Saturday Science Lesson-UV Light/Vitamin D

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In the times we’re living in, it’s nearly impossible (notice I said, “nearly”) to find useful and accurate information. If you are relying on Mark Zuckerberg’s Lunchroom (aka Facebook) for your science updates, then more often than not (always?) you are going to be misinformed or just plain wrong.

As a public service, I’m going to devote some space here at the JBE to science. Perhaps I’ll start doing these weekly until Janet Mills lets us out of our bunkers. Let me do the heavy lifting and thinking for you.

Did you know that the “dreaded” Michael Savage is a scientist? Yes, he is. In fact, he is has a biology degree. He also has his master’s in medical anthropology. Then, he picked up a Ph.D in nutritional ethnomedicine from UCal-Berkeley. He next went to South Africa to study medicinal herbs. This was well before he ended up on the radio. He has more scientific credentials than most of you (and me), that’s for sure. But of course, don’t listen to a scientist unless he’s in the tank for your team.

Back in 1986, he wrote a book, Maximum Immunity. The book addressed the body’s immune system and how to fortify it against infections, cancer, and arthritis, along with other diseases. I wish I’d grabbed it at the used book fair last summer when I saw it available for $2. Now, it’s selling used on Amazon for close to $500.

Michael Savage, an actual scientist

Just this morning, Peter Alexander, the White House reporter (mimbo?) for NBC was hosting the weekend edition of the Today Show. He opened the broadcast by spending 15 minutes choreographing another media mocking of the president. I say “mocking” because that’s what television news has become—a never-ending equivalent of ring-around-the-rosy that goes something like this: “Orange Man bad; Orange Man bad.” Continue reading →

Putting the Hammer Down

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In the midst of ‘Crona, I’m shaping my own reality. Safe beyond the pitchfork-waving sheeple and their chants of “Orange Man is bad,” and “Put on a damn mask,” I’m sitting in my basement with guitar in-hand, offering some songs (and a few screeds).

I’m not sure why, but the name “Joel Plaskett’ went rattling around my synapses yesterday. Not familiar with this Canadian music treasure? Why am I not surprised.

This week, I decided I’m done offering explanations to anyone. Why the fuck do I need to justify anything I do? If you are in my very small tribe, you get me. If you aren’t, then turn the channel and find someone else to watch.

This song by Plaskett really lit a fire for me. Maybe it’s the sense of nostalgia of looking back to the carefree days of high school. At least when I was in high school, we were free from pandemics and the ubiquity of social media trucking in fear-fogging and hysteria. Those were better days for sure. We might have been drunk off our asses, but we also learned a couple of things that I’m not sure today’s Zoom-infused kids will ever know. Then again, a good many of the people that I got closer to six feet of back in the late 1970s seem to have shit for brains. A few of our teachers seem brain-addled too. Oh well.

Here are two Plaskett vids. The first one is just classic “take me back to the good ole’ days.” We all had our own version of “Johnny Hook-Me-Up.” The second is another one that gets my motor revving, too.

But then again, my tastes probably aren’t for everyone.

Waiting for Live Music

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The Covid-19 state of house arrest continues. Will it ever end? The “experts” at the New York Times are talking two years to return to normal.

I’m bummed that I won’t get to see one of my favorite bands, Car Seat Headrest in June. Their tour is cancelled, as is almost everything else.

Their new record, Making a Door Less Open is good, at least what I’ve heard. Here are two of the tracks, “Martin,” and “Hollywood.”

I like the new character, Trait, wearing a mask. Look at that!!

Let Them Eat Ice Cream

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During the run-up to the 2016 presidential election that would deliver Donald Trump as our 45th president, I wrote several posts about the neoliberal Democrat Hillary Clinton, like this one. That followed Bernie Sanders’ first bait-and-switch, where Bernie “I’m going to deliver a revolution” Socialist Sanders turtled, dropped-out, and endorsed a corporatist in Clinton.

We all know the end-game, don’t we? And yet, duped progressives again threw significant support behind Bernie’s faux revolutionary rhetoric and Democratic Socialism once more. Is it any surprise that the result was basically the same yet again?

Blame it on the Orange Man.

Because most Americans are binary to a fault, they can’t get their brains around the idea that Sanders was a Socialist sham. I mean here was a 78-year-old white guy who hadn’t held a job outside politics since 1980, when he was elected for the first time as mayor of Burlington, Vermont.

Democrats have one narrative trope and one only: blame it all on the Orange Man. Actually that’s become a Democratic cliché.

Question: Who caused the coronavirus pandemic?
Democrat: The Orange Man.

Continue reading →

Sheeple Speak

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The sheeple have spoken. It is deemed correct. We must all cower in fear, wear masks, and wait for Armageddon.

My faith in humanity has been sorely tested over the past three years. I am all but done done with my fellow humans. The exception comes when it becomes absolutely necessary to interact with them: work, and some rare exceptions I’ll decide on.

People who I thought might have some redemptive qualities have come unglued over the past six to eight weeks. I can’t spend any time on Facebook, since it resembles a catalog for bad-looking masks that won’t do shit other than signal the wearer’s virtue. That’s the platform at it’s best these days.

A couple of articles I read this week made sense to me. Ironically, the first one comes from a Catholic, which is rich for someone like me, an agnostic at best. There are things to fear more than death. Ironically, so many progressives are pretty fucking selective on the lives they value.

It doesn’t really matter what I post in this space anyways, since no one appears capable of reading anything longer than 250 words, especially here.

I’ve been a fan of Andrew Sullivan for quite some time. When he writes, I usually read.

Perhaps some sanity and reasons for hope present, soon.

That rare person I still harbor some respect for posted this on his Facebook page (perhaps the only thing of value I’ve found there during Krona, except Bob Marley videos).

I’ll end with this musical non sequitur.

I saw the late Scotty Weiland and STP at the old CCCC in Portland. Melvins opened up for them, which was awesome!

Weiland and the boys were late coming on and the crowd was restless, waiting. Then, STP came out and they ripped it up. I can still hear Scotty singing “Crackerman.”

This is my favorite from their catalog. I got out the electric this afternoon and worked my way through the song’s chords and riffs. It was a healthy diversion for me.

Find Your Way

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Came up with another song this week. I “found” this chord progression one night before bed, just noodling around on my acoustic. Wrote most of it on the electric, which is not usually how I write–at least in this brief seven month stretch since I’ve been developing songs.

Find Your Way

Verse I

Living pulls me along,

Not sure where I belong

Heart’s sad every day,

Wish that feeling would go away

Verse II

Pain’s a part of life they say,

Black & white but mainly gray

Birds singing in the sky,

Mind’s darkness pushed aside

Chorus I

Told by most that you are wrong,

A broken record, the same old song

People want a man who smiles,

No sense, ain’t walked those miles

Verse III

Dark forest many trees

Deep breaths, a healing breeze

Passing through the hurt again,

Forever triggered, no plans to explain

Chorus II

Life cycles around & ‘round,

Nothing new, the same old sound

Days passing on towards death,

Keep on living & taking breath

Coda

Find your way to a brand new place,

A world of light & some open space

©EverysongYeah 2020

Mindful of Muffins

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Baking was never something I aspired to. Ever.

Then, a year ago while looking through Veganomicon, one of our favorite vegan cookbooks, I spied a recipe for muffins. I read the ingredients and directions. I told Mrs. B. I was going to make them. And I did. They turned out well and were delicious. She was actually impressed. I’ve made them several times, since.

Descriptive muffin (sub bananas)

Muffin-making guidebook and supplies.

Mark loved over-ripe bananas. Some of you might remember the video where he ate like 21 bananas in one day. Me, I’m not a fan of the overly-ripe variety—you know: the ones with brown spots and they’re “mushy.” But, they are good for baking—at least that’s what my wife told me.

My go-to recipe from our vegan cookbook calls for unsweetened applesauce as a main ingredient. Living life during Crona, we’re doing our best to stay away from the superette. We’re eating through what we have on-hand, in our pantry, and one our shelves.

While we didn’t have unsweetened applesauce, we had all the other baking supplies I needed. In place of the applesauce, I substituted three very ripe bananas.

The muffins came out perfect and boy, were they delicious!

Plating muffins.

While my baked goods were pretty healthy and vegan to boot, there was an added bonus to making them, I think. Getting up and collecting my wits and following baking instructions helped me off to a positive start on my day (a day free from wage labor). There was a sense of accomplishment and joy in sharing them with the love of my life.

While having breakfast, Mary read from a little book devoted to self-care. She shared the advisement of taking ten breaths. Mary’s mom, who had been given the book by a family member had written in at the top of the page, “to solve a problem.”

Eat muffins and breathe.

When you feel yourself becoming entangled in a problem you can’t solve, take ten deep breaths and put the problem aside. Deep breathing increases the flow of oxygen to your brain and slows your heart rate. Later, consider a way to solve the problem—differently.

Notice that sharing on Facebook or Instagram isn’t mentioned.

Data Set

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I keep hearing calls for data, data, data. Then, there are the data plotters on Facebook, keen to jockey and posit their own political agenda under the guise of scientific neutrality.

For the purposes of full disclosure: I am not a scientist–I am a writer with experience as a journalist. The kind of journalism I cut my teeth doing didn’t consist of culling stories from Twitter feeds, either.

With that said, how would you rectify my very primitive spreadsheet comparing previous flu season data from the CDC with the Covid-19 numbers?

Flu virus by the numbers

Then, read what I think is a reasonable thought piece from an actual doctor, on balancing the needs to keep people safe overall, with the hysteria that’s been whipped up by members of the media and many of you on Facebook. He certainly has more legitimacy than most of you projecting holier-than-thou screeds about masks, distancing and a host of other things. Like, why do you have such a need to virtue signal with your unproven call for everyone to don a mask?

Someone tossed their dirty Crona mask on our front lawn.

What sayeth all you Einsteins and fear-foggers out there?

Disappointing People

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A remembrance I’ve had lately is my mother telling me when I’d bemoan the struggles I was having making friends upon moving back to Maine in 1987. I was around 25 at the time. She’d say: “Jim, people are so disappointing.”

I’m not sure I agreed (and I certainly didn’t understand) at the time, but I now concur with what she said. “Yes, mom, people are so disappointing.”

I learned that lesson all-too-well across the three years following Mark’s death. Even people who hadn’t disappointed me in the past came up short at a time when I needed something from them. Don’t expect anything from people: then you won’t end up experiencing what my mother shared from her store of wisdom (and experience).

Neil Young is probably my favorite singer/artist/rocker (whatever one calls performers these days in our time of streaming garbage). His song, “Albuquerque” would be one of my top 10 songs.

Canadian singer-songwriter Neil Young in concert, circa 1970. (Photo by Michael Putland/Getty Images)

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Eve of Destruction (cover tune)

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I think I was probably six or seven-years-old when I first heard this song on WPNO that local AM music “blowtorch” based in Auburn, back in the day. This was long before the AM side of the dial opted for talk-radio over tunes.

If you follow popular music and know a thing or two about it, you’ll know Barry McGuire had a major hit with this song written as a Vietnam War protest. If you are a music geek (or maybe you heard it mentioned by Dick Clark on American Bandstand), you’ll know the writer of the song was P.F. Sloan.

The other day, I was thinking of songs that might be worth learning for these days of Crona (borrowing that one from Bob Marley, the comedian) lockdown and McGuire’s song was one of a handful I thought I’d tackle. It’s a simple one, really, in terms of chords.

I’ve mentioned meeting Jorma Kaukonen, one of my musical idols at Raoul’s Roadside Attraction probably 30 years ago. Jorma told me at the time (when I asked him for tips on learning the guitar) to “learn songs.” That’s what I’m doing these days and have been for months, now.

Since I can’t get out to open mics while the world’s shut down, throwing up a video now and then will have to serves as a stand-in until someone re-opens things.