Proctologist Defrauds Medicare

I know I should be incensed and angry about this story, but I am giggling over it instead. First of all, the name of the proctologist is Dr. Boris Sachakov (funny name). And he claims to have removed 85 hemmoroids from a single patient (Owwwwwww!!). Heee heee.

Here is the article.

The good doctor allegedly stole $3.5 million form Medicare. His claims would make him the busiest ass man in the country.

This guy is a true butt-hole.

The Next Gen

Here he is, folks - my grandson, Patrick Christopher Blackwell. He has taken a lively interest in the harmonica, as you can see from this picture. Pat grabs it, stuffs it in his mouth, and does the ol' huff & puff. That is how harmonica players start.

When I feel tense and stressed from my work or from other aspects of my life, some time with little Pat is blessed relief. He is full of hot boy energy. He runs everywhere and vocalizes with joyous abandon. He loves music and beats. He is too young to feel worried. He is fearless. I fervently hope he does not lose these qualities as he gets older, but he probably will.

A grandchild expands your circle of concern. I used to stew over what might happen in the next 70 years (the life span of my children). That has now expanded to 80-90 years now that Pat has arrived. Will life be OK in 2060? I will be dead and buried; little Pat will be middle-aged.

The Next Gen faces a world full of wonder and challenges. When I think back on the changes that have occurred during my lifetime, I am amazed. Pat will feel the same way when he reaches mid-life and looks back. What changes will he see, experience, perhaps create?

I am deeply thankful that I get to be a grandfather.

What mental illness can do

I was awake the early Tuesday morning - I got up at 2:30 AM to use the restroom and was struggling to fall back asleep. I was beginning to drift off when I heard a deep-throated "Boooom!" I popped up and said "What the hell was that?" My dear wife did not hear the explosion because she sleeps with ear plugs. I thought it was a lightning strike, but it wasn't raining. I listened for sirens and heard none. Then I thought, "Maybe I dreamt it." I went back to sleep.

Three hours later, I was heading to the cleaners to pick up my laundry. I noticed that Nichols Middle School was cordoned off by the police and the area was crawling with cops. That was weird. I thought perhaps that there had been some kind of bomb threat - the middle schooolers do that sometimes to try for a day off.

Soon, there were news choppers over head. I got my Blackberry to tell me the story - "Headless Body Found in Park Next to Nichols Middle School." The poor dead guy is pictured above - Colin Dalebroux, from Wisconsin. Unbeknowst to me, Colin was my neighbor - he lived less than 2 blocks from my house. I don't remember seeing him in the 'hood.

Colin apparently was struggling with depression. He decided to exit, but he did so in a most weird manner. He constructed a pipe bomb. He actually built two bombs. Then, he arose in the middle of the night and walked 3 blocks to the park next to the middle school He held the pipebomb to his neck and detonated it. Death was instant - and very nasty. His head and neck were gone. A guy found him at 5:15A M while walking his dog. The authorities closed the school while trying to figure things out. When the family surfaced, they said that Colin had suffered from depression since childhood.

Isn't it amazing what mental illness can induce people to do? How incredible - a clinically depressed guy musters the energy and skill to build an explosive device in order to make sure the world knows about his Final Solution. Weird, sad and sick.

Keep this 21-year old suicide victim in your thoughts. It's a shame and a pity.

Staycation - Meeting Mo at the Firehouse

Yesterday was the last day of my short staycation. I went to the gym, fiddled around the house a bit, then decided to write a get well note to an old friend who has had a rough time with health issues this summer. I walked down to the local post office to mail the note, then thought I would do a vacation thing - sit at a bar and drink a beer at happy hour. I wandered over to the Firehouse Grill, a Southeast Evanston establishment that is housed in an actual old fire station (Fire Station #2, which was closed when a new, modern facility was built 2 blocks away). The Firehouse Grill is a solid family lunch and dinner joint, with a nice bar and decent beer collection. I walked in and pulled up a stool next to an older gentleman (pictured above). He greeted me politely, I reciprocated and we began a conversation. His name is Moselle, aka Mo, and here is what he told me (I am paraphrasing since I didn't record the conversation):

"I am 81 years old now. Been retired for 13 years. I came to Chicago in 1951 because there was no work for me in San Francisco - that's my home town. I came home from the Korean War kinda messed up. On October 23, 1950, the North Koreans blew me out of my foxhole. I lost my eye and I had lots of cuts and small injuries, but I recovered. Some might call me a disabled veteran, but I worked from 1951 until 1997. I was a long-haul trucker, and I loved it. No damned boss breathin' down my neck.

I been healthy all my life, except for my eye. I started smokin' cigarettes when I was 14, and I still smoke 'em when I got 'em. I will need to step outside a little later for a smoke, no offense.

I got four children - 2 girls and 2 boys. They all live out west. One of my daughters is a doctor. The other is a stewardess; I get free flights because I am her daddy. You get taxed on those free flights, though, so they ain't completely free. My daughter pays the taxes for me.

I just live a block and a half away from the Firehouse Grill so I come over here alot. I slipped on the ice and broke my hip last winter, so it is harder for me to get around. It takes a long time to heal a busted bone when you are 81. I hafta use a cane now. It's a good thing I live close to the Firehouse. My wife still works; I come when she is working. She works nights sometimes.

I love to fish. When I was younger, I hated fishing, but I love it now. I go all over. In the Chicago area, I like to fish on the Fox River, up north toward Milwaukee.

I sometimes get together with a few other Korean War veterans. We understand each other. It was a terrible war. People have sorta forgot about it, but it is still going on in a way. The North Koreans were a nasty bunch; looks like they still are. We might have to mix it up serious with them pretty soon.

I feel pretty good for an old man. I got used to having one eye a long time ago. The hip still bothers me; probably will until I'm dead. What the hell can you do about it? Can't expect an 81 year old body to stay strong."

Mo is an awesome guy in my neighborhood that I have never met until yesterday. Striking up conversations with strangers can be a wonderful thing.

Staycation - Kayaking off the Evanston Shore

Due to some scheduling issues, kid activities and work commitments, I was unable to to escape for a summer vacation this year. Now that the season is coming to a close, I decided to stay home for a couple of days and try to capture a little bit of vacation attitude without leaving town. I took the girls to the Morton Arboretum yesterday - I am ashamed to say that I have never been there over my 31-year residency in the Chicago area. We enjoyed the massive garden, and barely scratched the surface of the place during our 4-hour visit.

Today, I am planning on renting a kayak at the beach office in Evanston and paddling around the lake for a bit. It is a cool morning - the coolest we have had in several weeks, with temperatures in the 60's. The sun is out, however, and the air is calm. So I am going. I have invited the missus and the kids.

But I have to say that Staycations are challenging. The household chores still nag at me. I am still in my everyday environment, even though I am avoiding the office. I feel my everyday stress - things undone, lawns to mow, bills to pay. Changing my headset with no change in scenary is hard for me.

And there are significant family changes in progress. My 18-year old overcame her various set-backs and graduated from high school last Friday - an emotional experience because she had more than her share of struggles to reach that milestone. Now the high school graduate is facing her future, which currently includes employment and planning a gap year before heading to college. My youngest is gearing up to start Evanston Township High School on Monday. ETHS is a big urban school with lots of excellent features and some difficult issues. So we worry about out 5-foot tall, 14-year old girl.

But on this day, I want to float on Lake Michigan. With luck, this tightness in my stomach and in my mind will release as I paddle offshore, my chores left on the land.

An Old Memory - Laffing Sal

When I was a kid, growing up on the east side of the San Francisco Bay, there was a place that I longed to see. It was an amusement park over on the Pacific side of San Francisco, called Playland at the Beach. It was near the Cliff House; in fact, the owner/developer of Playland also owned the Cliff House. This was a classic Depression-era amusement park. By the time I got to prime Playland age, the facility had begun to decay. This made it creepier and more alluring to me. And the creepiest thing about Playland was Laffing Sal, pictured above.

I have learned that there were many Laffing Sals at many amusement parks across the nation. I think there still may be some in operation. Sal was a terrifying thing - 7 feet tall, ugly, and mechanical. At Playland, Sal was positioned on the second floor of the Fun House, on a balcony. She bowed at the waist, waved her arms and twisted about while a manical female laugh was blasted continuously from nearby loudspeakers at very high volume. Sal was the first of the animatronic figures - Disneyland/Disneyworld owes a lot to this old hag.

I was about 10, I think, and I really wanted to go to Playland. I don't think I had ever visited the place. I was pestering my dad to take me, and he wanted no part of it - a long drive, crowds and expenses did not fit my father's idea of a good time. My mom overheard our interaction and weighed in forcefully. "You never take your son anywhere! It isn't like he asks for much. Why can't you do something nice for him once in a while?" I was horrified and delighted with my mom's intervention - horrified to hear the argument, delighted that I was going to get my way. My dad was shamed into taking me to Playland at the Beach.

It was surreal.

We drove in silence, parked and caught a trolley over to the park. I walked through the place, rode the roller coaster, stared at scary Laffing Sal, went into the Funhouse and tried to knock down the milk bottles with baseballs at the arcade. My dad followed along behind, picking up the tabs, looking grim. It was not a Hallmark father-and-son experience.

I think I enjoyed myself somewhat, but I never went back to Playland after that. The appeal of amusement parks ended for me on that day.

Playland at the Beach was demolished in early September, 1972 - about the time that I started attending UC Berkeley. I think they built condos on the site. Laffing Sal is in an obscure museum (Musee Mecanique) at Fisherman's Wharf. My father has been dead for 19 years now. I should erase this old memory; it serves no useful purpose. But it keeps popping up, often when I am surprised by loud, raucous, female laughter........

James Brown Again

We had a Sunday family dinner, and my adult daughter, son-in-law and grandson were in attendance. Little Patrick (aka the Pie-man) started walking about 2 weeks ago; he has the 15-month old toddler swagger, the confidence of a first-born son. He also has music in his head already - beat-boxing and chanting his happy nonsense syllables. I thought that he might like to hear some tunes, so I plugged in the iPod to the sound deck and hit the James Brown section of the device. JB was a crazed genius; it still saddens me that he is gone. JB and Ray Charles - I think about them often.

And when "Popcorn" came through the speakers, the Pie-man started to dance. James Brown, comin' 'round again, with the next generation.

As the Tower of Power tune said, "It may be a different age; but I'm on the same page; 'Cause there is one thing I've found; I'm still diggin' on James Brown."

"Delayed Due To A Medical Emergency"

I am a Chicago commuter, climbing aboard the Metra North Line at Main Street in Evanston. The train is a lovely experience - quick, relatively quiet and somewhat retro (no WiFi, people still read newspapers). An extra plus - you can buy a beer in the terminal for the ride home and exit at your station with your attitude nicely adjusted (not that I do that, of course).

This morning seemed pretty typical. We had rain, but my train was on time. When we hit the Ravenswood station in Chicago, we stopped and didn't move. The conductor got on the intercom and announced "Ladies and gentlemen - we will be delayed due to amedical emergency. We are waiting for an ambulance to revmove the passenger from the train. We should be on our way in a few minutes." We sat for about 20 minutes, then headed into the Loop.

I can't seem to get the afflicted passenger out of my head this morning. What happened? Heart attack? Stroke? Are there defribillators on the Metra trains? Who was the afflicted passenger? Did he/she survive? There was no announcement, of course, and I didn't get a chance to quiz the conductor.

This unfortunate person probably started his/her daily routine with no expectations of drama or tragedy. He/she was my fellow traveler today. I hope that he/she didn't end up at a surprise final destination.

Fred Anderson Stricken

I just heard that Fred Anderson, avant-guarde jazz saxophonist and leader of the Velvet Lounge, had a massive heart attack about a week ago. Here is the Tribune's report.

Fred was a Chicago treasure in many ways. He kept a gang of creative musicians employed. He provided a convival environment for music and comaraderie. He was on a mission to spread the sound around. At 81 years of age, he is the joyful grandfather to Chicago's jazz community. Fred is a much-loved artist.

It sounds like his condition is grim. Let's hope the doctors are wrong.

Pulling back

I have pulled the plug on the Mystery Band and gone back to being a harmonica noodler, playing in the backyard to annoy the dog. I like to play, but lining up gigs, trying to get paid, organizing my wonderful fellow musicians - it starts to feel like work. I already have a full-time (plus) job (which, by the way, deserves more of my attention). I was subsidizing the gigs because club owners can't afford to pay a living wage to musicians in this era of iPods and downloads - it gets to be a burden to "pay to play" at every gig. My family also deserves my full engagement. Life is busy, and sometimes you have to pull back in order to go forward.

Maybe I will go back to it some day. Maybe not. The band was starting to feel like a form of self-indulgence, a stupid ego trip for an aging white man who has no business playing the blues. So I will start acting my age and living clean. No more late nights in dive bars for me. My favorite dive bar has closed, anyway.

If anyone wants a couple hundred copies of the Mystery Band CD, let me know.

The Conversion of a Newspaper Fanatic

When I arrived in Evanston, Illinois on September 8, 1976, the first thing I purchased was a copy of the Chicago Tribune. That was how I got my bearings in the sprawling Chicago metropolis. I was a dedicated newspaper reader - grew up on three local papers in the San Franciso Bay Area, and I believed the Chicago Trib was a superior rag to any of the papers I read (although the San Franciso Chronicle came close at times). I tracked world events, followed the local news, read music reviews, enjoyed the columnists and kept up with sports via the Trib.

I am now done with the Chicago Tribune.

With its bankruptcy and the horrific changes made to save money and attract folks with limited attention spans, the Tribune is no longer worth the paper it is printed on. It makes USA Today look good. Local news is avaliable on-line and on the tube. The only reason to buy the Trib was to read the funnies - which have been cut, too. So after 30+ years, I have let my subscription expire.

Of course, the entire newspaper industry is in free-fall. Those of us who grew up non-digital are fading/dying, or converting to new media. The generations that follow us see newspapers as anachronisms. Advertisers are migrating, subscribers are bolting. The reporters are gradually finding different outlets. Some oldsters are wringing their hands and moaning about how our nation will be damaged by the fall of newspapers.

Hogwash!

We are flooded with news and opinion, the news cycle has accelerated beyond belief and a few dead newspapers won't matter at all. Local sources of information are still doing OK (I get my free local paper on my porch once a week, and it is pretty good - oh, and local businesses advertise aggressively in its pages).


I am still subscribing to the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal; this allows me to keep getting my fingers dirty every day. But I am thinking about going digital with these papers, too. My recycling bin will be lighter, as will my briefcase.

Pat Hall Tribute

Pat Hall, the rollicking, rowdy keyboard man who has entertained Chicagoans for several decades, died on January 24. He was ill for a while, but his passing was sudden. There was to be a healthcare fund-raiser for him on February 14; it is still going forward to raise money to cover his final expenses and establish a fund for his son, Brian (contribution is $20). The event will occur at the Red Line Tap, 7006 N. Glenwood in the Rogers Park neighborhood of Chicago (773-274-5463). Pat was a long-time Rogers Parker, and he played frequently at the Red Line, the Heartland and Dukes Bar. If you are in Chicago on Valentine's Day, stop by and raise a glass to Pat.

Pat was the leader of the Fat Guys Band, a very entertaining blues-based group that has been active in the Chicago area for many years. He also has performed as a comedian in the Coupla Fat Guys videos - you can find them on YouTube. I had the good fortune to sit in with Pat a couple of times at Duke's Bar in Rogers Park. He was a strong vocalist as well as a talented keyboardist. He died too young, and he will be missed by the Chicago blues community.

Farewells in 2009

We are into the second week of 2010, and I wanted to say my good-byes to ten of the great blues and jazz musicians that shuffled off this mortal coil in 2009.

First and foremost, farewell Koko Taylor, Queen of the blues! She left us on June 3; her gravelly, powerful voice is sorely missed. She performed up to a month before her death and her funeral was on the first day of the 2009 Chicago Blues Festival. She was 80 years old when she died.

He wasn't a blues artist, but Les Paul still had a major impact on blues music - so many blues players used the solid-body electric guitar that he invented. He was a fabulous jazz player; he also played country music under the name of "Rhubarb Red" Les departed on August 12; he was 94 years old.

It was a shock to lose Norton Buffalo so quickly last fall. This fantastic harmonica player bridged many musical worlds, from rock and pop to blues and jazz. Cancer took him on October 30; he was only 58 years old.

New Orleans lost a treasured musician when Snooks Eaglin (born Fird Eaglin, Jr.) died on February 18. Snooks was blind and he could play almost anything on the guitar. His vocal style evoked Ray Charles. Folks used to call him "the human jukebox" because he knew thousands of songs. He was 72 when he died of a heart attack.

John Cephas, one of the foremost practioners of the Piedmont finger-picking acoustic blues guitar, passed on March 4. He was 78 years old. For the past 30 years, John Cephas played and sang in a duo with harmonica player Phil Wiggins. Phil is only 55 years old and now he has lost his partner.

Luigi Paulino Alfredo Francesco Antonio Balassoni, better known as Louie Bellson, was a fabulous Italian American jazz drummer. He pioneered the use of the double bass drum kit. He played with the legends - Benny Goodman, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Oscar Peterson, Sarah Vaughn, Louie Armstrong; even James Brown! He was married to Pearl Bailey, the African American singer and Republican, until her death in 1990. (I had the honor of playing with Louie back in my days as a young trombonist with the UC Berkeley Jazz Ensembles - what a wonderful guy he was!) Louie left us on February 14; he was 83 years old.

Edwin Joseph Bocage, better known as Eddie Bo, was a New Orleans jazz pianist who switched to rhythm and blues in the 1950's. He wrote several minor hit tunes ("Check Mr. Popeye," "My Dearest Darling," "Pass the Hatchet," etc.). and he recorded for more than 40 different record labels. He produced many records for artists such as Irma Thomas and Art Neville. Eddie Bo died on March 18, 2009 of a heart attack.

Samuel Lee McCollum, aka Sam Carr, was one of the top blues drummers of all time. His father was the influential blues guitarist and vocalist Robert Lee McCollum, who recorded under the names Robert Lee McCoy and Robert Nighthawk. Sam played with a long list of great bluesmen, including Sonny boy Williamson I, (John Lee Williamson) Sonny Boy Williamson II (Rice Miller), Big Joe Williams, Big Jack Johnson, Frank Frost, T-Model Ford and Buddy Guy. Sam died on September 21 at the age of 83.

The great blues guitarist/vocalist and political activist, Willie King, died after a massive heart attack on March 8; he was almost 66 years old. He was an old-school juke joint player that specialized in playing and singing what he called the "struggling blues" - tunes that reflected the realities of his life as a social activist.

Mark Sallings was an Arkansas-based blues harmonica player and vocalist. He didn't achieve much fame and little fortune, but he could really play the harp. He was a skilled saxophonist and pianist, too. Mark was one of those dedicated and hard-working journeymen that make up the bulk of blues artists in the world. He died at the tender age of 56 on February 25, in a car accident on the way to a casino gig in Tunica, Mississippi.

This is an arbitrary list of 10 great folks; we lost many other wonderful artists in 2009 - Mighty Joe Young Jr., Jesse Fortune, Al Harris, Tim Lamb, James Gurley and many others. We are lucky to have shared the planet with these musicians.......

"It's A Mystery" Reviewed by James "Skyy Dobro" Walker in Blues Blast Bagazine

Many, many thanks to James "Skyy Dobro" Walker for his kind and generous comments.....

Mr. G & The Mystery Band - It's A Mystery
Self Release / G-FreeThoughts Publishing
www.mrgandthemysteryband.com/
www.myspace.com/gandthemysteryband
11 songs; 73:07 minutes; Suggested
Styles: Harmonica Blues; Chicago Blues

Well, well, these are mysteries:

Who is Mr. G?

Who will be in his band at the next live show?

How can this group put out a really good, all original music, debut Blues CD using “a live in the studio approach with limited overdubs and few takes” while others invest excessively and come out with crap?

“Why can’t we all just get along?”

“Why can’t some people tell right from wrong?”

“Why are some people kind and generous and others are rotten to the core?”

“Why do we all love to sing and dance?”

“Why does a pretty girl get a tattoo?”

“Why do young men wear those saggy pants?”

Some of these puzzlers found in the title track have answers while others will remain unknown. First, “Mr G” is Chris Gillock, a singer, songwriter, and harpist who started life in California but finished his education in Chicago and put down area roots. He became a student of Chicago Blues and traded his California funk and jazz trombone for the Blues harmonica.

Mr. G established the Mystery Band on Thanksgiving evening in 2003, filling in for a busted booking at the now defunct Bill’s Blues Bar in Evanston, Illinois, where he was a “hanger-on” and investor. In the six years since, Mr. G has convinced over 45 of Chicago-land’s top blues and jazz players to join the Mystery Band’s mission: “to jam and have fun.” The liner notes list most of those recruits, and the “A Team” on this CD are very talented Chicago stalwarts and pedigreed, indeed: Guitars – OSee Anderson and Anthony Palmer; Drums – James Carter; and bass – Greg “E.G.” McDaniel.

As a reviewer, I receive too many “Blues” CDs that are not. It is a joy to receive this set of solid Blues with first rate playing, unique chromatic harp tones, and eleven original songs with both thoughtful and humorous lyrics. Some of Mr G’s raucous harmonica is rightly featured in the first track, which poses both deep questions (“mean people”) and funny mysteries (the “tattoos” and “saggy pants”).

Sometimes, Mr G juxtaposes a light hearted look and heart break in the same verse like in “My Dog and Me,” a swampy guitared story of marital breakup. “When I first met my wife, I thought she was so fine / But the longer I lived with that woman the more I loved my canine / I couldn’t satisfy her no matter how hard I tried / But now she’s gone and I must confess I feel dead inside.”
Back to fun in track three; “Hey José,” is a traditional 12 bar Chicago Blues shuffle with great harp soloing and guitar breaks by OSee Anderson. As the story goes, José is a best-friend bartender, and the narrator is in clearly in Chicago because he keeps ordering “another Old Style® beer.” This one is headed for a fun spot in my radio show!

Another must play song is the set’s real standout, a minor key chromatic workout, “Cheat Me Fair.” This slow Blues is an eight minute expose of love gone wrong featuring torturing vocals, harp solos and Anthony Palmer’s gut wrenching guitar. The narrator indulges in a curious fantasy about “driving an old Dodge Dart down to Mexico to find a Mexican girl who will follow him everywhere and always tell the truth.” Now that’s funny!

My first ear-worm (song that repeats later in your head) came from the chorus on “Get Out and Walk,” written when gasoline prices were over $4.00 per gallon in 2008. The special effects harp sounds come from a low D harp muted by a coffee cup. The rhythm guitar percolates like a mountain brook on this Country Blues flavored, go green themed number.

One song has Reggae flavoring, one a Bo Diddley beat, another is a rumba. There is an ode to square shouldered working folk, a “Payin’ Taxes” protest, and themes from after hours partying to both sides of love. Bottom line: every track on this CD is a winner. Put this CD in a blind listening test for Blues fans and friends, and they will agree that there is enough going on here to elevate to a national level this band that’s slowly building a following in the intensely competitive Chicago Blues market.

Reviewer James "Skyy Dobro" Walker is a noted Blues writer, DJ, Master of Ceremonies, and longtime Blues Blast Magazine contributor. His weekly radio show "Friends of the Blues" can be heard Thursdays from 7 - 8 pm and Saturdays 8 pm - Midnight on WKCC 91.1 FM and at www.wkccradio.org in Kankakee, IL

To See James “Skyy Dobro” Walker's CD rating system, CLICK HERE
For other reviews and interviews on our website CLICK HERE.

Bye Bye Bill's Blues Bar

Back in August 2003, the first "real" blues club in Chicago's northern suburbs opened its doors. On November 10, 2009, those doors closed for good. Bill's Blues Bar is another failed small business.

Bill Gilmore, the leader of the club, deserves respect for his determination and grit. Lots of people invested money and time into the club (including me). The club never did well; it was always barely hanging on. Over the past few months, things got worse. While the recession played a role, the primary culprit was accumulated desperation - as things got tougher, service deteriorated and fewer customers came out - it was a spiral.

Bill Gilmore brought big-time blues to Evanston IL. James Cotton, Son Seals (RIP), Magic Slim, Rod Piazza, Lurrie Bell, Big Time Sarah, 'Lil Ed and the Blues Imperials, Eddie "the Chief" Clearwater, Melvin Taylor and the Slack Band - just to name a few. Bill's Blues Bar is also where my band, Mr. G and the Mystery Band, was born. We are coming up on the 6th anniversary of the Mystery Band's first gig (on Thanksgiving). Bill's Blues played a significant role in the development of my blues harmonica addiction.

I am sorry to see the club go, but I never thought it would stay open for six years -I thought it would be gone in 36 months. So it was a valiant effort. Think good thoughts about Bill Gilmore, and go out to hear some live blues in your community - if you don't, the clubs that present these acts will all die.

Bye Bye Bill's Blues Bar

RIP Norton Buffalo

I posted about the great harmonica player and singer Norton Buffalo earlier this week and his battle with cancer. Well, its over now and we have lost another great harp player. It was quick and brutal - diagnosed on September 2 and gone on October 30.

So many will mourn him; so many will miss him.

Good Bye, Norton.

Income inequality - is it real?

It is one of those things that "everybody knows." In the United States, the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer. The middle class is getting squeezed and we are becoming a society that includes a small, wealthy elite class and a mass of struggling humanity. This "narrative" underlies much of our policy and legislation (and our tax system). Productivity in the U.S. economy has been improving (on average) at a decent clip, but wages are stagnant - and this is what is causing inequality to increase. I tended to believe it.

In my town, Evanston, Illinois, there is a university - Northwestern. One of the grizzled old tenured professors at that university is Robert Gordon, an economist with a Harvard/MIT pedigree. He is a middle-of-the-road guy (not a raging University of Chicago "free marketeer"). He wrote the "Macroeconomics" textbook that is used by college students around the nation. He is mainstream, baby.

So apparently Professor Gordon has been looking into productivity and income inequality. His results were summarized in a recent Forbes Magazine article. Cutting to the chase, Prof. Gordon's research allegedly demonstrates that most of the difference between productivitiy growth and income growth for the middle class can be explained by adjusting for government sector employment (17% of the workforce!!) that has zero increase in productivity (since it is an activity that generates no profit), smaller household sizes (leading to more households but not necessarily lower income growth per individual) and differing rates of inflation by region and by income level. So the great increase in income inequality isn't very great at all, apparently. Huh.

BUT Gordon does confirm that the top 1% of all earners in the U.S. are pulling away from the other 99%. So THOSE are the culprits!! Off with their heads!!!

To be a "top 1% culprit," you would need adjusted gross income of $410,096 in 2007. The top 1% earned about 22.8% of adjusted gross income in 2007 (according to the IRS) and paid 40.4% of all income taxes in that year. So it looks like these wealthy folks are carrying a decent share of the tax burden, right? And their tax rate is the highest of all income brackets - over 22% after all deductions and other hoo-ha that wealthy folks do. Oh wait - back in 1980, the top 1% culprits had effective tax rates of 34.5% So it has been good to be wealthy, right? Except that these numbers don't reflect state income taxes, property taxes, etc. But, hey, those are details - the tax rates have been cut back in a serious way since Jimmy Carter sat in the Oval Office. Remember those fabulous Carter years? Good times, man.

So how much more can we tax these top 1% culprits? Should we take 40%? 80%? 99.99%? And what is the impact on revenues if we put the screws to the wealthy in a serious way? Will our national budget be in better shape? Will we improve as a society?

Keep Norton Buffalo in your Thoughts

Norton Buffalo is one of the best harmonica players of my generation. He is an old Oakland CA boy, came into his musical prime in the 1970's and has recorded on his own and with many others (Steve Miller Band is his regular gig, and he has played with Bonnie Raitt and the Doobie Brothers). He is a major studio harmonica player and is on many movie soundtracks and commercials. Remember the awesome harmonica solo on Bonnie Raitt's version of "Runaway?" That is Norton Buffalo (I think he used 4-5 different harps on the tune, switching between them with lightning speed).

Norton was on the road with the Steve Miller Band all summer and felt crappy much of the time. His doctors thought he had pneumonia but they were wrong - he has lung cancer, Stage 4 Adenocarcinoma of the lower right lobe - and it has spread to his brain. He received his diagnosis in September and is going through the extreme challenge of trying to beat the disease. Please keep him in your thoughts. You can drop him a card, too - the address is:

Norton Buffalo & Lisa Flores
5905 D Clark Road
Paradise, CA 95969

There is going to be a benefit/fund raiser for Norton to cover medical expenses - I guess his health insurance situation is inadequate. If you can attend, do it. If you can't attend, consider buying a ticket anyway. Here is the info on the benefit:

Norton Buffalo Benefit //Tell the folks you know

Tickets for the first BENEFIT FOR NORTON BUFFALO at The Paradise Performing Arts Center ARE NOW AVAILABLE!!! CARLOS REYES and FRIENDS, TOM RIGNEY and FLAMBEAU, and ROY ROGERS & THE DELTA RHYTHM KINGS have agreed to play at Norton's request.

The benefit will be held Sunday evening November 22nd. Call Bill Anderson toll free 1-877-397-3363 (10am-4:30pm & 6pm-9pm) to order your tickets with a credit card, or you can call to reserve your tickets and send a check payable to PPAC to Bill Anderson, 6848U Skyway, Paradise, CA 95969. Tickets for Norton's benefit will be $40 General Admission. I will either mail the tickets to you or hold them for you at Will Call. Doors will open at 5:30pm, show starts at 6:30pm.

Looking forward to seeing all of Norton's friends at the show! For those who cannot attend but still want to support the benefit, donations may be sent to LISA FLORES, 5905D Clark Road, Paradise, CA 95969.

Tickets will also be available at Diamond W Western Wear in Chico, Country Touch, and Paradise Coin in Paradise, and at The Performing Arts Center starting next week. PPAC's box office is open 11am-3pm Monday-Friday.

Bill & Penny Anderson
6848U Skyway
Paradise, CA 95969
bill@​paradisecoin.​com

Norton is not yet 60 years old.

It seems especially horrible that a harmonica player should be afflicted with a lung disease - to play harmonica, one must breathe very deeply.

Get Well, Norton........

A Loss

I haven't been writing many entries for this blog lately. There have been many other things consuming my time, and a blog is a self-indulgent exercise - as bad as Facebook and Twitter. Who cares what I think and what happens in my life? Very few people outside of my family.

But I thought I would indulge myself today.

About a year or so ago, my youngest daughter (now 13) managed to beg and wheedle her old man into letting her adopt a kitten, a stray that was abandoned at the front door of the local animal hospital. The kitten grew to be a spirited tomcat, named Smitty (pictured above). He had all of the characteristics that make cats admired and reviled - independent, graceful, predatory, curious, and vocal. Smitty noticed the great outdoors when he was a small kitten - he was determined to break free of the "big house." He would hide around the doors and bolt whenever someone came in or went out. We tried to keep him indoors, but he simply refused to stay. So we put an identity microchip into the scruff of his neck, got him a collar with a bell and let him be an outdoor cat. He was much happier, and would occassionally reward us by bringing home a dead mouse.

On Saturday at 7:30 AM, Smitty was yowling and the dogs were barking. All of them wanted out, so I opened the door to the back yard and let them go. Then I made coffee and turned my attention to the newspapers.

On Saturday at about 10:45 AM, our doorbell rang. A man was at the door, holding Smitty. The cat had ventured onto the busy street in front of our house and was hit by a car. We thought that Smitty shied away from the street - he had never been seen near traffic before. I knew immediately that he was gone, but I rushed him to the vet anyway. I didn't want my girls to see the him. So Smitty was crushed; I don't think he had much time to suffer. It was sad and weird to carry his body - limp and bleeding from the mouth. Smitty was all muscle and energy - where did it go?

My 13-year old daughter cried and cried. My 17-year old daughter wept as well, even though she didn't have much to do with Smitty. My wife was very sad also. And I, who don't really like cats that much and never wanted this cat, felt the loss as well. He was the first living thing I saw when I woke in the morning (I am the first one out of bed). He was the only other male in the house besides me. Smitty was a proud, aggressive tomcat.

Good-bye Smitty. I hope to see you on the other side (if there is an "other side".

Losses - Jesse Fortune and Others

Jesse Fortune collapsed and died last night at Gene's Playmate Lounge, 4239 W. Cermak in Chicago. He was on stage, singing his heart out, and went down. He was 79 years old. There is something to celebrate here - a blues man living deep into his eighth decade, then passing while performing. If you have never seen Jesse perform live, you can see him on the Jimmy Burns Band DVD, "Live at B.L.U.E.S." He was a terrific blues singer, one of the greats. It is a painful loss.

We have had other serious losses recently - the legendary Les Paul, blues queen Koko Taylor, pianist Eddie Bo, human jukebox Snooks Eaglin, rockabilly great Billy Ray Riley...many of the greats that laid down the foundations of today's music have headed across the divide.

And now Ted Kennedy has joined them - not a musician, but a man with weaknesses, flaws and pain who achieved greatness in spite of (because of?) these features.

And we lost Tom Hebbard, the unfailingly cheerful and kind Viet Nam War veteran who worked the front desk during the night shift at the McGaw YMCA in Evanston. All of the early morning work-out people benefited from Tom's warm greetings and everyday concern (I am one of those early birds).

Mortality is the great leveler. We all will weaken and die.