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the Obus are on the Feud
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theres always two ways to look at things
you can listen to the devil who’s right up in your ear hole
who just goes on and on and on
with the this thing sucks, this is terrible, its the end of the world.
or you can try to tune in to the angels
who whisper so delicately
and sometimes even sing
with the omg its so beautiful tony its so nice its just lovely.
of course my devil knows where to take the conversation
he says things like youre gonna go to hell, youre gonna ruin everything, youre burning all the bridges.
and the angels, because theyre polite, wait for him to finish.
but hes never finished
and youre gonna grow old alone and you already are old and your knees are starting to ache
btw: my knees are fine, satan.
my everythings are fine.
the busblog secret of life is the same today as when this thrill ride started in 2001:
if youre listening to the devil more than the angels you better turn that dial.
and i get it, the devil has better songs, a funnier voice, and seemingly knows exactly what to say at exactly the worst time.
but the angels: they actually work with the truth.
they dont blow smoke up your bung. as if!
there is no beautiful song than the sound of honesty being delivered right from the heart.
fleetwood mac talks about sweet little lies
but fuck the mac.
three songs in 30 years is nothing to crow about.
and neither is listening too long to the most boring poem of all:
you cant
you cant
you cant
you cant.
got a ping about 7 minutes away, which is weird
because i was in my old home of century city and usually there are lots of other cars around there
but things have been slow around there so i guess it has discouraged all of my competition. drove through the super tall buildings and then past Fox studios and then through the high class neighborhood to get the passenger
it was Wednesday before Memorial Day weekend so i figured it was either a $23 trip to the airport or a little jaunt to a restaurant near Rodeo.
but when i pulled up i saw the thing i most love to see: a latin american nanny waiting at the door and her employer outside with her making sure she got to the car ok.
i love it because these are trips usually far away from 90210, and as soon as she got in the car and i saw where to i was thrilled.
“we’re headed to Lynnwood” i asked.
yes, she chuckled. and off we went. it would be a $40 ride, i thought to myself, maybe more.
her english was great. thick accent but i could understand.
i asked her why her boss was using Uber Select instead of regular Uber and she said that usually she takes two busses and a train to get back and forth from work but whenever the boss or his wife makes her stay late they will get her an Uber home. One night she got this guy who was a little scary. he drove really fast on the freeway and then at stop lights he started to fall asleep.
she said she has been watching this rich man’s kids for 4 years ever since the oldest one was born. now there was a 2 year old too. she said she loved them very much and sometimes she gets a little too attached emotionally.
anyways the couple decided to get a higher level car on those rare nights and i guess they could afford it because when we got to Lynnwood they were charged $77 and i got $50 out of the deal so i was stoked.
on our way there she told me she was Guatemalan and she was married with no kids. she said most of her family had emigrated to LA about 14 years ago. her husband works in a warehouse as a fork lift dude. she says she speaks spanish to the kids she takes care of and they go to that French school on Pico, so they’ll be tri-lingual.
when i was about to drop her off i said is Carson near here, she said yes, Compton too. but she said those places are no bueno but Lynnwood is mostly hard working families and retirees.
she said it was mostly Mexican, which is too bad, because the deep fried Guatemalan tacos are much better and i should try them. i said oh trust me, i will.
if the “internet” says one thing
but it’s full of shit
and you’re righteous
then be like Big Sur itself
and roll right over he superhighway.
because to move a mountain,
all you need is the faith of a mustard seed.
mookie wisdom
etienne is now a married woman
the street dogs of Santiago wagged their tails in unison this weekend as their patron saint was wed in holy matrimony in the capital city of Chile.
etienne aida reyes le blanc decided that her name wasn’t long enough?
si.
hopelessly romantic, for as long as i knew her, etienne has been enamored with love. sadly for me, her heartstrings were more attached to her scruffy bff Uva than this American, but theirs was and is true and unbreakable.
who is the lucky groom? like many things in her colorful life, that’s a secret. despite often being the brightest light in the room, etienne prefers to keep things on the down-low. she currently holds no social media footprint – as far as i know. there are no public photos of the ceremony. and the only reason i even knew it happened is because of the network of mythical but strong relationships between the XBI and its canadian brothers and sisters at the CIS.
etienne is a complex and dynamic young woman. wildly creative, capable of speaking a number of languages at her will, and able to make friends at the snap of her fingers. finding boyfriends was as easy for her as ringing a bell. but a husband is something new to her and whoever her beau is must be someone truly special because etienne suffers no fools.
the warmest of busblog wishes to both of them.
ma, don’t watch this on your phone
my mom loves Palm Springs and Joshua Tree
and U2 and cool concerts.
she once saw Hendrix open for the Stones.
a giant inflatable penis was involved with the stage of that show.
Ma, this was a giant video screen and I want you to see it because if you go to Soldier Field on 6/7, this is what it would look like in the $1,000 seats.
they haven’t lost a step
theres three songs in the 80s i totally remember hearing the first time they debuted on the radio
the police’s “every breath you take”, van halen’s “jump”
and one night as i was driving west on the 10 and then south down the 405
one of those great deep throated LA FM radio jocks said
we’ve got something very special to play for you now
it’s a brand new song from u2’s forthcoming record, “joshua tree”
it’s a little different than you might expect
it’s called, with or without you.
and that bass rolled in and i was driving a 76 caddy and i didnt have much money
but what i had i put into the stereo and speakers of that baby
which is what you do when youre 20.
and that night, right away, that song was perfect
subtle, haunting, tribal,
right on the money.
tonight u2 doled out one hit after another and still had a few left in their pocket when the assault was over.
tonights centerpiece was their best selling album of a run that started in the late 70s(!). they played a few pre-joshua tree hits and then the Grammy winning album in its entirety and the memories and feels rushed back.
how do you start an album with the one two punch of the streets have no name and i still havent found what im looking for?
in fact, how dare you.
it was a beautiful night. 75 degrees or so. and the images on the giant, wide screen, showed off the irish band’s love of america, specifically the west, and namely california.
the power of Fox News has convinced the nation that the West is out of touch with main street usa but U2 reminds us that in the 80s – and even today – the West is where dreams come true
ive been to a hand full of these full album spectacles and whats interesting is they never know what to do after the record is over.
as fantastic as u2 is, they didnt know either.
they slapped together some decent songs, and compelling video
people got to clap for Michelle Obama, Pussy Riot and Hillary Clinton
but it held little magic once the heart of the show was over.
which was fine.
im gonna see U2 today
its the 30th anniversary of the Joshua Tree record.
30 years ago i was dating Michele who loved U2 and we would listen to them all the time.
we went to the concert at the Sports Arena and it was so good i cried more than once.
tonight i will probably cry again even though they’re playing at the cavernous Rose Bowl.
i often think to myself what a lucky life i have had. Michele was my first friend in California and ended up quickly being such an important person in my life.
she turned me on to poetry and environmental issues, she majored in journalism, lived in Malibu and was so into the Cure and U2 and foreign films.
id drive all night to the furthest stretches of Zuma to see her and walk to the beach and sleep in her parents house and talk about everything you could ever imagine. i would be such a different person, and i doubt a better one, if i hadnt taken the risk and said hi to the pale, red lipsticked girl who had scribbled words on her chuck taylors.
i would love to be going to this show tonight with her.
today is saturday night special’s birthday, it’s 42
Greatest song that’s (not-so) secretly about gun control? Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Saturday Night Special” — which came out 42 years today.
The tune was co-written by singer Ronnie Van Zant and Glendale’s own Ed King who met Skynyrd when King’s band (the Strawberry Alarm Clock) were on tour with them. Eventually King joined Skynyrd and co-wrote many songs with Van Zant including “Mr. Banker” “Working for MCA” and “Sweet Home Alabama”. He played bass and later when their original bassist returned he played guitar as part of the three guitar attack.
King quit Skynyrd in 1975, a few months after this tune was released. In 1976 he was replaced. In 1977 the band was involved in a tragic airplane crash that killed Van Zant, guitarist/vocalist Steve Gaines and backing vocalist Cassie Gaines, among others.
“Saturday Night Special”
from the album Nuthin’ Fancy
MCA Records
(Ed King, Ronnie Van Zant)
Two feet they come a creepin’
Like a black cat do
And two bodies are layin’ naked
A creeper think he got nothin’ to lose
So he creeps into this house, yeah
And unlocks the door
And as a man’s reaching for his trousers
Shoots him full of thirty-eight holes
Mr. Saturday night special
Got a barrel that’s blue and cold
Ain’t good for nothin’
But put a man six feet in a hole
Big Jim’s been drinkin’ whiskey
And playin’ poker on a losin’ night
And pretty soon ol’ Jim starts a thinkin’
Somebody been cheatin’ and lyin’
So Big Jim commence to fightin’
I wouldn’t tell you no lie
Big Jim done pulled his pistol
Shot his friend right between the eyes
Mr. Saturday night special
Got a barrel that’s blue and cold
Ain’t good for nothin’
But put a man six feet in a hole
Oh, it’s the Saturday night special, for twenty dollars you can buy yourself one too
Hand guns are made for killin’
They ain’t no good for nothin’ else
And if you like to drink your whiskey
You might even shoot yourself
So why don’t we dump ’em people
To the bottom of the sea
Before some ol’ fool come around here
Wanna shoot either you or me
Mr. Saturday night special
You got a barrel that’s blue and cold
You ain’t good for nothin’
But put a man six feet in a hole
Mr. the Saturday night special
And I’d like to tell you what you could do with it
And that’s the end of the song