Is there a song that is more misunderstood than Neil Diamond’s “Forever in Blue Jeans”? I don’t mean like Jimi Hendrix’s “Purple Haze” “‘scuse me while I kiss this guy…” misunderstood. We understand every word of “Forever in Blue Jeans”, but no one seems to understand the author’s meaning.
Life of Pi (taters) – A Starch Reality
Don’t ask me why, but I was doing some research on potatoes and learned of the difficult and interesting lives of taters.
Taters are born into litters of 15 to 20. The crunchy newborns, or “tots” battle a host of natural predators from school lunch ladies to trendy pubs to Ore-Ida. Most are rounded up, individually frozen, fried in oil and served as side dishes. The survivors face steep odds. A mere 1 in 5 tater tots will grow up to be tater teens and only 1 in 10 of those will qualify for Potato Head Start programs.
Sinatra and Jazz
This will be my first year as part of the PDX Jazz Festival. Thank you! I’m very honored. They made only one request: don’t sing. I’ll be joining the Sinatra Jazz Panel Conversation: Portland Swings Sinatra with Doug Ramsey, Dave Barduin, John Gilmore, Michael Jackson & Yours Truly. I’m honored to share the stage with these talented men, and I’m sure they too are looking forward to me not singing. We’re going to be discussing the influence of Sinatra on Jazz.
My father remarried in 2003. It was a small affair for immediate family and friends that numbered about a dozen or so. We commandeered an intimate bed and breakfast for a long summer weekend in Napa Valley. I let the family know I would be entertaining at the reception. They knew what to expect. I performed professionally for years as Tony Starlight, a Rat Pack, lounge singing crooner, but had retired from the music biz in 1999 and was busy performing in comedy theater in L.A. I didn’t miss music and it didn’t miss me. I was burnt out.
Every year I have been asked to write a letter to the roustabout jazz-a-muffins who attend Mel Brown’s Summer Jazz Camp. I am honored that the great Mel Brown trusts me. I love the idea of shaping and molding these young minds with my superior, more experienced SUPER-BRAIN. Here is the letter that Mrs. B., the jazz camp den mother, will post in the jazz barracks of this year’s battalion of future hepcats.