The Oppenheimer Report - 10/31/11

Happy Halloween gentle readers! Did you attend a costume party over the last weekend? As some of you may have learned from past reports, I used to take Halloween very seriously. One of my favorite costume creations was my Sinead O’Hellraiser (featured above), an interactive costume destined to encourage embellishments from my onlookers. It started out as a bald mask onto which I glued toothpicks, followed by some serious make-up. I believe there was a picture of the Pope around my neck, torn in half. By the end of the night, after a bit of imbibing, my head became a receptacle for other people’s hors douvres. I distinctly remember walking into my favorite bar in Allentown with chunks of meat, cheese, and broccoli mounted on my head. So many memorable Halloween parties! One year, I attended a roving party; ever been to one of those? Someone rented a school bus and a driver, and twenty or thirty of us drove around from bar to bar in costume. The trick with parties like that is to wear something that is booze-friendly. You don’t want something too cumbersome, or involving a mask which gets in the way of beer consumption. Try stepping up onto a school bus dressed as a giant cucumber. That year I was a Sabre-ette, one of the Buffalo Sabres’ short-lived cheerleaders. Dressed in blue spandex tights, a cheap wig, and of course my vintage Sabres tee shirt covering over-sized balloon breasts, I looked like a cross between a decomposing Mae West and extra from the movie Beetlejuice. Halloween is in my opinion the one day of the year wherein one is encouraged to discard one’s dignity … something I seem to do with great facility.

Holy lake effect, is it winter already?! Thursday night, weather junkie that I am, I checked the Weather Channel radar for our area. I have it page-marked in my “Favorites” file, and there it was, a big pink and baby blue blob creeping up from Bracebridge. Friday, when I took Jasper out for her morning elimination, the outside temperature was 28F and there was frost on the ground. Jasper looked up at me as we walked out the door as if to say “Can‘t I just go on the rug?!” Time to plug in the heat line for our water supply (we pull our water from the lake) and bring up the retractable dock. So far we haven’t been affected by the huge snowstorm that just made it’s way up the east coast, dumping 25 cm of sloppy wet snow on parts of Massachusetts and Vermont. I read the other day that Dublin Ireland had one month’s worth of rain in a 24 hour period. This is all Al Gore’s fault.

St Louis and Texas are in the World Series, making it even less likely than it otherwise would be that I will watch my annual five minutes of baseball. There was a big earthquake (7.2 on the Richter Scale) in Turkey near Iranian border. Herman Cain has not yet been voted off the island, Obama released his latest jobs bill to “fix” the stagnant U.S. economy, and the really good news is that experts predict America will avoid a “double dip” recession. Does this mean the bleeding has stopped? I’ll believe that when the banks start lending money again. I watched Don “The Humper” Trump interviewed the other night, and his opinion is that this is a Catch-22 situation. Government regulators are hamstringing the banks who in turn won’t make loans that involve even marginal risk. NOW they get choosey! So whose fault is it that we’re mired in this economic paralysis, the banks or the government? Last week the Dow skyrocketed about 340 points on the news that Europe has finally come to an agreement to solve their looming debt crisis (see Jonathon Swift’s A Modest Proposal). Have you followed any of the Michael Jackson/ Conrad Murray trial? Last week it was up to Dr. Murray’s defense team to plant reasonable doubt, and their contention is that Jackson, an established drug abuser, gave himself the lethal dose of Propofol. Doesn’t seem plausible, but after the O.J. trial, I gave up making predictions. These days, justice seems to be up for grabs. Here’s a zany new expression I’d never heard used before: drunkerexia. At a university in Calgary, Alberta some female students are starving themselves all day so they can drink booze all night and not gain weight. Breakfast of champions. And I thought I was stupid in college. O.K., perhaps I was a little stupid in college.

You should have seen me in that Sabrette costume. I was hot.





Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 10/24/11

However you spell his name, Momo Ghadhafi, is now officially Libya’s ex-despot. Much was made of the decision to air video on the news of his last moments alive, but this didn’t bother me. In a world where any twelve year old can play absurdly violent video games, I think that horse is already out of the barn. Was he killed in the midst of a firefight, or did somebody make the executive decision to put a bullet in his head? Does it matter? I suppose it does if Libya plans to call itself a free country, governed by Islamic law, but Momo lived by the sword, and it is not surprising that he died by the sword. After what he did to his own people, not to mention the terrorism he sponsored throughout the world, I’m surprised they made it quick. Meanwhile Tunisia, the country that jump started the “Arab Spring” movement, just held a free election. Perhaps that young Tunisian martyr who set himself on fire and started this tidal wave of change did not die in vain. Can you even imagine self-immolation? I hear it’s all the rage in Tibet these days.

Now that we’re running out of brutal dictators to oust (Assad, I hear you’re next on the list) it’s time once again to focus on problem celebrities. Lindsay Blowhole is cruising for another stay in the “big house” having failed to perform her required community service as punishment for her bad behavior. I think it was an appropriate sentence for Lohan that her community service involved working at a morgue; clearly our troubled little starlet is headed in that direction . Lindsay Lohan or Charlie Sheen, who do you think will crash and burn first? Celebrity’s a bitch. By the way, the ratings are waaaay down for Two and a Half Men, since Sheen left the show. I caught a new episode the other day, thinking that the excellent supporting cast would take up the slack, but Ashton Kucher, Charlie’s replacement, simply doesn’t cut the coke. The other night I had the pleasure of watching a celebrity roast of Sheen, hosted by Family Guy creator Seth MacFarlane. Wow! In my life I have never seen a roast that brutal.

“Ethical oil” - I love that phrase. Just because it’s oil we’re not buying from our OPEC friends doesn’t mean it’s ethical. There is much controversy and growing concern that the Alberta oil sands are generating unacceptable environmental hazards, but does not all energy production “break a few eggs?” Who knew wind energy was going to be a problem? I just read an article about how close proximity to wind turbines can lower property values. I thought it was just the bird issue, but some residents who live close to wind farms claim they are noisy and disruptive and that they cause health problems. As well, some banks refuse to offer lines of credit secured by a house in close proximity to a wind farm. Solar energy is expensive and problematic, especially in areas where sunshine is in short supply (like Buffalo). Geothermal energy sounds great but has numerous setbacks. We looked into it for our house, but it was not the right solution in our case. I watched an interesting segment on the news about plans to put a giant turbine in the Bay of Fundy to harness the incredible energy generated by its tides. Apparently they’ve had trouble developing a turbine strong enough to withstand the force of that legendary tide, but it makes sense that this should work. Of course, it will probably cause fish genocide. It’s always something. I think cow farts have unrealized potential. We harness all that methane and it’s a win-win scenario … less greenhouse gas and more energy to boot. It’s time to invent methane-capturing cow diapers, or perhaps we simply use hoses. Hey, maybe as part of her rehabilitation, Lindsay Lohan could be on charge of the cow fart extraction. Let the punishment fit the crime.

And Mr. Assad, if you’re reading my blog, which is very likely given my mass appeal and world wide distribution, I hope you wake up and listen to your people. It’s a brave new world, and we’re watching.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 10/17/11

Photo by Shauna Leigh Taylor-Oppenheimer

The Canadian Thanksgiving has passed and the weekend before last people were pulling in docks and shuttering up their cottages for the winter. We are once again all alone up here on a deserted lake. Time to find indoor distractions. Shauna bought me a Kindle electronic book for my birthday and last week I read my first book on it (Sarah’s Key). I like the portability, and I grudgingly admit I appreciate something representing new technology. I was always tough on books, and this device is easy to carry around. Save the trees, for last.

A week ago last Tuesday it was election day in Ontario, and Norman Bates (Dalton McGinty) was once again elected Premier of Ontario. Shauna voted at the Katrine Community Centre. Keep in mind, Katrine has a population of about 80 people … no recounts or election fraud up here in the Great White North.

I watched a story on the evening news the other night indicating that the ancient “sport” of cricket fighting in China is dwindling in popularity. It would never occur to me in a thousand years to entertain myself, much less gamble, on a couple of crickets fighting, but apparently that is a legitimate and ancient pass time in China. I wonder if those crickets juice. Some of them looked awfully pumped up.

With stock values of Research in Motion down 65% from their all time high, the once ubiquitous Blackberry has fallen on hard times. Last week, to add insult to injury, the Blackberry communications system went down for days, and Blackberry users were unable to communicate their vital information (How R U ??? … LOL!). Heaven forbid they should pick up a land line or send an email through their computer. Always there to pick up the slack, Apple just introduced its latest IPhone (4S?) and people were lined up around the block to purchase them.

Republican hopeful and pizza mogul Herman “9-9-9” Cain ruffled some feathers last week in response to the recent and much-publicized Occupy Wall Street protest. A lot of people got together in NYC and other major metropolitan centers to protest the unbridled greed and injustice they attribute to the machinations of Wall Street. With so many people out of work, it is not surprising that people blame Wall Street for the latest financial mess. Where‘s the bailout for the poor, eat the rich, blah, blah, blah. Cain’s response to this: Quit your whining; blame yourselves and the government you elected for their failed policies, not Wall Street. He’s got the solution: simplify the tax code. Spoken like a true businessman, but wait until the gloves come off and the real campaigning begins. When it gets ugly he’ll likely take his ball and go home, just like Ross Perot did when his feelings were hurt. While I can’t comment on this intelligently (I hardly ever do!), I admire Cain’s spunk. Clearly he is not in this to make friends, and yet he’s doing surprisingly well in early polls. At the moment his biggest competition for the Republican nod is the unspectacular Mitt Romney. I understand the indignation of the protesters, but I think Capital Hill is where they should be protesting. Somebody left the lid off the cookie jar, and it wasn’t Wall Street.

And Jack Kervorkian must be laughing from his grave over the article I found in News of the Weird (http://www.newsoftheweird.com) the other day. It was about some Lithuanian guy who has designed an “elegant” way to kill oneself: death by roller coaster. The ride induces cerebral hypoxia by generating G forces that will shut down the brain while allegedly leaving the rider in a state of euphoria. Please define euphoria for me, because I’m not sure I want to check out, traveling at 220 mph, screaming “NOOOOO!,” my cheeks and eyelids flapping uncontrollably in the wind, as I freefall 1600 feet to my certain death. Not exactly doves and harp music for me, but arguably a step above expiring in a nursing home. One has the option to change one’s mind during the first two minutes of the ride, but something tells me that I might not be in control of my motor functions at that point. Speaking of which, I want to know who hoses out the urine and excrement before the next lucky passenger takes the plunge. Also, does the ride come with calliope music? According to the article, suicide is legal in Washington and Oregon as well as in four European countries. I did not know that.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/10/11

Yikes, I turned 56 on Saturday. To those of you who called or wrote, thank you, even if your Facebook account reminded you to do so. This year my birthday fell on Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement, and the day we fast from sundown to sundown. Having lost Mom, and Dad two years ago, I did a lot of reflecting about my charmed life so far, reminding myself that the time is long overdue to give back. I had a wonderful day doing nothing but potting around in the yard and at the end of the day, sitting on my boat, drifting out in the middle of our lake, reading the newspaper while Shauna read her book. I actually forgot how old I am and mistakenly assumed I was approaching 55. They tell me the brain goes as you get older. My how time flies when you’re a self-absorbed putz. And speaking of which …

I had a sober thought the other day - I have those every so often - when I heard about the passing of Apple genius Steve Jobs last week. He was also born in 1955, and now he’s gone. I am reminded of what that guy accomplished in his all too short life, so mortality, and the legacy we leave behind are the topics du jour. I have a tendency to compare myself unfavorably to my contemporaries, and this of course begs the question, what is success? I seem pre-occupied with this subject of late, because, having recently lost both my parents, and as I find myself reluctantly catapulted into “the next stage of my life,” I wonder what it is I will leave behind. Will it be one of my songs, which becomes the multi-generational anthem for the disenfranchised? Will I choke on my electric toothbrush, and thus become famous as the most bizarre and ridiculous example of how a person ever died. I’d like it to be something more noteworthy. Famous Buffalonian, Wilson Greatbatch, left behind the cardiac pacemaker as his legacy, and his invention has saved, and continues to save, millions of lives annually. Superstar Michael Jackson was scandal-plagued, and his death was bordering on tragic, but no one can deny that he was one hugely talented entertainer. Ted Kaczinski will probably be remembered throughout history as the murderous Unibomber, but someone can’t be a success if they simply achieve notoriety, can they? I suppose one could argue that he achieved the goal of being remembered, but I don‘t think Ted was focused on celebrity.

As I grow older, I intoxicate myself with the dream that I will be remembered for some notable, positive achievement, but as time marches on, that aspiration becomes eroded by my mediocrity. As the Tragically Hip so eloquently put it in the wonderful song Ahead by a Century, “with delusions of someday, casting a golden light/ No dress rehearsal, this is our life” I suppose the notion with which I can now comfort myself is that everyone is a success who has friends or who leaves the world a better place than when they arrived. Maybe this is simply a rationale for my relative failure, compared to Steve Jobs, but it works for me. Relatively speaking we’re all just specks on the head of a pin anyhow, right? This morning, as I sat down to write this week’s babblings, I read an email link that someone had sent me. It was Steve Jobs speech to the 2005 graduates of Stamford University, and it was inspiring. One line in the speech stuck with me: “Stay hungry, stay foolish.” I don’t know what kind of a person Jobs really was, but his attitude and his focus were remarkable.

When I saw Neil Young play Massey Hall a few months ago, the first performer was Bert Jansch, who was I believe one of the founding members of a group I used to listen to called Pentagle. When I saw him play, it brought back fond memories of my college years. Jansch died in London last week of lung cancer, and I suppose the performance I saw was one of his very last. He was very good, and well received, given the legend for whom he was opening. I thought about that performance today, as I woke up to finish this week’s report. Music is a gift, and thank you Mr. Jansch for your performance(s). As the autumn leaves paint a Van Gogh painting on the shores across the lake, and as one generation passes the gauntlet to the next, I am for the moment at peace with myself and the world around me. This is a rare feeling, and I pray for the sustainment of this moment.


Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/5/11

Sorry to be late posting this; I was down in Buffalo to sell Mom’s car and take care of some other estate business. Monday night, after a long day, I treated myself and played an open mic at a local Buffalo bar. I haven’t played in a while, and it felt good to perform in public again. The other day I was listening to a compilation CD put out for the 2010 Buffalo Music is Art Festival, and besides the fact that I like most of the cuts, by artist I’ve never heard of, what occurred to me is how many gifted people hail from my home town. When I play open mics in Buffalo, there is often some voice from my concert attending past that reminds me of this talent. Not too long ago I played The Sportsman’s in Buffalo, shortly before Grethen Schultz performed. She’s a Buffalo singer to whom I’ve been listening since the late 80’s. She’s got a good rock voice, and after she did a few Bowie tunes, I requested that she do one of her original tunes, “Cool Me Down.” She seemed taken aback that someone wanted to hear that song. What I did not know is that her partner Dave Morgano, who was playing with her at the time, wrote the tune. Every time I get the notion that I may have written a good song, I am presented with some Buffalo artist that puts me in my place.

One of my favorite musicians, Leo Kottke, covered a tune called “Louise” and I always loved that song. I Googled it the other day and don’t ask me why, but I mistakenly came to the conclusion that Willy DeVille of the Mink DeVilles wrote the tune. The good news about this misinformation is that I learned a little bit about Deville, who had what I thought was an interesting story. In fact “Louise” was written by a Buffalonian songwriter named Paul Siebel. I wouldn’t have known this except that I saw Leo play it in Toronto not too long ago, and he mentioned the guy’s name. He said Seibel hates getting up to perform his songs. Boy, do I know that feeling, and as much as artists tell me it’s a rush to play in front of a receptive audience, I’d be happy to acknowledge that success in the form of a royalty check, or kind words by a music critic. I think the fundamental issue here is that I blow as a performer. But perhaps I’m getting better.

My latest self-indulgence was the purchase of a Zoom H4N 4-track field recorder, which enables me to capture fairly accurate recordings of my and other artist’s performances at these open stages. I’m still learning to use it - it is a remarkable, reasonably priced recording device - and recently I brought it down to my favorite Toronto open mic to record what I heard. Of course, I inadvertently pushed the “pause” button when it came time for my performance, but perhaps that was meant to be, because I absolutely murdered a Neil Young Cover. One guy who played a Pearl Jam cover implored me to give him a copy of his performance. As you all may know, I shun technology like the Unibomber, but in keeping with my newfound philosophy to keep learning, I took the recording home, learned to use my Roxio software in order to compress the digital .WAV file into an MP3 format (less memory … easier to email) and emailed the file to the guy. Impressed? Didn’t think so! Of course, this is digital technology that the average teenager probably considers second nature, but for a 55 year-old man with severely atrophied learning skills, this accomplishment was huge for me. I believe that it is extremely helpful to hear oneself perform; humiliating sometimes, but constructive nonetheless. Many of the talented artists whose paths I have crossed have no recordings of their music, either because they are very poor or they simply don’t care about recognition. You’d be surprised how many creative people care nothing about fame; they’re too busy being prolific and self-destructive. I once recorded I guy I used to follow in Buffalo by the name of Jeff Goldstein, and I thought he was a very gifted songwriter. Unfortunately Jeff had a lot of problems, and I’m not sure he even performs anymore, but we laid down four demo tracks which I still have. I value those recordings as much as if they were made of a famous artist. I’d hoped he would use them to demonstrate to some club owner or music industry suit that he had what it takes. But like the Joplins and Jimis and Jacksons, talent is sometimes a by-product of dysfunction. Maybe there’s hope for me yet!

Believe me, I know I’m full of myself, and I also know that my musical aspirations are of little interest to most of my readers. Nevertheless I have come to learn something about myself. I am an archivist by nature, and one of my passions is giving a voice to the unheard. So far, I’ve recorded about six open mics and already have some decent material. What will I do with it all? Perhaps nothing, but maybe a distilled version will be available to the general public one day. One of my favorite albums is a field recording my cousin made at a music festival in Kerrville, Texas. Those recordings were made around the campfire, and every song was a magical performance by a noted songwriter. You can spend piles of money to attend a big name act at an arena concert and never capture the magic of these spontaneous live performances.

I promise, no music next week.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED