Robert walks through the Valley of Fire

© Robert Sommers

"Turn left," said the voice in my right ear. We were entering the huge parking garage at the Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas and were trying to procure a fifth floor space that was not too far from the hotel. "I have been studying maze dynamics," said my friend BigD,"When confronted with the choice, the overwhelming number of people will make the right turn, hence making the less traveled left handed choice a better bet for finding that perfect parking space."

I thought that was interesting and asked him if he would be so kind as to supply the underlying data set for his supposition. I had run into similar logic questions before. Years ago, when I was setting up one of my first major art exhibitions, Native Palette, Michael Johnson shared a trick that a museum curator once clued him into; always hang the largest painting on the left because most people will circumnavigate a room left to right. Compositionally it looks more correct. Wonder if it works in the southern hemisphere or if there is a corresponding directional change? 

I once saw the coriolis effect in fine view in Nyahururu, Kenya. I always thought of the equator as an abstract concept but there is a yellow line painted through this town. A handful of stick matches are placed in a tub with a plug on the bottom. Three inches this way of the equator, the water vortexes right, three inches left it cascades in the opposite direction and directly on top the matchsticks dropped straight down when the plug was pulled. The Austrian physicist Otto Tumlirz did pioneering coriolis experiments in 1908.

I must admit that scientists debunk the scientific underpinnings of the experiment and have disproved the notion of a southern and northern vortex differential but as I said, I saw it with me own eyes. Wonder if there is a psychic or behavioral component that changes our innate human behavior depending on hemispheric geologic location?

I suppose that I should start at the beginning to describe my last several days, if you have any interest in the tired minutia of my mundane life. I left home two days ago, venturing a far distance into Riverside County before I got the call from Leslie that I had left my suitcase, and in fact my heart medicine, in the bottom hallway of my home. I drove back sheepishly, repeated my kisses and goodbye's, looked in the back once more for good measure to assure myself that I had indeed placed the luggage in the van and took off once again.

Within a few minutes I was driving through a serious downpour. Snow was low on the mountains near Elsinore and Rancho Cucamonga. Past Devore I was in an honest to goodness horizontal snowstorm. The rest of the four and a half hour jaunt was pretty boring, once I got out of the weather. I checked into the lovely $475.00 per night complimentary suite at my very favorite hotel, The Venetian, and then drove to the airport to pick up my friend BigD. BigD and I have been friends since the seventies, roommates, tech support and pretty much daily constants in each other's lives. 

He has a congenital disease of polycystic kidneys, a malady that claimed the lives of several close family members. He managed to get a kidney transplant but what they don't tell you is that half of the transplant recipients will later get cancer or lymphoma from the anti rejection drugs. He got the latter. BigD has put a tremendous amount of the money he once had into creating better transplant and matching technology for kidney transplants.

BigD has been through several massive chemo regimens recently and it was time for us to kick out the jams a little bit. I had the free hotel, he had free Virgin miles and we were set.

We had a very big and all around great time, I dropped him off at the airport about an hour ago and will try to fill you in as best as I can.  Food was pretty sucky all week. The first night we tried my go to cheap restaurant, the Grand Lux which has never let me down before. It did. He had salad with seared ahi, which was maybe a bit off and sent him running to his porcelain friend. My always good caesar with grilled chicken took the night off as well. Damn. We walked the faux canals after dinner and I bought a pair of Rockports, my sore heel still bothering me fiercely.

The next day we started off at the Canyon Ranch Spa. This spa, which is part of the Venetian, Palazzo hotel complex is simply fantastic. The long hallway to the Palazzo, with its many colored sections, reminded me a Josef Albers painting. 

We had a small breakfast at the spa cafe , which was pretty bad, nutritious and tasteless, unflavored yoghourt over granola and a few similar indecencies and then ww worked out. The workout room is very top notch, including a large rock climbing wall and BigD spun ten miles on the bike, not bad for a week after chemo. I lifted weights and then we started using the fantastic  spa facilities. First the turkish steam, then the tropical rainfall room that dials you in three scented rainstorms, replete with flashing lightning effects. From there, the finnish dry sauna, then the herbal sauna, the heated lounge chairs, a dip in the jacuzzi and then a trip to the igloo, a really cold room decorated in blue light a la Mr. Freeze. I think that we repeated this action sequence about five times in the last three days so I won't bore you with any repeats but this is a great spa and at twenty bucks a day for hotel guests, you just can't beat it. Nice relaxation room to read the wide selection of newspapers and have a piece of fruit for a happy finish. Heaven.

I played a bit of blackjack in the morning and then made plans to meet my other friend Dan at a place called Valley of Fire up the road. Dan lives in Mesquite and we met up at the Moapa Indian store at Interstate 15 and Highway 75.

Valley of Fire is Nevada's oldest and largest state park. The area was the site of an early basket making culture and an Anasazi people that existed roughly between 300 b.c.e and 1100. a.d.. The place is full of arches and petroglyphs. In the summer it goes 120 degrees so this cold winter/spring is perfect. We did a bunch of hiking and photography and really had a great time. I want to return often when my foot feels better. Great place to seek a deeper alignment with the cosmos. The storms to the north were exquisite. This place is such a great natural counterpoint to the Vegas craziness.

BigD spotted this lone desert bighorn sheep by the side of the road and I got very close and photographed it. Very gentle and beautiful creature. It was very hard to leave this park as there are so many undiscovered treasures. I noticed a very far out looking volkswagon prototype at a trailhead that BigD recognized and we later deduced was being used in a promotional shot being filmed in the park. I regret not taking a picture of it on the road but here it rests in the van.

Valley of Fire sounds so tolkeinesque, evoking Sauron's lair on Mt. Doom or maybe the biblical fires at Gehenna. But the place definitely delivers and I look forward to returning and spending a whole day there. It's also home to a bunch of desert tortoises, illustrated long ago on the petroglyph walls. BigD took these two pictures of petroglyphs, not a tortoise to be seen.

We drove Dan back and said our goodbye's and drove back to sin city. We both felt like having a steak and decided to try Wolfgang Puck's Cut restaurant. I had some hesitation, seeing the exorbitant prices and all but had done well at the tables and BigD was asking me when we would have the opportunity again and he's not out of the woods yet so we went.

Cut is Puck's effort to trump Ruth's Chris and Morton's in the expensive meat department. Did we want Nebraska beef, Illinois beef or an Australian filet whose previous host luxuriated in a daily wagyu massage? I went for the Nebraska New York, for a cool $68,  BigD opted for the similarly priced rib eye. 

They kept us full with their excellent bread. Men in black coats and turtlenecks popped out of every doorway offering us some thing or another and educating us on the finer points of the beef. I ordered a lovely burrata with a rhubarb chutney, BigD had a shrimp and crab thingie which he wasn't too crazy about but I thought delicious.

The 1200 hundred degree steak got to our tale and frankly looked a bit overcooked and scrawny. Not as rare as promised (cool center) and maybe a touch too much rock salt. I ordered a cream spinach with an organic fried egg as a side ( about nineteen bucks) and it was very tasty. Meal was a small fortune, decent but not sublime, couldn't see myself returning.

We went back through the casino and I decided to give BigD a blackjack lesson. I was about eight hundred bucks ahead when I called it a night at one in the morning. When the whole trip was over I had a pretty decent pile. Today we went to Harrahs for a pretty lousy buffet and then back to the spa. BigD was hungry again went to Canaletto, which royally sucked, soggy pizza and not the charcuterie we were promised on the menu. Very mediocre. There were pigeons walking around which was odd because, the sky is fake and I couldn't see how they got there. I was informed that they were imported for the verité and ambience. Nothing quite says Venice like pigeon shit.

I drove my friend back to the airport and am hanging and resting before tonight's blackjack session. Too cold to go to the pool and I haven't touched Ulysses. It was a great three days with my buddy. He was self conscious about the no hair on his head, eyebrows, eyelashes, etc. but I thought that he looked quite hip, if somewhat alien.

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I drive home in the morning.

Karen Carpenter

Rainy days and saturdays

It's a very wet saturday and there is zero traffic. I got a copy of Joyce's Ulysses from the library and am going to attempt to get through it again.

The noble dog experiment unhappily failed. He had herded animals for most of his life and there was just too much of the past ingrained in him. The last thing the previous owner said was that he can climb an eight foot fence and he will roam but he will come back. He was right. Liked to go down to the river and pick up burrs and ticks. A real sweetheart but low on the dog social ladder back when and some weirdly ingrained beta quirks.

We have had a roamer before and it created neighbor problems so we thought that it would be best to take a break and start over later with a dog maybe younger or older.

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I take off for Vegas tomorrow. Three night Venetian comp. BigD and I are going to celebrate the end of his chemo treatments with a couple days of March madness, spa treatments and as much fun as we can stand. Might even get in the car and take a quick run to Utah.

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KerryB sent this hot James Brown link over.

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Gassed up at Fifth and Center City in Escondido for $4.11. In Fallbrook you pay $4.49. Worth the trip.

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Denis sent me down a very interesting book, Exquisite Corpse, Surrealism and the Black Dahlia Murder  by Nelson and Bayliss which ties in nicely with some of my investigations of late. Very odd book, strange peccadilloes of Hodel and Man Ray amongst many others. No DeGaston info.

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Renée sent this one over. And this. Ted sent me over a recipe for rice crispy treats.

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Robin Adler sent this over: Hello Friends,

This is a fun gig that we are doing next Thursday.  Folkey Monkey is a music series hosted by our good friend Joe Rathburn.  Every other week or so he invites a  few of his musician friends to pick one of their favorite musical artist as the nights theme. Our choice for next weeks theme is "Sting".  As you know we are deeply into Joni Mitchell's music but we thought we'd do something different for this show.  Sting is an artist that both Dave and I admire as a songwriter of substance.  We will be alternating the sets with Joe who is a wonderful singerl/songwriter in his own right.  Dave and I will also throw in a few of our original songs.

Where:  Vision Center, 11260 Clairemont Mesa Blvd, San Diego, CA 92124 (2 miles east of I-15, in Tierra Santa) (on the Seventh Day Adventist campus)
When:  Thursday March 22nd
Time: 7-9 pm
Cover: $10 (at the door)
Phone: 619-303-6609

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Ricardo send over this homage to Corky Trinidad. New York Stan turns us on to Solomon Island pipe stampers. And the Four Spirits of Rhythm.

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Looks like Kit Bacon Gressitt's longtime nemesis at the Koala is in some deep shit. Matt Weaver arrested for election fraud.

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Renée offers this cool short, Fresh Guacamole. And Hudg links us to a story about how the Feds let the AIG's pay us back with our own money.

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One of my favorite blogs, Orca Watcher, has been following the mysterious death of killer whale L112.

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Happy St. Patrick's Day and happy birthday to my sister Elizabeth Allison Sommers.

Showdown in Claytown © Robert Sommers

Why Can't We Live Together?

Fool me once

I got another one of those nauseating emails from the democratic machine today. The kind that makes believe that we are all part of one giddy democratic lovefest. Dinner with Barack? Goody!

Robert --
I see this happen a lot:
Someone in a crowd yells at my husband, "We love you, Barack."
That's when he interrupts himself, smiles really big, and says, "I love you back." And he does.
That's why Barack's dinners with supporters mean so much to him -- because they give him a chance to show it and to say thanks.
I can say from experience you won't want to miss out on the next dinner. I hope you'll consider donating $75 -- or whatever you can to support the campaign -- and be automatically entered today:
https://donate.barackobama.com/Dinners-with-Barack
Thank you,
Michelle

I was at the Glendale show talking to Bijou and Roger about my antipathy for this administration and Roger started repeating Supreme Court, over and over again. And I get it and will be forced to hold my nose and vote for the guy. But the reality is that I feel betrayed by this president. He lied on the patriot act, civil liberties, medical marijuana, environmental protection and a host of other issues. Sens. Udall and Wyden released a letter to the administration the other day that suggests that americans would be apoplectic if they knew how the administration was interpreting its power to spy on its citizens through Section 215 of the Patriot Act. I squirm at the thought of what exactly the spy machine is really up to. But I will never know and most Senators will never know, the information limited to a very privileged and select few.

When the democratic committee calls me for support and a contribution, I give them an earful before I hang up. Because I feel punked in many ways by this administration. I hope that he wins because the alternative is so bad but can not get excited about his re-election. Eat with him?Wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire.

Buckets Of Rain

Aspergers Quiz

I was on Daisy Deadhead's site and saw that she had a link to an Aspie-quiz that is intended to chart Aspergers syndrome. You may want to take it yourself. Not exactly sure how to evaluate the test and conclusion.

Here are my results, pretty neurotypical:


Your Aspie score: 49 of 200
Your neurotypical (non-autistic) score: 182 of 200
You are very likely neurotypical

Elton John - Madman Across The Water

Nice version with the late great Mick Ronson on lead guitar. Ronson, Bowie's longtime sideman, was infamously frozen out by Bob Dylan on his Rolling Thunder Revue Tour, an event that fried Ronson emotionally. The Dylan party line was that he couldn't improvise or follow the changes. I don't know, wasn't there. Later died of cancer. A wonderful guitar player.

Country Hoedown

Great story in the Guardian. Syrian strongmen Bashar Assad is a fan of country western singer Blake Shelton and sent his wife the words to this Shelton song, God gave me you (for the ups and downs):

"I've been a walking heartache / I've made a mess of me / The person that I've been lately / Ain't who I wanna be."

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In other news, he bought a chocolate fondue set on Amazon and likes to get his itunes through a third party proxy in England. He likes Harry Potter and America's Got Talent. His young advisors call him the dude. When they aren't wiping out neighborhoods, he and his minions like to get together and play twister. Just another day in the life of a murderous dictator.

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Harry Partch: Barstow

Harry Partch (1901-1974): Barstow, eight hitchhicker inscriptions from a highway railing of Barstow, California (1943).

Clearer heads sink Collins amendment

Congratulations to the United States Senate. Last week they defeated a bill SA 1660 to S.1830 by Maine Senator Susan Collins to table EPA boiler pollution requirements.

Her amendment would have abolished clean air standards for the second largest source of industrial toxic air pollution in America. This would result in more deaths and ailments for American citizens,

Her bill, in tandem with House bill H.R. 2250, would have nullified existing protection against air pollution toxins and mercury and delay compliance with any new standards for a minimum of three and one half years.

The amendment finally delivers the sweetheart gift to polluters, indefinite compliance delays, by prohibiting EPA from requiring compliance with new standards any "earlier than 5 years" after issuance, and then eliminating the Clean Air Act's firm compliance deadlines and allowing compliance to be delayed by 8, 10 or even 15 years more.

Congress has been dicking around on this issue for 21 years. The boiler rule has been postponed numerous times since it was first authorized as part of the 1990 Clean Air Act amendments to take effect by 2000. When it's finally finalized later this year, big industry will have at least three years to comply with the rule, and state and local officials have the option of granting a pass for an additional year. EPA also said that the agency would consider providing exemptions for facilities on a case-by-case basis beyond that closure date.

Some experts believe that even a 3&1/2 year delay in boiler remediation rules would result in approximately 28,350 more premature deaths, over 17,000 heart attacks, and more than 180,000 cases of asthma attacks.

In addition, the legislation would force EPA to adopt standards that are "least burdensome" to industry even if they are most burdensome to the American people. The Collins amendment sought to impose "work practice" standards on industry, tune up your vehicles and change a few spark plugs and then it's business as usual instead of adopting measures that would help the health and well being of the American public. The pollution advocates want the EPA to abandon the longstanding requirement to adopt Maximum Achievable Control Technology (MACT) standards if such standards require more from industry than work practice standards or any other weaker alternative to MACT.

The boiler measures are expected to reduce mercury by approximately 3,600 pounds per year and acid gases by 37,000 tons per year, totaling over 85,000 tons in toxic reductions. Mercury pollution is not good for children or other living things. I believe that Americans deserve clean air and the right to be free as conceivably possible of toxic substances. Shame on Susan Collins for her moves to gut the EPA.

The following Democratic Senators voted in favor of the Collins amendment: Sens. Bob Casey (D-PA), Herb Kohl (D-WI), Mary Landrieu (D-LA), Joe Manchin (D-WV), Claire McCaskill (D-MO), Ben Nelson (D-NE), Mark Pryor (D-AR), and Debbie Stabenow (D-MI). Shame on them as well.

We have to figure out how just many american lives are ultimately expendable for american jobs. Keep the american machine moving and all that. Just how many deaths are acceptable? And whose, of course.

Do What The Lord Say Do

Long lost New York Stan sent this one over. Very nice.

A way with words

I pride myself on having a fairly broad vocabulary. Now I'm no George Will, but I can throw the heavy lumber around when necessary. I had a word throw me off guard last night.

I was having trouble sleeping and was checking out a link to A.A. Aliev's paper Origin of Jewish Clusters of E1b1b1 (M35) haplogroup - The Russian Journal of Genetic Genealogy Vol 1, No. 1, 2010 ISSN: 1920-2989 when the word hit me.

I happen to be on a genetics board with the author and sent him this note:

I have a question in regard to this paper. What does "prevent" mean in the following sentence? Is this a typo or an anthropological term that I am not privy to? Does the author mean detect?

"Given that all listed subclades have been 

from the Middle East and the Eastern Mediterranean, you can prevent their presence in the region even in the era of the formation of Jewish 

nation."

Robert

I got the following response:

prevent=precede, concede It means that these subclades were there before the era of the formation of Jewish nation Farroukh

I had to go to the books for this one. And he was right. A transitive verb, supposedly first used around the fifteenth century. Now I have egg on my face. Might not be able to face my learned cohorts again.

Prevent

ORIGIN late Middle English (in the sense [act in anticipation of] ): from Latin praevent- ‘preceded, hindered,’ from the verb praevenire, from prae ‘before’ + venire ‘come.’

I am not sure about the exact timing of late middle english but I had never seen the word used in this context. Will have to ask Latin prof Denis about this one. I don't think that his conjunction is correct but this might be a bit of wounded nitpicking on my part. Have any of you ever heard of the word being similarly used? In the last five hundred years anyway.

Stone The Crows

Dueling Deities

I saw a funny letter in the San Diego Reader this week.

It's a cult people
I see the religious order known as the Hare Krishna back in the Reader dated March 1 ("Sheep and Goats"). It seems that nobody understands how bad these people really are and how they try to tell us that they have a connection with this evil god known as Lord Krishna.
Jesus Christ is far above that so-called Lord Krishna that these zombied-out people chant out to. They are really a dangerous cult and should be avoided even on our streets in San Diego.

Name Withheld

 by request

via email

Now this letter gave me a chuckle and I could really give you my two cents but don't think that I will. I would prefer to hear from you regarding this type of reasoning if any of you are willing. I shall say that the "my god can kick your god's ass" argument has always been one of my favorites. I even wrote a short story tangentially on the subject once; Fight Night on Mr. Olympus. If you are in the mood you might give it another read.

Good call from the other side

Both Rick Santorum and Newt Gingrich expressed reservations today about continued U.S. involvement in Afghanistan. Kudos to them, for once I agree with them both. I don't understand our policy in the region since 9/11, $750 million dollar embassies, an surfeit of cranial injuries, deaths and amputees, ill conceived goals and an absence of a coherent end game strategy notwithstanding.

What do we hope to accomplish in the region again? With friends like the Pakistanis, Afghans and Iraqis, we couldn't be among greater friends, could we?

Compared to What

Lost Weekend

My batting average in the Los Angeles environs remains dismal. I could have pulled two grand out of my pocket and just burned it, saving a lot of gas money and road wear on my new ride. I saw a lot of old faces that I remember from way back when and they still aren't buying.

There was a time when I was in the minor leagues that I actually did pretty well up there but when the door slammed shut it really slammed shut.

The promoter suggested that I show a bit more enthusiasm and I tried, standing on my head and giving them the whole seal act but they just weren't having any.

Someone suggested that the people had a lot of money but were extremely insecure and that I would need to convince them to buy but it has really never been my style to separate people from their lucre that way. If you love it and can afford it, buy it but I won't arm twist and rarely push. And so I sit here feeling rather broke on a monday morning.

Of course, the paradigm may have fell off the tipping point, my model may no longer resonate in an urban environment. The world is trending cool tone modern and I am more of an amber classicist. It happens. Maybe angeleños sense my underlying antipathy for their vulgar city. If you have to live in a city at least make it a real city like New York for god's sakes. Los Angeles, where banality is an art form.

Uneventful weekend. Car handled nicely on the way up but the new van feels heavier and a bit more sluggish off the block than its predecessor. Stayed at the dumpy Glendale Hilton, next time the Red Roof. Exorbitant parking, no internet, crappy bathrooms and tiny television. My Verizon modem decided to die so I spent the weekend disconnected, probably a good thing.

On the television I watched thousands of shrieking southerners cheering for bass fishermen at a bass tourney in Shreveport. It was like championship wrestling. When did fishing become a spectator sport and where was I?

Ate at La Cabanita twice, a definite high point, got an earful of Hanoi and Cuba from Dermot. I leave there shaking my head and feeling decidedly conservative. Tampiqueno the first night, with chewy, limey tortillas that are the best anywhere and chuletas con pasilla the next. Heaven.

Jill and Byron came by and we had our first long talk in ages, which was really great. Exceptionally bright and interesting couple. The promoters did a wonderful job, great music the whole show, a New Orleans band marching the crowd in at the opening, moon pies and rice crispy treats for the dealers on set up. A beautiful show, some people did really well, just not my turn. It seemed to be a decorative and object crowd rather than art collectors. I am happy I gave it a shot and thank those involved in its production. Ran like a top.

Conway Twitty - It's Only Make Believe

One of the greatest pure singers of all time. Conway always gave it his all.

Prairie Hasids

Have you been following the Amish hair cutting trial? To refresh your memory, a renegade Ohio Amish sect was running around cutting off fellow Amish people's beards and hair against their will. The haircuttees were not practicing the proper tenets of the creed, according to the assailants.

Now I don't claim to be an expert on the fancy dutch but this case is getting kind of interesting. Yesterday the indicted men's lawyer said that the case should be dismissed because the hate crimes law is unconstitutional. According to the lawyer's “the alleged intra-religious actions between private individuals do not fall within the statute or federal authority. The actions are not alleged to have been taken out of prejudice or hatred against the Amish religion. Rather, the alleged acts are doctrine-based Old Order Amish beliefs.”

“The [Hate Crimes Prevention Act in 2009] is not to be applied in a manner that interferes with the practice of religion or speech under the First Amendment,” the motion says. “Therefore, the statute on its face, or as applied here, violates the federalism principles of the Tenth Amendment, which bars Congress from regulating an area historically left to the States.”

Now I would think that the fundamentalists in this country would be all over this and lend their support to the hirsute defendants. Isn't this just like Bob Jones University not allowing coloreds into the college because G-D cursed the sons of Ham, or denying your employees birth control coverage at Catholic universities, even if they are not of the faith? We get this overturned and you can not rent to gays, or serve jews in your restaurant or employ blacks if you don't want to or a million other cool things. Hell, you could probably come up with some bible language that would give you the right to shoot a cannon at your wife. Damn government, messing with our religious liberty again.

This is the slippery slope of allowing theology, of any stripe, to insert its hairy paw into the American system of governance. Because god can tell you to do all sorts of nasty shit and then you can flee back to your bibles for cover.  Stop with the involuntary haircuts already.

Happy Three Thousand!

According to the good folks at Google, who provide me with a free blogger platform for the Blue Heron Blast, without allowing them to advertise for that matter, this is blogpost #3000. Whoopee, calls for some sort of celebration. Raise a glass to the blog at your next possible opportunity.

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Speaking of celebration and milestones I think that we should all give serious consideration to this December 21, 2012 business. End of the world as we know it, mayan calendar, rapture, blah, blah, blah. Now I don't really cotton to the idea but had some respect for some that did, like Terrence McKenna and Jerry Garcia to name two. So just in case I think that we all should start planning just how we really want to spend such a pivotal day,maybe one of the most critical days in our existence, if the wild assertions have any plausibility whatsoever.

Now my plan is to find a power spot. I have canvassed a few suitable friends, of whom I would like to share such an apocryphal day and sought opinions on where we should take off from. I have heard Haleakala, Chichen Itza, Kauai, Two Bunch and a few other spots. Maybe Chaco, Kathmandu, Crater Lake or Machu Picchu. The Mayan thing is the natural call but might be a bit crowded. Was there for the festival of the feathered serpent once on March 23, me and my closest 25 thousand mayan friends, that is. Find a place that you are comfortable and try to levitate ourselves and the planet right into another orbit, just for a lark, just because we can.

I do think that you old time psychedelic warriors who maybe haven't shaken the cobwebs out for thirty or forty years or so might consider getting fungal for such an occasion. Tap into the homo gestalt groupmind. Old times sake and all. Put yourself in a space to just walk off the planet and straight into the cosmos, on the rainbow bridge to Valhalla or Asgard. Kapow. Be all that you can be, just like the boy scouts.

Just a thought.

Let Me Roll It

ALFRED HITCHCOCK PRESENTS (1985) - Man From The South

Superb John Huston version.

Candi Staton - He Called Me Baby

This is one of the last songs that Patsy Cline ever recorded. A song by Harlan Howard, country western scribe without peer. Staton's version is quite different from Cline's but very credible nonetheless.

Power Felt

Imagine wearing a piece of your clothing that will also charge your cellphone. The technology is here. Check out this link from the Wake Forest Center for Nanotechnology and Molecular Materials. It is called PowerFelt and the thermalelectric device converts body heat to electrical current. Very interesting link.

I'm So Afraid

In the matter of Paul Degaston

California and Western Medicine Vol. 45, No. 5, c. 1936

Tracy sent me a note this morning.

So, do you still think that "they" could be the same man?  I am doing a family tree for a friend right now and finding the same confusion in records.  Will it help to see the 1940 census....it will be released soon.
T

My answer at this point is that I just don't know. I am no closer to wrapping my head around this matter than I was at the beginning of the pursuit, a mere 10 days ago. And hey, I am new at this cybersleuthing business. KJ has always accused me of writing like Mickey Spillane and now I have my very own Damon Runyan mystery.

What do we know to date? A man or possibly two men, one or both philanderers with many wives and a penchant for using multiple identities. Both with multiple birth dates. Both married to a woman named Violet. One still a principal suspect in the Elizabeth Short murder. One married to Leona, the other Cleona. Both artists. One might have taught at the art center and possesses very advanced skill in printmaking. One has a social security number, with  roots in China, Los Angeles and Washington State, the other New Jersey, San Francisco, Hawaii and elsewhere.

Percy DeGaston's book - Library of Congress No. DS721.D38

One man serves time as a german sympathizer. One is a stoolie who may have upset some very powerful people. And on and on, you can read the previous posts.

I have been leading to think that we were definitely talking about two different men, one a man with a bit of a darkside, Paul Robert and the other a mere artist. Now I am really not so sure. While they may be in fact two different people, they both appear to have a similar dark mien.

I followed a link back to one of Percy DeGaston's great grandsons and he mentioned that the man was not only a serial philanderer but a pedophiliac. I thought that that was strange, having no knowledge of anything like that in my limited research. He also says that he was on the FBI's 10 most wanted list. I believe that he is confusing him with Paul Robert DeGaston, something admittedly easy to do.

I have seen a picture of one of the DeGaston's on Degaston.com but never a picture of the other, a shame.

Paul DeGaston Photograph circa 1920's.

I received a note from a different family member yesterday discussing the molestation of a young relative by Paul Percy and the cheating and subsequent divorce. So it is true. I am not going to post the letter, there are people still alive with direct knowledge of events and I want to respect their privacy. This is real and sensitive. But now I know that both men were involved in some nefarious, if not evil business. Leaving aside the big question of the day, of course.

But the writer also made mention of Percy dying in 1958. Now, that is strange, death records say 1963. The other DeGaston, Paul Robert, supposedly died in 1956, closer to the 1958 date. Paul Robert having not one but two children named Paul De Gaston doesn't make matters easier. But it still leads me to ask myself a question:

Are we talking about one or two men?

Man known as Paul Robert DeGaston in World War II internment camp c. 1943-4.

Junior Wells - Use Me!

King Barrie

I think that Barack Obama has been a decent president, he has done a fair job with a very crappy hand. He has disappointed me on various fronts but he is after all, a politician and they are very crafty animals, usually lacking ethics and always checking the direction of the popular wind.

Obama is weak on civil liberties, weak on keeping certain campaign promises but strong in certain other areas as well. I hate to say it but one thing he seems to be really good at is the sport of politics, he loves to campaign and is now licking his chops at the sticky brambles that the opposition has managed to get themselves into. Old Barack is starting to get into form, not that great at getting things handled or managing any sort of bipartisan consensus with the GOP, at least not with this GOP, but who knew, maybe a strategic genious at this politics business.

Anyway I liked how he has been going after people of late, the "I won't be punked Barack." He went after a Fox News guy today who had happened to ask a really stupid question, at least of a politician.

I also like how he did not allow himself to be punked by the Israelis this week amongst the war clamor for unilateral offensive action against the Persians. I have read some Israeli officials remarks that the government actually doesn't think that the Iranians are that close to a bomb at this point. I liked the I do not bluff comment. I don't believe he does and I don't think he rightfully needs to be worked by Netanyahu either. I also think that deep down the Israelis respect that, especially in the light of some of the pandering that goes on in certain circles.

If Obama can keep his "mean on", he may end up becoming a really good president in his second term.

Bonnie Raitt

Shameless Self Promotion

I have some nice new paintings and prints that I will be exhibiting this weekend in Glendale at the Antiques and Objects Show. Please look at a few of the nice things in the gallery.

Eddy Arnold - You Don't Know Me

3.6.12

I got a few beautiful notes from the DeGaston family today that I can not exactly divulge. But I thank them all for the messages and am happy to help shine a little light in my limited way. It is a neat story that we haven't quite solved or gotten to the bottom of yet.

Peace,

Robert

Still A Fool

Hasta la vista, baby.

The great sage once noted that life is what happens to you while you are busy making other plans. This was going to be the spring we went to Spain, tracing my sephardic heritage through Cordoba and Sevilla and peering upon Cadiz and the shores of Morocco. But the old Chrysler van said, "Nay Robert, not so fast..." And after this week, I will be lucky to scrape up enough pesetas for a café au lait.

My Chrysler has a hard 162,000 miles on it. It has been a noble steed and forced to go on many a march beyond its pedigree and any semblance of good judgement on my part. But it has endured with nary a complaint. Lately I have been getting the distinct feeling that it has finally had enough.

I could see the writing on the wall, if I wanted to continue to date the old gal, things were going to start to get expensive. On the heel of last month's pads and rotors I was now looking at a head gasket, broken motor mount, broken manifold screw, possibly warped head, a three thousand dollar transmission module, inoperable left turn signal, power doors that stopped working, etc., etc.. The final straw was the little check engine light that brightened my morning the other day.

Gary, my mechanic delivered me the bad news. Catalytic converter. Chrysler still hadn't released the aftermarket specs. Over a grand without the labor, dealer item. The die was cast. She had been great but she was now long in the tooth and it was time for me to find a new ride. I wasn't putting another four k into this tired old beast, no matter what good times we may have once shared.

*

I got on line. This model van, with its stow and go seat technology is a must for my business. The Dodge packages were about 5k under their commensurate Chrysler counterparts so I started looking in that direction.

Color was a factor. Living way out on a dirt road, I was not going to do blue again. I get enough crap about having Fallbrook's dirtiest car. I thought about a gold or tan color. Well guess what the worm has turned, Rip Van Winkle. Today's vast color palette offers you a choice of carbon, graphite, charcoal, silver or basic gray. Plus one or two others quite inconsequential. Gold is outré passé. Who knew?

I found a car I thought I wanted at Bob Baker in Carlsbad, about 4 g's under the competition and started crunching numbers with Kurt. Sorry, he tells me, no rebates on the AVP or American Value Package which stands for totally stripped down. The Sx ( read sex?) package has a nifty minivan trade in and another dealer rebate bringing the thing down another $2250.00. We shaved a bit more off and I bought the upgrade with the power doors and other more worldly accoutrements befitting a man in my position. Hope they last longer than the last one.

Truth be told I didn't like how the AVP car drove, seemed to pull and tug a bit. The battery was dead in my car so I couldn't get it until this morning, like the way it drives, nice bluetooth and Sirius package, bit nicer than the Chrysler and a tad more headroom. Engine and tranny supposed to be better as well.

*

I asked the man about the absence of the cassette deck and the eight track and he laughed at me. He told me that CD's are on their way out as well, this is probably the last ride. Now it is a USB plug in in the glove box and find a twelve year old to explain how it all works. Sigh. Still not totally up on the ipod thing. Have one and never use it.

*

So when you decide to ask me about the trip to Spain, don't look at me strange when I point to this silver soccer mom wagon on the curb, there's my trip to Spain. Adios. And if you need a Dodge or Chrysler, don't hesitate to ask for Kurt. Pretty square egg and a painless deal.

It makes no difference

I had a dream last night that I was on stage with the Band. We were playing on a balcony of an ornate two story building in the French Quarter of New Orleans. I was sandwiched in between the microphone stands.

I distinctly remember making serious eye contact with Robbie in the dream, he is looking at me like "what the hell is this guy doing on stage?" Also recall Danko and Levon, no Garth or Richard, at least in dreamland. A great concert, maybe I can get an encore tonight when I fall once again to sleep.

Grand Old Problem

It would be an understatement to say that things weren't going too swimmingly up in the Grand Old Party's ivory tower.

Ira T. Wagstaff coughed into his embroidered hankie and set his steely eyes on his compatriots in the roomy board room. "Gentleman, let's get down to brass tacks. We have got ourselves a problem with a capitol p."

All eyes were at flinty attention as I.T. spoke.

"The party is in a serious mess," the rheumatic banker bellowed. "Frankly fellows, we don't know who to hate anymore."

The board fidgeted and eyed their chairmen, fidgeting, some incessantly twirling their french cuffs.

"Do we go after the heretics, the poor or the women? I tell you, we got ourselves a real conundrum here."

"Well Ira, why don't we just round up the usual suspects?" offered one of the nameless party operatives. "You know, the unions, the liberals at the colleges, the activist judges."

"Or those damn cultural elites that think a guy has to finish high school to be somebody. Snobs, I tell you."

"I say we go after the women, boss," said another.""It all started to go to hell when women insisted on working on the job instead of staying home and homeschooling their children about intelligent design while poppa worked his fingers to the bone on the assembly line." "Never should have given them the vote if you ask me. You know what it says in the good book? Nobody wants to say it but we were a hell of a lot better off when we kept them baking cookies in the kitchen where they belong."

"I agree, I.T. . Look at all the whining and crying about Rush. These women just want to have free birth control so that they can engage in indiscriminate sex. Like men do. A woman isn't supposed to enjoy sex, for christ sakes. They're supposed to grit their teeth and get it over with and then pop out a family, like the good lord intended."

Amongst a chorus of assents another man offered, "I think its the damn working class that's the problem. We treated them too good for too damn long. Things went to hell with all of this minimum wage, forty hour work week crap. "There will always be sheep and shepherds and damnit we are the wolves that keep this barnyard soap opera moving. Got to have predators for the system to work. Read your Darwin."

"That's right I.T.. We need another tax cut so that we can create more jobs. In Sri Lanka. Sumbitches will come crawling back to us with their hats in their hands. If they haven't tried to eat them first."

"I don't care, Romney shouldn't have let on about driving the cadillacs. People don't want it rubbed in their faces. Make a note, next ad, we film him in a Ford Escort."

The room shook with bellicose laughter as the fat cats slapped their corpulent armani covered thighs in approval.

Wagstaff shook his fat finger at his underlings. "Well we better figure this damn thing out posthaste. You got Santorum running like it's a Pentecostal revival meeting and pissing off the women, Romney has got all the pizzazz of a big eight actuary, Gingrich won't stop apologizing for all those marriages with that "failed sinner" crap and Paul wanting to take us back to the good old days of Jim Crow and American isolationism. If these guys don't stop shooting at each other there ain't going to be a body left in the barnyard by election day.

"Get Roger Ailes on the phone. The people at Fox have to start talking about the Republican big tent again before the whole thing is in shambles. We have to remember the one thing that defines us as a party."

'What's that, boss?"

"We hate Obama."

Crazy Horse - I Don't Want To Talk About It

Continuing Story of Paul De Gaston

Paul De Gaston - River Nile

The tale continues:

I got this letter the other day:


Regarding My Grandfather, Paul DeGaston, your enigmatic artist!


About My Grandfather, Paul DeGaston – Photographer and Artist

Dear Robert,

Well, we have quite a story to tell you and would love to talk with to clarify the life and history of my grandfather, Paul DeGaston, the photographer and artist.  I am preparing my own fine art photography website and asked my wife to find some of my grandfather’s photos on her computer and in the process she Goggled my grandfather’s name once again and found your website and story/questions about my Grandfather and his art.

The bottom line is my Grandfather made his living as a professional photographer and traveled as you said all over, especially to Hawaii, lived in San Francisco for a while and also had a studio in La Jolla—hence the Escondido connection.  The Black Dahlia DeGaston/abortionist is a different person which we discovered in doing our own background research on my Grandfather about two years ago. (What are the odds that we would see your blog about Paul DeGaston, asking about who he is, 4 days after you wrote it? That’s synchronicity for you.  I guess we “heard” your “call!”

We’re going to call you tomorrow, Thursday, March 1st and hopefully connect with you in person.  I’ll be happy to tell you everything I know about him.

With our best regards,

G

I wrote him back:


Thank you guys, it will be a pleasure to speak with you. Call me after 10 at 7xx-xxx-xxxx.


The nexus for me was that according to the ship's documents, I believe that the Paul De Gaston going to Hawaii had a spouse named Leona. The Black Dahlia man had a spouse named Cleona. With all of the subterfuge I figured slam dunk. But strange coincidences do occur occasionally in an infinite universe! In any case, my blog readership has been enthralled with the whole story so far so now we can tie a nice bow around it. (That is, unless your grandfather fooled you, too...)


Yours,


Robert


They called me yesterday and we talked. We filled each other in on information that the other did not have. He told me that DeGaston authored a book, I told him about a magazine article I had found. He says that his relative lived in La Jolla for a period of time. and never to his knowledge in the state of Washington. Friend of Ansel Adams. We agreed to continue to share information.


And I am still not totally convinced. There are so many strange oddities in the matrix. 
  

1925 S.F. City Directory

* He tells me that this grandfather, who he never met, had eight wives. The other DeGaston also had many multiple marriages.  We have Ruby, Leona, Cleona, Grace, Violet, Helen and who knows who else, so far...Could we have one of those cases of a man living with multiple identities, leading a double life?

From DeGaston.com (Black Dahlia)

* He says that his DeGaston's middle name was Percy. But Percy used multiple different middle names as well, including the initial f. Here is a San Diego directory from 1943 where Paul F, a photographer is with Violet, the name of the woman the other DeGaston was first married to and who he marries again 15 years later! It is all so confusing...Paul Robert is known as Paul R.T.B. DeGaston as well as the other known aliases. The DeGaston website says that Violet was his first wife, but this was prior to 1931. Why do we have a marriage certificate to Violet from 1958? Did he remarry a childhood flame, his first wife and love? Not to mention the fact that it was was two years after he was officially dead. (Figured this out. Gaston had two sons named Paul Robert DeGaston, first one killed in war, second one also married a woman named Violet. That's three Paul DeGaston's married to three women named Violet, in case you are scoring at home.)

World War 1 Draft Card

* Both men, if there were two men, were dissemblers about their age, using at various times, 1877, 1879, 1880, 1890, 1891, 1892, 1902 and 1904. The question begs to be asked, why the obfuscation on the part of both of these men, if in fact they were two separate people?
Why the multiple names?

*  The Black Dahlia DeGaston supposedly died in 1956. The second man, in Riverside in 1963. But the first one never had a social security number! Tell me, how can you live and work in this country for fifty years without one? And why is there a Nevada marriage license for Paul R DeGaston to Violet, two years after he had supposedly died? Curiouser and curiouser.

May 17, 1929 Passenger list to Honolulu - Sonoma

*The time lines certainly work. His DeGaston was supposedly born in Trenton, New Jersey, on November 27th, with a mother's maiden name of Presber. Black Dahlia, Nazi DeGaston's mother's maiden name was listed as Bach as was his german alias but his son's website says that her name was actually Anna Maria Hermann. The FBI papers say that DeGaston's real name is Teodore Hermann Bach.


My correspondent tells me that the names of a daughter or sister in both families were identical when they talked to Black Dahlia DeGaston's family. Perhaps it was Julia or Gloria, I forgot to jot it down. DeGaston the artist works in Hawaii in the mid thirties, Black Dahlia picked up by the FBI and incarcerated for unspecified period in 1942, Black Dahlia affair around 1946...H-m-m-m, it could all conceivably work for one individual.

Oakland Directory c. 1924

Could this whole thing be an OSS witness protection, cover scenario that I have stumbled upon? They provided sanctuary to a lot of sordid people with checkered pasts after the war.


I guess that my biggest question is why is there no record of Paul Robert DeGaston anywhere until he is picked up by the FBI and then later jailed in the Black Dahlia case. No social security, no war record (he claimed to have been in World War I), no city directory listings like we see with this other individual. A man who is said by his descendants to have lived a fairly normal life, even playing music in the Glendale Symphony but no records anywhere. How could he have not left any footprint? So who was he, really?

I am going through lots of records on Ancestry.com and elsewhere and will try to fill in the dots wherever they may lead. Feel free to pitch in.


*
Postscript 3/3/12


Found this blurb on Percy - apparently an innovator in the technology of night photography:

First Night Photography:

September 5, 1914:  Percy DeGaston, cameraman at Balboa, devised a new compound, providing enough actinic light to film night scenes.  The Balboa film, An Eye for an Eye, copyrighted January 1915, was the first movie in the world to use night photography successfully.

and

Percy De Gaston, inventor of the new chemical compound and apparatus
which furnish enough actinic light to film scenes at night, is a camera man
at the Balboa studios.  When a scene is being photographed at night, the
country is illuminated for several hundred feet distant, the violet-white
flame burning steadily for two minutes.
     Director (William) Taylor filmed seven camp-fire scenes by the new light, and is
said to have obtained excellent results.

Three new alias's for Paul R. DeGaston, Hoisch, Baker and Marsh. Apparently C.J. Morris was not an alias but a partner in the abortion clinic.

Mike Finnigan and The Serfs

Kansas and the slop wallow

Far be it for me to bag on Kansas. The state gave us Dennis Hopper, Elvira and Charlie Parker, amongst many other fine citizens. Ethel Mertz was from Cherryvale. S. Clay Wilson went to school in Lawrence. Many of my closest buddies have roots in Dodge City, including Steve and Sue, Ken Seals and the late Avis Stokes.

But I am awful glad that I don't live in the Sunflower State. And I am sure that Kansans feel the same way about me. Because the state skews to the right of Attila the Hun.

This week the Kansas House of Representatives passed a bill making it allright for a doctor to lie to a patient about procedures that could potentially be life threatening to her, if it meant saving a baby from being aborted. Doctor's will not be able to be sued for malpractice if any of these tragic events occur.

Kansas Governor Sam Brownback was asked about the sixty nine page bill, which he said that he intends to sign if it crosses his desk and his retort was that he hadn't read it. Didn't intend to. He says that he ran on a pro life platform and had pledged to sign any pro life bill that crosses his desk, apparently having read it or not.

"I am pro-life," Brownback said. "When I campaigned I said that if a pro-life bill got to my desk, I will sign it. I am not backing away from that."

Now I have to wonder about the competency and intelligence of any government official who is willing to sign anything that he has not read but then again, I don't live in Kansas. And I wonder why Dorothy ever wanted to go back?

From Huffpo:

Among the provisions is one which would exempt doctors from malpractice suits if they withhold information -- in order to prevent an abortion -- that could have prevented a health problem for the mother or child. A wrongful death suit could be filed in the event of the death of the mother.


Other provisions include requiring women to hear the fetal heartbeat prior to an abortion, taking away tax credits for abortion providers and removing tax deductions for abortion-related insurance. The bill also requires that women be told that abortions would increase the risk of breast cancer, a controversial theory that the World Health Organization, the National Cancer Institute and gynecological groups in the United States and the United Kingdom have said is incorrect.

So the state once again puts itself right square in between a doctor and a patient, requires the dissemination of debunked scientific information and shows us once again why governing and theology are such a lethal mix.

*
"What does it say about the college co-ed Susan Fluke [sic] who goes before a congressional committee and essentially says that she must be paid to have sex -- what does that make her? It makes her a slut, right? It makes her a prostitute," Limbaugh said. "She wants to be paid to have sex. She's having so much sex she can't afford the contraception. She wants you and me and the taxpayers to pay her to have sex."

In the continuing GOP war against women, Rush Limbaugh is taking fire, even from some in his own party for calling Georgetown student Sandra Fluke a slut who should broadcast her casual sexscapades on Youtube. Unfortunately the bilious one never bothered to actually listen to Fluke's story, which Rep. Darrell Issa never let her deliver to his House Committee on Religious Liberty.

Fluke was describing the travails of a classmate, who needed contraception to prevent the continual regrowth of ovarian cysts.

This thing is getting beaten to death but I have a question? Why is the girl a slut? What about the male participant in a sexual interaction? Boys will be boys? They have no responsibility? Limbaugh offers to buy aspirins for the girls to put between their legs a la Foster Freeze.

"A Georgetown coed told Nancy Pelosi's hearing that the women in her law school program are having so much sex they're going broke, so you and I should have to pay for their birth control. So what would you call that? I called it what it is," he said. "So, I'm offering a compromise today: I will buy all of the women at Georgetown University as much aspirin to put between their knees as they want.""So Miss Fluke and the rest of you feminazis, here's the deal," he said. "If we are going to pay for your contraceptives and thus pay for you to have sex, we want something. We want you to post the videos online so we can all watch."

It will be interesting how this all plays out in November with the women of America. The Republicans have certainly got the troglodyte, misogynist pig vote buttoned down.

Cisco Houston - Saint James Infirmary