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Category: News and Politics
I tell ya, it's never failed to amaze me how the rest of the world works in sync with the US election schedule. It's really uncanny sometimes. Like when that whole Osama Bin Laden video tape appeared RIGHT before the 2004 election... remember that? It was almost like Osama was waiting until a dramatic moment to impress voters that were on the fence or something. It was almost like he was trying to... scare us.
And will you look at this? It happened AGAIN! What a coincidence!! Saddam Hussein was just sentenced to death, two days before our mid-term election!! I mean really... what ARE the odds? I tell you what, folks; God sure does love the Republican Party, you know? I mean, how ELSE could things like this just keep happening right before major elections? It's not like anyone behind the scenes can manipulate this stuff, so what else could it be?
Man... okay... I gotta go get the full, unbiased scoop from Bill O'Reilly; I'll post more soon! =)
(pause)
AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!! It's hard to keep my faith in humanity right now. Really, really hard. I live in one of the last true "swing states"... Nevada votes red, but the counts are SO close, and the old money is dying off and the young people are coming of age... we're really a battleground state, so a vote here REALLY matters... it's not like Texas; it's not like Oregon; it's nearly a dead heat.
...and I've discovered that two of my most intelligent and opinionated friends here in Reno refuse to vote on idealistic grounds. One of them is one of the most fantastic songwriters I know, and he just recently wrote one of the most amazing and poignant political songs I've ever heard. And he's not voting! And I am SICK about it. Look, everyone is free to make their own decisions, but we should remember that rights come with responsibilities, and if you ditch out on your responsibility to vote your conscience, you also lose your right to bitch about the establishment. Period. I don't want to hear from someone who'll take the time to craft a message about the need for change and then do nothing to enforce that change in his own life. You've all heard the saying, but it's true: BE the change you wish to see in the world.
If you're voting Republican, go ahead and do it; I'm not saying "vote Democrat"; I'm saying "VOTE!!" If I'm truly in the minority, I'll accept it, but I WON'T go softly into the night accepting someone's flagrant apathy about why "they don't matter anyway". That's some bullshit.
Grrr... ahem. Sorry, folks. As promised, here's some China-Brog:
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"...and you may find yourself behind the man behind the wheel of a smaaaalll automobile..."
My flight lulled me into a false sense of security by being entirely uneventful. Once I arrived, the events just lined up to hit me in the face, one after another. I arrived at Pudong International Airport, which is very nice, very modern, and very easy to navigate. The only problem was, I had thought I
was arriving at the Hongqiao Airport, on the other side of the city, and had plotted my route to the hotel from there. I'm no stranger to improvisation, and was actually kind of jazzed to have the opportunity to take the Maglev train into the city. The Maglev is a high tech monorail (a Magnetic levitating Train) that travels the 42 kilometers into Shanghai in just under 8 minutes.
At its fastest it was going about 180 mph, and it was really cool. It let me off at the Longyang Road Train Station, where I hailed a taxi to take me the rest of the way across town. Had I known that exiting the train would be the last time I would feel completely safe on board a moving vehicle for the duration of my visit, I might not have gotten off.
I have spent a large portion of the last five years behind the wheels of various automobiles, travelling around the US, and though I have experienced car trouble, in that time I have never caused or been in an accident. I consider myself a very good driver. I know how to drive fast... I've certainly gotten a few tickets, but I also know how to control a car and drive safely at what Americans consider a "fast" speed.
What Americans consider a fast speed is a joke here. And so is "driving safely", for that matter. These people scared the crap out of me. I was certain my first taxi ride was going to leave me dead... we came so close to hitting so many other cars, busses, motorcyclists, bicyclists, and pedestrians that I literally had to close my eyes most of the time. There are no seat-
belts in the cars, and the drivers do not use their turn signals. The rule seems to be: You Brake; You Lose. I used to think my year being conditioned by the LA freeway system made me tough. I wouldn't last five minutes driving in Shanghai. No. Not TWO.
Not one hour after my taxi dropped me off, I met up with some of my Warwick cohorts, and we got in the head of Warwick China's car to go get dinner. It turns out that he drives like everyone else there, only he's got an Audi A6. We had not been driving more than five minutes when he slammed into a motorcyclist who had been running a red light. I had put my hands over my face, so I didn't see the collision, but I heard the motorcycle go crunch. A split second of difference would have resulted in a certainly dead motorcyclist through the car's windshield, however we were spared that, and instead, I spent the next two hours standing around on the corner of an intersection, incredibly jet-lagged, nerves raw, and waiting for the police to come and sort out the situation... and the bits of motorcycle strewn around the road.
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"I stumble into town just like a sacred cow; Visions of swastikas in my head..."
Yeah; I always wondered what Bowie was referring to with that line, too...
The next days were spent performing on the Warwick exhibition area for the Music China trade show. It was entirely surreal. It seems that no matter where you are in the world, a convention center always feels like a convention center; that artificial environment with plenty of light and filtered air to keep you going on limited sleep and plenty of coffee kiosks throughout in case you find yourself lagging... by the time I had been there two full days by China's clock, I was spiritually spent.
Actually, "spiritually DIRTY" would be a better phrase. Playing always helps it though... my friend and great inspiration Gonzalo Silva once said about busking in the subway that after a few hours of playing down there he would "sing his soul clean". I think there's a lot of truth to that, because it's how I maintained my sanity throughout my stay. Once every hour for just over fifteen minutes I would get up and play for a constantly changing crowd of passers-by, and then fifteen minutes after I was done, Peter Fischer, the clinician for the Framus guitar product line, would get on stage and do a set of his own. We were very efficient, very entertaining, and brought a lot of traffic to the booth; we did our jobs, and each made many new fans in a big, new country. In some ways it was like open rehearsal for me; the first day of the show I was presented with my brand new custom shop instrument, and I played it for my performances sight-unseen. It's better than I could have hoped for, and I was like a kid in a candy store; all thoughts of rabid taxis fade when my new bass is in my hands. I was also able to work the last remaining bugs out of all my new songs, and nobody knew if I was flubbing any lyrics. And to top it off, I was playing to a fresh crowd every hour, so every song was "brand new" all over again, and that's always energizing.
After each set, whether it was Peter or me, we were absolutely MOBBED by the audience. Autographs, pictures, autographs, pictures, autographs... those who read my last blog have some insight into what it was like; I certainly appreciate being appreciated, and I certainly get disgruntled about being exploited, and it was always a mix of both, really. The cycle occurred every hour: play, chaos, rest, repeat. After the first day it became handle-able, and after the second; kind of fun. So you wanna be a rock 'n roar stah...
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You have a drumstick, and your brain stops ticking.
I should talk about the food. We went to many restaurants during this trip, and I ate nothing that remotely resembled "Chinese Food" as we know it here in the States. One 24 hour restaurant, I was told, was "Hong Kong Style"-- they served, amongst many other things, steamed bullfrog, steamed pig face, pig stomach, pig liver, pig kidneys, "delicious fatty fish", and a delicacy called "aged egg". They really need to hire new translators for the menus... I mean, how does an adventurous American eater keep from salivating at the sound of these dishes?
I had noodles and bean sprouts, and actually did find something I like a lot... these hollow pastries covered in Sesame seeds came out; they smelled wonderful, and the boss said he thought I'd like them, so I ripped one apart to try it...
...the inside was totally covered in what I can only describe as Black Ooze. It looked disgusting. It was like a beautiful sesame pastry defiled by the nastiest pitch black mud. I ate it.
It was amazing. The ooze is just jelly from an actual BLACK-berry. Like if blackberries were actually BLACK. And it's warm. I could have survived on the stuff; it was the closest thing to a bagel with jelly I had there. Oh, and wontons... I had big wontons with the soup on the IN-side... that got messy. But this was good. Very good.
The other new experience was authentic Hunan cuisine. You can go ahead and order your kung-pao chicken extra hot, but these people will kick your ass with their mild sauce. Unbelievable; it was hotter than the hottest Buffalo Wings I ever had, and I was sweating embarrassingly. It was heaven. And I ate bullfrog. It... (wait for it) ...it....
...it tastes like chicken. Honest!
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Herroh. Bro Job. Herroh.
Odd that I'd find myself addressed with these exact words. Oh but it happened. To me, to Peter, to pretty much everyone walking down the same street as us on our way to a Warwick dinner event in the "classy" part of town on the riverfront. It looks very French, and it's called "the Bund", and I have never been offered more sex and drugs in my life than in the five blocks I walked to the restaurant. The pushers weren't pushy at all. They didn't even make eye-contact; they simply walk by, constantly repeating under their breath so that you can hear them as you pass, "Herroh. Bro Job. Herroh. Bro Job," and they accentuate between phrases with lip-smacking noises to get the point across. I guess it's all supposed to be very subtle, because the first guy that said it to me looked scared when I burst out laughing. Awesome. I scared a Chinese pimp.
Okay! So those are the highlights... now that I'm all caught up, I'm about to go back to Deutchland for a few days and embrace my German brethren with a newfound appreciation for western culture and well engineered cars and roads!! =D See you in a few...
4:03 AM
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