Monday, July 1, 2013

Out in the willywags

This is out in the willywags..

...and so's this...

Pompatus of Pete blog.

This is post number 99 for me.


That's something.

That's Agent 99.
She was also something.

I've been thinking a lot about my 100th post.
I've believe I've actually been avoiding it in some fashion.

I think.


This is how it's going to work.

I've been working on something for awhile.
Ultimately the goal of what I've been working on would be to hit the number 100.

Here's the thing...I need a little motivation to hit this number of 100.
Here's my motivation.

I will not post my 100th blog until I do it.
If I never do it I never write another blog.

How's that for motivation?
...or should I say, well, it's been a good run.

You'll see the occasional repost from time to time (I've gotten quite good at that recently).
But nothing new.

I promise.

So any of you that know Pompatus of Pete in person, feel free to ask how it's going.
I'll tell you.

So with that, I'll leave you on this positive note. A song that I rediscovered I loved. I'm sure my youngest will dig the animation. Not to mention, if I introduce her to some more of "my music" it's a win. Right? Remind me to show it to her tomorrow.

Very "Beatlesque".

Yes, that's for you Ross.

Hope to write for you all again.

Let's shoot for Labor Day....or Halloween. Thanksgiving at the latest.
We'll see.


Much love and positive vibes from me to all of you.

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Forty isn't old. If you're a tree. (Ode to Dave Cloutier)

To set the record straight, I'm over 40 years old. Well over. In another year I'll be actually be closer to 60 than I'll be to 40.

Jesus Christ.

How they hell did that happen?
(I just had to run the math in my head to prove it to myself. Unfortunately I was right).

I've got a friend that turns forty. Tomorrow. He didn't want a party.
Obviously he is growing wise in his old age.

I'm not sure if this post is intended to make him feel old...or me feel young.

We'll see.

If it makes me feel young than I should have written it a long time ago, because I haven't felt young in a long time.

Well, not since that night at the Saco River Grange Hall a month ago when I went to see the fiddle festival.
That was actually quite a good of the funnest nights I've had in a long time...but if it wasn't for me, my lovely, slightly younger wife, and 10 year old daughter, the average age of the attendees would have been somewhere between 60 and 80. We lowered it to about 55.

(this is the Saco River Grange Hall)

So back to my forty year old friend.

This was the number one song when you were born.

(Unfortunately my friend just wore that same bright yellow shirt and light blue overalls that the guitarist in the video is wearing to a party last night. He's does a lot of things well, but dressing himself is not one of them).
This one makes me feel young. No way this song is forty years old. I still remember listening to it on my transistor radio and waiting feverishly for it to be played so that I could hit record on the cassette player that I had positioned the microphone in front of the radio speakers oh so carefully.


Wait. Now those pictures make me feel old.
Come to think of it, so did the description of how we had to "tape" songs back in the day.

All in the Family was the number television in show when this young buck was born

I remember this show as a kid. (for the record I was 10 years old). That doesn't seem that long ago when I was watching this show....except for the fact that Carrol O'Connor (Archie Bunker) was the same age I am now when he was playing this role in 1974.

That makes me feel old.
As a matter of fact I was probably more interested in the Hudson Brothers Razzle Dazzle Show on Saturday mornings than I was in All in the Family.

I'm sure that reference is completely lost on that forty year old.
Which makes me feel old.

Maybe he'll google it (if that's what kid's do nowadays to learn about ancient history).

The first car I ever owned (which I bought in 1980) was built in 1974.

That's right. The Ford Maverick.

I can feel the jealously. From all of you.
I'll bet my friend has held up better than any 1974 Maverick has. (Actually I've seen him in shorts. Maybe I'll retract that previous statement).

1974 was when Hank Aaron set the all time home run record, beating Babe Ruth's prior record of 714. He still owns the record , if you ask me.

I remember watching it at Eastern Slopes Campground in New Hampshire...probably on a black and white television with rabbit ears. In a pop up trailer.

Those were the days.

Not sure if that makes me feel old or young. That one's a draw.

Here's the decider.

We both stayed up late watching a playoff hockey game the other night.
Probably in bed close to midnight.
He got up at 3:30AM and worked a full day...mowed his lawn...and his next door neighbor's.
I saw him at a basketball game that night. He stood for the whole thing.


I slept in. Left work early.
...and fell asleep in the stands despite it being a double overtime thriller that both of our youngest daughters were playing in. If it wasn't for the crowd going wild when a girl from the other team hit a no look 60 foot three pointer with .2 seconds left in regulation to tie the game, I would have slept through both overtimes as well.

That's a bit of an exaggeration. I probably would have only slept through one of the overtimes.

So I'd say the result of this had to make me feel older, not him.

...and just so you know, the fact that he built your own basketball court...outdoor fireplace...a table built from a full size did all the wood work in his foot rubs to his entire family...makes breakfast every weekend...invented the internet..discovered gravity...and turned water into wine...

I'm not jealous.

As long as I remember the door knob coming off in my hand the last time I walked into your house (and the fact that you didn't install it is a moot point)...

Happy birthday Dave Cloutier.

You're a hell of a guy and a true friend.

kitty kitty kitty

you bastard

Thursday, June 6, 2013

horny music... this.
Get it? Sure you do.

That , my friends , is an example of the title grabbing you then giving you something you didn't expect. As is the title of that song.... 25 or 6 to 4.

This one was a double entendre....but not all of them are.

I made a casual comment the other day that I excel at titles. I went so far as to say, (this is me speaking now), I think my next blog is just going to be a whole bunch of titles. So, in a sense, this is my next blog and it's going to be a whole bunch of titles...with the usual twists and turns and detours of trying to add some clarity or insight, when all I'm really doing is making things a bit more convoluted.

But that's ok.

I'm down with that.

That is the first detour. That's a palindrome, but it could be a clever title. Some day...but not today.

Some of the better (or at least my favorite) titles I've run through in the past 97 (yes, 97) posts I've created would be, in no particular order, some of these...oh, and feel free to Google - Pompatus of Pete, then any of these titles. It will take you right to that blog. I'll let you search out the ones that intrigue you, so no commentary on the titles themselves. You'll see the title often doesn't have much to due with the ensuing content
  • Strolling the kitties
  • Rise and shine Sleepyhead
  • Sometimes I...No, I don't
  • Who's the guy that writes those books
  • That ship what's the best way to say it....
  • C'mon, I was only ten years old
  • Betty better butter Brad's bread
  • Would you do it for a Scooby snack
  • My day with Christopher Walken
  • HR Pufnstuf was naked...
  • Fifty shades of Pete
  • Put your big toe in the milk of human kindness
  • Mary liked to pour gravy on John's _____
  • Don't make me repeat myself
  • "Just don't give him anything good to hit"
  • Phil McCracken
  • If only the Beatles had been Canadian
  • Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine
  • Easy there big fella"

...and that's just skimming the surface.

That's me in the Scooby Doo outfit. This picture just skims the surface of why I was wearing a Scooby Doo costume.

Aside from some of those past titles, I've got a whole host of titles to unleash on you in the future. The danger of giving you a "peak under the tent" is that it may negate me ever being able to use these again.

But we'll see..there's no rules out here in the internets.

So, here's some of the future titles I've been toying with (some with a brief description of what I envisioned the blog to be about. Others, unfortunately defy description)

  • I prefer mine pink and juicy. but not bloody. (My cookout blog)
  • The ants are my friends ( a Bob Dylan blog)
  • Where's all the white women at? (referenced a few times in prior blogs)
  • Stand on the stair and stare at those homophones
  • Don't pinch her ear (say it do you get it?)
  • Is a 24 pack of crayons any less important than a 64 pack? (defies description)
  • Comma comma comma comma comma comedian
  • Doughnuts make make brown eyes blue
  • Fame was like a drug. But what was even more like a drug were the drugs. (ode to Homer Simpson)
  • I saw her duck (inexplicable)
  • Three fish, one smelt (Rick Russell- third grade)
and on and on and on.

So maybe someday these will become future blogs. Perhaps not. Only I know the answer to that, and unfortunately, I don't know the answer to that.

Time to hit the hay...which come to think of it, was another one.

much love

Saturday, June 1, 2013

When was the last time you pitched a tent?

This post, I'm afraid, could enter into the realm of this prior post...

Don't say you haven't been warned.

The title has nothing to do with camping.

It has everything to do with a bunch of immature, yet educated and successful forty somethings taking something very innocent and turning it into something very very wrong.

You know what?

I can't do it.

I just deleted about 200 insanely profane ways to describe a man in a state of arousal, Then I realize I have coworkers that read sister reads oldest daughter reads Mom reads this for crying out loud.

I couldn't do it.

You'll have to hit me up in person and I'll do my best to recreate verbally what I just deleted.

...and then you'll have to take a shower.

What the hell...I'll keep the photo at least.


So now what?

How about this?

June 1st and it was full on Summer here (here being Maine. ...and yes, you smartasses, there is Summer in Maine. Some years it might last from July 1st  to, oh, let's say, July 2nd, but it still is Summer).

...and I live about a mile from that picture in the N. No lie.

While mowing the lawn this morning, and battling heat stroke (no lie...I thought I was going down), I started thinking about the things I love about Summer.

Here's a short list of what I came up with...

Nights where you're having so much fun you lose track of time...oh, and throw in a big fire


Braving the icy cold waters of the Atlantic


Ice cream....

Kid's having outdoor adventures...

the radio on...

Anything cooked on the grill...

hide and seek...
Hide and Seek Champion

farmers markets....

playing with the garden hose...


Summer songs...

America's pastime...

...and maybe most of all...none of this...

Go out and enjoy the Summer. Do something you haven't done in nine months..before you can't do it for nine more.

“Summer's lease hath all too short a date.”
-Bill Shakespeare

Peace and love.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

The best thing you will ever read...

...will not be this blog.

I can say that without hesitation. It may not even be the best thing you read today...or in the last hour.

...but at least the title is better than this one

sort of.

But then again, that's not my goal with this thing. Not that I've ever really had a goal producing the lameosity (hey, a new word!)  that I've been writing for the last, oh, I don't know, 20 months or so.


If, for the two or three or five minutes it's takes to go through one of these posts makes you forget that crappy day you had at work, or that it's rained for three straight days, or you forgot to pay your taxes (well, maybe not that one), then it's accomplished all I ever wanted it to.

If it makes you think about something that you hadn't thought of for a long time, or makes you smile, even better.

If you share it with someone else, then that someone shares it with someone, who it turn shares it with someone else, and that someone has literary connections and deems Pompatus of Pete to be the most relevant thing ever created and it leads to me making millions of dollars, allows me to retire, and gets me season tickets in the first row behind the Red Sox dugout, even better still.

...maybe not.

You clicked that, right? I apologize if it takes you to another page to listen to it, then you're forced to go back to this page to finish this blog. That my amateurism showing there. Yessah.

Thought it was a nice segue from one topic to the next. Sound familiar?

Ray Manzarek died yesterday. You know Ray, don't you?

Sure you do. Ray's the second one from the right. Behind the homely dude in the front. That guy always had to be in front. Too bad no one remembers his name.
Ray was the guy behind the signature keyboard sound of the Doors. Oh and he also played the bass lines on his keyboard at the same time. The lead singer was to busy unzipping his fly on stage to learn how to play an instrument (except for his own that is).
The Doors got huge (again) when I was in high school. This was the early 80's.Everyone I knew owned or borrowed or claimed to have read this book.

I wonder who has since then?

This book led me to (and a few million other white kids - that's right, Pompatus of Pete is white) buying every Doors album and Jim Morrison's books of "poetry"...and that deserves the " "'s.
The Doors were a perfect example of making great art as a group. Jim Morrison would have ended up a fat drunk that died of a heart attack in his bathtub even earlier than he actually did if he hadn't met the other three. And he would have done it in some flop house in Los Angeles and not in Paris.
...and his three bandmates would have still played (and played well) but it would have been in anonymity, just like the millions of other talented musicians out there that never "make it big".

Sorry about that.
Really really sorry.

I've got a nice photo of me in Pere Lachaise cemetery in Paris. I was at Jim Morrison's grave.
I probably won't get a picture of myself at Ray Manzarek's grave.
Shame on me.
That doesn't make him any less important.

Anywho, since the early 80's the Doors have remained one of my favorite bands of all time, despite the fact that their music has , unfortunately become so mainstream, it usually barely registers a reaction when flipping through the radio dial. But, occasionally, something will catch your ear about how great they really were.
Like this...


That's all for now.
Let's see...
Enticing title?  check
A little rambling?   check
Funny little idea incorporated?   check
Snuck in a music video?   check

Looks like my work is done here.

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

Monday, May 13, 2013

Truly terrible

This, my friends, is truly terrible.

Where's the real Jan?
Perhaps Rerun ate her prior to busting out his stellar dance moves. There's lot's of energy in protein.
Didn't keep fake Jan from singing lead on the opening number. I think they were in cahoots.

If that opening performance of Turn the Beat Around doesn't cause a brain seizure or epiliepsy or an anaphylactic shock, then surely Disco Duck will. The only thing that performance did was lay the groundwork for the Rip Taylor and Alice the maid's version of...well, I don't really know what that song was that they were "doing". (Note the quotes..picture finger quotes). Anyway Disco Duck made that number seem to suck a little less than it should have.

So that's good.

How about this?

This is what turned Richard Dawson into an alcoholic. Well, this and all that "tunneling" he did with Sgt. Schulz to get to Colonel Klink's and Major Hochstetter's secret love compound. Again, the "quotes".


My family could have scored more points than this one did if they had asked the questions in Swahili. To my ten year old. In sign language. I don't know, what's the worse answer to "Name an animal with three letters in it's name?" Frog or alligator?

It's a toss up.

How's this?

Worst Music video. Ever.
Perhaps with the worst opening line in a song. Ever.
"Hey baby. Wake up from your asleep".
...and that's the best line in the song. For reals.

Swear to God.

Although, I did see these guys back up Kajagoogoo underneath the pier at Old Orchard. At high tide.

That's Kajagoogoo and they're too shy shy. Hush hush. Eye to eye.

...and that's awful.

How about this?

What made it worse was when Billy...or Bobby...or whatever his name was, bypassed the little bucket and sucked directly on the cow's teets. That, unfortunately, didn't make the final cut.
Now that's milking a cow.

Dad would only play if the kids would let him put his gin and tonics in Milky, the Marvelous Milking Cow.

Mom preferred wine coolers. The kids always wondered why Mom kept Milky in the fridge and only took her out to watch General Hospital.

That's a happy family.

This is the Terrible Trivium

He was a character in my favorite book as a child. The Phantom Tollbooth.
I think I've mentioned that before.
As a matter of fact I know I it is...the mention...

My daughter performed this play at Summer Camp last year. I don't remember this character being in the play.

Isn't that terrible?

Enough of this...let's end on a positive note.

I have 94 posts in the books and, as of this writing, 9,428 hits ....I'm committed to hitting 10,000 by the time I put up my 100th post. So counting this post that's 572 hits over my next five posts.

I'm not so sure.

Spread the word.

Keep me writing this drivel.
...that's not such a terrible request, is it?

(although I'm not sure that was really a positive note, was it?...more of a plaintive note methinks)

much love

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Dough, a dear. A femail dear.

Hopefully that title bothered you to read as much as it did for me to type it.

I don't have much capacity for words that are spelled wrong...or actually, the people that spell the words wrong.

Although I can't swear that I don't have a typo or two interspersed in these missives of mine, I can swear that I swear every time I find one.

In a former job of mine I was in a food production plant owned by a company that I can't name...but the name of the company did rhyme with Smell Monte. So, I'm taking a tour of their plant and after about the 74th iteration of their spiel of quality control of all aspects of their business I pointed out that on their label of a broccoli concoction that they had misspelled the word broccoli.

It was wrong.

The tour guide stops , looks at me, and says,
"No it's not".

So I said, in my most professional tone.."It is".

The tour guide, for some unexplicable reason, decides to dig in his heels.
"No. That's spelled right. That's how you spell broccoli"

Me, in a now unprofessional but sort of streetwise manner say,
"Sorry. Broccoli has two c's and one l....not one c and two l's. Unless it's some form of broccoli unknown to man that you've just created. Unless I've been spelling it wrong since I first learned to spell it when I was in third grade. Unless every edition of Webster's dictionary ever published has had that one error in it. Unless you are saying your company is somehow smarter than every other person in the world that has spelled it the other way every other time it's been spelled since that word has been created. If that's what you're saying , then I guess I'm wrong.

Let's just say that smarmy bastard got my rankles up.

Two days later he emailed me and apologized that he was wrong. Didn't matter much because I decided to stop doing business with him the second he told me that hadn't misspelled broccoli.

You live you learn.

Things spelled wrong don't always make me mad. Sometimes that make me smile.

The backwards N makes this one twice as nice.

I'll bet if I were to ask the owner a dozen times which of these was spelled wrong he'd only be able to give me the right answer half of the time.

Dude. That one just makes me sad.

You shore is.

M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i...hey, wait a minute

Misspelled words bother me more than, oh, let's say, mispronounced words.

A very smart friend of mine always pronounced tragedy as tradegy. What's even more tragic is that I've heard him say tradegy enough times to pick up on him mispronouncing it.

Oh, scratch that, it's strategy and stragety. ...but I liked how I used the word tragic in that previous sentence. So I'm keeping it.

But I will admit that I cringe every time someone says acrosst.

Now I'm far from perfect, I just reserve the right to criticize everyone else's failings.

That's what I do.

...notice I didn't use the word restaurant?

That one gets me every time. Except that time.

I think.

My spelling is Wobbly. It's good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places. - A. A. Milne

rock n roll