I've been thinking about the toxic environment that the Republicans/conservatives have thrown up around Obama. It seems as if an effort has been made to twist any and every situation, word, or event into an opportunity to denigrate, demonize, embarrass or otherwise make life miserable for the President and his family.

Are the people doing this simply assholes, or if there a deeper motive lurking there?

Looking back, I notice the same sort of tactics have been used against every Democratic president since Carter.
I suspect that this is a conscious. calculated long term campaign -- a preemptive strike against potential Democratic candidates.

What sort of person wants to be POTUS?
There are good reasons and bad reasons to aspire to the presidency.
Bad reasons are in abundance -- greed, lust for power, huge egos etc etc.
Good reasons include a desire to serve the US, help those citizens who need help, steer the ship of state in good directions to insure prosperity based on friendly relations with our global neighbors.

The Republican campaign to make life hell for any Democratic president must surely cause many responsible, decent, well intended persons to think, "Why in the world would I want to subject myself and my family to that sort of abuse?" The Republicans have effectively thinned the herd of those most likely to run successfully for the White House, leaving the weak and lame to claim the candidacy and therefore, giving Republicans a better chance to dominate an election.

It would take an extraordinary reason to motivate a truly worthy Democratic candidate to accept both the extraordinary challenges of running the country and putting up with the dedicated smear campaign that is sure to dog his or her footsteps throughout a presidency. Obama is the perfect example -- the prize of finally breaking through the color barrier might have been enough for him to say -- 'Yes -- this is worth the effort.' How many other potential candidates say, 'No way'.?

Let's face it -- in this country only successful (read wealthy) individuals are considered for high office. The costs of campaigning are huge and only the very wealthy or at least, very well-connected have real access to the halls of power.
Personally, I want a president who is intelligent, articulate, skilled in dealing with people and able to creatively find solutions to problems as they arise. I want a president who has a good heart and, yes, empathy (how did that term turn into a dirty word?) for others.
Few people fall into that category. I suspect most of the people with those qualities would prefer to mind their own business and enjoy their success.

The Republicans have created an environment designed to eliminate the best qualified Democratic candidates before the opening shot of the election. For them it is a win-win situation - heap scorn and ridicule on a sitting president to lessen his chances of reelection and scare off potential opponents from future elections.

Yes, yes -- all presidents are criticized. George W. Bush was criticized for starting an unjust war for oil, trampling on constitutional rights, talking like an idiot etc.

Obama was attacked for putting mustard on his cheeseburger!

Republicans must fear a level playing field.

If the Scott Expedition had included a folk club it might have been a bit like last week in Macclesfield.

As you may or may not know, England is currently experiencing its snowiest winter in twenty years or so. Up in the northern parts where we are, it's even worse -- lots of snow and freezing temperatures. Very unusual for this normally mild moist climate.

We played a folk club gig in a little place called Macclesfield, just south of Manchester last week. The pub, The Dog and Partridge (just down the road from the Cock and Pheasant) has been the home of this folk club for many years, but, since our last visit, a new owner has taken over the place - a new owner who doesn't quite seem to grasp the concept of a 'public house' being a warm, comfortable and homey place for people to congregate and certainly doesn't 'get' the idea of a folk club.

The upper room where the club is held every week has been chilled to sub-zero temperatures for the entire week. When we arrive early and make our way to the room to set up and let the instruments acclimate, we discover that we can see our breath i the room just as easily as we could outside. ferlonda finds the landlord and gives him her best Oliver Twist smile asking for a bit more heat. Shortly afterward, an old radiator attempts the job of defrosting the space. A tough job it is too - since this room has a very high peaked ceiling. Every molecule of warmed air races up to the peak, a good eighteen feet over our shivering heads.

Shortly after, the first folks arrive for the evening. No one removes his coat and many have brought in blankets, so we know that this isn't the first frozen folk club of the season.

On a trip down to the 'loo', the 'bog' or just the 'toilets,' we discover another money saving plan of this new owner - the bathrooms have no heat whatsoever. In fact -- adjacent to the bathrooms is a wide-open door to the 'smoking area' outside. Frigid gusts of air blast through the open bathroom doorways. Not so bad for the fortunate gents who need only to unzip and zip, perhaps, but the ladies look decidedly unhappy returning from the frost-bound wastelands.

Meanwhile, upstairs, the folkies have assembled. Arthur, who runs the club, is unhappy with the turn out, but who can blame people for staying home tonight?

Everyone huddles around the heater in the back of the room, leaving us to sing at them from the other side.
Halfway through the night (we later discover) Mr Hospitality had turned off the heat again - grumbling about the expense. Apparently the half frozen patrons had not purchased enough cold, frothy beer to justify any more valuable heat. Gosh -- I wonder why not?

To finish off the evening (we were singing our version of Rolling Down to Old Maui as a bit of wishful thinking) the thoughtful new landlord sends his bar man up to collect glasses. He stands directly in front of us while we sing and reaches around here and there to grab empty pints and fill up his tray, clanking and rattling away.

Needless to say -- folkies are the kindest and most cooperative group of people you will ever find in a bar. One kind word and they would happily gather their own glasses to bring down to the bar. There was an old Victorian fireplace in the room -- filled with a fake flower arrangement. Another word to the crowd and they would each gladly bring along a piece of wood to the club to contribute to a fire if one would have been provided (there was a fire roaring downstairs in front of the big TV screen).

With no effort at all -- just thoughtfulness -- a cold, miserable experience could have been transformed into a warm, pleasant evening -- with LOTS more beer sales and LOTS more folks coming back next week.

I assume that the next time we play Macclesfield, there will be another new owner -- this genius will never, ever last. I just hope he doesn't chase away the folk club before he runs the business into the ground.

Wow -- I think the Pyrates Royale won the Euro Vision Song Contest!!


http://youtube.com/watch?v=9OK74rmC_AQ&feature=related

Yay Spring!
Here's a slightly adapted song from the The Penguin Book of Carols (I think) I believe the words are by J. M. Neale. The original is a bit more Christian, but, with a word or two here and there, it (like Easter) falls neatly back to its earlier roots.


Cheer up friends and neighbors
Now it is Easter tide
Stop from endless labors
Worries put aside
All should rise from sadness
Evil, folly, strife
When with mighty gladness
Springs the earth to life

Out from snow-drifts chilly
Roused from drowsy hours
Bluebell wakes and lily
Gaia calls up the flowers
Into life she raises
All the sleeping buds
Meadows weave her praises
And the spangled woods

All is truth and beauty
All is righteousness
All our joy and duty
Bearing this impress
Look - the earth waits breathless
After winter's strife
Easter shows us deathless
Spring leads death to life

Well, someone asked for proof of our glorious casino gig --- and why not - I hardly believe it myself.




Thanks to a bunch of very loyal friends and fans we survived and even enjoyed what might have been merely a surreal experience.

One fan actually hit a $1,500.00 jackpot on a nickel slot machine!
(Hey -- he did better than we did - and he didn't even have to sing 'Danny Boy'!)

Happy green beer day!

A couple of big 'firsts' today -- ferlonda and I have a gig at a casino -- that's a first -- and the casino has a huge, ugly as hell, flashing lights display about as tall as a five story building. It's currently flashing a picture of US -- so it's the first time we have literally had 'our name up in lights'. I can feel Wayne Newton quaking in his hand-crafted Italian leather boots already.

Okay -- ALL my friends seem to have Live Journal accounts -- everyone talks about "LJ this and LJ that" I thought LJ was the name of a football player character on an old episode of 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'... wait -- that was "RJ" -- darn!
So here I am posting to myself because I still don't quite get what happens here.

Dadgaderie refers to a guitar tuning that I use a lot. Felicia suggested something like it after finding me staring at the laptop for several hours trying to come up with a screen name that wasn't either boring, stupid or already taken.

SO -- let's hope that things improve from here before I put myself to sleep... getting so ... uh... er... zzzzzzz.