I don't often go for three days without blogging, but I think there's been much more important and socially relevant material in the blogosphere to read besides my adventures. I've been paying close attention and I hope you've been, too. The fallout from the Gulf Coast Travesty gets more sickening and heartbreaking by the day, especially since the Rove-atization of the story commenced. Since Friday, Karl Rove, the President's number one attack dog, seeing eye dog and yard dog, has been orchestrating a campaign to absolve the nation's top leadership of their due responsibility in this deadly bureaucratic miscarriage, and pin it on anyone but the federal government. As usual, facts are irrelevant, lies are acceptable and human dignity is expendable. Rove's assistants (see Barbara Bush) have gone so far as to suggest that the homeless - or should I say everything-less - flood victims are better off now in their refugee shelters than they were when they had, y'know, homes and stuff. What's worse, there are a few people listening that actually buy it. Fortunately, the vast majority is appropriately outraged at the shallow cluelessness of our nation's leadership (who put photo ops and back slapping ahead of the rescue once help arrived), and perhaps our country is now discovering what the rest of the world already knows.
One of our compassionate leaders, Condi Rice, was living it up in New York while chaos ensued down south. In fact, she was on our block, taking in Monty Python's Spamalot next door (and, I hear, taking in a few boos from the house as well). A story I heard was that a guy who came out of Lennon saw Rice as she was leaving the Shubert Theatre and shouted, "Hey Condi, Give peace a chance! Stop the war!!"
I think Dr. Winston O'Boogie would've been pleased.
Speaking of whom, I had a brief encounter with a piece of his gear. Yesterday morning I showed up at Chung King Studios on Varick St downtown to record a Christmas song I wrote a few years ago. It was for a compilation disc called "Carols For a Cure", featuring casts from several shows, and all of its proceeds will go towards fighting diseases. Most of the Lennon group was previously committed, so Rona and I got together and laid it down ourselves in just a couple of hours with two vocal parts and acoustic guitar. Before we left, we went down the hall into another studio in which, sitting against a wall in a corner, was a brown Baldwin upright piano once owned by John Lennon. He had it in his Tittenhurst Park estate in Ascot, England and was captured on film performing a demo of "Imagine" on it for the guys in his studio band. I couldn't resist playing a sloppy chord or two on the old, rickety keys.
They could've picked any place for us to work, but they picked one that happened to have a piece of John around. Typical.
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