Approaching the Lenten hump
 At 20 days into Lent I am horrified to realize there are more than 20 more.
As a cultural anthropologist, I engage in many traditions the world has proven obsolete, such as reading books, being married, and trepanning.
And this year I decided to give up something for Lent.
Lent is the period between Ash Wednesday and Easter, and this year Ash Wednesday was February 6 and Easter is March 23, 46 days later. Like the other bait and switch aspects of organized religions, however, Lent is advertised on its website as being just "40 days."
The last time I did Lent I was a child and had no choice. There is nothing that brings a child closer to someone else's idea of God than associating it with the removal of something that makes him happy.
So, like many children, I gave up something I could live without.
"This Lent I'm giving up Munchausen's-by-Proxy," I told my priest when I was ten. Thus I also learned the valuable lesson that my priest didn't listen to me.
Different churches determine Lent differently, but it is traditionally a variant on the 40 days Jesus was to have spent in the desert being tempted by a devil.
But a release valve was built in so that people didn't have to abstain the entire time. Catholics are allowed to go back to their vices on Sundays, but are not allowed to eat meat on Fridays (a practice abandoned year-round but still maintained during Lent), hence why McDonald's still advertises Filet o' Fish specifically on that day.
Perhaps because, as adults, we more or less arrange to get what we want when we want it, thereby taking away the childhood appeal of birthdays and Christmas, I thought it would be a good experiment to do without some things during this arbitrary time.
Tuesday, February 5 was the last day I drank anything alcoholic. Ten days after that I stopped eating fast food, a few days after that I stopped coffee and caffeinated soda. Then no red meat. Ten days before Easter I will stop murdering the homeless.
And I stick to it on Sundays because I'm hard-core. I don't know of anyone in recorded history who has gone without alcohol and snacks for more than 20 days.
The challenge then is: after these things are removed, mightn't I also add something? I might take some time to invent a religion based on my science fiction stories.
So far I don't feel the benefits that giving up on vices is supposed to provide, but then I'm not missing them as much as I thought I would. Ask me in a month if I feel the same way.Labels: culture, personal history, religion
Sniff 'n' My Lady
 To keep myself from going insane, I allow 15 minutes a day for Internet goof-off time. So this morning I tracked down Jay Ferguson's "Thunder Island," which I'd been thinking of recently as a great example of 70's Southern California use of the word "Lady" in songwriting.
"Sha la la la la la My Lady," sings Ferguson. In fact, he says "M'Lady," which is even better.
"Thunder Island" is from one of Ferguson's solo albums. Prior to this, he had been in Jo Jo Gunne and Spirit, famous for the song "Nature's Way."
Not necessarily a one-hit wonder, Ferguson has instead worked steadily since the 60's. You just never knew you were listening to his work.
Ferguson's animated performance of "Thunder Island" in this video made me think of the backup singer from Sniff 'n' the Tears, whose 1978 song "Driver's Seat" is one of the most satisfying songs ever recorded.
But it appears that the powers that be didn't think lead singer Paul "Sniff" Roberts was interesting enough in the video, so the camera focused instead on backup singer Noel "'n'" McCalla, whose energy exceeded the requirements of the song.
Not knowing anything about the band, I wouldn't be surprised to find out that Noel just showed up off the street that day and the band was too polite to tell him to leave.
"We were one of the first bands to tour post-Franco Spain," stated Paul Roberts on the band's website.
"I think Franco-American Spaghetti-O's smell like vomit," I stated on my website.
Previously: Tearing that hotel down contextually; Bob Dylan's kelping hand; Nature loves her little surprises
See also: Sniff 'n' the Tears, Jo Jo GunneLabels: music, pop
Voter manipulation
 I thought I was pretty decisive in my political stance, but when I arrived at my polling place and found this crying Indian, I knew that my resolve about California Indian Gaming propositions 94-97 would be tested.
"I'm not sure if I agree with you, Crying Indian," I said.
"No heap deal," he said. "After this gig, I'm Spiderman at the Chinese Theatre."
Once inside, a representative of the old ladies' cabal that rigs all elections looked me over and said (I'm not kidding), "You are Democrat, Yes?"
"Yes, but how did you know?"
"Here is ballot."
Previously: Good Mittance
See also: The Crying Indian Commercial; "Iron Eyes" Cody diesLabels: los angeles, politics
Honda's sense of snow
 As long as I have lived in California - now seven years - I have not physically encountered snow in this state. I have had to travel to other states to see it. Neither has my car ever dealt with snow.
But yesterday, while beginning the arduous process of recording the "All that Jaws" album in the mountain community of Wrightwood (redubbed Great Wrightwood, you know, because of the shark), I enjoyed the dryer lint-sized snowflakes and bone-chilling cold that most closely resembles my soul.
I used to carry two ice scrapers in my car. Now I found myself easing down the street on loafers that do fine on casino carpeting but otherwise were unfit for shoveling out my parking space. I thought, "I deserve to fall and crack my head open in these shoes."
Then I thought, "Who came up with 'Crack your head open'? No one cracks anything shut."
 Certain things came back, like waiting for the car to warm up. "Hey, I'll have to wait for the car to warm up."
I also remembered not to pick up any shivering women in Victorian pyjamas on the side of the road, because after I dropped them off, I would stop by an Inn and be told that that's Poor Mary, dead for a hundred years, who lost her baby in the snow. Then I would ask why she was fucking hitchhiking. No wonder she lost her baby.
 I return next week. I'll have to find my gloves and boots, but they probably have a family of flamingos living in them.Labels: "all that jaws", car, travel, weather
Hard questions for the guy at Albertson's
 "Did you build this display?"
"No, the guys from Pepsi did."
"How long did it take, and when did they do it?"
"It took three guys about four hours to do it last Friday."
"Do you think the Patriots will be harried and hindered to the point that the brilliance of the last 18 games will be obscured for most of the Superbowl, save for some clearheadedness in the fourth quarter, and the dream no one thought to have just one year ago will be dashed by a team from, of all hated places, New York?"
"I don't watch soccer."Labels: boston, grief, hard questions, sports
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