Rita at Res Ipsa Loquitur, one of my favorite bloggers, and who most definitely is NOT a kook, writes about her experience of living in a haunted house.

We lived in a haunted house once….my daughter saw a lady all dressed in white standing in our bedroom doorway. I saw a weird strand of smoke move down the hallway & begin to grow bigger. (I didn’t stick around to see what happened next) She often poked around in the kitchen….which would usually cause my dog at the time, a big very protective boxer, to alert & start growling. Finally, one night I was sitting in the living room watching tv and the doors on the kitchen cabinets kept opening & closing…I was the only one home. I yelled “Hey, do you mind? That’s really annoying.” The noises stopped and I never heard those particular sounds again. Weird, huh? [There is more – go read.]

Rita linked to an article about the exposure to “soundless music” (i.e. very low frequency sound, inaudible to humans) as possibly being connected to people’s experiencing strange sensations, which are similar to those reported by people claiming to see ghosts.

I suppose it is entirely possible that low frequency sounds could have accounted for what Rita reported, but then again, maybe not. Starting with the assumption that she is accurately reporting her experiences (and I am 100% certain of that), what are we to make of such things?

I think it is intellectually dishonest and arrogant to flatly deny the possibility of paranormal phenomena. While I have never experienced such things (and I suspect that most people have not), the inability to perceive a particular thing surely does not provide the basis for asserting with certainty that the thing cannot exist.

Each one of us (and quite possibly everyone on the planet) is surrounded at all times by all sorts of electronic signals from radios, televisions, telephones, wireless transmitters, – you name it. And, without an appropriate receiving device (a radio, a TV, a phone), we cannot perceive this ocean of electricity that we bathe in, yet it undisputedly exists.

I suppose that the only completely defensible position one can take with respect to “things that go bump in the night” and which seem to defy logical explanation is to concede that there may be things out there that we simply cannot presently explain. Perhaps these perceptions are traceable to a recently discovered natural phenomenon (e.g. “soundless music”). Then again, it could very well be that paranormal things do exist as some form of energy, but most of us simply lack the “receiver” that would permit us to perceive and measure them.

Note: In Rita’s comments, Bogie of Bogie’s Blog also reported having experienced some equally bizarre phenomena.

I have two things to say about what Rita and Bogie experienced: 1. I’ll be damned if I know what might account for what they saw, heard and felt, and 2. Both stories made the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention!

Every year, on the weekend after Labor Day, the Usual Suspects gather at Ken and Kathy’s house to assist with the closing of the pool for the winter. This consists of draining off a few inches of water, (for reasons that Ken, the Anal Cruise Director, explains to me every year, but which remain beyond my understanding), giving the pool a final vacuuming, removing the hoses from the filter and heater (a new addition that spoiled us rotten this summer), and removing the steps (another new addition that makes entering and exiting the pool much easier, particularly when one is well-vodka’d). The final step in the process is installing the two pool covers that will remain in place until next spring.

It’s always a bit depressing to see the pool, the source of immeasurable summer enjoyment, covered with that unappealing black cover, as it truly marks the end of the summer. However, yesterday the Usual Suspects treated this depression with lots of vodka, good music pumped through the outdoor Bose speakers, tremendous amounts of food (yesterday purchased from a local Portuguese open pit charcoal grill), merciless teasing and endless laughs.

The day was also marked by Bill, the HAM, showing up with another outstanding cigar offering. Yesterday he treated us to some absolutely wonderful Ashtons. I saved, the band but lost is somewhere. However, I believe they were Ashton VSGs (the Sorcerer).

I am happy to report that the Never-Ending Horseshoe Pitching Competition continued. I am even happier to report that Ken, the Anal Cruise Director, and I whipped the Sorriest of Asses, Jeff (da Chef of da Future), and Artie three games to zilch. Let me repeat that. We whipped their asses three games to zilch. The trouncing they received is particularly sweet in view of the wiseass trash talking comments both of these losers made in response to my post about the Labor Day Party. It is abundantly obvious that these two don’t know the difference between horseshoes and horseshit.

If the weather holds, we may have another couple weeks of outdoor frivolity at K&K’s, only without the standing around in the comfortably heated water and drinking cocktails swimming.

I’m already looking forward to next summer.

Yesterday’s 12 hour outage was brought to you (and me) courtesy of Blog*Spot.

More later, if the chicken wire and spit that holds Blog*Spot togerther doesn’t fail again.

Cousin Jack, who has a good musical ear and an even better musical memory, in a comment to yesterday’s post, noted the absence of “Wipe Out” (by the Surfaris) from the list of guitar instrumentals. The fact is, I had not forgotten about that song when I assembled the list. Rather, I made a conscious decision not to include it. Here’s why.

“Wipe Out’s” not making the list had nothing to do with the guitar playing in the tune (although I never really cared much for it), but rather it had to do with the dumb drum part in the song. For decades as a drummer, I have had to deal with people who want to hear that song, because, sadly, and stupidly, they believe that being able to play the dumb drum part in “Wipe Out” is the ultimate test of whether one is a good drummer.

“Yo, you’re really good, but can you play ‘Wipe Out’?”

For years, particularly during the time the song was popular and even for five to ten years after that, when asked that question, I would politely smile and nod at the requestor, and the band would play the song, and I would dutifully play the stupid-ass drum part. Even though in recent years I have not gotten that request nearly as often, I still am dogged by that God-awful song.

As recently as last summer, some guy positioned himself near the band I was working with and intently watched me play for most of the night. I could not help but notice the guy, because during the songs he fixated on me to the exclusion of the other three guys, and after each tune he would vigorously applaud. (What’s not to like about that? If you perform, you’re an applause junkie.)

So, we were taking our final break of the evening, and this fellow walked up to me and told me how well he thought I played and how much he enjoyed watching me play. (What’s not to like about that? If you perform, you’re compliment junkie.) I sincerely thanked him for saying nice things about my playing.

By that time of the night, I was tired and sweaty, but I was still basking in the glow of the compliment I had just received from this person. In fact, I had even managed to convince myself that this obviously sophisticated listener might even be musician himself, something that would make the compliment very special.

However, without warning, this fellow lobbed a turd into my punchbowl and snapped me back to reality when he asked, “Hey, can you play ‘Wipe Out’?”

As in the past when asked this question, I smiled, but this time I said, as graciously as humanly possible, “Yes, I can play that song, but I am afraid that we will not have time to get to it tonight, as we have a number of prior requests that we simply had to get to.” He was noticeably disappointed, presumably because he would never be able to truly satisfy himself that I could pass the ultimate drumming test.

The desire to avoid being rude to this person prevented me from saying what I was thinking, and that was this:

“Jesus Farookin’ Christ, Asswipe. You stared at me for more than three hours, during which time I played my ass off and did boatloads of stuff that require a helluva lot more skill than being able to play the piece-of-shit drum part in “Wipe Out.” And after watching that, how could you think for one goddamned minute that I might not be able to play that shit? Did you ask the piano player whether he can play ‘Chopsticks’?

So, to answer your question, you dopey bastard, yes I can play ‘Wipe Out,’ but don’t even think about asking me if I will play “Wipe Out,” unless you want these drumsticks shoved way, way up your sorry ass.”

And that’s why “Wipe Out” was not on the list.

The other day on the radio, I head “Walk Don’t Run,” a guitar instrumental from the early sixties by the Ventures. It got me to thinking about other guitar instrumentals from back then. They were all relatively simple songs, but they rocked, nonetheless. In addition, these guys provided a basic foundation on which the George Harrisons of the world could, and did, build.

I remember, as soon as one of these tunes was released, guitar players would rush to lock themselves in a room to learn the licks note for note. Hell, I also can remember playing in a high school band, where 75% of the tunes were guitar instrumentals. Singing was less important, and, besides, no one was really equipped to do it very well. Singing was generally accomplished by crowding three guys in front of one $20.00 piece of crap microphone, which was plugged directly into a Fender amp. It was pretty awful.

Back then, the guitar was king.

Here are some of the artists and tunes that come to mind, and, yes, I am certain there are many that I cannot think of at the moment:

The Ventures – (Walk Don’t Run, Ramrod, Perfidia, Moon Dawg) These songs are all pretty special to me, as, not only did I play them on the guitar, I polished my drumming skills (and drove my parents a bit nuts) with Ventures’ tunes.

Duane Eddy and the Rebels – (Rebel Rouser, Movin’ ‘n Groovin’, Forty Miles of Bad Road) The first time I heard “Rebel Rouser,” it gave me goose bumps. I confess that it still does.

Link Wray and the Wray Men – (Rumble) Compared to the music of today, “Rumble” is a musical no-brainer. However, the distorted sound of the guitar crashing out the “D” “D,” and “E” chords (the hook in the song, at the very beginning) grabbed my somewhere below my diaphragm and would not let go. It was also a great song to “dance slow” to in the days when our hormones were erupting with volcanic force.

The Virtues – (Guitar Boogie Shuffle) Another of the basic twelve bar blues (eight to the bar) tunes, that essentially consisted of a guitar playing the kind of lick that bass players play all the time.

Lonnie Mack – (Memphis, Wham) Of all the guitarists listed here, Lonnie Mack might well be technically the best player.

Bill Doggett – (Honky Tonk) While this classic was not strictly a guitar song (and Doggett played piano), there wasn’t a guitar player alive that did not learn how to play the opening licks in Honky Tonk.

The Fireballs – (Torquay, Bulldog) Rather than being rockers, these tunes were a bit closer to cha-chas. They were, however, a staple in a high school band’s repertoire.

Santo and Johnny – (Sleepwalk) One of the truly great instrumentals. To this day, when I hear Sleepwalk, I am transported back to the high school gym at a Saturday night dance. Unlike the other groups, Santo and Johnny featured a steel guitar in the lead. In addition, the song “Sleepwalk” itself broke a bit of new ground (The guitar players and other musicians will understand this), in that the “four” chord was a MINOR. So, instead of playing C, Am, F, and G, one played C, Am, Fm, and G. It changed the whole sound. Over the years, I have heard people screw the song up by not playing the four chord as a minor, and it always drives me nuts. “Sleepwalk” has also stood the test of time, in that Brian Setzer plays it on a CD that is currently in my CD player in the car.

The Chantays – (Pipeline) “Pipeline” was always considered a “surfer” song, but the lick that consists of peddling on the “E” string, while sliding your finger down the neck of the guitar is unforgettable.

The Duels – (Stick Shift) A terrific sixties “car song” (It even began with the sound of a motor), “Stick Shift” was a great rocker.

I’m sure I’ll think of more after I post this, and I suspect some of you can think of ones that I have forgotten.

As I said before, by today’s standards, these are simple tunes. But, remember, this was “pre-Beatles,” when rock and roll was simple, and one could manage to play guitar. even in a band, without knowing how to play anything other than basic chords.

In fact, I have always found it somewhat strange that people often talk about the Beatles having precipitated a dramatic increase in guitar sales. My experience was the opposite. I know plenty of guys who put their guitars down forever when they realized that to play many of the Beatles tunes, they actually had to know how to play things like ninths, major and minor sevenths, diminished and even (gasp!) augmented chords.

It sure was fun.

The following is a Parkway Rest Stop Public Service Message.

It’s back to school for the nation’s children. That means that this week and next week, some 450,000 yellow school buses will fire up their engines in order to take 23.5 million children to and from school every day. That totals to about 47,000,000 student trips daily. Add to that the estimated 5,000,000 trips for special activity trips each day, and you get 10 billion individual student rides annually.

That’s a lot of buses, a lot of kids, and a lot of trips. So, just how safe are school buses?

As it turns out, they are pretty safe. Approximately 11 children die each year in school bus accidents and approximately another 15 are killed annually boarding and exiting school buses. Even though 26 deaths per year is tragic, the number compares favorably to the 600 school age children who are killed each year during school hours and on school days in cars riding to and from school.

Approximately 8,500 to 12,000 children are injured in school bus accidents each year, but most of the injuries are considered to be minor, in the nature of bumps and bruises.

As for the safety of the buses themselves, currently it depends on the state in which you live. While Congress has passed a law mandating three point safety belts for newly manufactured school buses under 10,000 pounds, only two states (New Jersey and New York) currently have laws requiring two point safety belts on buses that are more than 10,000 pounds. Florida, Louisiana, and California passed laws requiring school buses in excess of 10,000 pounds be equipped with seat belts or some “other form of occupant protection,” and as of this year, Florida’s school buses will be equipped with two-point safety belts. Currently, the only state that not only requires the installation of seat belts in buses, but also requires that they be fastened, is New Jersey.

Read the details here.

New Jersey, I am happy to say, also has a formal safety inspection program for school buses. The buses are inspected for numerous safety-related features, including brakes, properly fastened seats, a functioning emergency exit, and proper seals around the rear door (to prevent exhaust fumes from entering the bus). Even the chassis design is inspected to ensure that the bus is not prone to rollover.

So, you might want to ask your local school board what its policies and practices are with respect to school bus safety. Do the buses have safety belts? If not, why not? And, if the buses are equipped with safety belts, are the children required to fasten them? If not why not?

The good news is that it appears that getting your kids to and from school in a school bus is pretty safe. Indeed your kids are safer in a school bus than they are in your own car. So, if given a choice, leave the driving to the school bus driver.

If you were one of the people who saw yesterday’s post at a time when it contained lots of goofy looking characters and other gibberish, please note that I didn’t have some kind of seizure and post it that way. The liberal sprinkling of errant question marks, “”q’s” and unreadable crap came to you (and me) courtesy of Blog*Spot. The Blog*Spot satanic server created all that ca-ca, then cratered for the night.

Most annoying.

I keep thinking that Blog*Spot has to get better, if for no other reason than there are so few of us knuckleheads still here* to attend to. I suppose that is somewhat akin to thinking that maybe one day Bill and Hillary will go somewhere far away and leave us alone.

* This annoying, “Tigeresque” footnote is to request that he not break my stindeens about still being on Blog*Spot. As exasperating as Blog*Spot is, I’m too busy/lazy/tired/techno-challenged/stupid/masochistic to move out right now. I’ll get around to it.

In my post about this weekend’s Labor Day Party I had mentioned Bill, the newest of the Usual Suspects, who supplied the excellent cigars. Over the past few months, I have learned that, in addition to knowing a good cigar when he sees/smells/feels one, Bill is also a good golfer (at least in the view of this mondo-shitty duffer). He is also a motorcycle guy, a merlot drinker (with the occasional “mart”), and a guitar and mandolin player. I have also come to know that, although his horseshoe game still needs some work, he can sing a respectable rendition of Wild Thing by the Troggs. All good stuff.

I seem to recall that, on one occasion, he had mentioned that he was “involved with amateur radio.” I admit it. I sort of let that go in one ear and out the other. Not knowing shit from Shinola about “amateur radio,” I had assumed that being “involved with amateur radio” meant that he had some sort of electronic gadget about the size of a stereo amp that he uses to talk with one or two like-minded people in places with names like Possum Breath, Wyoming. He never mentioned it again, nor did I give it any more thought.

Well, over the weekend, he left a comment on one of my posts, and he included a website URL.

A web site? Bill never said anything about a website.

I figured that it must have been he employer’s website. Being curious, I clicked on it and was surprised to see a picture of Bill on the Home Page, surrounded by an array of scary looking electronic stuff. I navigated through the site to see numerous photos of his “gear,” including pictures of the guts of some of the stuff he has actually built. The site also has a great collection of images of some of his favorite “keys.” (These are the widgets, many of them antiques, that people use to send Morse code.)

I was and am fascinated by it all, even though I don’t have any idea of what any of those electronic boxes are, or what exactly they do. Then again, I have always been fascinated with people who know a whole lot about something that neither I nor most folks (I would bet) know a damned thing about.

When I wrote to tell him that I had no idea that he was this committed to and knowledgeable about something that seems pretty deep to me, Bill summed it up very well in his reply:

“Amateur radio is an obscure hobby in today’s cell phone and internet connected world. To me, its still a thrill setting up a simple wire antenna and sending an RF signal into the air and being able to communicate with another “HAM Operator” on the other side of the world.”

Cool.

So, in the off chance that you have any interested in “HAM” radio, or what “HAM” radio people like and do, take a look.

If you do pay his site a visit, please tell him that Jim said, “dot, dot, dot, dot……..dot, dot.”

Lornagrl points to an article stating that software has been developed that can identify a person by the characteristic way he or she uses a mouse. This would have obvious utility in connection with online shopping and other situations where it is important to verify the identity of the user. In addition, it doesn’t take too much imagination to see how law enforcement agencies could also put such software to use.

Note to self: Next time I want to pretend I am someone else, I will be sure to wear rubber gloves when I handle the mouse.

Yeah. That’s the ticket.

I give you the Polish digital clock. Move over, Copernicus.

Thanks to my friend Brian, the Air Force Vet.

Note: Before anyone of Polish heritage gets his or her gotchies in a bunch, please remember that Professor BogdanSKI and I share the same lineage.