What I Want To See On YouTube
I discovered multitracking on YouTube this week and suddenly remembered something from my college days that I would like to see done. More on that in a moment or two.
One of my current favorite multitrack favorites is the Star Wars Tribute (John Williams is the man.) Songs from Close Encounters of the Third kind, the theme from Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, Superman, E T The Extra Terrestrial, Jurassic Park and Jaws are combined in a fun medley.
Another of my multitrack favorites is Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah as sung by Courtney Woolsey. I also like her take on Lollipop, a song made famous by the Chordettes (scary part here, I actually remember having to play this song on one of the many radio stations I worked for.)
That brings me to what I would like to see on YouTube. When I was in college our theater group put on a talent show and opened it to anyone who wanted to participate. We kept one of the songs a surprise, rehearsing it in secret and performing it only on the night of the show.
When the curtain opened a beautiful blonde in a tight red dress came out and the band played a single chord, then she started to sing “Rubber Ducky” as a Torch Song, in a breathy Marilyn Monroe style. The result was hilarious!
I would love to see someone do a video in this style and put it up on YouTube. The most fun video I’ve found so far of the Rubber Ducky song was done by Little Richard.
So. Any takers?
The View From Here is published every Sunday.
Copyright © 2010 Moody Publishing Co
All Rights Reserved
Truth in Advertising
I am not now, nor have I ever been, normal. I have an off-kilter perspective. I have a larger-than-life body. I am taller than most of the women and men I know (or see). I have an odd sense of humor which can not be accurately called “wit”. I am unusually forthright about those things I consider to be my personal flaws. And, while I might not say it out loud, I am usually thinking something that is definitely NOT politically correct!
Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not mean spirited. I very rarely think – and even more rarely say – something mean or truly rude about someone else. But, I’m tired of beating around the bush or couching my true thoughts/ideas in order to avoid implied insult. There are some things I refuse to pretend about.
If you’re going to call your pizza “fromage a trios” it better have a LOT of cheese on it, not just three kinds of cheese!!! (for those not in the know, “fromage” is French for “cheese”)
This past week I went into a local pizza place. They’re extremely popular and you may have seen them on “Man V. Food” this past October – if you have cable/satellite. Flying Pie Pizzaria is a Boise staple which serves gourmet (and normal) pizza. They have a pizza, only in August, called the Triple Habanero. It’s so hot that if you’re going to take left-overs, you have to sign a waiver before you can take them off the premises. This was the featured pie on Man v Food.
Anyway, I visited this place because Mr. Fixer wanted pizza for lunch. I figured that since he’d been talking about it since I moved here, I would give Flying Pie a look-see. While I was waiting, I saw something new and interesting every time I turned my head. There was even a HUGE ball of foil near the door which customers could add to as they so chose. It was a big ball of foil. (I think the sign said it was 267 lbs, but it might have said 167. I just can’t remember the specifics.)
One of the things I perused while waiting was the Boise Weekly. In it there was a cartoon which has become my favoritest ever! The cartoonist is E. J. Pettinger, and the cartoon is Mild Abandon. While you can see a bunch of cartoons on the website, the one that tickles me so much was published on March 3rd, 2010. It can be found, here.
Did you check out the cartoon? No? I’ll wait. Go check it out now.
Drums fingers.
Okay, now we can continue.
Thank you, E. J.! Finally, those of us who have heard “morbidly obese” so many times that the phrase has lost any meaning; finally we have a name for those work-out nazis. There IS such a thing as being too healthy.
I don’t want to be morbidly fit. Another slice of Fromage a Trois, please! This time, make it a double!
Until next time…
D. S. Vic
Please include Northwest Journal in the subject line of all correspondence. JD_DSVic at Yahoo.com
Copyright © 2010 D. S. Vic
All rights reserved
Pacific Northwest History
Contrary to the title of today’s column, this is not a history of the Pacific Northwest. Instead, it is a skip along the paths of memory. Unless you missed it during the first three months of my writings, I was not raised in the inland Northwest.
Though I don’t remember the exact age, for a few years before I was a teenager, we had a cabin on Mount Index; on the West side. I remember the ride on highway 2 through Snohomish, Monroe, Sultan, Startup and Gold Bar. The reason I remember this ride, Gold Bar specifically, is because of a simple, road-side gas station.
Completely unassuming, this little station was naught but a bunch of peeling-painted wood, a couple gas pumps and a little market. I remember old and slightly gnarled wood sides which looked as if they’d be more appropriate in an old Clint Eastwood Western than at-the-time-modern construction. I remember dust and road-dirt covered wood sculpture. This was the kind of decoration that could have come from Tonto’s yard, had we ever seen Tonto’s house. When we first drove through, I think the gas pump pad was the only paved part of that lot.
I could have been dead asleep at any given time during the lengthy drive to the cabin, but once we pulled into that gas station I would wake with a sense of expectant excitement. I would hear the crunch of tires on gravel. I would feel the rock of the car shift into a soft stop. I would blearily open my eyes and see the dusty cloud drift slowly around the corner of the building.
And I would smell it.
As if banishing the boredom of waiting; as if waving away the fog of a sleepy daze; as if laughing in the face of all things droll and dull, the scent of heaven would gently press its fingers through the half-open window to caress my salivary senses to full awareness. The odiferous emanations drifting, winding and wending their way from the open door of the little market beckoned to lazy summer expectation. I was enraptured by that Golden Ambrosia.
That little gas station in Gold Bar, Washington, just a little pit-stop of a place, a means to an end rather than an end in and of itself, that little bubble of perfection provided more than a kid could ever ask for. Toys. Games. Gold. Diamonds. Money. None of those things had any value or meaning when compared to the gas station in Gold Bar.
The scent of fresh-made waffle cones called to my olfactory senses. The display cases drew my body ever closer with their promises of refreshing, rejuvenating deliciosity. Home-made, hard ice cream in every flavor imaginable rested beneath the pristine, gleaming, glistening glass. Rich, brown chocolate; cool, creamy vanilla; pretty, pink strawberry; delightfully deranged, blue bubblegum; those were the things that made a child’s eyes big with earnest expectation.
It wasn’t just the fact that the ice cream cones were fresh-made. It wasn’t just the fact that there were so many flavors one could ponder choices until the cows came home. It wasn’t just the fact that the scents and sights and sounds of that place were ingredients for a life time of sweet dreams. The thing that really made that particular place special was the soft-ball sized scoop of ice cream that perched atop the cone.
Most ice cream places gave you a golf ball sized scoop of ice cream. Some places were extravagant and gave you a tennis ball sized scoop. But at that oasis on the way to Index, they believed more was better.
I think I can even remember a time when the clerk behind the counter started to hand me my deeply coveted cone but drew it back at the last minute, shaking her head. She then went back to the tub of bubblegum ice cream and packed even MORE ice cream onto that huge waffle cone. I think I wanted her to adopt me.
I’ve had Baskin Robin’s, Ben and Jerry’s, Haagen Dazs, Blue Bunny and a myriad other brands of ice cream in my short-longish life, but nothing truly compares to the mountainous mass of frozen ecstasy from Gold Bar. I would do a lot for a good pint of Haagen Dazs. I love the occasional pint of Ben and Jerry’s. But, no one and nothing can truly compare to my childhood bliss.
Sigh
I bet the cones would be just as huge as I remember them to be! I wonder if I that place is still there.
Until next time…
D. S. Vic
Please include Northwest Journal in the subject line of all correspondence. JD_DSVic at yahoo.com
Copyright © 2010 D. S. Vic
All rights reserved.
Chilly Hilly On Bainbridge Island
Every year traffic gets snarled on Bainbridge Island because of the Chilly Hilly Bicycle Classic, which is held on the last Sunday of February every year. Its a 33 mile ride around the island, which has quite a number of hills. This is an event that is in its 36th year, with riders coming from as far away as Alaska, New York and even France to participate.
I don’t participate in the race itself, but I do make a point of attending the chili feed that is a fundraiser for the Squeaky Wheels Bicycle Club. I congratulate the riders on their perseverance. The course is a demanding ride. In fact, it has been named one of the “four classic rides” by Bicycling Magazine.
I look forward to the Chilly Hilly every year because I get to meet people from around the world and chow down on some great chili.
The View From Here is published every Sunday.
Copyright 2010 Moody Publishing Co
All Rights Reserved
Monkeys and Ladders
How many monkeys does it take to put up a ladder? I’m sure this is a question that has haunted you throughout the ages. It probably keeps you awake at night. Even if it hasn’t, even if the question has never occurred to you before, don’t fear! I have the answer.
Four. It takes four monkeys to put up a ladder.
Now, before I tell you how I know that, I need to give you a little background information. First, the scene depicted below takes place at Mr. Fixer’s shop. Second, the roof of the shop is between 20 and 25 feet off the ground. Third, the characters involved are my dear, darling husband’s co-workers. As such, I have chosen nicknames for them; because I really, really don’t want to get sued!
The characters:
“Odie” is the bottom rung of this not-so-very-corporate ladder. He is earnest, enthusiastic, engaging and fun. He is also easily distracted. He’ll do anything you ask him to, but you might have to remind him a time or two. For that matter, you might have to prod him or even poke him with a stick. Personally, I’ve found that the best form of motivation for Odie is a combination of praise and cookies.
“Heuy” and “Dewey” are the next level in the shop hierarchy. They’re technically called “tire busters”, I think, but primarily they do such things as oil changes, brake inspections, alignments and so on. In olden times, Heuy and Dewey would be considered apprentice technicians.
“New Guy” is exactly that. He’s the most recent hire and the journeyman technician. Since he’s brand-spankin-new to the shop, I haven’t known him long enough to come up with a decent nickname. I’ll be working on it though.
“Mr. Fixer” is the lead tech; master technician. You already know a whole bunch about him, and I think I shouldn’t go on too much because I am most definitely biased in his favor!
The “Machness Monster” is the service guy. He’s kind of the jack of all trades. He’s a parts guy, estimate guy, inspection guy, salesman and (mostly) babysitter. He’s the one that makes sure the boss and shop guys understand each other. (and don’t kill each other)
“Almost Stumpy” is the front counter guy. He handles sales, manages customers and customer relations and does administrative stuff.
“Jedi” is the boss. He does boss stuff.
So, ladders and monkeys…
Seems there was a need to get up onto the roof of the shop. This was a daunting task because it’s very high off the ground. One can’t just jump up there. It takes a ladder. A big ladder.
Odie, Heuy and Dewey are smart, forward-thinking people. While in the shop, the three of them unfold the extension ladder to its fullest length. They make sure each hinge is appropriately locked as there’s little that could be worse than getting half-way up a ladder only to find it buckling beneath you!
Once the ladder is locked into position, Odie, Heuy and Dewey walk this monstrosity out of the shop and begin the arduous task of setting it upright against the building. Simple, right? Not so much.
The long ladder, now semi-upright, is top heavy. This means that the ladder is beginning to tilt to one side. You can’t really just “catch” it or anything, so the Three Amigos are trying to nurse the ladder back to center without actually bracing it against the shop wall. Why… because the shop wall was painted not two months ago. Odie, Heuy and Dewey don’t want to be responsible for scratching the paint! (That would mean erecting that ladder again to repair said scratches, of course.)
I think I should mention here that not a one of these young men are over the age of 25. Atop that, they’re all of fairly wiry physique. This means that while the three of them are alternately trying to coax and man-handle this ever-more-ungainly ladder, it is only the intervention of the Machness Monster that gets this odd thing under control. That is, of course, after the Machness Monster stops his nearly-uncontrollable belly laugh and sets down his can of soda.
So, ladder is up against the building, the Machness Monster has gone back to his laughing and the Three Amigos are pausing briefly to catch their collective breath. You’d think it was over. No. The ladder is still about four or so feet short of the roof. That’s a big gap. That’s a bigger gap when you’re trying to get down OFF of the roof.
Anyway, enter the New Guy. Actually, enter the New Guy’s truck. This truck is a character in and of itself. Like the Jeep Eater, New Guy’s truck has been raised, has big-ol-tires and is taller than any normal, self-respecting vehicle has a right to be. Cool, yes, and useful. Extremely useful in this instance.
New Guy backs his truck up to the shop so that the Three Amigos can lift-and-walk-and-totter-and-tilt the ladder into the bed of said truck. Of course, the bed of this truck is a good four or five feet off the ground. And, there are sides to the bed of the truck. And the Three Amigos don’t want to scratch the paint on the sides of the bed of the huge truck.
The ladder finds its way into the bed of the truck and Odie finds himself climbing gingerly up the ladder. He makes the ages-old mistake of looking down, then closes his eyes and again tries getting up the ladder. Once on the roof he pauses, glancing back and down at Heuy, Dewey, New Guy, the Machness Monster and Mr. Fixer and I, all of whom are laughing, and somewhat meekly calls out, “It’s spongy.”
Mr. Fixer says, “Watch out, there’s a soft spot right about there.”
The Machness Monster says, “Hey, are the gutters clear?”
As Odie returns from his primary task – untying a flag – Mr. Fixer can’t hold it back any longer. “Oh, and check the heater vents while you’re up there.”
The Machness Monster rescues Odie, telling him to get down. Half way down the ladder, though, he says that it’s lucky Odie isn’t the type to wear his pants down around his knees or wear his shoes untied. Overhearing that comment, Odie paused to pull up his pants. This set off the laughter in everyone! Again.
With Odie finally off the roof, the Three Amigos decided to shorten the ladder before removing it from the bed of the truck. Good job, boys. You’re learning.
Sigh
Therefore, while it takes four monkeys to put up a ladder, it only takes one to climb it. You can’t buy that kind of entertainment!
Until next time…
D. S. Vic
Include Northwest Journal in the subject line of all Email. JD_DSVic at yahoo.com Facebook Group
Copyright © 2010 D. S. Vic
All rights reserved.
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