Bob Marley "Ambush In The Night"

Here are some things that happened while I tried to "get out the vote" and "get of of my house," yesterday morning . . .

My wife had to leave the house super-early, because she remembered last-minute that she had an early meeting.  This meant I was completely in charge of getting the kids ready to leave the house for the day.

My 2 year old loves peanut butter.  So I asked him if he wanted peanut butter on a bagel for breakfast.  He said yes, so I put peanut butter on a bagel.  He protested.  "Not peanut butter on top!"  It took me a few tries, but I figured out what he wanted.  He wanted an sandwich.  He didn't want the peanut butter on top, he wanted it in the middle.  Being the practical sort, I just took the two halves, squished them together and made a sandwich.  Unfortunately, he had seen that the peanut butter was actually on top, and could not unsee this horror.  He sobbed for 10 minutes, saying "Not peanut butter on top!"  I was unable to convince him that the peanut butter was now in the middle.  In his mind, it was forever on top, and he could never eat such an abomination.

Not only did my wife have to work early, she was going to have to work late.  So late, that she was not going to be able to pick up our almost-5 year old at her pre-school at pick-up time.  The solution was that I would take my daughter to work Tuesday.  The night before, Mom and daughter had gone shopping, and had spied a heavily discounted Halloween costume.  For 5 bucks, why not?  It seemed like a good idea at the time.  But on Tuesday morning, my daughter insisted that only suitable outfit for "Going To Work With Daddy" Day, was a cupcake costume complete with a cherry-on-top hat.  Did I really want to get in a yelling/crying standoff with a giant rainbow sprinkle covered cupcake?  "Choose your battles," the saying goes.

Amid these two mini-dramas, the friggin' cat was driving me crazy.  She's 18 years old (though she doesn't look it), and I was wondering if she was having senior moment.  Inside.  Outside.  Inside.  Outside.  She kept coming in and out of the kitchen slider, each time letting stiff morning chill shoot through the room.  And she kept meowing, Meowing, MEOWING!  "What is your beef, kitty!?"  I kept asking her.  On the shopping trip that yielding the cupcake costume, my wife had also bought some fancy-shmancy catfood---the kind that comes in gravy that actually looks kinda good---and I figured kitty was agitating for another bowl after she'd inhaled the first.  Hey, at least someone ate breakfast, right?  But what's with all the meowing and discontent?

So as I'm running out of time to get out the door, get the boy to daycare and get to work, plus squeeze in voting before the drop offs, the full on chaos begins as my daughter has decided to fulfill my request to "bring a toy you'd like to play with" by picking out, I dunno, an anvil or something insanely heavy and my son is furious because he sees his sister packing a backpack and realizes HE'S not packing a backpack and hell if I know where his Elmo backpack is and as I'm stomping through the house looking for it I'm muttering "why is it my responsibility to know where you throw your shit?" . . . I step in shit.  Or vomit.  I'm not sure.

Yeah, I misread the cat's issue.  Not a senior moment.  Diarrhea.  She was meowing because she was in gastro-intestinal distress.  And I stepped in it barefoot.

So yeah, I lost my cool and it took another 10 minutes to clean up, marshal all the kids' shit (not the literal kind of shit, just the kind of shit you put in a backpack) and hope that I could get in and out of the polling place so I was not late for everything else that I had to do that day.


Monday evening (the night before) . . .

As I've mentioned in previous posts, mvyradio has a trade with Adam Cab, for various reason, you might find a staffer catching a ride in one of their vans.  As I have also mentioned, a number of their drivers are Jamaicans.

So I was riding with one of the Jamaican drivers on Monday evening, and he was talking about how this was his last week---it's that time of year on the Vineyard, when our foreign workers are coming to the end of their visas.  They'll depart over the course of the next month, ready to return in April or May for another season.

I asked him what he'd be doing in Jamaica for the winter, and he said, "nut-ting to speak uf."  I asked if he'd come back for another season on the Island and he said, "I 'ope so.  We see what 'appens tomorrow."  He expressed concern that if Romney were elected, he might place tighter restrictions on Visas to protect American jobs.

As we drove through the darkened, quiet daylight-savings-is-over and the-season-is-over empty streets, he marveled, "The streets are quiet tonight, sir.  The night before an election?  Is not like this at home . . ."

I asked him what it is like.

"Tense.  Vera tense."  He went on, "People with guns go into neighborhoods of the opposition.  Try to intimidate 'em.  Lotta lives lost."

He paused, and then he said it again to make sure I heard it, "Lotta lives lost . . ."


Back to Tuesday morning . . .

I had slept soundly the night before.  There were no hazards to navigate, inside or outside the polling place.  I chose candidates that I have confidence in.  I left and went about my day.

Daycare schedule changes, peanut butter sandwiches, missing backpacks, sartorial dessert-orial decisions and cat diarrhea---these were first world problems, not anything to get hung up about.

I voted Tuesday.  And I felt lucky.


Here's a lesser know Bob Marley song, in which he address being shot in 1976, possibly for political reasons.  Go to the Youtube page to see the lyrics.


Hear the song and read the lyrics on Youtube.

Smart Songs "Voting Rap"

Thought I should post something for Election Day . . . 

I won't say these guys are the dopest rhymers.  But give them credit, they actually make a decent, informative song about the ins and outs of the American voting system.

Hope you vote today!


Hear the song on Youtube.

And for more of their clever songs about other aspects of our government, check out their Youtube page.

Suicide Machines "No Face"

Ballot Question #2 in Massachusetts is a version of what some States have tackled as "assisted suicide."  The proposed bill in Massachusetts is not an "assisted" bill, per se.  It would allow a "physician licensed in Massachusetts to prescribe medication, at the request of a terminally-ill patient meeting certain conditions, to end that person’s life."

Heavy stuff.

It's pretty amazing that this Question has arrived on the ballot rather quietly.  Given the strong feelings the subject matter provokes, you'd think that there would be a lot more talk about it.  But its under the radar enough that I know some of my friends weren't aware that this was something they were going to have to consider in (or before) the voting booth.  Or maybe they are aware of it, but they just don't want to talk about such a dark, loaded, emotionally charged subject.

My awareness of people's sensitive, passionate and emotional responses to the topic comes, in part, from a t-shirt.

There was a mini Ska-music revival in the mid-90s, and I became hooked on this band, The Suicide Machines.  From Detroit, I assume they took their name due to fellow Michiganite, Jack Kevorkian.

How psyched was I, that the record label person in appreciation of my radio support of the band, sent me a band t-shirt?

A simple navy tee, it had the band's name and logo on the front, and the album name, "Destruction By Definition" on the back.

Amazingly, I still have this t-shirt and it's still in pretty good shape even though it is well over 15 years old.

Why is it in good shape?  Because I only wear it occasionally.

I felt like, geez, you just never know when you're going to be somewhere where the words "Suicide Machines" emblazoned across your chest is inappropriate.

As far as fashion and clothing goes, I've always subscribed to something I read about Jackie Kennedy.  Her theory on clothing was that after you left a party, you wanted people to say you looked great, without them exactly remembering what you were wearing.

Now I'm no Jackie O and I've never worn a Chanel suit or a pill box hat.  But I do tend to wear things that are nice but plain, that effect a persona, but are not the focal point of that persona.

I'm definitely not the type of guy who wears a shirt that says, in effect, "Hey look at me.  I'm confrontational!"

So mostly, I've used my Suicide Machines tee as an undershirt, where a collared shirt can hide the logo.

But every time I put on this shirt, or listen to the band, I think of this one time . . .

It was when I was living in Virginia.  There was certainly a large population of social conservatives there, who would frown upon a shirt like the one I had.  Literally.  Some people were not shy about staring at you disapprovingly for something as simple as a t-shirt.

I was out with my friends at an arts and crafts and music festival in town.  The early part of the day had been cool, but the sun had come out, so I decided to take off my sweatshirt.

I had completely forgotten that I had the Suicide Machines tee on.  And as I was walking with my friends, trying to decide if I should but the sweatshirt back on, I could see this elderly woman staring at my chest.

She started toward me.

I suppose I could have thrown the sweatshirt back on, but I was kind of frozen in place, wondering how I was going to counter whatever argument she was about to throw on me.

She stepped right up to me, squinting at my chest to make sure she was reading correctly, right up until she was upon me.

She grabbed my arm and looked me in the eye.

"I love your shirt," she smiled.

And she gave me a thumbs up.

Then she walked off.

I suppose she'd be voting Yes, on Question #2.


For details on Ballot Question #2, and the Massachusetts Ballot in general, the State has a really great website.



Hear the song on Youtube.

John Prine "Automobile"

Following my post on Thursday (when I wrote some personal thoughts on Ballot Question #3 in Massachusetts), my friend Scott jokingly asked if I was going to write blog posts about the other two Ballot Questions. 

Actually, I was planning on writing about Question #2 on Monday, believe it or not.  Though more in a peripheral way.

But I might as well do a post about Ballot Question #1.

It's called the "Right To Repair" law, and if passed it would mean that auto makers and dealers would have to share diagnostic and repair information with independent auto repair shops.  Currently, they can keep that information to themselves, preventing independent shops from doing certain repairs.

Honestly, I don't know the issue so well.  I'm all for the sharing---which is consumer-friendly and should make auto repair more competitive.  But I'm also leery of government forcing inventors/creators, to share proprietary intellectual property.

Too much thinking for a Sunday.

Instead, let's just listen to John Prine sing about a broken down car.

(But if you want some good information, with balanced pros and cons, visit the state's site for a sample ballot and further information about this specific question.)



Hear the song on Youtube.

Ben Sollee "A Few Honest Words"

Sadly, I'm not sure there is a single candidate, in any race, that fits the simple criteria that Ben Sollee sings about here . . .

But during this ugly, mean, wall-to-wall negative political ad season, his call to action---to vote thoughtfully---is perhaps the most powerful, moving "ad" I've seen.

Ben Sollee - "A Few Honest Words" at the Lincoln Memorial from Mason Jar Music on Vimeo.

See the video on Youtube.