Good morning and greetings, Beatle fans. Yes, today we are talking rock royalty. It’s been on a long and winding road which has led to a hard day’s night, and I’ve been working like a dog to get this blog posted. So with Lucy in the sky with diamonds, let’s head over in our Yellow Submarine to Strawberry Fields forever and get this post rolling because there are places I remember. “You say it’s your birthday, well, it’s birthday too yeah.” I’m not quite sure what that means, but I do know this. “I’ve been dazed and confused for so long it’s not true.” Now I’m mixing metaphors and fives and members of the British Invasion.
Every morning when I drive my golden daughter to school I journey along King Street. And as we discuss politics, the economic meltdown and Hannah Montana, we journey thru magnolia tree country. Here we are in early March and these babies have been going off in full bloom since February, while a vast section of the country is as frozen as that Tri Tip Roast in my freezer. I spoke to my friend Charlotte in Reno and she was shocked to hear about the magnolia action as all she’s seeing up there in Nevada is snow falling on the casinos. And my old West Cliff pal Linda back in Boston remarked that earlier in the week a little bit of the white stuff dropped down on the Red Sox nation. All I can say is I love the Mediterranean climate we have here on the central coast, and if I was never cold again that would be too soon.
I love the flower girl (I don’t know why, she really caught my eye) so I couldn’t help but notice the beauty of these magnificent magnolias. One was more beautiful than the next but there was a award winner on the corner next to my daughter’s school that was all well-maintained as former Sports Illustrated’s cover model Christie Brinkley. This is what we see in shots #1, 2, 4 and 5. Photo #3 is a darker variety and we all know that variety is the spice of life, along with parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. And the name magnolia commerates the French botanist Pierre Magnol and that ferrari-driving Hawaiian detective, Magnolia P.I.
So as I was walking on West Cliff Drive on Friday with one of my newest best friends she informed me that I had a bunch (maybe five) of mistakes in the last blog. I said “Five spelling errors, I’m shocked.” She said no, not spelling, “Punctuation.” I had to laugh as I am rather clueless when it comes to the use of commas, dashes, colons, semi-colons and colonoscopies, although I’m now using my recent colonoscopy as a film credit. Anyway, let me apologize for those grammatical errors and I will say this-there’s more where that came from, sports fans.
On to this week’s humor. “Here’s some good news. Barack Obama announced he’s bringing home troops from Iraq. That’s right. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get them direct flights home. They have a two-year layover in Afghanistan.” -Jimmy Fallon. “During his trip to Ottawa, Canada, President Obama said he was too embarrassed to admit to the Canadians that he’d never actually seen a hockey game, to which the Canadians said, ‘Oh, don’t worry, we’ve never seen a black guy. And Actually, this past weekend, the Conservative Political Action Conference picked Mitt Romney over Sarah Palin in their straw poll to be the next presidential candidate. Yeah. Well, it’s kind of interesting. I mean, one is just a pretty face, obsessed with makeup and hair. And the other, of course, is the governor of Alaska.” -Jay Leno
Speaking of the Wasilla wonder, I just read an article written by Rolling Stone’s chief political reporter Matt Taibbi from back in October when Tina Fey Jr. was on the campaign trail. His style may be a little rough for some of you but I thought it was worth reading as he writes the way Michael Jordan played hoops. He’s a killer with a pen. He sums up what the former Vice Presidential candidate represented to far too much of America. I call it, in the words of Procol Harum, “The Whiter Shade of Palin.
“The truly disgusting thing about Sarah Palin isn’t that she’s totally unqualified, or a religious zealot, or married to a secessionist, or unable to educate her own daughter about sex, or a fake conservative who raised taxes and horked up earmark millions every chance she got. No, the most disgusting thing about her is what she says about us: that you can ram us in the (er, butt) for eight solid years, and we’ll not only thank you for your trouble, we’ll sign you up for eight more years, if only you promise to stroke us in the right spot for a few hours around election time.”
Well, he certainly knows how to paint a picture. Now that we got that out of the way I can tell you I’m just finished another mind-blowing Rolling Stone article (October 16, 2008) on the incredible fraud that is John McCain but I think we’ll save that for a kindler and gentler moment. I’m just grateful that the Republicans aren’t in charge of what we once called our economy. So enjoy the magnolias, get ready for college basketball’s March Madness and we’ll catch your running the half court trap. God, I love chocolate. Aloha, mahola and later, Dennis Johnson fans.