Saturday, August 30, 2014

I want my Daddy's records!!!

I suppose we all have regrets in our lives. Lately, one stupid act that I commited ten years ago has been burning at my soul and haunting me something awful. Murder?, you ask. No, nothing of a criminal nature, but still heinous enough to make me cringe, throw my hands up in the air and scream at the earth.

Ten years ago, when we moved into our current residence, I went crazy and decided to donate about 65% of my vinyl record albums to one of those tax-deductible charity organizations. You know, the kind that will send out a truck to pick up your gently-used, unwanted items.

At the time, my rationale was that we would not have enough space in the basement for my records, and besides, who cares about records anymore? "Hell, I've got everything on disc, anyway" was another brilliant argument in my defence at the time.

So like a fool, I started grabbing handfuls of vinyl, with no regard or discretion for what I was getting rid of, boxed them up, and put them on the porch for the charity truck to come pick them up. Cased closed, goodnight and God Bless.

Ten years later, a lightbulb turned on: WTF was I thinking? I got rid of all my good shit! Things that will never be released on disc or any other format. Rare, import items that were in my collection for years and years, never to be seen again. Whomever (or is it whoever?) sorted through that particular "donation", got their hands on a damn good collection of  "wax". I feel like Fred Sanford in the episode of "Sanford and Son" when he donates his collection of rare "Blind Mellow Jelly" records to the library, only to regret his decision once he finds out they were actually worth a good amount of coin.

For a while, I felt like someone seeking a missing loved-one. I started hitting the thift stores, antique shops and the like, hoping to find just one of my lost babies.

I've gotten over that feeling now, I and suppose one day, perhaps something will turn up. Until that time comes, I've been building up what I call an "anti-record collection". The Salvation Army is a good place for these types of records. You will never find  rare gems at the SA: I suppose if you went there several times a week, you might get lucky and find something cool, but for the record, I have never seen even a Beatles record for sale in any thrift shop. No, what you will find in these places is the worst drek, crap that makes you wonder what kind of lunatic bought that crap in the first pace.


These are some of my recent acquisitions  from the local Salvation Army, and while yes, they might have a certain cheesy value to them: you know, maybe break them out at a party and yuck it up with your guests while you guzzle beer and snicker, they really serve no function.

Vinyl records are "in" again, perhaps due to nostalgic or aesthetic reasons, and there are a number of vinyl advocates out there, including several prominent musical artists, who claim that records have a "warmer" sound than their digital counterparts. In fact, records are still being produced, and sold, albeit at a higher cost than what they used to sell for back in the "good old days".

Those of us who are "in the know" are also hearing rumblings that music cassette tapes, are starting to creep their way back into the game, as well as VHS tapes.

Everything that is replaceable will be replaced by the things that were replaced. Wow...






Monday, August 25, 2014

You're always sucking on the gas tank before I can cap it!

Energy Vampires really do suck! Vampires? In this day and age? Oh yes, my friends, they do exist.

Not in the traditional sense. Not in the blood-sucking, sharp-fanged, Bela Lugosi sense. Nope- these suckers don't need to be back in their coffins before sunrise: these pests are available 24 hrs a day!

Oh, you know the type: the annoying "neighbor", the co-worker, etc. Hell, even a Family member.

 Just the other day, I had to visit the local hardware store to buy a bucket. I was wearing what I deem to be my raunchiest-smelling work shirt (I had just finished mowing our lawn) and I was feeling rather sweaty and "ripe". As I stood in line waiting (as usual), a woman and her daughter stood in line next to me quite close. I was aware that I had a foul stench emanating from my body, as I could smell it myself.

Did this annoying person back away, due to my aroma? No. In fact she positioned herself even closer. Perhaps there is something to be said about the female attraction to male pheromones. If this is the case,  the next time I do yard work, I should wring the sweat out of that abomination I call a shirt, and bottle the stuff. Maybe I could make enough cash to finally retire. In the end, maybe the poor yenta learned a lesson, and won't stand so close to people waiting in lines, therefore granting what every human being deserves: "personal space". Somehow, I doubt it. She's probably a closet fart-huffer, also.

Do Energy Vampires have a defining look? Not really, but once one is in your presence, you will feel the energy slowly fading from your body. Sometimes, just hearing the phone ringing can be a draining experience. Or a knock on the door. I've never read the works of Dorothy Parker, but she was spot-on with her "What fresh Hell is this?" remark.

How can one avoid Energy vampires? It's damn near impossible. Even if you lived on an uncharted island somewhere, hundreds of miles from "civilization", you can bet that eventually, some random SOB would somehow trundle upon your domain.

No, I'm afraid we are stuck with these bastards. Fresh Hell, indeed...