http://wirednewyork.com/forum/blog.php Wired New York Forum en Sat, 11 Feb 2012 23:47:28 GMT vBulletin 60 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/images/misc/rss.jpg http://wirednewyork.com/forum/blog.php http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1278 Mon, 23 Jan 2012 21:18:49 GMT --"theboot.com" lists this old George Jones classic as the #1 "Saddest Country Song" of all times.
If you are not familiar with it, it's about a guy who lost his woman but could not stop loving her. On the day he died, he finally stopped loving her.

I'm a music lover. I was raised on jazz and folk and came to worship the Beatles. My love of Rock and Roll has lasted my lifetime. I admire classic compositions and show tunes and I even have room for some hiphop. If asked, I'd describe my music orientation as broad and sophisticated.
I came to Country Music late, around the time I left New York and moved into the Deep South. Half of the radio stations in Florida are country-oriented, so exposure to country was unavoidable. Over time, country songs-- even the schmaltzy backwoods ballads--have became part of my mental playlist.

Last October I was in Nashville, the spiritual home of Country. I was walking down Broadway, the town's main street, when it began to rain, so I ducked into a dive bar called Legends, located just a few steps from the famous Ryman Auditorium.
A singer sat in the front window, just he and his guitar, and he was putting out some pretty good covers of old country songs.

I ordered a beer and listened for awhile, killing time and waiting for the rain to pass. He began to sing "He Stopped Loving Her Today", and as I listened to the familiar lyrics, I was hit with a thunderbolt...

...I met my wife in 1973. We married, had a couple of kids and had a pretty good life together, but ultimately the union failed and we divorced in 1993. We remained friends, involved with our kids and our friends and we even had a year-long affair a few years after we divorced. I realized after our break that she was the love of my life, and I never have had a relationship as deep as ours was, ever again. She felt that as well, but we also realized that we could never be together again...
In June of '07, my son threw a surprise birthday party for me. He rented a beachside suite, invited a dozen people to the party, including my -ex, his Mom. As we were splashing in the surf, the phone rang.
That morning, Sue had taken her life. The party was over.

...I was sitting at the bar, sucking down a beer, waiting for a storm to pass and listening to George Jones' old classic when, suddenly and unexpectedly, my chest began to heave, my breath came in gasps and my heart literally broke. I had no control--I was flooded with memories of our lost love and I began to weep.

Not wanting to make a fool of myself, I rose from the stool, tipped the singer a ten and walked out and onto a rainy Broadway, tears streaming down my face. By the time I got to the car I was a wreck. I sat behind the wheel, enveloped in a chest- heaving catharsis and just let it roll, under seige by memories of what I had once had and lost, disturbed by the depth of my emotions. I had never felt so lost. THIS had NEVER happened to me before, and I could not stop it.

Eventually the moment passed. Later, I met up with my friends, we had a great night drinking beer and listening to club music. I never mentioned what had happened earlier, at the Legend's bar. I found a CD of George Jones's Greatest Hits, and when the song came on, so did the emotion. It has become a song I cannot listen to, a country song that told me more about myself than I even knew. I've never told anyone about this, not even my kids. The power contained in that piece of music looms enormous to me now.

When I sat down at my computer this afternoon, that damned song came on the radio, and I knew I had to write these words.

...I miss you, Baby, and I guess I always will.

Not until my dying day, the day I finally can stop loving you. ]]> Hof http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1278 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1274 Sat, 14 Jan 2012 19:11:54 GMT The opening line of the Scottish national anthem, asking when will the Scottish nation
rise from it's slumber, remover the english bonds that are holding us back from being
the independant nation we once were?
Well the time has come, it is here and it will be in 2014. 700 years after the battle of Bannockburn
when we asserted our right to be our own nation and to cower to the english no more.
The Scots put in motion a rise of nationalism when the SNP was given a majority in the Scottish Parliment
in Edinburgh, even though a mechanism was set up by the westminster puppets; the scottish labour,
scottish torry and scottish liberal parties to stop any on party gaining control over the Scottish parliment, that failed as the Scots voted with on voice 'NO MORE'
The feeling of the Scots is that we want our independance and we will have it, no matter what the scaremongers
in westminster or the traitors in the Scottish parliment say. england has long dreaded this moment as Scotland is
worth more to them than they are willing to confess.
An example of the arrogance and stupidty of the english:
I was on holiday in england over christmas and I was in a shop when the woman stated that Scotland don't
celibrate christmas as much the english do! I asked where she got that feeling from and she stated that everybody knows that!!! Well knock me down with a feather, here was a woman, after being asked a few simple questions by me had admitted that she had never been to Scotland, in fact, this wiley Scot who was buying her stock for pennies and will resell them on ebay for tens of pounds, was the closed she has ever been to Scotland. Nor did she know that Scots celibrate christmas and hogmanny more than the english ever could.
If anybody needs to have a good balanced discussion on Scotish independance, find a jock and discuss, but stay away from the english as they are bitter as we have it better in Scotland than in england, no riots, free education, free medical prescriptions, free travel for the elderly and so on and so forth.
Now is the time for the Scots to stand up and declare their independance. It will be difficult, hard and very
testing, but if we don't then there will be no need for our national anthem, our flag and our right to be called Scots. ]]> secubis http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1274 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1260 Sun, 18 Dec 2011 20:18:20 GMT In a couple hours, veteran New Engalnd Patriots QB Tom Brady will be facing a new kid on the block, Tim Tebow, as Denver tries to lenghten their win string to 9.
The season started poorly for the Broncos. After losing 4 of their first 5 games, Denver's coach reluctantly allowed Tim to be the starting QB, and Denver hasn't lost since. There have been some squeakers, but Tebow has led the Broncos to an 8-5 season and he's really coming to life as an NFL guy.

I had the pleasure to meet him ( and his Coach, Urban Meyer) after a game in 2008, the last game that Florida lost with Tebow as QB. He went on to win every game for the next three seasons. Like Babe Ruth pointing to his game-winning home run, Tebow said that day that he would NEVER lose another game, as long as he was Florida's Quarterback, God willing. God must have willed it.
I've been to quite a few Gators games. Their home stadium is 30 miles from the end of my driveway and my tickets were always gratis, so I saw Tebow play in a lot of games and I was always impressed.
He didn't lose sight of his vow, either, and he went on to orchestrate a string of winning games that only just got surpassed as one of the longest winning streaks ever in college ball. ( --by Boise State).
For a few exciting seasons Florida won all the titles and Tebow broke all the records, with Tim getting nominated for the Heisman Trophy, twice. He got it once.
He's an amazing athlete and a nice kid, and I have followed his NFL career--what there is of it thus far-- with interest.

Tebow is religious and he makes no bones about it. After each game with Florida he would take a moment, go to one knee and thank God for whatever reason he felt was appropriate. He wasn't obvious most of the time, like bowing down on the 50-yardline, but if you were a fan you knew he was somewhere, thanking God for the privilege to succeed. It became part of his game, and no one thought ill of Tim for taking his Moment.

It has only been since Tebow's NFL success became newsworthy that the media have begun to scruitinize him, and, amazingly, the thing that they have focused on is his humbling moments, not his stellar comeback performances.

The athiestic, First Amendment literalists who report--or watch, or read about-- NFL games (in whatever format) had a collective pagan cardiac arrest when they saw Tim on his knee.
--Observing God, on a public football field???
Can't have THAT, they've decided, and they've created a nice little anti-religious controversy that they can use to sell papers or overload blogs.

I would expect this kind of sarcastic, condemning scruitiny if Tebow took to killing dogs or drunkenly running over pedestrians with his Bentley. If he raped some hotel employees or maybe sold a million dollar's worth of steroids to his teammates, or if, like some football people, was a homosexual pedophile in the shower stall, then the media should rightly scruitinize, evaluate and condemn. But to ridicule a guy who just wants to be at one with God-- how puerile, how Fifth Grade.

Brady's tough and the Patriots are strong and the oddsmakers say that Denver will lose today's game. Tebow's ready and he will throw and run and grab first downs, trying, in his remarkable way, to become the quarterback Denver desperately needs. And each time he successfully scores, he will take a moment and thank God for the favors He bestows on him.

Why not???
Why the hell not??? ]]> Hof http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1260 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1258 Tue, 13 Dec 2011 18:02:08 GMT Scotland is being battered by hurricane weather at the moment. The hatches are battened down,
the dog is in it's bed, the candles and tourches - check (just in case) oh yes, and of course
dig out the kite..might as well have some fun while we're at it.
Just to put it into perspective on how Scots take things in our stride: America name their hurricanes
after ladies and that goes from A-Z. Here in Scotland we named our hurricane 'BAWBAG'and just in case your'e wondering???? http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=bawbag check it out.
Hurricane 'BAWBAG' hit last week and we have another one tonight, might not be as big as last week where winds got to 165mph on the hills and 90mph on the coast, but the hatches are still battened down.Someone has even tried to fly...just stand in the wind and pull your jacket over your head and hang on..oh what fun we have.
With christmas approaching, money tight and jobs harder to find than an Aberdonian when it's time to buy a round of drinks, we can still laugh in the face of the earl (The earl is the earl of hell..The devil).
Nobody should take life so serious that they forget to smile, laugh and just enjoy what you have, no matter how much less you have than yor neighbour. If you are sad, go to this site http://www.morecambeandwise.com/more...ise_songs.aspx and play 'Bring me Sunshine'
AND SMILE. ]]> secubis http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1258 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1247 Wed, 16 Nov 2011 04:07:31 GMT For a couple months I've been watching, fascinated, as hundreds of, um, occupiers jammed their tents and cardboard shacks into skinny Zuccoti Park, a new New York landmark that future generations will visit and ask the same question that we all ask ourselves today, which is WTF???

Why did Bloomberg wait so long to put an end to it?? TWO MONTHS of this absurd angst?? WTF is THAT all about, Mike??
Why did the cops patiently bide their time, and what wimpy decisions led Brookfield Properties to meekly allow the peasants to pitch tents on their nice piece of (private) property-- for 2 freaking months??
And shouldn't they be calling themselves "Occupy Liberty Street"??
Wall Street is a block over, people.

I know that park well, having last been there in '07, strolling through the benches and trees eating streetcart hot dogs with my daughter on a pretty summer's day. It wasn't always called Zuccoti Park, I told her as we munched and walked.
Many years ago, when it was known as Liberty Plaza, my friends and I would squirm into the hole in Noguchi's red Cube in front of Marine Midland and others would spin the thing around on its base for us until someone either flew out the hole or barfed. It would take a few people to get it started and it sounded like a boxcar on a bad piece of track as it began to rotate, but then it would speed up and begin to hum. The view out of the red hole was a dizzy, spinning parallax of stacked towers, a lot of brand new additions to the Financial District's skyline. Trippy, especially at night or right after consuming certain Mexican agricultural products.

The late '60s/ early '70s saw a construction boom in the area, with a cluster of new skyscrapers jutting up around the little block-long park. I worked near there for 5 years ( at Barclay and West Street) and watched the changes as I ate my bag lunch in the little park. There were always a few tall buildings going up. There was Marine Midland, the new Chase Tower, US Steel's new hulk already rusting away at the corner and the nearly-finished Trade Center Towers down the block. A lot of new skyscrapers were being built all over the area.
Later, a LOT of falling debris from a couple of the taller ones destroyed the park, and a few of the nearby highrises got damaged. I went past it in '02 and '03, and it was fenced off and full of junk, in the process of being rebuilt and renamed. I thought that the park's owners did a fine job rebuilding it.

It is a legitimate piece of my past, and after a month or so of watching this senseless occupation on the news I began to grow territorial, resenting the way these people were treating the place. WTF is actually going on there, I would ask my friends. I got wild guesses, zero answers, so I stopped asking and I waited for Bloomberg or someone to do something...

Initially, the "Occupy" crowd seemed to me to be a flash mob, united and directed by instant broadband, students and the underemployed out to bait the wealthy and the City into doing something stupid by performing some advanced street theatre, but in a few weeks time I started to view them as latter-day Yippies, similar in ways to the humorously anarchistic band of '60s street people, sometimes led by Abbie Hoffman, who would stage absurd demonstrations to bring focus on their cause--an in-yer-face anti-war thing. I liked the Yippies, despite the societal suicide they tried to sell. They were funny. The "Occupy" people are not.

The Yippies had a cause, actually several --things like end the war, legalize pot, kiss my ass, free Eldridge Cleaver-- stuff you could immediately understand, but even after a couple months the "Occupy" guys STILL did not show their hand or clarify their reasons for being, except for the ass-kiss part.
I get it that they are supremely dissatisfied with the rich, the banks, the economy, hell, the freaking SYSTEM. It all sounds oddly familiar, like muffled drumbeats just over the hill, lightly resembling the numerous demonstrations of my youth that pockmarked the '60s.
Difference is, in the Olden Days, the cops would quickly break up a group like this and send them back to their dorms or their slums, busted, bloodied and convinced that, whatever the cause, they would not do THAT again. They never went on for months, no matter how strong the cause. Remember the Columbia occupation, Chicago in 1968, or the dozens of sit-ins about civil rights or the draft???
Good causes all, and they all lasted a few days at most.
What cause do they want to cloak themselves in, these "Occupiers" and why have they kept us all guessing for the last 60 days???

They've formed refugee-like camps, right in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods on the Planet and began living on the street. Maybe that is their ideological cause, to have the inalienable right to live on the same streets--in any fashion they should choose-- where the wealthy make their money. It's curious that the Constitution doesn't address that.
It was a month into it that I began to realize what a bonanza these people will be for New York's army of the homeless. By just trudging downtown, all those hapless folks who sleep in the bushes on the West Side and the doorways of the Village can con their way into the Occupy camp, bum some food, maybe get a warm tent to stay in, you know, move on up as they exercise their First Amendment rights.

WTF do all these desperate, angry protesters, who seem to have no real organization, chain of command or visible leadership actually want? No one knows.

But they ought to get out of Zuccoti. That has been proven.

I wonder if you can still spin the Noguchi Cube???
Maybe that's why they are there. ]]> Hof http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1247 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1232 Thu, 03 Nov 2011 18:01:53 GMT May 26 2010, I wrote a blog about a cretin..oops I mean a certain donald trump and the title was
'Sent Him Homeward to Think Again'. The blog was hitting out at trump for building a golf course in an Aberdeenshire site of Special Scientific Interest. A place I grew up near and Used to visit
for days out on my bicycle.
He started out quite well, but now the tide is turning against this muppet.
A film has been made outlining his bullying tactics on a small community, trying to get them evicted so he can build a golf course, one he hopes will host a proper tourniment soon after it has been completed.
Well he can think again! The Royal and Ancient: the governing body of golf, in St Andrews, where golf has it's home
had already stated he would have to wait for at lest fifty (50)
yes FIFTY years!!! before his course is even considered for the waiting list.
He thinks nobody cares. The film called 'Tripping Up Trump' has won more awards than he has natural hairs on his bonce.
Look at where this film is being shown.
http://youvebeentrumped.com/youvebeentrumped.com/SCREENING_TIMES_-_LONG.html
We maybe a nation of less than five million people that could fit quite snuggly inside New York state (I think)
but when it comes to Settlers (that's what we call people from outside Scotland) we are very tollerant,
and will bend over backwards to help you settle here, but a White Settler!!! (now that is not a racist remark, it just means a settler who is not wanted or welcome and might as well pack up and go) who thinks money will get him accepted...money here has a quiet voice in these parts. We are a socialist country, we look after our people. (NHS and free medicine, free travel forsenior citizens..etc)

Take a look here: http://www.trippinguptrump.com/
and see how we are tripping up trump.
and we will send (sent) him homeward tae think again
Oh and by the way, trump in Scotland means 'fart' ]]> secubis http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1232 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1214 Thu, 13 Oct 2011 23:15:00 GMT It made me cringe the other day, a report on the recent riots in england (and I state in england...non to be seen in Scotland) stated that they rioted because they did not have anything or the things they wanted in life. Like big tv sets, nice trainers and fings to make them look good and have some... It made me cringe the other day, a report on the recent riots in england (and I state in england...non to be seen in Scotland) stated that they rioted because they did not have anything or the things they wanted in life. Like big tv sets, nice trainers and fings to make them look good and have some street cred.
I am glad that the english courts are jailing these people, even the younger ones (the youngest I think was about ten) If these people think they are dis-possesed then they should look to east Africa and the famine that has turned up again. I saw a report of a young woman who gave birth to twins on the road to a feeding camp, she entered the camp with only one child, four hours later they buried her second child.

We in Britain are lucky enough to have a social state that will help it's citizens who need help (although it does not always work, but hey it's there) and we have a social concience to help those overseas who are in dire need of our help. Within 24 hrs of an appeal for help over £40 million was raised by the public for famine stricken Africa, our gov't matched that figure.

So the next time you see riots and buildings burning on the streets of england, or any so called first world country, feel no pity for them, go to the nearest charity box and make a donation to those in you mind are in greatest need. I would rather give £10 to a hospice or to buy medicine for Africa, or help some poor soul down on their luck than spend a single thought for these ungrateful rioters. ]]> secubis http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1214 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1208 Sun, 09 Oct 2011 17:38:47 GMT The lure of the mountains--especially if I am doing the driving-- is a visceral, physical force, something almost sexual to me, and anytime I can engineer a departure from Florida ( no matter how brief) that transplants me into mountains where I can drive the twisty roads and swoon over the... The lure of the mountains--especially if I am doing the driving-- is a visceral, physical force, something almost sexual to me, and anytime I can engineer a departure from Florida ( no matter how brief) that transplants me into mountains where I can drive the twisty roads and swoon over the spectacular scenery, I'll jump at the opportunity like a functioning alcoholic with a Jack Daniel's credit card.

North Carolina owns the mountains of choice these days, and I'm just back from my third trip there since April.

I love to travel, especially since I decided to retire in 1998, and driving is my preferred method. All my adult life I have gone places in cars, and I discovered early on (as a teen driving a 1960 Triumph TR3 wildly through the Adirondacks) that I absolutely ate up the challenges that mountain roads presented to the involved driver. Since, I've driven the Rockies, the Sangre de Christo, the Bitterroots, the entire Appalachian chain, from Georgia to upstate New York-- and the Western Trail of Lewis and Clark, as well as a lot of roads that have special significance to sporty drivers and thus have been actually NAMED, with macho tags like "The Dragon's Tail" or "The Sidewinder". I have been above 10,000 feet a LOT and I've seen a lot of big hills.
I search for roads that traverse places like this, I seek them out and then drive them with elan, like a man posessed.

I have lived in flat Florida for awhile, and finding mountains is welcome tonic to the horizontal, endlessly boring local countryside. It's beautiful in its own way, but flat as 2- day old Beck's. I yearn for twisty roads where I can wring the full performance out of my vehicle. I drive nice cars, sportscars, but they are seriously underutilized on Florida's long, dull straightaways.

My overall favorite driver's spot--the place I would instantly choose if I won the "Drive Recklessly Anywhere You Want" lottery, would be the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. The preferred locale, The Switzerland Inn--right at a miniscule exit off the Parkway atop a 4,400 foot rise-- is a place so isolated that, at night, the 20-mile vista of wispy mountain valleys to the southeast, magnificent by day, hold NO LIGHTS AT ALL!! There is literally nothing out there.
Two roads intersect at Little Switzerland, that's it, and the closest town is 20 miles away, down one of them--The Blue Ridge Parkway. I have friends there and I get to experience an insider's lifestyle whenever I visit. My friends know everyone who lives on top of their mountain, and they each have some interesting stories.

One of those roads that go only to Little Switzerland, the backwoods NC highway 226A, has a name. "Diamondback". (It even has its own website, "DiamondbackNC.com).
This will be the my fourth trip on this road since April, the first behind the wheel of my own car. The others were in a panel van, a '67 El Dorado and a new Camaro SS.
Those trips were adventures of their own, involving classic cars and avaition fuel, lost plane tickets and moonshine.

To get to little Switzerland, you drive NC 226 out of Marion through lush rolling foothills that look like yeasty biscuits, green and steaming-- and into abrupt mountains. The road begins its convolutions, the curves grow numerous and suddenly you're counting off growing altitude readings from roadside markers and the curves are sinous, wrapping around one another as you climb the side of a serious mountain.
Eighteen miles into this 30-mile secondary road, a sign points to a SECOND secondary road--226A-- and you are upon the back of The Snake. The next 12 miles, all of them named Diamondback, make the previous highways pale in comparison.

There are around 200 curves that throw themselves at you during these 12 amazing miles. For most of the ride, there are dropoffs of a couple hundred feet or more on one side and barenaked vertical walls of granite on the other. There are NO guardrails for much of the ride and the views are breathtaking. The altitude markers approach and surpass 4,000 feet.
The curves roll in like a 'Noreaster's ocean waves, and every now and then there's a Curler, a huge, blind one that surprises and invokes primal fear. So many waves, so little beach, and I eagerly dove into each one, even the Curlers.

I drive a 2005 Infiniti, the G35 Coupe. It has one of those Manumatic transmissions, the kind where you can use it in full automatic or you can row through the gears by moving the shifter fore or aft. It's mostly unused in my daily driving, and I can't recall if I have EVER used it with any enthusiasm. Here, and for the first time, I did.
The car rode the switchbacks like it was laser-guided, and I found the sweet spot that the tranny had for the curves, so I up-and-down shifted like the car had an invisible clutch.
The internal game I was playing was--max speed possible and NEVER touch the brakes. Get it to just where the tires begin their squeal. Let the torque move you, find the proper gear and toss the car around the next curve, and the next and the next.
The curves almost intersected themselves, they were so tight, and their challenge became somewhat diluted after curve number 85, but then I got behind one of Heck's Angels, a timid biker who was taking the road at LESS than the posted speed limit (35) and I did the last few miles in automatic.

The end of the road came way too soon.
My passenger, a seasoned driver, was withdrawn and silently thanking God the ride was over. He said later that the ride (not the Captain Morgan we had at the Inn) gave him a headache.
I was smiling inwardly, almost post-orgasmic, secretly wanting to turn around and drive it again.
And, I could go back this way anyway, going home. Life is good.

As it turned out, I went home along the Blue Ridge Parkway ( a challenging trip in itself-- I used my gears again), where I saw my first turned leaves of the season. It was probably the 10th passage along the Parkway that I have managed.
The temps, t-shirt nice just 2 days earlier, were now in the blustery low 50s, and summertime, obviously, had given it's last efforts to the mountains. The next day it snowed up there.

I wonder what the Diamondback is like when it's slick with fresh snow...

Soon enough, I was in Atlanta, sipping a brew and reflecting on my latest foray into the mountains, looking ahead to the approaching flatlands and home.

I'll be back to the mountains again, I'm sure, but not until well after I pull the last page from the current calendar. The friends I have from atop the mountain have a Winter place in boring old Florida, so I'll probably never see snow on the Diamondback. But I WILL be back next April. The pull of the mountains is strong. ]]> Hof http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=1208 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=993 Thu, 07 Jul 2011 02:00:30 GMT Went down to the Ft Myers-Naples area for the Fourth weekend and ran into a bunch of old friends. Did a 4th BBQ with the family, blew off a few firecrackers and headed out on Monday, intent on meeting up with an old friend down the interstate, one whom I have not seen for--God, could it be ?...32... Went down to the Ft Myers-Naples area for the Fourth weekend and ran into a bunch of old friends. Did a 4th BBQ with the family, blew off a few firecrackers and headed out on Monday, intent on meeting up with an old friend down the interstate, one whom I have not seen for--God, could it be ?...32 years?

Marvin is one of those people who pop into your life and become, over a few years, a very good friend, someone with whom you have TIES-- and then he just vanishes.
Everybody has had friends like that, personally important people who just go away, never to be heard from again.
When he disappeared, our little cabal of best friends felt the loss.

Marvin had a reason to vanish--a very good reason. He was a murder suspect.

Back in the late '70s, I was 4 years out of New York, still rather new to Florida. I was married then, with a couple of babies, and most of what we did when we hung out with our friends was done at home. We were blessed with some very cool people as friends, and one day one of the guys introduced Marvin into the group. He began hanging out at the house, sharing the weed and buying the wine, and eventually became one with the ocean of friends that washed up on our doorstep. He was welcome company.

Marv was a New York Jew, a short, soft-spoken dark-haired mensch straight outta Queens. He had a Middle Kingdom accent and a great sense of humor. He'd finished 3 years of college at NYU and several semesters at the New School. He was lost in Florida, yearning to return to The City.
Marvin came from a conservative family; his father was a rebbe who golfed, and his mom was Molly Goldberg. He had a deep intellectual bent and was comfortable talking about everything from the Stones to the Mets to Camus to Camaros, often in the same sentence.
He made a living as a commercial diver and would dive in the Gulf of Mexico for recovery firms, sometimes finding unusual items aboard the sunken vessels he dove on. He loved the water and did everything he could to be on or near water.

Marvin eventually married Corrine, a professed witch. She was a nice enough girl, a Goth WAY before anyone knew what that meant, but what the hell, all us hippies were wierd in some way, so she fit into the group well.

One day, doing his job, Marv dove on a dope boat, a pot-carrying cabin cruiser that hit a sandbar and sunk. Inside, he found a satchel with $300,000 in it. He and his dive partner hid the bag of money, finished their work and came back to the site at 1 AM. They dove the wreck in the dark, recovered the sack and split it up on shore. And life went on.
A few days after the job was done he stopped by. He had said nothing to anyone--
not even Corrine--about the money, but he confided in me. The money made him nervous. He wanted me to hold it. I wanted nothing to do with it.

A month later, over a joint, he told me that he heard that the people who sunk the pot boat had found out who he was and they wanted their money back. He said it was serious, not some rumor, and it was keeping him up nights. A few days after that, the wife and I ran into him at the supermarket. We chatted, made plans to hang out. That was the last time I saw Marvin. Summer 1979.

About a week later, Corrine's body washed up on the beach.
She was drowned, weighed down by some of Marvin's weight belts, the really heavy ones he uses when he dives deep; he was the natural suspect. The cops questioned all of us about Marv and Corrine, but nobody knew nothin'. He became a wanted man. The newspapers sensationalized about it for weeks. His "profile" appeared on TV, a local station's effort to do an "America's Most Wanted" story. In it, they are shown in a bitter argument, centered around her witchy ways and Marv hits her, then decides to drown her, carrying the body 20 miles to the Gulf, tossing her off a boat using his own weight belts to sink her body. They got everything wrong, even the apartment.
There was no mention of lots of money from anyone, or of any possible pot-dealing hitmen.

Right...

My friend--our friend--did NOT do that. Period.


He fled to New York. He wound up in a small town on a big river Upstate, I later found out. One day a couple years ago while killing time on the interweb, I thought of him and tried to find out if he was in prison somewhere or maybe dead, or what???. You consider all options when you lose someone from your life so abruptly then try to find them 30 years later. I have a friend in law enforcement and he was able to find Marv in the system. Sadly, my search stopped there. I was stumped--the information ENDED in 2002 !!!
He HAD served time in Florida --very little--and he was a free man again, somewhere, I guessed, in New York State... and one day, perusing some newspaper crime story archives, I found him.

There was a number associated with the search. I called it. The people who answered said they knew nothing of Marvin, but if I cared to leave a message for him..
Two hours later he called, and we have talked every few months since...

--The very first question I had for my old friend was " Allright, man- did you do it ??"
--My friend said "No."

Period.

He created a new identity and lived and worked in a small town, working in a marina he later came to own. He made a good living and knew everyone in town. His friend, the one I spoke with, knew nothing of a "Marvin". She knew him as a guy with some other name--and it was--is--a really clever, Marvin-like name. Only my description as a friend from the old Florida days caused her to give him the message. He had successfully vanished and got away with it and he was still living a secret life, preferring to hang on to his pseudonynm...

When his Dad died in '99, he secretly flew to Florida to be at the grave, but he made a mistake calling his Mom. The cops, no fools, had seized upon opportunity and tapped his mother's phone. Imediately after the call, sensing danger, he hopped on the next plane to New York, but, alas, he was arrested upon deplaning at JFK and extradited to Florida.

The police had nothing. Everything was 20 years on, nobody was around to question, so Marvin served a few months for Flight to Avoid Prosecution, then that went away, since he had no warrants out for him when he innocently got out of town in '79. He really thought that the pot people found him, killed Corrine as a warning and were after him next. He went to running, a bag of salty money as his only salvation, and he vanished into Greater America. He feared the pot people MUCH more than he feared cops. I'd bet you couldn't get away with that today.
We spoke last month and he told me he was moving--retiring-- to Florida, something he can now do with no fear, and would be instate around the 4th of July...

I approached Marv's exit on the interstate, fumbling for my cellphone at 80 miles per hour, and I punch in his number. He's here in Florida, visiting friends and buying a retirement house, and I need directions, but when I called I got an electronic voice that said "...all message units are full. Try again later.", I tried again a lot, but no answer, and I drove on.
Maybe I'll catch up with him when he drives out of Florida on his way back to New York. I hope so. I need to hear the details. My old buddy has a hell of a story to tell.
Two days later, he's STILL not answering his phone. ]]> Hof http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=993 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=868 Sun, 15 May 2011 18:36:22 GMT After political and people power changes in the middle east..
now it's Scotland's turn to make herself heard.
We (The people of Scotland) have just voted the Scottish National Party
(SNP) into majority power at the Scottish Parliment in Edinburgh to look out for Scottish
interests within the UK.
The westminster government, which is over 400 miles away from Scotland is still telling
the Scottish people that we must do things the way they see fit in london.

We now have the power to overturn the silly rules and laws that Scotland wants to reform.
Simple little things to make Scotland a better place to live, like upping the price of
booze to curtail our endemic drinking culture. Making the sale of air weapons and knives illegal,
the carrying of knives a jailable offence, zero blood/alcohol level (DUI illegal) and a right
to have the revenues from energy sources go to Scotland and not into a black hole at westminster.

The SNP have long campaigned to refere the Scottish people on Scottish independance.
Westminster have voiced loud and clear that they oppose this. You can not subdue a nation of about
five million souls when they have declaired their intention for a voice on independance.
I am proud to be living in Scotland in an era when my voice will finally be heard. A chance to make history
and give my nation the chance to once again send him homeward tae think again!

Scotland may only be a small nation but look around you and see what we have given the world.
People in england complain..why does Scotland have that and we don't?
If the people of england want the same as Scotland, then why do they not vote for a political
party that will look after the interests of england....maybe they are scared of losing the greatest
small nation in the world...SCOTLAND. ]]> secubis http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=868 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=861 Tue, 19 Apr 2011 03:16:44 GMT Q-- Why is Miami like New York?

A-- It's not. It's like nowhere else in the country. Miami --the area-- does carry some VERY strong NY characteristics around with it-- subtle reminders of New York, like nowhere to park, genuine Kosher Delis and a skyline that is stunning.
A New York accent is the SECOND most overheard language in town, and the architecture of the place is unique, filled with surprises on every corner. Plus, it can be REALLY expensive.

It's a real melting pot as well-- just like NYC--with Spanish being the overwhelming ethnic tag. The 3 million who comprise the population of Miami-Dade-- a government entity that encompasses a dozen city-sized communities-- are predominately Cuban, with large numbers of Columbians, Ecuadorians, Central Americans, etc. The essence of Southern Hemisphere culture thrives well in Miami.
Miami is very popular among the Hatians. There are also a lot of Canadians and Jews --and Italians, Brits, millionaires and pop stars.
( White, non-Hispanics, as the Census Bureau is fond of putting it, now comprise about 25% of Miami-Dade's makeup ).

Miami is no New York, but it's a real city, an urban area that encompasses both density and sprawl. There are farms, casinos and symphony orchestras, massive malls, five-star restaurants, highrise Edge City office clusters and five-million dollar beachside penthouses within it's sphere of influence. They're all linked together with an involved bridge and freeway system that is as congested as New York's.

I read somewhere that Miami now has the THIRD most impressive skyline in America--that is, the number of buildings over 20 stories ( Chicago is #2)-- and that factoid was perfectly laid out before me a few nights ago-- it's a surprisingly stunning skyline that's not unlike an evening approach to Manhattan along the LIE.
As I left South Beach and piloted my Infiniti along a palm-lined causeway, darting among and through the taxis, Ferraris and long Hummer limos that filled the lanes crossing Biscayne Bay about a half-hour past sunset, I got a quick and certain taste of the urgency that New York 's traffic always provides when it's running fast and the skyline fills the windshield.

As far the eye could see across the Bay's broad expanse, the East edge of Florida was walled off with huge towers. They marched down the beaches, their thousands of individual lights creating a vivid rival to the constellations floating in the dusky sky, and they grew larger and turned into Planet Miami as we approached dry land. Massive luxury liners were clustered around the Port, the Inland waterway was alive with boats hustling towards their docks, the Heat were playing in the downtown arena and Brickell Avenue, once lined with graceful bayside mansions, now hosted gridlock traffic beneath it's rows of skyscrapers. Still, the Avenue glistened and shone with the architectural strength of Park Avenue in Manhattan. Miami was busy.

I was in Miami for the hell of it. My tax refund showed up in my bank account, so I spent some of it repairing my car, erasing the huge dent I got at the Daytona race, then I decided to splurge. I wanted to spend a weekend in a big town and since I can no longer afford New York, Miami-- about 450 miles from home-- was a close and agreeable second choice.
Once I got over the shock of $70.00 fillups (...four of them) I had a great time.

I have life-long friends there and I know the town well from many previous visits, so going to South Beach and Calle Ocho were but guilty, familiar pleasures. We barhopped Coconut Grove, gambled at a glitzy casino out in The Everglades, hung out at the City Marina and took Miami's version of the Subway down to Dadeland. We found a great bar in Coral Gables with live, Afro-Cuban jazz then later we stood at tiny sidewalk windows in Little Havana drinking shots of 100 proof Caffe' Cubano as a Marti Gras-like street party went on around us.

I ate well, stayed up late and renewed some old acquaintinces as I burned through my refund. I probably spent as much as a weekend in the Big City would have cost, but what the hell...

I guess Miami IS a lot like New York, just warmer. ]]> Hof http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=861 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=613 Thu, 17 Mar 2011 23:48:05 GMT I was at university in a lecture about communication. I was given the chance to be Psycho-analyised by our guest tutor. Before we began I was asked to create a secret list of anything I wished. Ten minutes later and the interview started. I answered the questions as best I could, but she was ... I was at university in a lecture about communication. I was given the chance to be Psycho-analyised
by our guest tutor. Before we began I was asked to create a secret list of anything I wished.
Ten minutes later and the interview started. I answered the questions as best I could, but she was
not interested in my answers..she was looking at my body language and my physical reactions during
the interview.
My results were announced to an astonished lecture room full of fellow students.
I, apparently am shifty, a fibber with a inherent habit of masking the fact I am not telling the truth
by putting on a self confident facade to try and hide my bad traits.
Well you could have knocked me over with a feather.
Oh by the way...here is my secret list I made up earlier:
Fidgety due to recovering from putting my back out,
High due to drinking coffee (gets me high man!!!)
Eye movement due to teenage meningitus (twice) affecting visual and eye co-ordination
It is hot in here, heating on too high.
In all her years of teaching psycho-analysis this was the first time that her answers
had been predicted and reasoning explained..HA HA HA I got one over on THEM!
But then it comes back to roost as I had to be shown how to do a Transformer...
BY A FIVE YEAR OLD. Humble pie to a Masters student really is Humbling ]]> secubis http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=613 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=608 Mon, 28 Feb 2011 18:35:01 GMT I'm a Car Nut.
I love anything automobile-related; I subscribe to a half-dozen car mags and watch hours and hours of auto-related TV. I'm a regular contributor to several car oriented websites, and have been fortunate to own some exotica over the years ( an E-type Jaguar, a Triumph TR3, a Toyota Supra, five Nissan Z-cars, etc). I have long considered Florida as prime territory to own a nice car, and a perfect place for live races and car shows.

The climate here is conducive to outdoor car events, and there are marvelous venues for these events to play out. There is the Amelia Island Concours, the Miami Auto Show, The Festivals of Speed and the like. Florida also hosts TWO NASCAR tracks and the world-class Sebring Sportscar track, and every county has its' dirt track or fairgrounds racetrack. It seems like there is always a race going on somewhere within the state.
Florida is the HOME of the all-American NASCAR competition--it began in the 1930s on the sands of Daytona Beach as an informal gathering of Southern hotrodders and evolved gracefully from beach racing to paved track grandstand races, finally to the Superstadiums of Daytona and Homestead.

The season begins at Daytona with the annual 500 race and ends in Homestead at the Cup finals. Over the years, I have grown intimately familiar with both tracks and have been to at least 10 races.
This year, however, will be my final NASCAR attendance. It has become a major pain in the ass. In the future I'll watch the races on my flatscreen in the comfort of my home.

Firstly, the ticket prices have become unacceptable-- the cheapest ticket for last weeks' 500 were at $55.00, a factoid that was heavily advertised in the days leading up to the race; the AVERAGE ticket, however, is in the $100-$120.00 range. ( my ticket was one of the $120 ones).
Once inside the track, beer is $6 a pop and hot dogs are $3; real food begins at $6--eg: a cheeseburger and a cup of Bud equals TWELVE DOLLARS. A snack for two is $25... Forget the fried chicken--at ten bucks a plate plus six for a cold one, it approaches the tab for fine dining.

--Parking is astoundingly inconvenient--I found a (rare) spot to park a few miles from the track, a spot so isolated that, once we left the car it was necessary to take a tram to get to get to the school buses that took us to the track. The whole parking ordeal was akin to finding cross-street parking on a weekday in Midtown Manhattan. Park in the wrong place and you are towed away. I thought of parking in the wrong place several times. At the very least, I reasoned, if I got towed there would finally be a resting place for the car.
Fortunately, parking was free. Parking anywhere near the track cost $20-$30-- or more.

But the biggest PITA is getting there. Over 110,000 race fans go to the Daytona race, and every last one of them get there by car. Since Daytona Beach is a seaside town, that means that there are only a few select ways to arrive, one of them being Interstate 4, a road that I have spent a lifetime trying to avoid.
4, one of the shortest roads in the Interstate Highway system, goes from Tampa on the West Coast through the tourist mecca of Orlando, finally terminating at I-95 just a couple miles from Speedway Boulevard in Daytona.
On any ordinary day, I-4 is a nightmare: the 20-mile passage through Metro Orlando is eight lanes wide and always filled with cars. If you then add, say, 60,000 racebound drivers to the mix the age-old formula for gridlock comes into SHARP focus. If Dante ever went to a Daytona race he would be compelled to add I-4 as the Eighth Circle of Hell.

My Brother and I left Tampa at 8 AM, expecting to make the 120-mile run by at least Noon, an hour before the race began. We got past Orlando around 9:30 with little problem, but near DeLand, some 15 miles from the Speedway, all traffic STOPPED.

Nothing moved for a fcking hour. When it did move, it was at 5-10 MPH in selected spurts, then it went back to stillness, a total and complete gridlock. We sat for so long that I was finally compelled to take a whiz on the side of the road, in full view of dozens of others doing the same thing. Cars were overheating and breaking down all around us. People were helping one another, sharing beer and pushing disabled cars to the roadside.
This nonsense went on for two and a half hours. We finally got off the Interstate, crawled pass the track in super heavy traffic and spent a good 30 minutes trying to find a spot to drop the car. We finally arrived at the gates at 1:15, thereby missing the first few laps of the race.

The race itself is exciting, a catharsis almost strong enough to erase the memory of the Interstate--almost. The sound of a million horsepower passing at 170 MPH sends chills through you, and the pagentry and excitement fills you with thrill. Sitting among 110,000 like-minded, sunburned car freaks is satisfying as hell, but soon enough the race is run and it's time to queue up and catch the bus that takes you to the tram that drops you near your car, and the I-4 nightmare plays itself out in reverse. It was just 6 PM when we left the Daytona 500 track behind us and got on the bus.

Once back on the dusty parking field, I discovered that my Infiniti (which I obsess over) had been hit by a fellow parker, leaving a huge dent in the plastic bumper. My brother and I then sat unmoving for an hour, waiting for the hoard to leave the lot--maybe 20,000 cars, all leaving through a SINGLE EXIT. Fortunately there was still some beer in the cooler and a fresh joint in the ashtray.
We cleverly decided to burn off a few hours by stopping at a restaurant for beer and food, and at 8:30 PM we eased up the ramp onto I-4 and ran into--gridlock. The some 60,000 cars, now westbound, were reunited on I-4, and we didn't get past Orlando until 10:30, finally arriving in Tampa near Midnight.

My brother made the observation that we had just watched the NASCAR drivers go 500 miles in 4 1/2 hours ( there were quite a few wrecks) while it took us TEN HOURS to go half that distance. That economy of scale does not work for me.

I still love NASCAR and will always be a fan.
Just don't look for me at the track. I'll be on someone's sofa, a cold 12-pack close by.

Never again. ]]> Hof http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=608 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=575 Sat, 15 Jan 2011 07:33:19 GMT I am thinking about leaving the Taxi Industry and open a Tapas and Wine Bar. I am starting this thread looking for input to help my research on everything about it, from marketing to choosing a location in NYC. Why do you go to Tapas Bars?.. Which ones are your favorite ones and why?.. Did you... I am thinking about leaving the Taxi Industry and open a Tapas and Wine Bar. I am starting this thread looking for input to help my research on everything about it, from marketing to choosing a location in NYC.
Why do you go to Tapas Bars?.. Which ones are your favorite ones and why?.. Did you ever wish a certain type of food was on the menu?..

..and anything else you might think off for my business plan.. Will you help me?...:)... ]]> milleniumcab http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=575 http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=543 Wed, 29 Dec 2010 19:44:53 GMT A record of sorts has been set, just in time to close out '10. I've made TWO reasonably thought-out entries to my empty blog-- IN TWO DAYS!!! This will probably be the final 2010 entry, and it is sort of a pig-bristle board used to throw darts of 2010 nostalgia at.
( Great metaphor, no???).
So, here's to the last 363 days.

--I haven't been contributing to this blog for several reasons, the main reason being a severe lack of a dependable computer. My Dell reached its "use by" date and gave up the ghost after 5 years of service-- which is, apparently, the lifespan of an unevolved computer, and I took my time shopping for a replacement; I was determined to get an AMERICAN product, and they don't ge more hometown than HP outta Boise, Idaho, so that's what is in my house now.
( I've driven past their HQ, a low-rise campus on Chinden Blvd, just down the Bench from my buddy's house. They are actually situated in Garden City, Idaho, but what the hell. Nice place, good products. My product is loaded with Windows 7, whose mysteries are still revealing themselves. A nice computer. Still, I'm sure even their equipment has a shelf life of maybe, what, five years?).
They're all the same. Buy 'em, use 'em up, and in 5 years, buy another...

-- There have been personal health issues during 2010--an entirely NEW topic to write about, its' muse only appearing around 18 months ago, but I don't want to go there.
Another GREAT memory from last year is my cash-strapped financial situation, which, after a year of unemployment and 39 weeks of compensation, has stabilized a bit. I am no longer a rich guy. What's left of my retirement fund actually gained in worth during the last few months, so all is not bleak, not yet. And I may be getting an emergency extension to the unemployment checks, thanks be to Obama.

Ah, Obama. I could do a paragraph on Barry and what he has done during the last 12 months, like how he sort of apologizes for America being the great place that it is, or how easily "Trillion" rolls off his tongue. He didnt't get us (--meaning New York City) the Olympics, despite flying to Europe to barter for it, but he did find ways to dispense trillions ( there's that number again) for his amazing variety of new laws, the best one being the potentially back-breaking Health legislation. There WERE a few billion paid back to the Treasury from the various stimuli, but that's just boring old billions. The banks stepped up with a pocketfull of payback cash; so did GM. THAT former "private enterprise" coughed up a few billion--from actual PROFITS that they somehow generated !!!
(...Hope their stock does well...).
Wow. I did a paragraph about Obama!!!

Unpleasant wars still rage, one of them now the longest war America has ever fought, and new ones, like the coming conflict with Iran ( or maybe N Korea blowing up Seoul), will tax our ability to respond--because we plain can't AFFORD it !!!
I hope the UN can help if anything wierd happens, like they did in Afghanistan ...oh, wait...

--In 2010, New York City was gifted with a brand-new mosque, a wonderful addition to the Downtown scene. Soon, faithful Muslims from all over the World can assemble at this convenient new community center, sipping tea and resting their feet after a busy day of visiting the nearby memorials and museums that New York is building just South of the mosque. Unfortunately, it will be a dusty construction site for several years as the new skyscrapers and parks are built, but one day, praise God, it will be a fine tourist attraction for peoples from all over the Mideast States, who are used to dust anyway.

--The economy is, was and shall be, the pits.
Housing values are in the toilet, unemployment is unaceptable and the money machine known as the consumer is down for repairs. Historically, when the USA emerges from recession, the factories tool up and people get back to earning an income. With their fresh paychecks in hand they venture out to buy things, further stimulating the economy and creating new jobs in the retail sector. Demand soars, homes get built, Buicks get sold. Then, the recession is over.
Only problem-- all the factories are NOT going to reopen.
They are all in China.
So are all the Buick sales.

Gas is back to three bucks. Actually, it's more. My Infiniti DEMANDS premium grade, and that is $3.29.9 here. It may be more this morning, I haven't checked. It IS around a dollar more per gal. than when the year began. THAT I checked...

Keith Richards wrote a great book, something that resonated with the me who used to live in the 1970s, and the me who lives in the 2000s was happy to see noticeable progress at the World Trade Center site, finally. There were a few other new buildings Downtown as well, like the new Beekman Tower (I still think that name belongs in Turtle Bay).
Someday, Manhattan will look just like Dubai.
Also, none of that nasty oil fouled Florida's beaches, always a sign of a good year down here.

Fortunately, my family did sort of well in '10.
My son, who lost a $60K/yr job to the failing Florida economy in June, is now driving truck for $12/hr, but he and his family are OK, for now; my daughter-- who ceased being a restaurant manager when the restaurant folded it's last tablecloth-- is back in school, trying to be a lawyer. She's becoming Superwoman, struggling through on a grant, raising a kid and running a business ( a cleaning service) while perusing her law books.
One of my Grandsons has plotted his future out nicely. At 14, he is determined to get into the Air Force Academy, and he is laying the groundwork for it. The other just wants an iPhone.
My Princess speaks, and does it well. She is now into the 3-year-old conceptual thinking phase and she tries out her various "...Why... ???" questions on me repeatedly. Cute and smart.
She recognizes Ferraris, makes a lot of bubbles when she feels like it, has the alphabet down and counts to infinity. And, she still enjoys a good tickle.

--Ocala is not doing so well. Fifteen percent of the workers here don't work and the city had to cut back on Christmas decorations. Looking for a job is folly, there is nothing there. More and more homes-- mostly places build during the "boom"-- are vacant and weed-ridden, and retail strip centers everywhere have alarming vacancies. Down the road in Gainesville, the Florida Gators had the WORST SEASON in Modern Times, eclipsed only by their rivals, The Sad Seminoles. I was there three times this year, watching their season go to hell.
2010; A poor year for Florida football.
There WAS some good news hereabouts: John Travolta had a new son, the Kentucky Derby winner was raised here, a new Five Guys hamburger store opened in town and the winter cold fronts are setting record after record for unreal cold weather. ( It was an icy 21 degrees this morning, the 11th time it's frozen this month. The coldest December on record)

Well, that's 2010...it wasn't a bad year, just not a very good one. Among the years I have known, 2010 will be relegated to a sort of calendar Purgatory. Certainly not calendar Hell.
...There are a few more darts awaiting their turn to embed into the pig-bristle, but later for them...

Happy New Year to everyone. ]]> Hof http://wirednewyork.com/forum/entry.php?b=543