When the levee breaks

Thousands got no place to stay.

Images of a decimated New Orleans have forced my jaw to the floor, and it can't get up.

Awesome!

The cost of war in Iraq is quickly approaching the $200 billion mark!

I can't wait!

Yipee!!!!!!

It all begins and ends with Tull

Paleontologists and anthropologists speak of the disputed "missing link," the species that will one day definitively link the human race to primates. In much the same way, rockologists speak of another missing link, the progenitor that definitively married early rock 'n roll with the heavy metal sound, a style that has since evolved without interruption.

Some point to Black Sabbath. A few say Led Zeppelin. Still others call our attention to Jimi Hendrix or obscure bands of that era.

These people are all wrong.

Some of my readers may recall the common wisdom that assailed Jethro Tull's clinching of a late-'80s Grammy for heavy metal act of the year. And while we can all probably agree that Tull's late-'80s work was anything but heavy metal, it's tough to listen to certain tracks on 1971's Aqualung and disagree that Tull's sound that year may very well be the most compelling missing link connecting earlier rock to the frenetic rapid-fire, staccato peculiar to modern-day heavy metal.

The hallmark of the softened heart

Like steel, you shut me out today. Little do you know. The one-sided capitulation of my past steels my resolve, and damn the consequences.

The stakes are high. We both want to be right. My feelings are real, and so are yours, but compromise is the hallmark of a softened heart, and irony says our hearts must first harden to soften.

Trust

Call it intuition. Call it instinct. Call it faith. Call it God.

Whatever we call it, every now and again we reach crossroads in our lives when it is the only thing we can trust. To ignore it would assasinate the soul, and we know this. So we change course without the certainty of favorable outcomes. We make the decision despite the risks, for the freedom is worth the danger.

A fork in the road has taunted me for months. I have loitered, pondering and distrusting, but no more. Today I set course and quit my full-time job.

I have chosen a path, and I can't go back. The outcome is uncertain, but I will trust, with all my might, whatever this thing is that guides me, softly yet resolutely, recklessly yet assuredly, from within and from without.

Pat Robertson is a jerk

He has made his statements this week to help the right wing build political support for censoring satellite programming, "not currently under the aegis of the FCC," according to MSNBC's Keith Olberman.

Folks, these people are very tricky. We must remain vigilant.

Incommunicado

Sorry, folks. It looks like I'm just too damn busy to blog these days. I even have a draft half completed of my favorite songs, but it's on hold indefinitely. I'm in the midst of major business ramp-up right now.

The '70s witnessed the apex of rock's flight

An indelible, intelligent snapshot from the past heralds to this very day on countless stations across our FM dials.

The apogee of rock 'n' roll as fine art ended when the '70s ended. Never again will progeny of this musical form produce something on par. More than 25 years ago the '70s masters bid us farewell, and their progenitors have yet to lay credible claim to the throne. I doubt anyone ever will.

Some readers may doubt I'll ever upload my "Top 10 Songs I'm Digging" post. They're wrong.

Just wait. This weekend, I'll be away. When I get back, get back to where I once belonged, I'll be back in black, back in the saddle again.

Heavy metal fanfare

Medieval fanfares heralding royalty's arrival were the past's necessarily unplugged versions of heavy metal riffs.

They didn't call Elvis Presley "The King" for nothing.