the point here.

Yes, that’s the point. Here we are. Amazingly…here we are.