RUDIMENTS, pt. 690
(what's goin' on? I'll tell ya')
In my time, I've known a
few magicians, a few Masons,
a few performers, a few political
scalawags, and a few cops. So,
what any of that tells you, it
means to me that a general
strain of sameness runs
through most people and
things. As uninteresting as
that may sound, once you
examine it, it IS actually
just plain interesting. The
two magicians were the
most entertaining - and they
each were polar opposites
of the other. One of them was
a big, round, befuddled clown
type, but, yes, a magician and
a member of the fraternity. The
other was a mean, rank, dark
old bastard; a good magician,
with a strange and odd streak.
He too was of the fraternity.
The dumbest guy did always
seem to be the Mason. Yes,
I'll admit. Just a plain, boring
man with only a hint of the
sinister. I always figured
if a person was intent on
going sinister they ought to
go the whole way. Leave
nothing out - that's what
sinister is about. In all of
this, I was never real happy;
all these varied people bugged
me. There was a guy once, in
the Barnes & Noble operation
I was part of, who, in other
respects quite professional
and corporate, had two major
surprises in store, of which I
saw both. (I'm not nit-picking.
These are little things that do
mean a lot). The first was when
I found out that, as a guitarist
of sorts, he'd entered a competition
with the Howard Stern Show for
writing and performing the 'most
offensive' or 'most audacious'
song - something like that. It
involved submitting, trying out,
going through a couple of semi
final competes, etc. He won! He
got a limo pick-up, got to perform
the song somewhere big - I
forget where - and I think was
also on the radio, or that show
anyway, with it (I admit to having
always abhorred Howard Stern,
knowing nothing of what he actually
did, and never listened to his 'show'
except for times when I absolutely
had no choice, as it was 'on.').
He'd won some money, air time,
and attention, and in addition
they made a tape or 45 or something
from it, that people were playing.
The offensive song? Well, the
title was 'Baby F----ker.' Yes.
'Nuff said. Then, some bit of
time later, as a new book came
in, entitled - a Vietnam War
era story - 'The Cat From Hue' -
this same guy, some 20 years
younger than I was and, I
guessed, with no real knowledge
of that time or war, nor of the daily
press of it that everyone faced,
(getting to know the names and
all the places), he continually
mispronounced the title. He'd
say 'Huey' - as in, say, Baby
Hughie - instead of the cat from
'weigh' (phonetically shown).
The really annoying thing was
that I could immediately have an
understanding of his error. A 'Huey'
actually had been a well-used
word, a combat helicopter, in
fact, which had been all over
that war. 'Hue' was a battle
location, ongoing, we'd hear of
every day. He just didn't have
a clue - although I guess baby
f'ing was within his scope. I
sort of wanted there to be a book
store law that a store manager
should at least know the correct
pronunciation of historically and
culturally significant place names.
Man, see how stuff annoys me.
-
Continually learning new things
to be annoyed by, I really couldn't
get far. Ray Charles annoyed me,
for instance, and he was held up
as a paragon of musical-gospel
virtue. Whatever that is. The flip
side of him, about 1972 era was
Marvin Gaye, who sort of tried
going hippie with his later stuff,
black consciousness and love
power and all that (What's Goin'
On?) was somehow a black-man's
hip response to Hey Jude, if
you really listen and hear the
music, the go-along, end anywhere
elongated chorus, the goofball
phraseology about really not much
at all. Keep it fuzzy. Enigmatic.
The real problem, at base, with
Marvin Gaye was greed. He and
his entourage came to Perth
Amboy once, for a concert or
two. His management company
had come first, gotten a whole
lot of printing done, and skipped
paying. It was decided that, since
we knew where the guys were
staying, I should go and try to
collect some money, get the bill
paid, plead the case before they
were all gone, skipping town, and
on their way to the next engagement,
probably doing the same circus
routine. Moving on, skipping out,
not paying. I never lost my nerve,
but neither was I real keen on the
idea. I was maybe more like 'The
Cat From ....What?' What was I
supposed to be doing? Collecting
some 1700 bucks from a tough
collection of pop-superstar
bodyguards, black-power militants,
the 'star' himself, and probably a
few tough-mama female 'retainers.'
I figured I'd need one after they
got done with my teeth - a
retainer, not a female.
-
Can you even imagine the
importance of any of this? I
hardly can now myself - it's
all so far back in my own
personal history file as dusty
and neglected as it sometimes
is - not really, for me. I'm in
there dusting everyday. I do
imagine I meant that for others.
Life changes like a waterfall
over 70 years, but the waterfall
still runs and the same direction
is in place. Weird things happen
though, stuff I'd never think about.
Like, a friend of mine, my age,
who's sort of missed out on the
goldmine of the types of things
that have made me rich, (ha),
he's now told me that the biggest
concern in his life now is the
need for a new place to live,
for him and his wife. Sell the
house, relocate, etc. OK, fine.
But why? Because they new
need a house without stairs
and with the bathroom on the
ground floor, not at the top
of a stairway. I guess that's
all practical and sensible,
with old bones and what
they say are crummy knees.
But, at the same time, it all
seems a game I never enlisted
to playing in. Too bad, and I
hope the idea doesn't spread.
Where's one of those magician
guys when I really need them?
Either one will do, though I'd
prefer the mean, snorting, one.
Dragons are always better than
butterflies. Right?
-
Marvin Gaye? No, I got nothing
out of that trip, not even a dollar;
except for the usual business
procedure runaround. Even
those militants got that one
straight. Those boys knew their
stuff. And that's what was
going on! (By the way, and
you can look it up, did you
know that Marvin Gaye was
later killed by his own father?
Nothing to do with me; it was
the cat from Hue killed
Marvin Gaye!
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